Over the Edge: Ch. 2

Huzzah! Hath returneth after an overly-long break. And give me advice! Critiques are necessary for improvement!

Chapter 2

Arrival

Finagan Lock was banged against a wall with a dagger to his throat. A grimy man had his fingers to his smirking lips. "This isn't happening, boy," the man rasped, his breath reeking.

The strander had appeared so quickly and silently, Finigan didn’t know what was happening until well after it was too late. "It feels pretty real to me," Finagan shot back. The bricks were digging uncomfortably into his back.He struggled, but stopped after a few fruitless seconds. The strander was grinning broadly now. “What do you want?”, Finigan sighed. “Coins. Gold. Food. But I’ll settle for whatever's in those pockets of yours.”

Finigan didn’t have much in his pockets. He did have money and barely notable scraps of food. He felt his hands wandering towards his pockets checking off its contents. Dried nuts, Skreean coins, parchment, sturdy twine, a small stone, and a few rusty nails. He found his hand clutching the nails.

Carefully concealing them with his fingers he pulled them out. “Here. That’s all,” he said as he dropped them into the shadows. The coin-like clatter was music to his ears. “Thank you kindly,” the strander said, pleased. His grip slackened a little as he grabbed for what he thought was his prize. Finigan pulled himself loose and shot towards the main street, but the strander didn’t seem to care. Until he’d realized he’d been tricked.

The strander dropped the nails and took off towards Finigan, snarling all the way. The dagger, a blur of silver, barely missed, thudding into a wooden wall instead. The same thought was pounding in Finigan’s mind; Get to main street, get to main street, you’ll be safe there. Finally, Finagan burst onto the walkway and into a crowd of people talking exitedly. He glimpsed back at a furious face, glaring from the shadows. It crept back not wanting to be seen by the tide of people. Finigan moved farther into the crowd, being jostled by men, women, and children. He navigated the throng, to the other side of the street where the crowd was thinner, slowing his pace to a walk. The houses on his side were still broken from the previous war, and the smell of smoke was on the wind. He listened to the passing crowd snatching bits of conversation, like, “-have to be crazy to-” and “-passionate fellow, isn’t he-”.

He came to the Flabbits Paw, one of the buildings that was repaired first to house the homeless. Finigan pushed open the door and the jingling of a bell resounded and a burly man from behind the counter glanced up at Finigan and motioned him forward. Finigan went up to the counter and faced the man."You're late," the innkeeper grunted. "Lucky I got in at all," Finagan replied, a bit breathlessly. "Held up by a strander."

The man sighed. “Be more careful. And avoid the alleyways.” Finigan nodded, grabbed a notepad, and turned to leave.The innkeeper took out a wash rag and began wiping the counter. “Did you hear the news?” he grunted, making Finigan turn back. “What news?”

“Gnag’s dead. The Fangs are gone.”

“They are? They aren’t coming back? How do you know?”

The innkeeper waved his hand in the air, “Some man called Otto Marlowe. He came from the Hollows yesterday. A few of his sailors came in last night.” The sound of clunking boots came from the stairwell. “Speaking of which, some are waking up now. Get ready for the breakfast rush.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for your time. 🍪