The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) Read Online Free

another similar staircase. In between them was a space seemingly carved out from the foundation with oddly situated pillars holding up the building. And scattered throughout what open area was left were all manner of Chax in various stages of dress—standing, milling, pointing, but mostly sitting and laying on mats—interspersed through all this was a surprising drop in temperature and incredible stench—
    “Tak tak,” came an insistent voice at his side, an old Chax man pulling at his elbow and pointing back up the stairway where Ian had just come.
    “Tak tak,” Ian agreed, peering toward the opposite end of the cellar where a smaller figure was pulling at some sheet from one of the older inhabitants.
    Evidently realizing that the deal wasn't going to happen, the boy angrily kicked at the dirt and ran up and out of the opposite entrance. All this amounted to an especially good thing, as Ian was sure it would've been unlikely he could have picked the boy out if the other Chax had felt inclined to hide him.
    Ian started after him again, the first dozen steps especially awkward as cracking threads of pain shot up through his leg. Grimacing as he picked up speed, a rising ripple of surprised and curious voices ran through the cellar dwellers as he passed, as many of them noticed Ian for the first time.
    It was a measurable shock going back outside again, highlighting just why exactly someone might be so motivated to dig out the underside of a building. The difference of not possessing his regulator was also painfully noticeable.
    The boy's route hadn't grown too complicated in the narrow, but fairly quiet backstreet Ian found himself in. The Chax boy had taken a left and was sprinting, probably just hoping to outrun Ian. This didn't seem to be all that brilliant of a plan, as several of the advantages that had been against Ian weren't so considerable now.
    But the boy looked scared.
    It felt good. The aged pavement under his boots, the warm—well, hot—wind pushing against him as he pulled hard with his legs, the air excited on his face, in his lungs, his hands. It wasn't so much the startled voices, the breaking of whatever sorts of expectations these people had of someone in his situation—it wasn’t so much Ian passing two different sources of music coming from the corners of a busy street, or even the exhilaration at being here now, alive and able to do what he wanted, to try to take back a stolen army regulator that most would have given up without even the pretenses of a chase.
    And he would take it back. That was the best thing, and being able to see that the boy knew it.
    Ian was gaining on him. He was maybe a dozen arm lengths away when the boy abruptly veered right, down a large connecting street, and made for a space between two store fronts. Ian had a moment of confusion until he saw the small gap between the two buildings. The gap had been walled off save for its bottom few feet, forming something of a boy-sized hole. Genuinely worried for the first time, Ian ran harder, pulling with his arms as he got closer to the boy's back, within a couple arm lengths. The Chax let out a scared sound, running while looking back at Ian. They broke into the shade of the building, the wall looming and Ian’s hand brushing against the boy as Ian prepared to jump at him, but—
    The boy reached the gap and slid underneath, grabbing hold of the gap’s top and swinging through to the other side.
    A short fraction later, Ian crashed into—or rather around—the gap. He mostly caught his momentum in time so that it didn't really hurt anything, except perhaps his pride.
    Dropping to his knee s, Ian scrambled through it headfirst the best he could, which was a great deal harder for him than the boy. His pack and especially the awkwardness of his rifle contributed greatly to the discrepancies in their respective gap-traversing ratios.
    By the time Ian had accomplished this, the boy had regained a decent stretch between them on