Jack was in a queue, waiting. A smile tugged beneath the mask. When his turn came, he dropped his voice as deep as he could manage. “Two wraps, please, friend.”

  Arman looked up and chuckled. “Jack, what are you doing in costume? It’s not All Hallows’ Eve for some time, yes?” The old man continued to work, filling a wrap with spiced meats and crisp vegetables.

  Jack stumbled back, startled. “H-how did you know it’s me?” His voice cracked with disbelief. He wore a mask and cloak, and even his white oak bow was wrapped in black material.

  The old vendor tapped the side of his bald head, his eyes twinkling. “Ah,” he said, wagging a finger. “Your shoes. Arman never forgets a customer’s shoes, no.”

  Still stunned, Jack removed his mask. “My shoes?” He looked down at his feet; plain brown shoes, the kind thousands of other men wore across Lundun. He stared back at Arman. “But, how?” he asked. “They’re just shoes.”

  Arman chuckled. “No, no, no. Not just shoes. A man’s shoes tell the story of where he’s been, where he’s heading. Arman knows, yes.” He gave a nod as if that explained everything, followed by a look of confusion. “Why the mask and cloak, young Jack?” he asked while preparing a second wrap.

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Erm… trying to avoid someone,” he blurted.

  “Ahhh, a young lady, yes?” Arman grinned, tapping his nose. “Your secret’s safe with old Arman, yes.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I won’t tell the ladies you were here, no. Two wraps for my mystery customer.” He handed Jack the two wraps.

  Jack let out a quiet sigh of relief and a nervous chuckle. He paid for the wraps and found himself a free bench on The Square. He sat, keeping an eye out for the four adventurers while eating one of his wraps.

  I can’t believe he recognised me from my shoes. He took another bite of delicious lamb. “Hmm… this is so good.” He scanned the area for watching orphans just in case. “Maybe I should’ve bought those soft-soled boots,” he muttered, half-joking. “He recognised me from my shoes.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Who does that?”

  For a few minutes, Jack ate his two wraps to the gentle bubbling of the nearby fountain and the distant chatter of birds. He remembered little Zia tugging at his arm and him sharing his second wrap with her on the bench he was on.

  So much has happened over the past few days. He’d killed a goblin, the rogue, and the swordsman. Jack felt anxiety gnaw at his chest at the bad memories.

  “Not everything’s been bad,” he muttered, taking a big bite of his wrap. Zia was now part of his family. She’s a sweet kid. And he’d had a great time at archery training with the others. Toma’s another great kid.

  He finished his first wrap and started on the second. I can’t believe I’m enjoying archery. He shook his head in disbelief. Jack smiled when he thought back to teaching Toma a few archery tips and gifting him some cheap arrows. The boy acted like he’d been given an enchanted sword capable of slaying dragons.

  As he finished his second wrap, a figure crossed The Square. One of the four adventurers. “Shit! It’s the mage.” Jack wiped his mouth, pulled his mask back on, and rose to follow. What was his name again? He frowned, thinking back to the earlier chase. “Mo… the other one called him Mo,” he whispered to himself.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He activated [Assassin’s Mark] and shadowed Mo unnoticed as the mage left The Square. Unhealthy, paranoid, minor armour, no protections. Jack noticed the man kept touching the wand on his belt. He has to be an Apprentice Mage to have the [Fireball] spell. His brow furrowed while recalling one of the other adventurers telling Mo to hit him with a [Fireball]. That could be a problem.

  Mo was younger than Jack had expected for an Apprentice Mage, early twenties, with olive skin, a thin, trimmed beard, and eyes that darted around like a hunting cat’s. He wore light leather armour, dyed a deep brown, almost black, hugging his slim frame. A thin wand peeked from the loop at his hip, and his worn, but well-made boots marked him as someone used to long hours on the streets.

  Apprentice Mages were dangerous. If Mo saw Jack coming, he could hit him with two, maybe three [Fireball] spells before he ever got close.

  They wound through the city for ten minutes with no stops or detours. Mo was clearly heading somewhere specific.

  Where is he going? Jack wondered, slipping through the crowds while trying to stay in shadow to benefit from [Shadow Veil].

  A few minutes later, they reached Grime City. The rougher, filthier part of Lundun.

  Another ten minutes, and the mage entered one of the more decrepit streets of Grime City. It was a slum with large piles of discarded rubbish. The city’s new aether-powered street lanterns hadn’t reached this far yet; at night, the place would be in darkness.

  A few more filthy streets, and the mage stopped in front of a derelict building. The roof sagged inwards, all the windows were smashed, and the door was propped against a cracked wall. The mage glanced around the empty street, checking for watchers, then slipped inside.

  Jack melted into the shadows of another derelict ruin across the way, allowing [Shadow Veil] to hide him in the shadows. What’s he doing in there? Minutes crawled past. He waited, tense, his ears straining, but nothing happened. [Assassin’s Mark] was still active, but with the mage out of sight, all it told him was the target was alive and the general direction.

  He couldn’t imagine he’d gone upstairs with the roof caved in. Did he slip out the back? Did I lose him? [Assassin’s Mark] still pointed towards the building. He has to be still in there.

  Jack waited another ten minutes. Still nothing. Did he use the building as a way to lose a tail? Does he know I followed him? Maybe he has a skill? There were thousands of mage skills; there could be one to mess with [Assassin’s Mark]. I’ll give it fifteen more minutes.

  Ten minutes passed with nothing happening. Just as he was preparing to leave, the mage reappeared, carrying a brown briefcase. He checked the street, then moved deeper into the slums.

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief and followed. What is he up to?

  Fifteen more minutes took them to a half-demolished part of the slums, where construction for a new aether train line had gutted the neighbourhood. There were no people on the streets here, making it more difficult for Jack to remain unnoticed. The residents had been cleared out to make way for the new train line. He dropped back a little to avoid being spotted by the mage and relied on [Assassin’s Mark] for the direction to follow.

  Mo stopped near a crumbling sandstone wall and rested against it, his pocket watch in hand. His eyes scanned the area for movement. A rat scurried to the mage’s side, and he reached for his wand before pausing upon seeing the rodent. He looked twitchy, his eyes darting to random spots as if searching for something.

  Jack edged as close as he dared, slipping into the shadows of a roofless, skeletal house. Not thirty feet separated them. The mage remained oblivious to the danger.

  Could I hit him from here? Jack flexed his fingers, stretching out his new gloves. He slipped smoke bombs into his right jacket pocket and blinding powder into the left. If I miss, I’ll at least have a head start. He planned an attack, loose arrows from the shadows; run if it gets dangerous. I’m covered by [Shadow Veil] and can slip away and hide if I miss.

  His stomach coiled tight, and he could hear his own breath… it was too loud. Keep calm. You have to do this. Protect your family. He took several calming breaths and remembered the blue dragonfly sitting on the tip of his white oak bow. The image calmed his mind.

  The mage looked at his pocket watch and stored it in a pocket, still unaware of the danger.

  Jack unslung his bow, selected one of the rogue’s serrated-tipped arrows from his quiver. Should I? He nocked the arrow.

  Chapter 100 The Curse Of Wraith’s Hunger