His mitt clapped on Elias’ shoulder, sausage-like fingers closing down around it.
“Let’s take a walk Caligas,” he grunted.
Elias knew where they intended to walk, and what they intended to do once they got there, and he wasn’t interested in any walk. He planted one foot against the underside of the bar and kicked back. He hit the man so hard he was lifted airborne briefly until Elias pushed down on him; smashing his face with the back of his head, and they both slammed onto the tavern floor.
A muffled grunt was followed by a crunch as ribs collapsed under his force. Using the momentum Elias launched himself backwards and over a table now facing off with the other three men. They starred down in amazement at what had just happened, their friend coughing, his hands fidgeting towards a stomach wound spilling blood through his clothes. They looked back at Elias and the dagger clasped in his left hand covered in blood.
The last thing he wanted were dead men on his hands here, he didn’t need any more trouble from the locals. The stomach wound would recover easy enough but having a bounty on his head was harder to suture. He whipped around seeing two other men, cronies of theirs for sure, standing in doorway.
They rounded on him immediately and Elias turned to his left and dived through the nearest window over a table of drunken onlookers. Outside, he slammed into a building in a tight alley with his shoulder. Pulling himself off the ground he saw the men heading for the front door through the window. He stepped off the window sill and then the opposing brick, grabbing one of the protruding rafter supports and pulled himself onto the roof across the tavern.
He listened, laying flat on the roof as his pursuers ran through the alley trying to find his trail.