"I hate stairs!" Tory huffed as they climbed the last set that led up to the next level of Lone Peak's cliffs.
He was sure there were over two-hundred in-between the docks and the first level of cliffs. And he was also sure that their escaped prisoner had already made it up to the second by the time their party had made it to the first.
Ealrin and Holve had run ahead, both of them in better shape than he was. While he had been confined to a ship for the last two months, over eating at every inn and tavern they stopped at, the two of them had put themselves on an exercise regimen that was obviously paying off.
"Quit complaining! Keep running!" Gorplin said as he trailed behind Tory.
Well, he thought, someone needs to keep the dwarf company. Gorplin made it to the top of the steps just as Tory was able to catch his breath.
"Where is Felicia and the cat?" he asked in between gasps of breath.
Tory spun around. He saw elves of all description, as well as the people of Lone Peak gawking at them. No familiar faces, however.
"Come on, shorty," he said as they continued to make their way to the next set of stairs.
The stairways that led to and from each level of cliffs were marvelous to look at.
From a distance.
Tory found a new hatred for them now that he was attempting to climb them as fast as possible. When he made it to the second level, both he and Gorplin realized how far ahead their escaped prisoner might be.
"What I want to know," Gorplin said as he held a stitch in his side. "Is why the bleeding elf didn't escape before now?"
Tory thought he had an answer.
"Probably not the best swimmer," he said, sarcastically.
Even the most desperate or those who dared to man a rowboat by themselves didn't want to face the ocean without supplies and a crew to help them. Now that they were on the mainland, it was as good a time as any to get out.
"Think he's scared of those other elves?" Gorplin asked as he stood up right, his face drenched with sweat.
"Maybe," Tory answered.
It did seem like the pirate was more than content to stay aboard until Ealrin mentioned there were Enoth elves about.
Just then a commotion ahead caused them both to bring their attention to the stairs leading up to the last and highest level.
The white-haired elf, who until recently was their prisoner, was trying to tear away from another elf dressed in a strange orange robe that Tory had not yet seen among the visitors.
"Looks like our pirate has previous enemies," Tory said as he began running in the direction of the fight.
"Enemies?" Gorplin said as he followed behind Tory. "Who is he fighting with?"
"You'll see in just a moment, squat legs," Tory said looking down at the dwarf, who was unable to see over the heads of the others on the street.
Tory looked up just in time to crash into the cart that had entered the intersection they were attempting to cross. It was filled to the brim with food barrels and containers.
He felt like he had just run into a stone wall.
He was swearing up a storm just as Gorplin scrambled underneath the cart and continued in the direction of the two elves scuffling. By the time Tory had shaken off the blow and squeezed in-between a shop and the cart owner, who was yelling his own obscenities at them, the white-haired elf had broken free and the orange Road elf was nursing a black eye.
"Excuse us!" Tory shouted as he pushed past the elf and followed Gorplin up the steps in pursuit of the pirate.
The escapee was weaving in and out of citizens of Darrion and Enoth elves alike. The elves took special note of the odd looking elf, while the Lone Peak residents noticed only that one of their newest visitors was in a particular hurry.
Behind him, Tory heard a few exclamations and didn't have to wonder for long what the reason was.
Urt was bounding on the railings of the stairs, leaping over elf and man alike as he pursued the prisoner.
His spear flashed at his side as he lunged for the white haired elf. At the last second, the spear was deflected by the presence of another orange robed elf. He didn't seem to fight Urt, but rather just materialized in-between the two. Using his race's quick reflexes, Urt lifted the spear he had meant to lodge into the runaway elf's arm into the cliff wall and not into the orange robed elf's chest.
Tory was astonished how quickly it all happened.
The Skirlx let out a roar that startled anyone nearly off the steps who hadn't already cleared out of the way of his spear. In the confusion, the white-haired elf managed to climb to the next level and out of sight.
The highest level of Lone Peak was the most crowded, even though the night was setting in. Elves and people scattered this way and that. Tory saw at least four feasts happening in the courtyards of various houses of the nobles, even as he just looked around after having climbed the last stair to the top.
“No. More. Stairs.” he wheezed, doubling over with his hands on his knees. He leaned against a stone column that held a statue of a bear, one of the noble houses of Lone Peak.
Felicia and Urt were right behind them.
Looking flustered herself, their captain wiped sweat from her forehead with her coat sleeve and brushed aside one of her black braids.
“Ealrin and Holve are going to scan the lower levels, in case the bleeder decides to double back. You two take the left. We'll go right. Meet in the amphitheater.”
With those parting instructions, the captain and her first mate disappeared into the crowd.
“How can they keep running?” Tory asked, completely winded.
“Come on lazy bones,” Gorplin taunted, though he only managed a small jog as he veered down a street to the left and began hustling forward.
The top level of Lone Peak was the most organized. Every street circled around the giant amphitheater that occupied the middle of the level. People gathered there for plays, if they could afford them, and mandatory city meetings and announcements. It was just large enough to fit a third of the population, with some meetings having to accommodate people waiting in the street to attend or being repeated throughout the day.
Beautiful stone houses passed by as Tory and Gorplin scanned their surroundings, looking for the runaway.
No luck.
The pair came to the gates of the giant amphitheater and found them open, with no Felicia or Urt in sight.
“Maybe they got him?” Gorplin suggested.
“Let them have all the fun,” Tory replied, finding that his feet now felt more like bricks than actual parts of his body.
“Let's check inside, just in case,” Gorplin said as he passed through the portal. “Lots of places to hide in here!”
Even though it meant more moving, Tory agreed and pushed himself forward.
The hall was huge. Stairs went up in all directions and what could be miles of benches formed a semi-circle around the stage at the bottom of the structure. Most impressive of all was that the seats did not pile up on top of each other, as other building normally do. The amphitheater had been dug out of the cliff itself.
So as Tory and Gorplin entered on the ground level, they looked far down to the stage below their feet.
And saw their pirate.
“Bah,” Gorplin said as he observed the elf, running as quickly as he dared to the bottom level. “Well I'll be flummoxed.”
“More steps...” Tory moaned, right before pulling himself up and following the walkway down the stairs.
Going down might have been easier, but Tory was convinced at the pace they were attempting, it was more dangerous.
About halfway down the perilous steps, he saw the elf look up at his pursuers and knew he was cursing his bad luck.
Tory smiled at the fact that he knew and was betting the elf did not. The stadium only had four entrances and exits, and they were on the ground level.
Their prey was trapped.
He saw him run into a door at the base of the stage and disappear into it, but that didn't trouble Tory. They would find him soon enough.
Within moments they found themselves at the bottom of the stadium and burst through the same door that the elf had, only to find themselves inside a closet with four very solid walls and an assortment of brooms and waste bins.
“Bah!” Gorplin said, gruffly, pushing his way back. “You chose the wrong door.”
Tory nearly kicked him out of the closet, knowing full well he had also barged in expecting to see the runaway. The other two doors led to a changing room for actors and a slightly large hall for storing sets, costumes, and other various things necessary in the operation of the amphitheater. The exits were on opposite sides of the stage. The last door was another changing room meant for one.
None of the rooms, however, contained their prisoner.
“What the devil?” Gorplin said as they, for the third time, reemerged onto the stage empty handed. “Where's the snow haired brigand gotten off to now?”
Just as his sentence left his mouth, Urt and Felicia appeared at the top of the steps. Felicia called down to them in a loud voice.
“Find him?”
“Yes and no,” Tory shouted back up.
After their story was told, the searched each room and door again.
Nothing of significance came across their path.
“We should set up a guard to watch over the place,” Felicia suggested. “Someone should stay until the third watch.”
Tory yawned and stretched his arms out wide.
“Take it in turns, yeah? Good. I'm wiped,” he said through half a yawn.
“Thanks for volunteering,” she responded and threw him a skin of ale and a bag that had a few strips of dried meat and a half a loaf of bread.
“Gorplin will be back to relieve you at midnight.”
As the trio headed up the steps and back to the house for a fresh meal Tory was becoming increasingly more jealous of, he at least felt glad for one thing.
Taking a seat on the stage and staring up at the stars that were beginning to show, he was glad that at least he wasn't going to be climbing anymore bloody steps for a few hours.