27 Angry Shadows

The screams were closer, now. Unarmored, Jacob sped towards the decidedly masculine voice. Illuminated by the light of three moons, the scene that he saw stopped him in his tracks. Three shadows were beating a curled-up figure. Jacob drew his sword, letting the ring echo into the alley. The shadows stopped for a moment, taking in the off-duty guardsman.

"What's going on here?" Jacob asked, nodding to the man on the ground. A woman's voice answered him.

"He pissed off the wrong people. Come to think of it, so did you," the woman said sweetly, though her hands worked at drawing a serrated knife. Good. This was going to be self-defense. Jacob, knowing he had time before the shadows would launch their attack, focused on commanding the earth below the lead woman's feet to spike upwards into little spears. He tugged on the ground, working at it until spikes much larger than he intended appeared. His headache, however, was nothing compared to the state the woman was in. With her out of the fight, Jacob turned his intention to the other shadows.

Not willing to risk the use of more magic, he charged at them. The first stepped into the attack, lunging with a rapier. It would have been fatal, had Jacob not shifted away at the last second. The blade sliced his side open, drawing blood. Still, the shadow's risky move would not pay off for him. Jacob took advantage of the man's lack of a guard to make an unimpeded swing at the man's head with the flat of his sword. He crumpled to the ground.

Scanning the area for the last shadow, Jacob found the alley empty except for the two attackers he dispatched and the cowering man on the floor. The clanking of armor soon rang off the walls of nearby buildings. His fellow – was it coworkers? He'd call them coworkers – coworkers were about to make their timely appearance. Jacob's heart froze. The spike of earth was clearly still visible and would indicate that he could do more than what he said he could. Running could only get him so far once the man on the ground spoke up.

With great effort, and a splitting pain between his eyes, Jacob returned the ground to normal. He slid down to the ground against a wall, waiting next to the man for the guard to arrive. "Newbie? The lieutenant was wondering why you weren't back yet," the first of the pair said when they appeared.

"I went out for a celebratory drink and happened upon an attempted murder," Jacob embellished. He wasn't quite sure that the man next to him would have been beaten to death, but he certainly saved him from a world of pain.

"You're off duty, newbie. You have no place interfering with our work," the second man growled, taking a step towards Jacob. Fortunately, the first held out a hand and prevented him from doing so.

"What he says is true. Legally, you're only allowed to defend yourself when you're off duty. Did they attack you?" the first guard asked, still struggling with restraining the other man. What was it with the guards and their separation of duty?

A voice he hadn't yet heard spoke up. "He was threatened and they pulled weapons on him," the man from beside him managed between shuddering gasps. The shadows had done a number on his ribs. Jacob nodded, agreeing with the wounded man.

"In that case, you are in accordance with the law. Go back to the barracks. We'll report the situation. Won't we, Carl?" the first guard grinned at the second. Carl groused, backing off and letting Jacob walk away unharmed.

A sigh of relief. Jacob practically flew through the streets, sprinting to reach the guaranteed safety of the barracks. The pounding in his head refused to be ignored, and he had to slow against his more primal desire to seek shelter. He didn't want any more trouble with his coworkers or the shadows he had just ticked off. Anybody making a ruckus near the guardhouse would be a fool to do so. Lieutenant Edward himself was a talented warrior. The captain seemed less so, but looks could be deceiving.

Tip-toeing his way through the barracks was an exercise in stealth. Some of the men sleeping in their cots looked like they could snap awake at a moment's notice. And not just that "where's my coffee" sort of awake, but the ten-mile morning run type of awake. Carl and Sergeant Ross were all the enemies he needed, Jacob figured. He still couldn't piece together why the two of them were so harsh on him, but he made that a priority. Angering other guards would be a capital mistake.

The next few shifts passed without issue, and Jacob took up the practice of afternoon sparring with the other men of the city guard. None were close to as good as Will was, but some were capable of beating Jacob on a regular basis. Jacob loved those sparring sessions the most; those that could beat him were great sources of inspiration for building on the foundations Will taught him. One particular guardsman, a swordsman by the name of Randy, had a certain grace to his footwork. It was as if he floated, sometimes. Jacob sought to emulate that kind of look.

The stance would give him far more versatility in motion, something that Randy used frequently against Jacob. If he could rectify that flaw in his movements, he might have avoided the gash that still occasionally caused pain to flare up.

Before he knew it, a whole month had passed in the service of the duke. His excitement was visible for miles. Jacob's coin purse was far heavier than it had ever been, and with more valuable coins than he had ever seen, except for the time when Will gave him a silver. The sum in the pouch could probably buy him a budget sword: probably not as good as the loaner he had, but better than the scrap he had ruined in the Happy Hog. The coins weren't the reason Jacob was so happy, though.

It was time to collect his armor.