Quote the Drow Nevermore

by Martha Carr

  “Okay, okay. Found the drow’s weak spot. Sorry.” Yurik leaned back in his chair, chuckling.

  “We don’t bring in magicals from the other side,” Tate added. “I mean, we bring in magicals all the time.”

  “Yeah, in cuffs.” Bhandi snorted and took another long drink.

  “Just not on the team. You know?” Tate gave the halfling a conspiratorial nod.

  “Is that word off-limits in here too?” Cheyenne asked, looking from one of the off-duty agents to the next.

  “Not unless we wanna fight our way outta here.” Bhandi swung her tankard to the side, sloshing more grog onto the table. “Same kinda hush-hush as you walking around looking like that instead of the H-word.”

  Cheyenne frowned. “human?”

  “No. The other one.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “The magicals coming in from the other side bring their expectations with them when they pop across the Border,” Yurik added. “I heard the higher-ups tried to take some off the rez and put guns in their hands, but it apparently caused problems.”

  Tate nodded. “So now they pull from the pool of us who’ve never stepped foot off this Earthen realm.”

  “What are you, an Oracle now?” Bhandi laughed and leaned over the table. “Who says that? ‘Earthen realm.’”

  “That’s what it is,” Tate shot back. “And you wouldn’t know an Oracle if it narrated your little escapade last month down to every nitty, gritty detail.”

  “Hey.” Bhandi slammed her elbow on the table and flipped the other troll the middle finger. “Unspoken pact, man. What happens in Peridosh stays in Peridosh.”

  “Huh.” Tate spun and glanced at the bar and the rest of the tables, which had filled up in the last hour. “Are we somewhere else?”

  Cheyenne took a small sip of fellwine and felt a tingle spread across her shoulders. Yeah, I think I’m done with that. She grabbed the tankard of grog instead. “What happened last month?”

  Yurik burst out laughing, leaning so far back, the front legs of his chair left the ground. He flung himself forward again and reached for the table. “Shit.”

  “No.” Bhandi flipped middle fingers at both other agents this time. “No one says a goddamn word.”

  Tate winked at Cheyenne. “We’ll tell you later.”

  “You little—” Bhandi lunged across the table and sent a ball of churning red magic at the other troll’s head. She missed by at least a foot, and the spell smashed into the wall at the back of the tavern.

  “Hey!” Ogsa pounded a fist on the bar, then pointed at their group. “We had a deal, Bhandi. Don’t make me throw you out. I do not want a repeat of last month.”

  “We’re good!” Bhandi tossed both hands up beside her head and sat back in her chair. “No problem over here, Ogsa.”

  “I’m watching you, Bare-Ass Bhandi.”

  Yurik and Tate lost it and erupted into howling laughter. Bhandi thumped against the back of her chair and folded her arms. One scarlet eye twitched as she glared at them. “It’s not even a little funny.”

  Cheyenne tried to wipe a grin off her face. “Did you really—”

  “That’s enough outta you too.” Bhandi pointed at her and shot her a sidelong, warning glance. “I like you, Goth drow. But not that much.”

  With a shrug, Cheyenne just returned to drinking her grog, the fellwine left safely half-full in the abandoned copper cup. While the other agents pulled themselves back under control, the halfling felt another prickling tingle race across her shoulders. She glanced into the tankard. Didn’t think I drank that much.

  “Hey.” Tate’s laughing smile faded, and he nodded toward the other side of the tavern. “Don’t look now, but I think somebody’s got a problem.”

  Bhandi immediately swiveled to the side in her chair and made a quick sweep of the other patrons.

  “Goddammit, Bhandi, I said, don’t look.”

  “Nah.” She waved off the rest of the bar and turned back to drop her elbow on the table. “You’re seeing things.”

  The tingle grew stronger across Cheyenne’s shoulders, crawling back and forth. That’s what I’m feeling.

  “I don’t think anyone cares about you, Bhandi.” Yurik glanced covertly over the halfling’s shoulder before tipping his face into his tankard. “They’re mean-mugging Cheyenne.”

  “What?” Bhandi stared at the halfling now and nudged their new friend’s shoulder. “impressive. You didn’t even do anything.”

  “You piss anyone off lately?” Tate asked.

  Cheyenne glanced at him, loosening her grip on the tankard’s handle. “Are you serious?”

  The tattooed troll nodded.

  “Yeah, the list is pretty long. But I haven’t been here before, so I don’t know why.” Not the first time magicals have tracked me down, though.

  “Why what?” Bhandi waved a hand in front of the halfling’s face. “Earth to Cheyenne. You can’t not finish that sentence.”

  The halfling looked at the off-duty agents and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It might, though, if those guys decide to step it up a notch.” Yurik dipped his chin and stared right back at whoever it was. “So far, it’s just the death stare.”

  “Yeah, well, it never actually killed anyone.” Cheyenne glanced at her grog and let go of the handle completely. Totally sober now. I think.

  “It might if one of them was a raug.”

  Cheyenne choked in surprise. “What?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Tate had joined Yurik in the mean-eyed staring contest too. “A raug can strike you down just by looking at you the right way.”

  The halfling muttered, “That would’ve been good to know.”

  “What, before you went and had dinner with a raug, huh?” Bhandi chuckled. “Good one.”

  “No, I didn’t have dinner with him. But he ate a bunch of…sticks?” Wrinkling her nose, Cheyenne shook her head and tried to shake the warning buzzing tingle off the back of her shoulders.

  “For real?” Bhandi leaned toward her, the grog fumes pouring off her now almost as strong as they’d lifted from the fellwine. “You hung out with a raug?”

  “Yeah, who just happened to be an Oracle.” Cheyenne stared at the table. Great. The tingle gets stronger, and I get a loose tongue.

  “No shit? Hey.” Bhandi slapped the table. “Are you guys hearing this?”

  “Not now, Bhandi.” Tate narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping into a warning growl.

  “A damn raug. And you two boneheads don’t think that’s—”

  “Shut up,” Yurik hissed.

  “Okay, what the hell crawled into your—” The troll woman turned to look behind Cheyenne and sighed. “Shit.”

  A shadow fell across Cheyenne and most of the table. The halfling didn’t turn around, but her fists clenched in her lap.

  “Fancy seeing you here, mór úcare.”

  Don’t know the voice. Definitely heard that name, though.

  “Private table, asshole.” Tate glared at whatever magical stood behind Cheyenne, his fist curling tighter around the handle of his tankard.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” It came out as a slow, rumbling growl. “I’m here for the drow.”

  “Not tonight, you aren’t.” Yurik pointed toward the other side of the bar, his yellow eyes flashing in the overhead lights. “Go on back to your buddies and finish off the night making good choices. Hell, have another round on me, and we’ll call it good.”

  The looming magical behind Cheyenne leaned close enough for her to feel his breath on the back of her neck. “I’m talking to you, mór úcare. Show some manners at least, huh?”

  She stared at the wall between Tate and Yurik. “Maybe if you brush your teeth first. Guess nobody told you that’s kind of a priority Earthside. Even when you’re breathing down someone’s neck.”

  “You talk a lotta shit for someone who won’t turn around and face me.”

  Slowly, the drow halfling lifted her hands and settled th
em on the table. Yurik cocked his head at her while the other off-duty agents stared at the asshole behind her. “You good?”

  “I just chugged fellwine, man. I’m good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cheyenne’s chair scooted back as she stood. The agents shifted in their seats, but she shook her head at them. “I’ll handle this.”

  The magical behind her stepped back, his shadow clearing from the table, and the drow halfling turned to face him. Her gaze landed on the center of the guy’s chest, and she looked up slowly to see an ogre even taller and beefier than Jamal looming over her. It had to be an ogre.

  The hulking magical sneered at her, his thick gray lower lip glistening with spit and maybe a little grog. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “You got somethin’ to say to me?” Cheyenne’s fists clenched by her sides again, but she waited. Keep the berserker down until you need it.

  “Oh, I got plenty to say.” The ogre pressed one fist into his palm, his knuckles cracking like giant rocks smashing against each other. “Not the kinda conversation for mixed company, though.”

  “Naw. Whatever you gotta say to me, you can say in front of my friends here.” She jerked her head back toward the table. “They’re cool.”

  “We’re not, mór úcare. You see my friends over there? They’re not cool with you, either.”

  Four other magicals stood from a table halfway across the bar. The halfling had to peer around the giant dude’s frame, which was at least twice as wide as her body.

  “Goblin, orc, skaxen, troll. Huh.” She craned her neck back at the guy hunching over her. “Looks like you brought the whole rainbow with you tonight.”

  “Almost.” One side of the ogre’s mouth lifted in another twitching sneer, revealing black-stained teeth. “We just need a little drow blackberry to add to the mix.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “Are you talking about me? ‘Cause honestly, I don’t know if it was supposed to be an insult or some kinda pet name.”

  “We’ve been looking for you, mór úcare. Ever since we got the calling.”

  “What calling?”

  A low chuckle escaped the mountainous magical, then his arm swung toward her like a fallen tree. Cheyenne slipped into her enhanced speed and sidestepped the guy’s clumsy punch. She tried to reach up and grab his head to slam into her knee at hyper-speed. Standing on her tiptoes, she could only reach the tops of his shoulders. A frustrated sigh escaped her. “Fine.”

  The halfling stepped back and sent a high kick into the center of the ogre’s chest. Time sped up again, and the ogre flew into the wall just beside Bhandi with an ear-splitting crack.

  “Oh, shit!”

  “What the hell was that?”

  The other patrons in the tavern backed away in surprise as the ogre dropped to the floor. The magicals at the table on the other side of him scrambled out of their chairs, snatching up their half-full tankards and pitchers.

  Cheyenne looked at the four other dirtbags who’d stood when the ogre was still able to make threats, then pointed at the fallen mountain of gray meat. “You guys gonna come help your friend, or what?”

  All four of the other thugs rushed toward her, snarling and conjuring flaring lights of different-colored magic in their hands. The troll let off a burst of icy-white shards. Cheyenne ducked, and the spell crashed against the back wall of the cavern.

  She straightened again and rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant!”

  The skaxen launched a shimmering vortex of silver and green like a miniature tornado. Cheyenne grabbed the closest thing at hand—the mostly empty first pitcher of grog from her table—and batted his spell aside. A green crackle raced up her arm, making her drop the tankard again. It toppled onto the table and spilled the last of the grog.

  “Hey,” Bhandi shouted. “I was drinking that.”

  I really need to master that shield.

  The orc conjured a burst of green fire in his palm as the skaxen leaped up onto the vacated table with a hiss, clawed hands at the ready. The halfling hurled a crackling black sphere of energy at the orc, which caught him in the shoulder of his raised arm and sent his green fire hurtling into the floor. He roared and slapped his shoulder as the skaxen leaped from the table.

  What is it with those guys and all the jumping?

  “Watch—”

  Cheyenne slipped into her enhanced speed and shot black, whipping tendrils from her fingertips. They curled around the skaxen’s chest and neck, and she jerked him back into the wall. Everything sped up again, the orange ratface crashed and bounced off the still-stunned ogre as Yurik finished his warning.

  “—out!”

  She turned toward him with a sarcastic nod. “Yeah, thanks. But I got—”

  The orc rushing her made contact and bowled her over, lifting her partially up over his shoulder before slamming her into the back wall of the tavern. It knocked the wind out of her, and a collective groan rose from the tavern’s patrons.

  The halfling slammed her elbow down once, twice, three times into the back of the orc’s neck before he finally pulled away from her. She ducked the huge green fist flying toward her face, and it crashed into the wall behind her instead. He stumbled backward, shaking out his hand and looking down at the floor to find his target. Cheyenne slipped between him and the wall and finally got to crack someone’s nose against her knee.

  The orc roared when she released his sweaty, hairless head. Then she saw the troll stomping toward her. Yurik jumped up from his chair to get in the troll thug’s way, pulling his fist back for a swing. The troll’s attention turned toward the body-building goblin with the huge ring in his nose and yellow sparks in his hand.

  Cheyenne sent her black tendrils flying from both hands. Half of them coiled around the troll’s neck and yanked him backward with a startled choke. The other half slapped against Yurik’s cocked-back arm.

  “Ow! Fuck!” He shook out his arm as the drow halfling cracked her knee against the side of the orc’s face, spraying nearly-black blood and spit everywhere before he dropped. “Well, the hell was that for?”

  She stormed toward the table and grabbed his shoulder, jamming him firmly back down in the chair again. Yurik landed with a thud, his eyes popping open even wider as he stared at her. “I said, I got this.”

  The ogre roared and managed to pull back up to his feet. His skaxen friend scrambled off him with a little yelp before they both turned to face the drow halfling. “You can’t fight all of us off, mór úcare,” the orange ratface hissed. “Might as well make it easier for us.”

  “This is easy.” She blasted his pointy, sharp-toothed face with a barrage of crackling purple sparks like automatic bullets and hurled another crackling black energy ball at the ogre. The skaxen shrieked, batting at his face, and the ogre just looked dumbly down at where her much more powerful spell had fizzled out across his chest. The halfling’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

  The ogre lumbered toward her and swung his fist again. She slipped into her enhanced speed to avoid the punch, but her head jerked back, with agonizing pain ripping across the back of her skull. With a scream of pain, she tried to whirl toward his other suspended fist and got a face full of bone-white hair.

  “What the…are you kidding me?” Cheyenne slapped the back of her head and the giant magical’s fist right behind her. “Motherfucker grabbed my hair. What kind of—”

  With another shout of frustration, she twisted enough to clamp both hands around the ogre’s clenched fists. His fingers wouldn’t budge, even in her drow speed, so she squeezed as hard as she could and summoned the churning spheres of black fire in both hands. This’ll be nothing like the puzzle box.

  In less than a second, she felt his hand opening beneath hers, then she ripped the rest of her hair free and dropped the hyper-speed.

  The ogre’s fist exploded, sending gray flesh and muscle and bits of bone flying in every direction. A yellow-nailed thumb thumped onto the table behind her
, and the off-duty FRoE agents leaped out of their chairs. “Oh, come on!”

  The ogre bellowed and Cheyenne moved away from him, clamping her hands over her ears and seeing two orange skaxen staring at the mangled, shredded stump of the ogre’s detached wrist.

  The troll came up behind her and sent his purple fist into her kidney. Cheyenne screamed and stumbled forward, barely avoiding the bellowing, lurching ogre as he gripped his mangled arm and waved it around like a lunatic. The drow halfling spun around to face the troll, staggering sideways because of the pain still echoing through her lower back. Another blast of icy shards erupted from his palm. She threw a hand up in front of her face, and the shards pinged off the tiny black shield she’d somehow managed to cast.

  “Huh.” She glanced at her hand, the shield dropped, and the troll launched another attack at her as the skaxen leaped at her from the other side. Her tendrils lashed out to wrap around the orange ratface, catching him in mid-air and jerking him in front of her toward the troll. The shards peppered his face over the slashes left by her purple sparks. The skaxen’s scream broke off when he crashed into the troll and sent them both tumbling across the floor.

  “My fucking hand!” Spit flew from the ogre’s mouth, his eyes bulging as he stared at the bleeding stump. He just kept flailing it around.

  “Hey, you brought dirty fighting into this.” With a grunt, Cheyenne stalked toward him and cocked back her arm.

  When he caught sight of her, he threw his arms open wide like he meant to end this fight by crushing her spine in a giant hug. Blood sprayed from his mangled stump, hitting her friends’ table just after Bhandi snatched up her tankard and jerked it safely out of the way.

  Slipping into drow speed, the halfling ran between his open arms and cracked the palm of her hand against the underside of his chin. A shudder of agony jolted down through her forearm, and she pulled it back with a hiss.

  Time sped up again, the tavern filled with noise, clicks, crunches, and thumps, and for all her drow strength and speed and the ogre’s gargantuan mass, his feet only lifted about an inch as his head whipped back. Shattered teeth sprayed from between his lips, and this time when he crashed against the wall, he didn’t move.