“I’ll settle that score once I find this dwarf,” she muttered to herself.
Turning the opposite way on Silverlark, she made her way toward the Shiny Gem, an inn that was anything but shiny or a gem. Thinking she would make it there while avoiding any trouble, she was disappointed when shouts drew her attention a short way ahead.
She rounded the bend in the street and saw a group of four thugs harassing an elderly couple. One of them roughly grabbed the old woman by the arm. The old man moved to defend his wife, and the thug behind him smacked him in the head with a club, felling him instantly.
The old woman screamed and tore herself free of the man’s grasp, falling to her knees beside her motionless husband.
With a shock, Nera recognized the old woman. “Mathilda? Ah, damn it… I must help them.”
Mathilda and her husband, Wilford, had lived in the slums for as long as Nera could remember, always showing kindness to her and Arron, the woman slipping them fresh-baked bread and muffins whenever they stopped by. As a young orphan, she had often dreamed of living in an ordinary family, with parents like the kindly couple. She was ashamed to think she hadn’t paid them a visit in years.
Two of the thugs kept a lookout while the other two rifled through the couple’s possessions, which they had dropped in the street. They apparently hadn’t seen Nera, nor would they until it was too late, she vowed.
“Leave us be! Just take what you want,” Mathilda cried. Tears ran down the old woman’s cheeks.
“Be silent, ya old hag!” One of the thugs raised a foot to kick her over.
He never got the chance. A knife appeared through the sole of his boot. He howled and hopped backward, toppling over and landing on his backside.
The lookouts whirled in her direction. One held a crossbow, the other a short sword. The last thug rose from ransacking the bags and squinted in her direction.
She could’ve picked them off with her throwing knives and likely sent them fleeing, but she was sickened by their treatment of the elderly couple—friends of hers who had always been there for her and Arron when they were growing up. These bastards will pay for hurting them.
The crossbow twanged, but she was ready for it. With a quick flick of her wrist, Lightslicer deflected the bolt off to one side, where it thunked into the clay wall of a house. Nera streaked toward them at a sprint.
The crossbowman backpedaled, mouth wide in surprise. He had the string halfway cocked back. A quick slice of her dagger cut the taut string, which snapped the thug in the chin. She swiftly stabbed him through the ribs, and he hit the street.
Nera spun just as the other two attacked her simultaneously. The thug with the club swung, but she ducked it then sidestepped the other’s stabbing short sword. She jabbed Lightslicer into the clubman’s bicep. The weapon tumbled from his grip. She kicked the club with the toe of her boot, launching it into the other man’s face.
He stumbled back, more surprised than hurt, although blood trickled from his nose. The club rebounded, and Nera sheathed her dagger, caught the club in a two-handed grip, and unloaded on its owner, smashing him full in the face. Teeth flew, and the thug’s nose smashed flat. Blood spewed, and he dropped like a poleaxed steer.
The last thug on his feet took a quick glance around at his fallen companions. Evidently not liking the odds, he turned and fled.
“I thank you for your aid, dear.” Mathilda looked up at Nera curiously, Wilford’s head in her lap. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Aye, I should think so.” Their eyes locked, and after a moment, Nera realized she still had the glamour disguising her features. She quickly dispelled the illusion.
“Nera!” Mathilda’s eyes widened. “My, how lovely you’ve become, my dear.”
Nera’s face softened as she looked upon the face of her friend. She couldn’t believe how the sturdy middle-aged woman who’d slipped her a sweet cake every now and then had grown so old and frail looking.
She knelt down and embraced the old woman, who sobbed into her shoulder. Nera shushed Mathilda as she tried to thank her again.
She was relieved to find Wilford still breathing. The old man had a knot on the back of his head which was leaking blood, but evidently the blow of the club wasn’t as brutal as it had appeared.
“Lucky my Wilford has a thick head.” Mathilda clucked and rummaged through one of her bags. She removed a small pouch of something and held it under Wilford’s nose. A moment later, the old man roused, sputtering and waving his wife away. His eyes grew wide when he beheld Nera.
She helped the couple to their feet. The two wounded thugs were hobbling away, leaving their unconscious friend with the smashed face where he had fallen.
“Your doing?” Wilford raised his eyebrows in surprise as he noted their wounded attackers.
“Aye, dear, Nera gave those louts a thrashing they won’t soon forget.” Mathilda bustled around, shoving their possessions back into their sacks.
Wilford squeezed Nera’s shoulder. “You’ve grown up to be a formidable young woman after all these years.” Pride showed in his face.
Nera smiled before turning away. She focused on helping them recover their belongings before she became emotional.
Stupid wench—I should’ve kept visiting them. I should be the one helping them out to repay them for what they did for a couple of hopeless urchins.
Nera slung their heavy sacks over her shoulder, allowing the insistent Wilford to take one to avoid hurting the old man’s pride.
“Looks like you’re moving out,” Nera remarked as they made their way down Silverlark. “Where you headed?”
“Aye, we’re going to stay with my sister and her husband,” Wilford replied. “He’s a clothier in the Merchant District.”
Nera slowed her pace to allow the elderly couple to keep up. She noticed Wilford was limping heavily from an old knee injury, she recalled. Mathilda coughed and puffed for breath. The smoke in the air wasn’t doing her lungs any favors.
They passed the Shiny Gem, which was as dilapidated as she remembered. She insisted on escorting the old couple to the relative safety of the closed-off Merchant District. Catching up to the dwarf would have to wait a bit.
As they made their way to the other district, Nera thought about how thousands of people were struggling in their own ways, just as Mathilda and Wilford were.
I hope someone does something about this situation quick before Nexus lies in ruins. Would that I had some power to make things right here.
***
Waresh stomped up the stairs of the inn, intent on reaching his room unmolested with his plate of food and cask of ale. His plans for the evening were no grander than merely enjoying a belly full of roasted boar and boiled potatoes, washed down with ale. Perhaps he would seek out Estella’s company after that although he knew he had to preserve what little coin he had at the moment.
The chaos in the city had forced the Special Judiciary to shut down, leaving the crew of retrieval officers without work for the time being. The city’s resources were focused on maintaining law and order via the Watch, hired mercenaries, and even contingents of Magehunters deployed in a supporting role. Wealthy nobles and merchants were hiring bodyguards and mercenaries for personal protection, and Waresh knew he could try to find work in their employ if necessary.
For the time being, he was content to live off the coin he had accrued although it was rapidly dwindling with the skyrocketing prices merchants were charging for their wares since Nexus had been cut off from other planes. Waresh had not received any bounties since he had given up pursuit of that plane-cursed rogue and her half-elf companion, following the Magehunters’ involvement.
At least that wench’s coin is keeping me fed for the time being. An extra benefit of the job.
More than anything, he wished things would go back to how they had been before. Long before—prior to being collared and forced into duty as a retrieval officer—before he had ventured forth on his foolish quest into Torval’s
Hold with his men and come across Dammerfang and Heartsbane. He wished more than anything he could take that all back. But Reiktir was a stern god, and he deserved whatever justice Reiktir deemed was appropriate.
Waresh juggled his plate of food and cask of ale as he unlocked the door to the small room. Kicking the door shut behind him, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The persistent twilight gloom of Nexus illuminated the room through the thin curtains. He set the cask and plate on the crooked table beside the lumpy bed.
“Mmm… I love roasted boar and ale. That smells exquisite.” The voice was distinctly feminine and familiar at the same time, yet he couldn’t quite place it.
The sharp edge of a blade caressed Waresh’s throat before he could react, quickly convincing him not to struggle.
“Don’t make any sudden moves, or I cut your throat.” The pleasant tone was gone, and steel took its place. “We’re gonna have a conversation, and if it turns out in your favor, you’ll still be in one piece when I leave. Just minus a bit of meat and ale, of course, luv.”
Waresh could hear the smile in her last statement. So a proposition, then. He could smell her pleasant scent as she briefly pressed against his back. A nimble hand relieved him of his daggers and hand axe, tossing them across the room into a corner. Next to go was Heartsbane. He briefly considered trying to overpower her when she slipped the axe off his back, but he decided against it. He was intrigued enough to hear her out.
A moment later, and to his shock, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, facing the plane-cursed woman he had been pursuing for so long. “Are ye mad? What in the Abyss do ye want with me?” Waresh asked, dumbfounded. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a mark come after me before.”
Neratiri shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.” She poached a piece of roast boar from his plate on the tip of her dagger, eyes never leaving him. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll put this blade through your eyeball.” Her eyes glittered with a glow much like embers in a hearth.
From his past dealings with her, Waresh suspected she very well could put the blade through his eyeball before he could make a move. He sighed. “The bounty was retracted since the Magehunters got involved. I have no further interest in ye.” Other than making ye pay for dropping me off that roof. Lately, the thought of revenge didn’t seem to have the appeal it once held, though. Aloud, he said, “I’ll hear ye out if ye just say yer piece, fiendling. And give me the ale.”
Neratiri narrowed her eyes as she regarded him, then she seemed to relax and nodded. “Aye, I can do that. That’s one load off my back, at least, having the bounty gone.” She pulled the cork from the cask and sniffed at it, before lifting it and tilting it back. She drank a couple good swallows without spilling a drop, handed the cask to Waresh, then speared a chunk of potato and slid the plate over to him. “I’ve had better, but not bad… especially in these times. This must’ve cost ya.”
Waresh snorted and took a deep draught of ale. He wasn’t nearly as neat about it as the rogue, spilling some down his beard and onto his tunic. “It wasn’t cheap,” he admitted. He thought better of confessing that her stolen coin had bought it. “So what’s this about?” He chewed a piece of the boar—it was tough but had a good flavor.
“I need to get off plane. Myself and a friend.”
“That so? Well, get in line behind the thousands of others. What in the Abyss ye want me to do about it? All the portals are shut down, the way I hear it.”
The rogue leaned against the wall, deftly picking at some bit of dirt beneath one of her nails with the dagger’s keen tip. “That collar around your neck. It can open portals, from what I’ve been told.”
“Aye, it could do that. Could. Before the foundry was destroyed. Seems the foundry powers the Machine, which generates all the magic in the city, including that which goes into this collar. Now ’tis naught but a damned lump of lead around me neck.”
Neratiri looked crestfallen. “You’ve tried it, then?”
“Aye. I wanted to get out of this cursed city once the troubles happened, but it was deader than a day-old corpse.”
“Ah, well, so much for that idea. That just leaves…” She trailed off, and a look of distaste crossed her features before she sighed. “Right, then I won’t take any more of your time. Thanks for the meat and ale.”
She was already slipping out the door before Waresh could react. Without knowing why, he surged to his feet, nearly upending the cask of ale. “Oi—wait!”
Neratiri poked her head back through the door and regarded him with raised eyebrows.
“Ye know another way off plane?” he asked.
“Perhaps. It’ll just be a bit of a challenge getting there.” She tried to act unconcerned, but her eyes shifted nervously.
“Tell me how. We can join forces—I’ll even give ye some coin if ye let me tag along. I’ve had enough o’ this damned place.”
Neratiri shook her head. “I’m not one to turn down clink, dwarf, believe me, but this you want no part of.” She looked over her shoulder at the approaching sounds of footsteps and laughter in the hallway before slipping back into the room and closing the door again. “It’s dangerous to get there… very much so, I think. And there’s no guarantee it will work even if we succeed. If I weren’t in such desperate need, I wouldn’t even consider it.”
“I wasn’t weaned off me mama’s teat yesterday, woman. The prospect of danger doesn’t frighten me.” He eyed Heartsbane in the corner. The axe seemed to beckon to him to pick it up and strike her down. He shook his head and faced her again. “I could offer me axe to aid ye.”
Neratiri eyed the axe and then turned her unnerving eyes back to Waresh. “Perhaps your axe could be of use. Where is it you wish to go?”
“The Special Judiciary is shut down, so I won’t be getting any bounties for a time.” He shrugged. “The destination matters not. Somewhere I can find peace. And I seek an answer.”
Neratiri brushed past him and picked up the cask, evidently not worried he’d attack her any longer. She took another long draught of ale before passing it back to Waresh.
He smiled before taking a large swallow, noting that she sidled away to avoid getting splashed with ale. He liked the rogue’s cool confidence. She’d been the only mark he had failed to bring in since he’d been doing retrievals over the past five years, and there she was, standing before him as an equal. That took some stones.
“So what answer do you seek, O master dwarf?” Neratiri regarded him with an amused look.
Waresh tugged on his collar. “How did ye and that half-elf get rid of yer collars?”
A look of sadness crossed her face before she composed herself. “That’s a bit of a long tale. And the reason I need to get off plane. I need to find the mage that did it for me—if he still lives. He saved my life, and I owe it to him to try to return the favor if at all possible.”
“Hmph. The one that had the bolt through his hand, eh? Seems we could assist each other, then. Me axe by yer side in exchange for a trip off plane and a face-to-face with yer mage. What say ye?” Waresh chewed a boiled potato, wishing it were slathered in butter, but the kitchen was fresh out.
Neratiri thought for a moment before nodding slowly. “I don’t trust you one bit, of course. But since we have the same goal at the moment, if you give me your vow not to plant that giant meat cleaver in my back, perhaps we can help each other out. I seem to be finding myself lacking a sturdy fighter at the moment.”
Waresh noted the melancholy look that crossed her features again and understood. He’d heard how the Magehunters had slain the half-elf Arron before Neratiri escaped with the mysterious mage they were seeking. “Indeed. On me honor as a Hammerhelm, I give ye my word that Heartsbane will only be used to fight our mutual foes if ye’ll have me stand beside ye.” Inwardly, he winced since he knew his own word meant shite after his crimes, but his clan was long respected for their code of honor.
“Very well, Master Hammerhelm, we h
ave a deal. Do you have a first name?”
“Waresh.”
“I’ll be in touch, Waresh. Keep that axe keen.” And with that, almost before he could blink, Neratiri was gone.
Chapter 4
Idrimel lay down on her pallet in the Temple of Sol, exhausted from a day spent curing the ill. Famine and disease were spreading throughout the city, and although she could do little about the former, the latter she was able to help alleviate, using her abilities to aid the citizens. She had done what she could alongside the other priests of the temple, but the lines of petitioners seemed to never end.
As she lay there, she was reminded of the second task the celestial, Marius, had bestowed on them. “Seek out a plane-cursed woman. Sol hasn’t revealed her purpose, but she has a role to play. It is important the Enemy doesn’t find her before you. You shall know her when your paths cross.” Thus far, she had noticed only a couple plane-cursed women while in Nexus, and other than noting some odd characteristics resulting from their heritage, she had not gained any insights as to how the mysterious woman fit in with her quest.
Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands on her chest. “Mighty Sol, please grant me the wisdom to see the way forward, that we may walk in your light and help banish the darkness from Nexus, Ellorya, and the rest of the planes in this time of greatest need.” As the prayer left her lips, she felt a great serenity fill her mind, allowing her to relax and drift off to sleep moments later.
She found herself walking through the forest back home in Ellorya. Instead of the beautiful woods she remembered, everything was desolate and burnt from raging fires. The charred corpse of a rabbit lay beside the path. Soot and ash kicked up beneath her heels. The trees were mere blackened trunks and skeletal branches.
Instinctively, she knew she was witnessing the aftermath if she failed in her quest to stop Shaol’s malevolent plans, which would lead to the hordes of the Abyss being unleashed through countless portals opening throughout the multiverse. The time was coming soon when evil would spread like wildfire across the land. She quickened her pace, eager to be away from the devastation. Fear quickened her pulse, and she wondered if the city and temple were intact.
Doors of the Dark Page 3
