She and Evric pulled him as carefully as possible onto the mattress. Evric rummaged around in Josef’ healing bag until he came up with a greenish vial. “Healing potions. Excellent.” He popped the cork from the vial and drained it into Josef’ mouth sip by sip. The young mage’s eyes fluttered, then opened.
“Josef, can you hear me?” Ceyrabeth asked gently doing her best to appear as anything other than a terrifying Witchhammer bound to drag him back in chains.
Josef side-eyed her warily and nodded, wincing. “I’m going to dispel the Ward of Silence.” Ceyrabeth told him. Evric’s eyes flew to her face, but he didn’t object. “We just need you to listen. Please.”
She whispered the counter to the Silence and Josef sighed in relief. “Hi, Evric.”
Evric nodded at him with a sheepish smile, “It’s been a long time, Josef. Sorry if we scared you.”
Josef shrugged. “Where did you learn all that?” He asked Ceyrabeth curiously. “You’re an elf.”
“Half-elf. It’s a long story.” She sat next to him on the bed. “Short version: I posed as human for a lot of years to train as a Witchhammer.” Ceyrabeth started talking quickly, just trying to get the words out before he decided to set her on fire. “I defected, along with others in my squad. Now, we’re trying to halt a Witchhammer assault against Arcus Meier-”
“Arcus is under siege?!”
“It will be. My friend, Keiran Ehingen, was recognized by someone on the road and it’s only a matter of time before the Witchhammers come in force. Evric heard your name in town and we thought you might help us. The word is that you’re good at escaping.” Josef smiled a little at that, but Ceyrabeth was too much in earnest. “Josef, please. They’ll kill him.”
“I’ve seen Sir Keiran’s wanted posters.” Josef tapped his index finger against his chin. “And now that I think about it, I’ve seen yours too. Sir Ceyrabeth Vallorin; Wanted for Treason and Defection.”
“It’s pronounced sa-ra-beth, not say-ra-beth, but yes. That’s me.” A twinge hit her. So, Quinlan had made it back and informed on her to Carmilla. She squelched the pain that rose from the part of her that had hoped he would come back, would protect her once more. This wasn’t the time.
Josef considered. “If I were to help you, and I’m not saying I will…what’s in it for me?”
“Freedom. The man we work for, the one that’s stopping the assault, he’s…the most diabolically brilliant mind I’ve ever come across. You can stay with us and I promise you you’ll never have to even consider if there’s a Witchhammer nearby for the rest of your life. He has already given safe haven to quite a few mages, including one from the Daymore Merenia massacre. Or, if you want to disappear, start over entirely, you will have that option. Assistance given and no questions asked.”
“What in the Void is going on up here?” The proprietress of the inn burst through the door. A little behind, Ceyrabeth thought cynically. She stiffened as Josef put his arm around her before flashing a charming smile at the woman.
“Sorry, Stella. My girlfriend got a little…excited.” Ceyrabeth glanced sharply at him before plastering a wide smile on her face and winking at the shell-shocked Stella.
“Oh. Oh!”
“You don’t have to worry. Evric will patch me up. Thanks for checking in.”
Evric gently herded the woman out the door and shut it firmly.
Josef chuckled at the expression on Ceyrabeth’s face. “You can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”
“We’re even then.” She replied.
“For now.” Josef ran his hands through his hair, retied it. “Alright. I’ll help you.”
.:*:.
“This is where your contact lives?”
“You aren’t a snob are you Ceyrabeth?” Josef asked with only a trace of mockery. “Because I don’t work with snobs.”
Ceyrabeth heaved a sigh and looked at Evric. She had wanted to get Keiran but Josef had adamantly vetoed the idea. He was already outnumbered, he said. So Ceyrabeth had yielded.
She sincerely wished she hadn’t when she heard the ungodly yowls coming from inside the hovel.
They burst through the door, weapons drawn. “Where’s Gaetano?!” Josef demanded of the terrified woman cowering by the fireplace. She just pointed a trembling finger toward the back.
They charged back…and stopped cold. An elderly elven man lay firmly tied to the bed while a tall, dusky-skinned human man stood near the window, fiddling with a crystal cube that was casting strange shadows on the prone figure. “That was close…” The human muttered. “How about…this?” The shadow changed and the elf screamed. “Ah! There it is.”
“What are you doing to that man?!” Ceyrabeth demanded.
The human glanced up briefly, “Josef! Welcome back.”
“Please my lady, don’t let him hurt me anymore!” The old man turned his head, tears streaking down his face.
Ceyrabeth’s expression hardened and she leveled her sword at the human, “Step away from him. Now!”
“Look, precious, I don’t have time for…” The human turned his exasperated attention to Ceyrabeth…and in that split second, a wave of magic lashed out that sent them all flying.
Ceyrabeth reacted instinctively. “Shield!” Blue light shimmered around herself, Josef and Evric but she was disgusted to find that it was weak. She had used too much energy trying to subdue Josef.
Ceyrabeth shook her head, trying to clear it., “Con--” She started, but the human picked himself back up.
“Don’t worry about that Witchhammer nonsense,” He said contemptuously as he picked himself back up and climbed on the bed.
Ceyrabeth took note of his features, fine-boned with short dark hair and a thin mustache along with his accent marked him as Eastern, possibly Nevaraakese.
He removed a vial started to shake a clear substance onto the elf, who screamed earsplittingly with each drop on his skin.
“What’s he doing? What is that?” Ceyrabeth asked Josef doing her best to tune out the ungodly shrieking and the memories of the monstrosity Chirak it brought oozing to the surface of her mind.
“It’s holy water; sanctified waters from a sacred well that—Look, I’ve got no interest in explaining all this to you so just shut up and stay out of the way.”
“Holy…” Then it clicked. “The man is possessed!”
“Give the girl a prize!” The dusky man drawled. He hopped off the bed, braced his arm on the headboard. “You hear that?” He asked the elven man conversationally. “You’re possessed. Now, I knew that and you knew that. It’s time to hear which demon you actually are. Well?”
The elf hissed something at him that Ceyrabeth didn’t understand but seemed to make total sense to the human. “Now, now.” He admonished. “There are ladies present.” And he tipped half the bottle of holy water onto the possessed man’s head. The creature hissed and screamed, pulling at ropes that Ceyrabeth devoutly hoped were well tied. “Try again?”
The elf glared at him hatefully. “Of course, you want to do it the hard way.” The human withdrew a knife from his belt. It gleamed unusually bright even in the muted light. “You learn anatomy in Witchhammer school?”
Ceyrabeth took a second to realize that he was talking to her. “Of course!”
“Great. There’s this fantastic little nerve cluster in the shoulder…hurts like all the Void if you hit it just right.” He offered her the blade’s hilt. “Like to demonstrate?”
“No!”
“Witchhammers,” The man rolled his eyes. “Never want to get their hands dirty.” And with that, he yanked the elf’s arm out straight and plunged the knife deep into the ball and socket joint of the elf’s shoulder. Smoke rolled off the wound as the man howled in agony. “Well?”
“Hux…Huxenlem!!” The voice that bellowed from the elf’s throat wasn’t even close to mortal.
“Of course, Huxenlem!” The man withdrew the knife and the demon sagged back. “Now, was that so hard?”
“One o
f the Forbidden Ones?” Ceyrabeth asked.
He looked at the elf and snorted, “You’re remarkably well informed for a Witchhammer.”
“Former Witchhammer,” She corrected frostily.
“Uh-huh, sure. Anyhow he’s a servant of one of the Six ‘Forbidden Ones’. Doesn’t quite possess the power to be countered amongst them, but don’t hold that against him,” The man slapped the possessed creature’s shoulder in something almost like camaraderie, “He’s the best cellmate a man could ask for,” The human replied caustically. “Ok, Huxy. Time to go.”
The effect was instantaneous. The elf strained against his bonds with the strength of the desperate and another wave of dark magic lashed out, filling the room with the sick scent of brimstone and pitch. It impacted against Ceyrabeth’s shield and they staggered, but the shield held. It gave the human just enough time to finish fiddling with his cube. The elf screamed and they all could hear the difference; this was not the screams of the damned, but of a mortal being in excruciating pain. The human man ripped the shirt away from the elf’s chest.
His ribs were breaking through his flesh, leaving multiple puncture wounds. Ceyrabeth and Josef both readied their weapons as they saw the area of the man’s stomach roil with the terrifying visage of the demon within. “Got it!” The human shouted and placed the cube directly into the worst of the wounds. One more agonized scream, a blinding flash of light…
….and then it was over. Evric, at Ceyrabeth’s nod, rushed to the elderly elf. “He’s still breathing.” He informed her.
“Good.”
“Yes, rumpy-pumpy triumph.” The human man said breathlessly. He was brushing pieces of ash off his clothes as he reached over to retrieve the crystal cube, which was no longer clear but smoky grey and covered in blood. “Josef, sweetness, go and get the woman would you?”
Josef obeyed. Ceyrabeth pulled the sheet of the bed over the elf’s chest just in time; nobody needed to see that, least of all what she assumed was the man’s wife. “OK, so here’s the rub.” The human started in as soon as the woman entered the room. “Demon’s out, grandpa’s alive. I don’t work for free. What do you have?”
“What does she…?” Ceyrabeth asked, too shocked to be angry.
“Lucre. Recompense. Remuneration. Payment, precious.” He rolled his eyes at her. “I saw a girl earlier. Bring her in.”
The old woman scurried out as Ceyrabeth worked on trying to form words. She was back before Ceyrabeth could say a thing, towing a doe-eyed slip of a girl behind her. The dusky-skinned human surveyed the girl critically. “No tits, even for an elf.” He commented. Then, he casually reached out and patted her groin. Ceyrabeth suddenly and explosively found words.
“Get your hands off her immediately!” She roared, placing herself between man and girl.
“No need to breathe fire,” The human replied. “If I wanted veal, I’d head over to the tavern. I like a little thatch on my roof if you know what I mean. Besides,” Looking over Ceyrabeth’s shoulder to the girl, who was now trembling and whimpering, he sighed, “I’ve had all the fear I feel like dealing with for now.” He re-focused on Ceyrabeth. “What about you, precious? You look reasonably shapely of breast and firm of thigh. No? Too bad,” he turned his attention back to the old woman, “Alcohol, then.”
“We…we have none, Sir.” The old woman informed him tremulously.
“By the Succubus’ infernal tits!” The human expostulated. “Is it too damn much to ask for a cup of tea? No? Well then, go make it and take your babe in arms with you!” Both women hurried out the door. Ceyrabeth slammed both her palms into the man’s chest, sending him reeling back. “Hey! Mind the goods!”
“You…you pig!” She spat out. “Knave! Warped, fool-born Void rotter! Who do you think you are…?!”
“Gaetano, meet Ceyrabeth Vallorin. Ceyrabeth, this is my contact Gaetano.” Josef interjected dryly.
“You cannot be serious…!”
“’Fraid so, precious.” Gaetano sent her a charming smile that made her want to punch all of his perfectly straight teeth back into his head.
“Don’t call me ‘precious’!” Ceyrabeth shook her head. “No. Not happening.” She told Josef. “I will slit my own throat before I will work with this man.”
“Maybe we should take care of the person who just suffered life threatening injury before we work out any other arrangements,” They all looked over at Evric’s sharp words. He had torn a blanket into strips and was working to staunch the old elf’s bleeding wounds.
Josef hurried over to his side, looking properly abashed, “Here, let me.” The healer reached his arms out over the man and he was suddenly bathed in gentle, blue light. The ribs reset themselves before their eyes, wounds knit cleanly, and some of the gray receded from the man’s features. He even breathed more strongly.
“Ok, I’m going to pretend for a second that I care why you’re here.” Gaetano said to Ceyrabeth as they watched Josef work.
“I was going to ask for your help. Now, I think I’d rather feed myself to the archduke of Hell.”
“Feisty. I love feisty. Who’s in trouble?” She shot him a sideways look. “I know your name. It’s plastered all over the wanted posters. But you’re moving around freely. So, it must be someone else.”
“My comrade, Keiran.”
“Ah. Keiran Ehingen? Between the two of you, the reward is…”
Ceyrabeth grit her teeth, “Your head will adorn a central place on my wall before I let you…”
“Your tea, Sir.”
Gaetano took the rough mug from the old woman’s hands and sipped. “Finally. Something good. Why are you with Josef?”
“Because we thought he would help us get out of the city.”
“Help…Witchhammers?” Gaetano hooted, “By the by, however did you learn those abilities? I imagine your lovely pointed ears and distinct lack of curves gave you some trouble.”
“Less than you’d expect.”
“So…you were a Witchhammer raised and trained then? Blessing of Imperius, vigils, all that?” Gaetano pursed his full lips. “But not anymore?”
Ceyrabeth didn’t see how it would matter but she nodded, “No, not anymore.”
“Who are you working for now?”
“Why in the Void should I tell you that?”
“Because you need me.”
“Like I need a rotting hole in my chest…”
“Come on, precious. Indulge me a little, and I might just give a little back.” Gaetano grinned. “On my honor.”
“Fine. Have you heard of a group called the Phoenix Legion?” Ceyrabeth felt the change in Gaetano the second the words left her mouth. His expression became darker, colder.
“You work for Drachaen Sul?”
“He’s our Captain, yes.” She was puzzled. She hadn’t met anyone yet who’d even heard the name let alone had such a strong reaction to it.
“I can’t believe that Tainted bastard is still alive.”
Ceyrabeth bristled. “I’ll thank you not to speak of him with that tone. The Captain is professional, efficient and considerate…unlike some I could mention.”
“He’s got you dancing to his tune sure and certain.” Gaetano’s lip curled. “He always was good at swaying the faithful into breaking their vows.”
“How dare you…!” She spat, “I won’t listen to you a second longer. I would rather throw myself to the Brood than work with you…you…”
“Ceyrabeth!” Evric, who had been standing at the window, beckoned her over.
Ceyrabeth moved quickly to his side and felt her heart seize. A heavy cart pulled by a pair of speckled drays rattled by the hovel, two guards in heavy armor riding atop behind the horses. And behind its chained and barred rear door…
“Mischa…” Ceyrabeth breathed. She had just caught the young woman’s face as they passed. If Mischa had been caught their chances of success had just been cut drastically.
A heavy weight on her shoulder made her look around. Gaetano wa
s leaning against her, body tight against her side. He was grinning all over his handsome face. “So…what was that you were saying about Taintbrood?”
.:*:.
“Just so we’re clear,” Ceyrabeth couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror. The dress she had been forced into mortified her life out; cheap silk and too much skin. “I’m going to kill you as soon as your usefulness has run out.” Evric and Josef were both affecting interest in other points nowhere near her, like true gentlemen, but Gaetano had no such qualms; his eyes took her in from full, painted lips to high heeled shoes.
“Oh, you’re going to have to work on your sweet talk if you want to convince the guards that you’re the soiled dove they’ve been waiting for.” Gaetano laughed.
“Why are we not just breaking the door down again?” Ceyrabeth asked.
“Hey, you want to charge into a prison full of guards, be my guest…”
“Because you want to rescue your friends, not kill a whole bunch of people.” Josef interjected.
“And why me?”
“Because the sad truth is that not everyone is as equal as opportunist as I am,” Gaetano reached to fix a bow on Ceyrabeth’s hip; she knocked his hand away with a glare. “These boys are all about their girlies. And lucky for you, they’ve got a thing for pointy ears. Must be that whole subservience thing…’yes, master, no master’…”
“You’ve got that blade, right?” Evric interjected. Ceyrabeth patted her thigh. The strangely bright blade that Gaetano had used on the demon was the one thing that gave her any sort of comfort. It felt odd against her skin; colder than a normal blade. “Let’s go then. Better now than never.”
On the walk to the prison, Gaetano grasped Ceyrabeth’s arm. “Now, you’re sure you can take care of the two at the doors? Because we’re not going to be charging in to save your skin, so if you get pinned down or whatever...”
She just rolled her eyes at him, “I’m not completely helpless.”
Phoenix Rising Page 20
