The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “The little bastard,” Boris breathed, his mouth agape and the colour gone from his cheeks.

  “What?” another pirate said.

  Boris turned to his mate. “You can’t see it?”

  “See what?” the pirate frowned.

  “Turner,” Byron said, drawing the pirate’s gaze. “Lucius sent us here to die.”

  “You what?”

  “You went to the tavern because you got word Byron wanted you there, yeah?” Boris said, staring hard at the pirate named Turner.

  “So?” Turner frowned.

  Boris turned to the others. “You all got the same call, yeah?”

  Some nodded, their confusion plain, others merely stared as their faces whitened.

  Boris turned to Byron. “You never sent word, did you?”

  Slowly, Byron shook his head.

  “Bollocks!” a pirate gasped.

  “He sent us here to be purged,” another muttered.

  “And we never saw it,” a third added.

  “Boys,” Byron said, drawing all eyes to him. “ We’re not dead yet. We got our blades still, know what that means?”

  “Weighton’s not sold on killing us yet,” Boris smiled.

  “Aye,” Byron nodded. “And I say we get the hells out of here before he is. We get out and we take care of Lucius at a time of our choosing.”

  “Aye,” Turner rose. “Time we left.”

  “Aye,” Byron nodded, then headed for the door, his pirates in tow.

  Gingerly, Amala and Anise stepped out of the shadows, their footsteps soft yet sure. The pair watched the four-man patrol hurry down the corridor, crossbows loaded and shields at the ready.

  “That’s the fifth patrol thus far,” Anise muttered.

  “I know,” Amala sighed.

  “Seems they know I’m missing.”

  Amala nodded. “Seems so. Rather infuriating, that.”

  Anise frowned. “Surely you’d have expected them to know.”

  “Oh, we expected it, alright,” Amala replied as she took stock of her surrounds. “That’s why your pirate friend is here.”

  “Lucius?” Anise said as her frown deepened.

  “No.” Amala sighed. “The other one.”

  Anise stared at Amala for a spell, then her eyes went wide. “Byron’s here?”

  Amala nodded. “Yes.”

  “I thought you were using his name as a ruse!”

  “Sort of. That guard I stabbed isn’t quite dead, or rather he wasn’t when we left. My mentioning Byron’s name was for his benefit.”

  A slow smile parted Anise’s lips. “I see. You let him report to Weighton it was Byron who cut me loose, and Weighton takes his sweet time making Byron talk while we simply walk out of here.”

  Amala nodded. “That was the plan.”

  “So, what went wrong?”

  Amala shrugged. “Hells if I know.”

  Then, she turned to face Anise square, her deep frown twisting her lips. “I’m afraid, my dear, we are well and truly cornered.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” Amala nodded. “The front entrance will be crawling with guards by now, making any plans to sneak past them foolhardy, and that last patrol means backtracing our steps any further than this is just as foolhardy.”

  “No.” Anise shook her head. “We should still be able to slip past any guards at the gate with the right illusion.“

  “You think so?” Amala smirked.

  Anise frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Anise, given their heightened vigilance, the only illusion that’ll work is an invisibility spell, and I don’t know about you, but my illusion skills are slightly lacking. The best I can do is shield myself from their eyes, that’s it.”

  “How is that not enough?”

  “That four-man patrol that just passed, do you think you could’ve slipped past without bumping into one of them?”

  “Ah…” Anise sighed. “Damn.”

  “Damn indeed.” Amala sighed. “We have to find another way out of here, and soon. With the way things are going, even the shadows will be of little use. And we can’t simply kill the patrols either.”

  “Why not?” Anise asked. “We kill them, spin illusions to make ourselves look like them and—”

  “And hide the bodies where?” Amala interjected.

  “We can—”

  “No, Anise. I’d rather leave the killing till we have no choice. Stealth is our ally, and I’d rather not give Weighton or his guards proof we’re still in this place.”

  “Fair,” Anise said. “So where to, then?”

  Amala stared about them a spell, then pointed to a side corridor not far from them.

  “That way,” she said, then made her way towards it.

  “You’re sure?” Anise asked as she followed the vampire.

  “No.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Anise followed Amala, and the pair made their journey in silence till the sounds of battle drifted to their ears.

  “Marsha,” Amala gasped, her eyes going wide.

  “No!” Anise cried.

  As one, the pair raced towards the skirmish, weapons at the ready. It was Amala who reached the battle first, a wall of guards appearing before her as she neared, their backs to her. Without a break in stride, the enraged vampire flung herself at the central guard, snapping his neck as they fell, before bounding off him and leaping upon the guard to his left, sinking her teeth into his neck and bringing him crashing to the stone floor.

  A startled silence fell upon all present as they watched her slurp and gorge on the squirming guard’s life’s essence till at last, as Amala rose, the guards’ enemies came to life and with Amala in their ranks, they cut down the remaining guards just as Anise arrived. It was then that Amala realised the enormity of her mistake.

  “Byron?” Anise cried.

  “What?” Amala cried as she turned to face the pirates square.

  “Stay back, boys!” Byron cried, his quivering blade pointed at Amala. “Don’t look into her eyes!”

  “I’m a vampire, you imbecile,” Amala snarled, “not a gorgon.”

  “Stay back!” Byron spat. “Whatever you are!”

  “What are you doing here?” Amala demanded.

  Byron smiled, “Saw through your plan, didn’t I. Knew right away what that little shite was planning. Only wasn’t expecting him to have two hells-demons on his side.”

  “What did you call me?” Amala snarled as she stepped forth.

  “Stay back!” Byron cried. “I swear, I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing,” came a voice from the shadows, “save lower your swords. Now.”

  As the pirate and the two women turned to the source of those words, all watched as the human that was Weighton stepped into the light, guards pouring in from behind him.

  “Weighton,” Byron said as he swallowed hard, all colour draining from his face. “Now see here, Weighton, I…”

  In response, the human turned to face Byron, and as he did so, Amala backed away from them, inching as quickly and silently as she could to Anise’s side. As she reached the Archmage, however, sounds of hurried footsteps reached them, and as they turned, the pair watched as the way they’d come was blocked by two rows of guards, weapons at the ready.

  “I don’t know what’s happening here,” Weighton said, “but you’ve spilt blood under my roof, and for that you must all pay.”

  “Listen, Weighton, we…”

  Ignoring the pirate, Weighton turned to his guards.

  “Kill them all,” he said.

  “No, Weighton! Listen!” Byron cried as the guards raised their crossbows.

  “No!” Byron yelled, his pirates huddled about him. “Wait!”

  Then, just as Weighton raised his hand to order his men to loose their bolts, the vampire that was Amala clasped her hands about Anise’s ears before opening her mouth wide and letting loose the most ear-piercing of screeches. Then, letting go of her companion, the snarling vampire fl
ung herself at the dazed guards behind them, a disorientated Anise following her lead.

  Crouched against the wall of the corridor, Marshalla stared at the guards lining the main entrance as she bit down on her lip.

  “So many,” she whispered.

  “Hrm,” Anieszirel nodded. “Wasn’t expecting this many so soon.”

  “You think Lucius talked?”

  “No,” the chronodragon shook her head. “If he was going to, he would’ve done so before he brought Weighton to the graveyard.”

  “True,” Marshalla muttered. “What do you think…”

  At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps reached the pair.

  “Look out!” Anieszirel hissed.

  Gasping, Marshalla sprang to her feet and hugged the wall for all she was worth, and, holding her breath, watched as more guards hurried past them. It was an unnerving feeling, watching them race past in the broad light of day, yet oblivious to her presence.

  “How many do they bloody need?” Anieszirel growled once the guards were past.

  “If Lucius didn’t betray us, why are they here?”

  “Well, they’re obviously there to stop someone from slipping past—”

  “Yes, us!”

  “Would you stop that? Lucius didn’t betray us, I tell you!”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Why wait till after we’ve left to betray us?”

  “Perhaps Weighton made him talk.”

  Anieszirel sighed. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  “You have a plan, then?”

  Pursing her lips, the chronodragon stared at the entrance again. With her illusion upon Marshalla, slipping past would’ve been possible had there been fewer guards, but as it was, it would be impossible for Marshalla to get past without brushing up against one of them. They needed a diversion.

  “You’re sure you can’t just teleport us out of here?”

  Anieszirel shook her head. “I already told you. The paling around this place will—”

  “But you did it at the Tower. The paling here can’t be anywhere near as powerful as that.”

  “It’s not, but I’m nowhere near as powerful now as I was back then.”

  “So, what do you suggest, then?”

  Anieszirel sighed. “We need to thin their number somehow, get them to…”

  Just then, a shrill, unearthly shriek filled the air, chilling the hearts of all who heard it.

  “What the hells was that?” Marshalla said.

  “I don’t…” Anieszirel began as she shook her head, only to realise what it was.

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  “Damn?”

  Before Anieszirel could respond, half the guards turned to race back down the corridor.

  “Great!” Marshalla grinned.

  But the chronodragon wasn’t grinning, and as the men raced towards them, Anieszirel stepped forth, conjuring about her ice dagger after ice dagger.

  “Ani, what’re you doing?”

  Then, as the guards reached them, the chronodragon let go of their illusion, and unleashed her ice daggers.

  “Ani!”

  With the suddenness of the chronodragon’s attack, the guards had only moments to react, and none did. And in the end, when the ice daggers were spent, none was left alive, not even the ones by the entrance itself.

  “Ani, what did you do?” Marshalla yelled.

  With eyes bright, the chronodragon spun to face her square.

  “That sound came from Amala, Marsha…”

  “What?”

  “…and it was meant as a warning.”

  “Warning? What do you mean—”

  “They’ve been found.”

  Marshalla’s eyes went wide at this. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go help them!”

  “We will do no such thing.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “Amala just gave her life for you. She’s drawing their ire so we can escape.”

  “I am not leaving without her!” Marshalla yelled. “Not her, not—”

  “Marshalla!” Anieszirel barked, silencing the red-haired girl in an instant. “If we go to them, Weighton will have all his enemies in one place, and all he’ll have to do is bring the full weight of his forces to bear on us all at once, and I guarantee you, not all of us will walk out of that alive…”

  Marshalla swallowed hard at this.

  “…so, you and I are going to leave through that door, and we’re going to cause as much chaos and destruction as we can. Do you know why?”

  Marshalla held the chronodragon in an empty stare for a moment, then she smiled.

  “Split their forces,” she replied.

  “Precisely.” Marshalla nodded. “Weighton wants you, not them. And if we give him cause to fear your power, he’ll send most of his people after you.”

  A deep snarl twisted the red-haired girl’s lips. “Then, what are we waiting for?”

  The chronodragon nodded. “Grab a shield, my dear, this will get messy.”

  Marshalla did, and as she stepped out of the entrance, she paused and stared. The guards within the surrounding compound had gathered near the main steps, forming a barrier between her and the main gate in the distance, a shield wall protecting the crossbows aimed at her.

  “Ani?” Marshalla whispered

  “I’m here, my dear,” Marshalla replied. “They can’t see me, just you. All you have to do is protect yourself with your shield, and wave your hands at them. I’ll do the rest.”

  “But they know about you,” Marshalla whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Anieszirel smiled, “they can’t see me. And if they can’t see me, they’re going to think everything that happens from here on in will be by your doing. So let’s give them a show.”

  “Right,” Marshalla nodded and, taking a deep breath, brought her shield to bear. “Right.”

  “You there!” cried one of the guards in the shield line. “We shall give you just this one—”

  Marshalla pointed a finger at the man and lightning tore out from behind her, hitting the guard square in the throat and barrelling him through the crossbowmen arrayed behind him.

  Emboldened, Marshalla marched forth, and as the battle was joined, it looked for all the world like the guards were facing a girl with the fury of the elements at her command, for with each wave, with each flick of her wrist, Marshalla visited death and destruction upon them, decimating their number until none stood against her.

  Reaching the gate, Marshalla paused and took a deep breath. At that moment, hurried footsteps reached her ears, and spinning round, she watched as two of the guards raced up the main steps.

  Pulling up her shield, Marshalla made to point at them.

  “No,” Anieszirel said, “let them go.”

  “Why?”

  The chronodragon smiled. “Someone needs to tell Weighton what happened here.”

  “Ah, right.”

  “Right,” the chronodragon replied as she melted away the lock upon the gate, “you remember the way to the meeting point?”

  Marshalla frowned. “Yes, why?”

  “Go there. Now.”

  Marshalla’s frown deepened. “Where will you be?”

  “I…need to leave you for a little while.”

  “What?” Marshalla cried as her eyes went wide.

  “I need to go regather my strength, Marsha. I need to be at my very best for what’s to come.”

  “But…they’ll be coming for me!”

  “Yes,” Anieszirel smiled as she drifted closer to the child, “and I’ll be back before they can claim you.”

  “Don’t leave.”

  “I must. But I shall return before they get to you, upon my honour.”

  Marshalla swallowed hard.

  “Go, Marsha,” Anieszirel said as she began to fade from view. “Go now.”

  Not knowing what else to do, the young red-head clasped her shield tight and ran.

  Coughing, A
mala stumbled on as she cradled her arm, blood gushing from the stump that was her forearm, the bandage about it doing little to stem the bleeding.

  “Amala, stop,” Anise pleaded as she hurried after the vampire, a hand clenched firm upon the deep gash in her side. “You need to rest!”

  Amala paid her little mind, stumbling on without pause.

  “Damn it, will you stop?”

  But Amala couldn’t. It was only a matter of time before more guards came looking for them. She had to get as far within as she could before then. The further in she was, the longer it would take for whoever came after them to reinforce those hunting Marshalla.

  “Stop, damn you!” Anise yelled before hurrying up behind the vampire.

  As she placed a hand upon Amala’s shoulder, however, the silver-haired woman cried out, slapping Anise’s hand away as if it were a viper.

  “Keep away!” she cried as she spun about, her eyes wide.

  Stunned, Anise stared at her companion.

  “Just keep back,” Amala added, her voice quivering.

  “I only wish to help,” Anise said.

  “Help?” Amala said, her face ashen and drawn. “You have no idea how desperate I am to feed right now.”

  At those words, all blood drained from Anise’s face as she slowly stood tall.

  “Keep your distance, alright?” Anise added. “For both our sakes.”

  “Alright.” Anise nodded. “But you’re bleeding badly. We can’t just…”

  Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps reached the pair.

  “So soon,” Amala said, swaying as she spoke.

  Wide-eyed, Anise scanned their surrounds for something, anything they could use to make a final stand.

  “You think Weighton’ll be with them?” Amala said.

  “What?” Anise said as she turned to the vampire

  “I hope so,” Amala replied, her gaze fixed upon the path from which the footsteps came.

  “You hope…he took your bloody arm!”

  Amala smiled. “A lucky strike, nothing more.”

  Shaking her head, Anise scanned their surrounds once more, then her eyes fell upon a doorway in the distance, one with no door, and one whose room, from what little Anise could make out, was filled with barrels of many sizes. A storeroom.

  “There!” Anise pointed, then made to reach for Amala, only to stop herself at the last moment.

  In response, Amala turned and hurried to the storeroom, Anise close behind, and as Anise moved the heaviest of the barrels to block the doorway, the guards arrived, letting loose several bolts into the barrels.