The Gray Corridor was haunted. At least, that's what Roland had been told.

A few hundred years ago, or close enough to it, a nobleman by the name of Solzar Han had lost his life in the alley after he had foolishly refused to hand over his jewel-encrusted rings to a group of thieves. They had subsequently stabbed him and left him for dead. Now, his soul supposedly haunts the echoey confines of this narrow passage.

Every time Roland returned to the alley, he thought about that story. It was what most people knew about the Gray Corridor, but for actual thieves, there was a little more to it than that. They knew it was a true story. A nobleman really had lost their life here after refusing to hand over their jewellery. That wasn't the interesting part, though. No, the muggers were the interesting part.

According to a legend passed down by thieves, the three muggers had taken everything the nobleman had and quickly realised that they had bitten off more than they could chew. The jewellery was worth three times more than a small fortune, and they used the resulting wealth to create the Whispers of Tressa. They bought corrupt guards and old properties to use as hideouts, and trained new members in thieving.

This all culminated in a thieving empire worth a damned fortune.

It was funny. If it hadn't been for Solzar Han being in the wrong place at the wrong time, there wouldn't even be a Whispers of Tressa, and perhaps, just perhaps, the city would be a much better place for it. Perhaps Roland wouldn't be a thief, either. Maybe he might have ended up as a regular person instead.

That's why he thought about that story every time he came here.

Thieves and rogues avoided the Gray Corridor like the plague. It was supposed to be bad luck to walk its length if you were a thief, and thieves were wholly a superstitious lot. Roland had never believed in it, personally, but it made for a good meet-up point when time was of the essence. No one ever thought he would dare to come here.

'I beat you here.' Holsley stepped out of a shadowy doorway. 'I believe that's a gold crown you owe me?'

'I'm just glad to see you made it here in one piece,' replied Roland. 'How did you evade Fox?'

'My patented dumb luck.' Holsley held up Fox's satchel with a smile. 'Got the ruby, too. No biggie.'

'Actually, you didn't.' Holsley raised an eyebrow. 'He was carrying a fake. Kythos had the real thing all along.'

'Should have seen that coming,' Holsley said sullenly. 'I suppose we can go find Merhim now. Wait, why do you have the cat?'

Holsley nodded towards the squirming sack Roland had gripped in his hand.

Roland held his breath. He'd done a lot of mulling over that very question on the way here. He swallowed his guilt. 'Um, no. Merhim isn't coming, Holly.'

'What!?' The bard straightened. 'Why? What's happened? Did the guards get him?'

'He…he betrayed us, Holly.' Roland took a step towards his friend. 'He set us up. He was working with Kythos all along, just like Fox, waiting for the right time to turn the upper hand. Almost got me too, but I managed to get away.'

Holsley looked back at him in shock.

This wasn't a good feeling, what Roland was feeling right now. He took no pleasure in the lie. It was like a pit in his stomach that wouldn't digest, just sitting there like a rock at the bottom of a lake. He had to do it, though. Roland couldn't have Merhim revealing the truth to Holsley, his last and only friend.

'That doesn't sound like him.' Holsley took a concerned step forward. 'Are you sure?'

'I was there, Holly,' he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Gods, it was sweaty. 'I know for sure.'

Holsley didn't reply; he just stood there with his mouth agape.

'We've got to go.' Roland placed a hand on his shoulder. 'The alleys are swarming with tubheads. Any moment now, they'll be upon us.'

'I just can't believe it.'

'I know, it's not—'

There was a roar from somewhere behind them. They both realised at the same moment that it was too late. Looking back, they saw a horde of tubheads now rushing their way with determined, yet grim-looking, faces.

'They followed me!' Roland exclaimed. 'Run!'

The two were away in a flash.

Roland led the charge while Holsley kept close behind him. Someone was blowing a horn — a loud one. The tubheads were calling for backup, and it may already be too late to plan an escape. The guards were well prepared this time, and honestly, Roland was a little impressed they'd even thought far enough to grab a horn.

Fortunately, there were plenty of exits into the sewers that they could make use of, and, failing that, there were abandoned buildings that made for perfect hiding spots.

'Watch out!' Holsley shouted.

They ran around the first bend in the alleys and saw a group of tubheads charging towards them. With a hiss, Roland turned on his heel and shot down the next alley instead. Holsley followed. They had been waiting there for them, blocking one of the exits. He had a suspicious feeling that might be the case for others as well.

Each time they thought they were making headway, more tubheads were there to greet them. The blighters were around every corner, stood upon every manhole entrance, and were patrolling every abandoned building. They were everywhere. Kythos must have been true to his word that he'd brought a hundred guards with him this time.

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'They're herding us,' Holsley said breathlessly. 'How do they know the exits so well?'

'Fox,' Roland hissed. 'He knew I'd use the Gray Corridor.'

He had to think, but he didn't have time to think. What exits wouldn't Fox know about? He didn't know. Fox had just as much knowledge about the alleys as he did. So, they couldn't rely on his knowledge then. Roland came to a stop and urged Holsley to do the same with a gesture. They stood there for a moment, catching their breath.

'Do you know any ways out of the alleys around here?' Roland asked Holsley desperately. 'Anything at all?'

'We could climb?' Holsley suggested, looking up.

'There's no scaffolding,' said Roland. 'We wouldn't be able to get up to the rooftops fast enough. Come on, Holly, think of something.'

'Gosh, I don't know,' replied Holsley.

Boots pummelled the ground nearby. The tubheads were on the march and coming at them fast. The narrow alleys suddenly felt suffocating. The buildings around them too tall. There was no way out. Roland tugged at the collar of his shirt.

'Holly,' he urged.

'Um.' Holsley knocked on his head twice. 'There's a dead end nearby with a sewer entrance. I think. I fell into it once when I was exploring the alleys.'

Roland had never heard of it. 'Good enough.'

They continued on their sprint through the tight and narrow corridors that made up the alleys. Occasionally, they had to dodge obstacles like shattered crates or overturned barrels. Other times, it was people they needed to avoid in their rush, who either quickly got out of the way or had whatever they were carrying knocked out of their hands.

Roland knew that they at least had luck on their side. He hadn't been joking when he said he considered Holsley to be a good luck charm.

Before the bard had come to Tressa, he'd attempted to escape the dungeons four times. Each time he had failed and had been worse off for it. He'd only tried once more after Holsley had come to him, and again, he had been recaptured and given this stupid stone hand. Then, on the one escape he's attempted when Holsley was there, they had managed the feat and hadn't been caught since.

That couldn't be coincidence.

Holsley didn't believe in it, but Roland did. He suspected that the bard's luck was something like his inner compass for finding the things that rightfully belonged to him. There was more to it than met the eye. How else could Holsley have gotten so far with the little he had?

Roland only hoped that the luck would hold out.

Kythos came out of nowhere.

The burly tiefling charged like a rhino and threw his weight against Roland. The rogue was thrown hard into a nearby brick wall. A new wave of pain crashed over him. Gods, if he weren't so determined, he would have lain down and died right there.

Holsley skidded to a stop when he spotted the Lower Warden. Kythos raised his mace to the fallen Roland, but Holsley was quicker. In a second, he'd strummed the lute and brought forth a vicious orb of light on the guard's gauntleted hand. It was bright, as bright as he could make it.

The tubhead stumbled back, temporarily blinded, and the pair rushed past.

'I didn't know I could do that,' Holsley marvelled.

A minute later, they turned into a dead end at Holsley's orders. They flew across the cobblestoned floor and rushed to a manhole near the far side of the alley. Roland bent down to try and pry it up with his rapier, but it wouldn't budge. It didn't seem to matter how much weight or how much leverage he had over it.

'I can't get it off.'

Roland looked up. The rooftops were about sixty feet above them, but there was nothing to climb to get there. The scaffolding lay around them in neatly tied bundles, and the houses looked like they were in good condition. Seems they had been herded into the one part of the city that wasn't on the brink of collapse.

'What now?' Holsley, too, was looking around for answers. 'What do we do, Roland?'

'I don't know.' Roland bit his lip. His eyes landed on the redrose lute. 'Can you put them to sleep, maybe?'

'I mean, a few of them, if I get the song right,' replied Holsley hopelessly. 'Not enough to be worthwhile in any case.'

'Could you charm a few of them?'

'I could charm one, but it'd only last for like a minute, and I'm not even sure it'd help us out.'

'Then what can you do!?' Roland snapped.

Holsley blinked.

A moment passed.

Roland stepped back. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have—'

'No, you're right,' replied Holsley. 'I'm useless.'

'I never said that.' Roland wiped the sweat from his brow; this day had utterly exhausted him. 'You're not useless, Holly.'

'I can't even play a bloody song right.' Holsley sank into the wall at the end of the alley. 'Everything I do seems to go wrong. Sure, sometimes I get lucky, but it never goes the way I want it to.'

'That's just life.'

'That's just me,' Holsley replied. 'Always has been.'

Roland joined him at the wall. 'We got pretty far, though. I don't think a useless person would've gotten this far. Would've managed to save me. I'm forever grateful for that, Holly. I mean it.'

'Yeah, I know.' Holsley straightened. 'You would've done the same for me.'

Roland nodded.

The clank of armour echoed along the alley, and when the pair looked up, they saw a small army of tubheads standing at its entrance. The guards had finally caught up to them. Nowhere to go. Roland and Holsley braced themselves. The bard readied the redrose lute, and the rogue held up the squirming sack.

He had one trick left.

'Can't find the exit?' Kythos pushed through the crowd to its head. 'Finally managed to corner you both. I told you that you wouldn't escape this time.'

'In our defence, you do say that a lot,' Holsley shouted back, then he turned to Roland and whispered, 'I'll try a sleeping song. I won't get all of them, but I can get a few.'

'Wait. I might be able to barter,' replied Roland, stepping forward and raising the sack higher. 'If you come any closer, Love won't see her beloved pet ever again. I mean it.'

'I'm sorry?' Kythos took a step forward. 'Are you telling me you put my mother's cat in a bloody woollen sack?'

'Yup,' said Roland.

Kythos giggled. 'Get rid of the little rodent then. I've always hated that scratty thing.'

A yowl roared from inside the bag.

'It was worth a try,' said Roland, dropping the bag and drawing the rapier.

'Are you going to come quietly?' Kythos roared. A few of his men pushed ahead of him, went down on one knee and readied their crossbows. There'd be no missing this time. A blind man with eight nubs for fingers on the windiest day of the year could catch them here without much trouble.

'You should turn yourself in,' Roland whispered to Holsley. 'They might go easy on you.'

'I'm going the same way you are,' Holsley said with a nod. 'I don't abandon friends.'

Roland gave him a nod in return.

They shared the moment with a cunning smile between them, each ready for what came next. Roland dreamed up ways to disarm the guards, while Holsley rehearsed the sleeping spell in his head. Neither thought they would escape this time. This may very well be their last hoorah, and they were intent on making the most of it.

'Get them!' Kythos bellowed.

Everything went dark.

One moment, they were staring down their impending doom. In the next moment, the entire world vanished from sight. A blanket of darkness had been figuratively thrown over them and suddenly they couldn't see a damned thing.

They could still hear, though.

Across the way, boots stamped angrily, and panicked guards shouted things like 'What's going on?' and 'Why can't I see?' and 'Who's that touching me?'

Rough hands grabbed them and threw sacks over their heads.

Before anyone could figure out what had just happened, Roland and Holsley had managed to, once again, escape their captors. The only problem was they didn't know whether they had escaped into the hands of someone decidedly more dangerous.

END OF PART TWO.

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