by AC Cobble
Anne had her belt knife out and was sawing through the young ranger’s tunic. Blood pumped from a deep cut in his chest, staining her hands and his clothing. Jon’s face was pale, and his breath was coming in short, pitiful bursts. Placing her hands over the furiously bleeding wound, Anne closed her eyes.
Around them, the room was dead quiet. Rew frowned. He heard soft feet running in the hallway outside. It wasn’t the heavy trod of boots or the panicked rush of servants startled by an attack. It was deliberate. Rew stood and moved to stand by the doorway. In moments, a woman burst into the room, a shouted warning dying on her lips as she surveyed the room. Rew caught her arm and spun her, slapping away her wrist as she reached for one of the daggers on her hip.
“You,” said Zaine.
“Me,” agreed Rew. “You’ve got some explaining to do, lass.”
“I, ah… Ralcrist is dead?” asked the thief, peering around Rew’s shoulder.
Rew nodded.
“I overheard there’d be an attack. I came to warn—“
“You let these men into the keep, Zaine,” accused Rew. “Don’t deny it.”
“I-I… No, I—“ she stammered.
“I watched you talk the guards into opening the gate,” said Rew. “I watched you signal to these men, and I watched them murder those guards.”
Zaine’s eyes flashed. “Then you saw what happened to me?”
He nodded.
“These men, they’re thieves’ guild. They forced me to do it,” she claimed.
“Rew,” said Anne from where she was kneeling beside Jon. “He’ll live, but it’s not safe to move him. I think the blade nicked his heart. I need to make sure the wound is sealed.”
Rew nodded. “It should be safe in these rooms. They’ve done what they came to do. Stay here until I can return.” He asked Zaine, “What did they plan to do after killing the arcanist?”
The thief swallowed and looked away. “No one said anything about killing him.”
“What did they say, then?” asked Rew, his voice low. He took a step toward Zaine. She tried to back away, but he caught her arm.
“They told me they’d destroy the crystal and then we’d leave. They said they would just knock out the guards, and after… All I knew was that they meant to take the arcanist’s staff. I didn’t know anything about anyone getting killed!” she insisted. “My head’s aching like the worst hangover I’ve ever had. I woke up near the gate, beside those bodies. I saw them… I saw what happened, and I knew the thieves had lied to me. I knew they would hurt the arcanist and anyone else who got in their way. I came running here as quickly as I could. I meant to… I meant to warn him.”
“What’d they offer you?” asked Rew, but before she answered, he guessed, “A place in the guild?”
Lips pressed together, she nodded.
“They came to destroy this crystal, and that’s all?” asked Rew, glancing at the shattered pieces of ice blue stone on the table.
“They only told me about the staff,” said Zaine.
“Blessed Mother,” cursed Rew.
“What?” asked Anne from where she’d laid Jon down on the floor.
“The crystal dampened high magic in the vicinity of Falvar,” said Rew, gripping his longsword and scowling. “The strongest practitioner of high magic in this city is the same man who sent half of Baron Fedgley’s soldiers out into the barrowlands today. That treacherous bastard Alsayer is behind this. Of course he is. I knew he would be. I—King’s Sake. I should have done something to stop this.”
“But… why?” questioned Anne. “Why would Alsayer do this?”
Rew snarled, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“I didn’t know anything about… about the killings and the spellcaster,” pleaded Zaine. “I swear it. I did not know.”
“I’ll come—“ said Anne, starting to stand.
“Stay with Jon,” Rew instructed her. “Alsayer will know the thieves were successful in destroying the crystal, so he’ll have no reason to come to this room. You’ll be safe here.”
“I’ll stay as—“ began Zaine.
“You’re coming with me,” snapped Rew. “You’re not leaving my sight, lass, until we’ve sorted out a few things.”
Zaine winced but didn’t object.
“Here,” said Anne, standing and touching the back of the girl’s head with her bloody hands. “Find me after this is over, and I’ll give you a thorough check, but for now, I can ease your pain.”
Tight-lipped, Zaine nodded.
Rew wiped the blood from his longsword and instructed, “When we find Alsayer, stay behind me, and be ready to leap. He’s an arrogant ass, but it’s deserved. If he starts flinging his magic, find cover and stay out of sight. Let me deal with him.”
“As you say,” murmured the thief.
Rew led them out of the arcanist’s tower, listening for the eruption of spellcasting he was sure was about to come.
Chapter Nineteen
They rushed through the corridors, and it wasn’t long before Rew heard what he’d dreaded—the concussive thump of high magic.
“Is that Alsayer?” wondered Zaine as a deep womph echoed down the stone hallway.
“We can assume so,” said Rew. “Sonic lashes, I’d guess.”
“That’s what he used against the narjags?”
“The same,” confirmed the ranger, slowing as they passed a cross-hallway. He looked up and down both corridors but saw no one. He began jogging again, headed toward the throne room. “Sonic lashes are no more than incredibly dense bands of sound. They’re dense enough that they can cause serious damage, as we saw on the bodies of those narjags. They’re quite simple and are easy to control, so they’re a favorite amongst spellcasters when they’re in a battle with the luxury of targeting their attacks. If we see him, hide behind something substantial. Wood can shatter beneath a sonic lash. Stone should hold.”
“Why’s he doing this?” asked Zaine. “If the thieves killed Arcanist Ralcrist, couldn’t they have killed the baron too? Or, better yet, could Alsayer himself not have killed the man? He might not have had access to his magic, but if he requested an audience alone with the baron, I imagine he’d get it. Alsayer looks healthy enough. Even without his magic, a dagger to the heart, a drop of poison in the wine… Surely he could figure something out?”
“He could,” agreed Rew, “and that’s what concerns me.”
They made it to the hallways before the throne room, and Rew worried that yet again, they were too late. There were a dozen guards crumpled against the walls and sprawled on the center of the plush carpet. They were mutilated with giant wounds, like a huge battle axe had been taken to them—the results of Alsayer’s sonic lashes. Rew and Zaine had witnessed the efficacy of the man’s castings on the narjags, and it was just as brutal when unleashed against a human foe. The wooden door of the throne room had been punched open, and as they drew near, they could see Alsayer’s back. The spellcaster was standing in the center of the room, and in front of him, two score guards were arrayed in defensive postures.
“Can he get through all of them?” whispered Zaine.
Rew nodded as they padded silently into the room.
Alsayer, evidently hearing Zaine’s whisper or detecting them with some spell-enabled sense, glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, cousin, I hoped you would still be here.”
Rew raised his voice and called, “Do not do this, Alsayer.”
The spellcaster smirked. “You saw the guards outside, cousin. It’s too late to turn back now, don’t you think?”
Rew, silently admitting the man had a point, raised his longsword and stalked closer.
“I need a moment, cousin,” said the spellcaster. He tore a pendant from his neck and hurled it at the floor behind his feet. A glass orb, the size of grape, shattered on the floor, and a billow of thick, green mist boiled up from it.
Alsayer turned back to the soldiers in front of him and swept a hand out, flinging a sonorous, rib-rattling thump. A n
arrow band of sonic energy took two soldiers in the chest, slashing through their chainmail and into their skin. The men’s startled cries were quickly silenced as they were blasted back into their companions. Alsayer waved his arm again and unleashed another band of sonic power. The squad of soldiers retreated as a second group of them were torn open by the invisible assault. Their faces were locked in rictuses of panic, and the men were visibly trembling.
“Attack him!” bellowed Rew, trying to dodge around the growing column of foul smoke that emanated from Alsayer’s broken pendant. “You have to attack him, you fools!”
In a fight with a spellcaster, it never paid to let them fling their magic with impunity. The only way to defeat a spellcaster was to charge right at them. You couldn’t give them time or let them work the range of their attacks to their advantage, and above all, you couldn’t show them your back. The soldiers, terrified of facing a spellcaster with an expert control of high magic, were doing exactly the opposite of what they should.
Rew started forward, but the green cloud roiled, and he was blocked as two giant conjurings stepped forth from the mist. Creatures conjured and then bound into the artifact were released on its destruction. There were two of them, and they stood sentry behind the spellcaster, forced to serve as his guardians. They walked on short legs and thick arms, their knuckles balancing them as they tottered closer to Rew and Zaine. On top of their heavily muscled shoulders were a second pair of arms, and round, hairless heads sat on squat necks. Despite the extra set of arms, they looked vaguely humanoid, except their mouths were filled with giant teeth that protruded from fat lips. They were an awful variety of imp, the largest Rew had ever seen, and he shuddered at the thought Alsayer might be capable of conjuring such. The monstrosities drooled and snarled, shuffling closer, their arms moving with the dexterity of an ape, their hind legs hopping along, landing in-between the arms and then pushing off to move them forward.
“W-What the…” stammered Zaine.
“Stay behind me,” advised Rew, looking at the giant imps in disgust. Conjured from another plane, perhaps amalgamated from several creatures of that horrific world? He wasn’t sure, but the huge imps’ bodies bulged with taut muscle, and Rew thought it a safe assumption the things would be terrifically strong.
He moved forward, feinting a charge, and watched as the creatures’ second set of hands reacted, following his movement, while the pair they used to walk kept propelling them closer.
One of the creatures reared up on its short legs and cried a high-pitched challenge, flexing both sets of arms and then dropping and charging him in a lurching trot. With no chance to form a strategy, Rew leapt at the monster, chopping at it with his longsword. The creature didn’t pause, but it screamed in rage when his steel bit into its leading arm, drawing a line of crimson blood across its forearm. The imp scrambled sideways, as if confused, and Rew attempted to pursue it, but its companion reached for him, a massive paw grasping at his head.
Rew dodged away, cursing under his breath. Behind the two conjurings, he could see Baron Fedgley’s soldiers being torn apart by Alsayer’s magic. Rew had no love for the baron, and he suspected the man deserved everything that was going to happen to him, but whatever the spellcaster’s goals, Rew was certain they would end in torment and loss for innocent people. Whatever Alsayer was attempting, Rew decided he would stop it.
Rew dodged to the side, and the two massive imps followed him, swiping at him with their giant hands. They were slow and evidently slow-witted, but they were huge. Even in the open throne room, there was little space he could slip by them to get to the spellcaster. And if he did, he would be facing high magic with those two things at his back. Rew growled and attacked again, taking the one on his left this time, spinning his longsword and then dragging it across the monster’s knuckles, tugging against the bone and leaving a deep, bloody laceration.
He darted away, and the thing began a limping hop, its bleeding knuckle leaving crimson smears on the floor as it moved. It cried out, angry at the pain, but such a small cut would do nothing to disable the giant.
Ducking beneath a raised arm, Rew ran at the summoning on his right, slashing a wild blow to one of its upper arms, twirling his longsword, and stabbing deep into a lower appendage on the opposite side.
Retreating again, he spared a look back and saw he was already halfway to the entrance of the throne room. He was running out of area to dance around and avoid the imps. He feinted at them again, attempting to push them back on their heels, but they just kept coming. The one on the right was bleeding profusely, but for a creature that size, Rew guessed it would take a day to bleed out from the wounds he’d given.
He spied Alsayer between the mammoth imps’ bodies and shouted, “Stop now, or I’ll have no choice.”
The spellcaster paused for a moment, glancing back over his shoulder. He grinned at Rew when he saw it was only a distraction.
“Enjoying my friends, cousin?” called the spellcaster. He gestured and flung another sonic lash to decapitate a charging soldier.
Cursing that his ploy failed, that Alsayer hadn’t reacted by instinctively flinging magic at the perceived threat, Rew ran at the monsters again. His back was about to be at the wall, and if he didn’t get through quickly, it would be too late. Whatever Alsayer was intending would be done.
The creatures turned as Rew ran into their midst, and he feverishly hacked his sword into arms, legs, and torsos as they came in range, carving brutal wounds but not having the reach to inflict a fatal blow.
He dodged as arms swung at him, crouching low then jumping a forearm that swept at his legs. While he was in the air, he caught the back of a fist from the second imp that smashed against his side. Rew was flung across the room. Tucking his shoulder, he thudded to the carpeted floor of the throne room. He rolled and sprang back to his feet, groaning at the twinge in his arm and shoulder where the imp’s fist had struck him.
The conjurings came after him, seeking to pin him against the wall.
Rew launched himself at one, desperation forcing reckless action. Aiming low with his longsword, he pulled back as if he meant to unleash a strike powerful enough to sever the creature’s arm. Perhaps hesitant now that he’d sliced several bloody gashes in it, the giant imp drew back the arm and reached forward with the top pair.
Rew jumped, stepping on the lower pair of limbs and hurtling over the upper pair. He swung a thunderous overhand blow at the imp, striking it on the top of the head. The edge of the blade met the thick skull of the monster, and Rew heard the crack of bone. He saw the look of stunned pain in the imp’s eyes. The conjuring slumped, and Rew slammed into it, his thighs hitting its shoulder, the rest of his body flipping over. He rolled down the monster’s back and thumped onto the floor.
Behind him, the beast collapsed, and then, the second one scooped him up.
Arms with incredible strength wrapped around him and lifted him into the air, trapping his own arm with his longsword against this side. His bones creaked beneath the crushing pressure, and he felt a drop of hot saliva on his neck. He imagined the imp’s maw opening, preparing to clamp down on his head.
Frantically, Rew scrambled for his hunting knife, the creature’s arms shifting, its hand gripping his shoulder. Another arm wrapped around his waist and sword arm. In a panic, Rew realized the imp was preparing to rip him in two.
He felt the bone hilt of his hunting knife, barely above the monster’s arm, and yanked it free. Blindly, he stabbed behind his head, over and over, his blade meeting resistance, punching into flesh and bone. The imp howled in anger, until Rew felt the blade sink deep. He shoved on it, guessing he’d found an eye socket.
The imp wailed a bestial cry of agony and let go of him.
Rew fell, stumbling as his feet hit the floor. He spun, thrusting up with his longsword and burying the steel in the imp’s chest. He twisted the blade and yanked it free.
“Rew!” shouted Zaine.
He flung himself to the side.
<
br /> A black cloud filled with glittering sparks flashed above him and smashed into the wall, dozens of gleaming silver flakes embedding into the stone and sticking there like tiny saw blades. Had he not ducked, those flakes would have shredded him like arrows punching through a paper target.
Rew rolled across the floor and jumped up in time to see Alsayer raise an open palm to Baron Fedgley’s wife. All around the imposing woman were dead soldiers. The baroness stood on the dais before her throne, her arms crossed in front of her, a pale shield of blue-white magic raised in defense. Her eyes blazed behind the translucent barrier, and she shouted, “You’ve gone too far, Spellcaster!”
Alsayer, a smile plastered on his face, launched a melon-sized globule of liquid fire at the baroness.
She stood calmly, ready to absorb his attack with her shield, but the fire hissed on contact with the barrier and burned through her magic in the space of a breath. Drips of molten fire fell onto one of the baroness’ hands, and she screamed, looking in terrified shock as her wrist melted away to nothing but bone, and then, that fell away too. The end of the baroness’ arm was nothing but ash.
Transfixed in pain and surprise, the baroness stood still, not defending the next globule of fire that took her directly in the face, incinerating her skull in an instant. Headless, the baroness wavered and then collapsed, her body tumbling down the short stairs of the dais.
“Mother!” cried Raif, bursting into the room from a side door in time to see the grisly death. Wild-eyed, the boy looked around the room before settling on Alsayer. He bellowed, “You!”
Raif charged, and Alsayer cackled.
Rew sprinted across the room, knowing he couldn’t reach the spellcaster fast enough, so he hurled himself at Raif, smashing his shoulder into the side of the charging fighter, taking him off his feet and knocking them both clear as a jagged spear of ice blew past them, shattering against the wall into a thousand shards that exploded in a cloud of sharp ice, cutting Rew’s face and hands as they pelted against him. Rew rolled clear, only to see Cinda striding past him, her hands raised, coiling electrical energy crackling between her fingers.
