by Philip Blood
Poison was not sure what to answer, she needed information and something told her that this little street urchin was not her enemy. “Yes, how can I help you today?”
“An evil woman is here te kill ya, she killed them all, the whole street league. She’ll kill me if she sees me warning you. She has evil powers… purple light,” the little urchin blurted out in one breath.
“Slow down, what’s this about killing a street league?” Poison asked. She knew of the urchin gangs, she had grown up in a ‘league’ herself as a small child.
Taking a deep breath, the girl told her story.
“So you came to warn me; that was very brave. Come on, we need to find my friend, he’s a knight and maybe he can make sense of this,” Poison said, taking one of the little girl’s tiny hands in her left hand. She found that it was shaking, so she kneeled down before the tiny girl and said, “Don’t worry; I will take care of you.”
“Promise?” the little urchin asked.
“I promise, and I take my promises very seriously. Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said, and they went to meet Hetark.
SCorcH watched from down the street as Poison met the little girl on the steps of the restaurant. Since Poison matched the description that RIveK had given him, he assumed she was his quarry. He waited in the shadows watching the direction in which they headed, and then quickly he set a course to intercept.
A few streets away the burnt faced necromancer lay in wait standing in the shadows of an alley that led into a square courtyard. The street that Poison had chosen to follow passed through from SCorcH’s left to right.
A moment after he had taken his position Poison hurried through, still holding onto the little girl’s hand. She felt fairly safe now; Hetark was meeting her around the next corner in a hotel lobby.
As she passed about ten feet away from an open alley she noticed movement. Fearing the worst she pulled the urchin girl in close on her left, shielding the girl with her body from any attack.
When she turned to look she saw a darkly cloaked man with a black leather domino over his lower face. He had his right hand held palm outward toward her, like a warding.
Just as the image registered, a spreading purple light emerged from his facing palm and arced across to her body at the speed of lightning. Poison was fast, but the speed of the purple energy was beyond human reflexes. The strike of the necromancer’s attack burned through her clothes in a foot wide circle, sizzling into her unprotected skin.
The power of the impact drove her a full body length’s distance to the side, where she landed in a heap with the little girl.
The urchin jumped to her feet, and seeing the evilly masked apparition swiftly approaching, she ran out of the courtyard.
SCorcH let her go as he considered her nothing of importance. He kept his protective shield up expecting a possible counter attack from the Kirnath sorceress, but he was not too worried, she would have a hard time concentrating after taking the full power of his energy blast. He had seen her spot him in the alley, but surprisingly she had not gotten her protections up in time to stop his first attack. It had been simple.
Poison lay in near shock, but she heard the footsteps of her attacker approaching. Through her pain and shock, she managed to pull out the dagger she had hidden under her dress. When the footsteps were close, she rolled over, and though the pain nearly caused her to black out, she managed to throw her knife.
The last thing SCorcH had expected the Kirnath Adept to attempt was a mundane attack with a dagger. His energy protections were up, but he had not bothered to waste power on shielding against any physical attacks.
The dagger struck him in the chest, sinking in deeply.
He felt the pain, but did not bother to do anything about it; he would handle the wound later. Death by mundane weapons would take far more than a simple dagger in his lung; a necromancer was well conversant with death and pain.
“You can’t stop the inevitable with a mere dagger, Kirnath,” he said, raising his palm to finish the already mortally wounded Poison, still thinking her to be Elizabeth.
Poison suddenly knew in a way beyond words, beyond mere conviction, why Elizabeth fought these evil creatures. They were the darkness, the evil, all that was wrong in life pulled together into one place. They had to be stopped, yet she knew she was finished.
She could tell him she was not Elizabeth and he might not kill her, but then she would be forced to tell him where to find the real Elizabeth. She could not do it. The cynical side of her laughed, telling her she was just like the other altruistic fools. Then she thought of the little urchin girl, she reminded Poison of herself as a child. These animals had murdered children and they had to be stopped. In that moment of choice between life and death she decided to buy Elizabeth some time with her silence, Poison decided that her last act would be to join Elizabeth’s fight against these creatures.
RIveK watched from an alley, she was there to make sure everything went according to her plan, but it was all going wrong. SCorcH should have been dead by now, killed by the forewarned Elizabeth.
The scene was not to her liking, SCorcH had Elizabeth down and was about to finish the sorceress. RIveK made a quick decision; she could not let her carefully constructed plans go down so easily. Gathering her power she waited for the right moment.
SCorcH concentrated his powers while watching the Kirnath for any signs of resistance, but with the throw of her dagger she seemed to have used her last strength, he realized that she would now die without any further assistance. Being thorough he decided to incinerate her completely. He gathered every bit of power available to him to blast her to ashes.
RIveK had been waiting for that moment, she saw him draw power from his shields to destroy the motionless sorceress at his feet. In that unprotected instant, RIveK struck him with her prepared blast straight into his back. Her bolt drove a hole through his body, removing half his abdomen and most of his chest. The legs and upper torso of SCorcH dropped to the ground in two pieces.
SCorcH’s head turned to look at his attacker; his right arm came around to attempt a defense.
RIveK stepped forward and struck again, enveloping him in a painful binding to keep him from counterattacking.
Any normal human would have been long dead, he did not even have any organs left since all, including the heart, had been cremated.
Still he glared hate from his dark eyes.
RIveK stepped up and pulled a knife from her clothes; she leaned down and sawed his head loose from his remaining upper body. Holding it by the ear, she concentrated on what was left of his ruined body, burning it to complete ashes with a gesture of her right hand. When she made a sweeping motion wind blew the ashes away and there was no sign of his body, except the burn marks deep into the cobblestone street.
The glaring head she held began to cuss at her silently, the teeth clicking and grinding together were the only sounds; there were no lungs to power the voice.
RIveK stepped up to Poison’s burned body and noted that the woman was still clinging to life, though she was passed the point where she could resist anything.
“So, my dear, we meet at last... as I promised. Too bad you weren’t as good as we thought, or you might have spent your last day more constructively. You were supposed to take care of this moron for me,” she said, holding the slavering head of SCorcH in front of Poison’s eyes.
“Now I had to take a personal hand, which complicates things. You aren’t supposed to die until I kill you, avenging my colleague here,” she continued, shaking SCorcH’s head viciously. “I’d kill you now, but I’m not supposed to be here yet!”
She gave Poison a kick in her wounded side.
“Now I’ll have to make sure you survive for a short time,” she continued, calmer now that she had a plan. She set SCorcH’s decapitated head on the ground, gathered her taxed powers and formed a blanketing cocoon of dark power around Poison’s wounded body. It was a minor holding that would slow down Poison's
body processes and keep her from dying immediately.
“There, since you can’t help yourself, that should keep you around until I can officially arrive, tomorrow,” RIveK gloated. She picked up her trophy again and looked at the glaring head. “As for you, my sad friend, I think I’ll keep you at my castle for future pleasures.”
The little urchin girl had not run far from the small courtyard. She was terrified, but the nice woman had protected her from the evil man in the alley, so the urchin had decided to try and get help. Running around the corner the girl saw a hotel lobby with people moving around inside. She ran in and called for help, claiming her mother was being attacked outside by a bad man.
A group of men followed her outside and she pointed them into the courtyard.
RIveK heard the group coming, so she quickly left the courtyard out an alley, carrying SCorcH’s head by the hair.
Hetark was just approaching the hotel when he saw the group of men run into the nearby courtyard. Curious, he trotted over to see the disturbance. He caught sight of Poison’s huddled body and quickly shoved his way through the press of men.
Her side was a ruin and in one glance Hetark knew that Poison would not survive the wound. Pulling his cape from his shoulder he carefully wrapped it around her wounded body. Her eyes flickered open at his touch and he had to lean down to hear her whisper.
“They thought I was Elizabeth, I didn’t tell them... ” she said softly into his ear.
“Who?” he asked in a voice of contained thunder.
“Necromancers, two of them, a man and a woman,” she whispered again, then had to stop when she started choking.
“Rest, I’ll get you to a healer, you’ll be all right,” Hetark told Poison.
“We both know better than that, Hetark, it’s not knightly to lie,” she chided him in a whisper. “I wish I’d been a great lady like Elizabeth, a lady that could attract a true knight who would love me and care for me, as you do for Elizabeth. I wish I could’ve had the chance to be with a man like you. Thank you for making the effort to treat me like a real lady, it was nice,” she said softly, and even managed a small smile.
A tear rolled down Hetark’s cheek. “There was no effort, I was only responding to the woman who was emerging, a woman I found myself... liking,” Hetark replied honestly. “Is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?” he asked.
“Just hold me, I always wanted someone to hold me,” she replied dreamily, as the pain dulled her senses. She spoke a moment later in a whisper he could barely hear. “Warn Elizabeth, and tell her she was right, these people have to be stopped, someone has got to take a stand against them. I will be with her in spirit. Tell her for me, Hetark.”
“I’ll tell her,” Hetark promised. He held her closer to his chest, and in that moment, he remembered another time when he had known he was dying, and Elizabeth had brought him back from certain death. If only she were here now. Anger at his helplessness struck the knight like a thunderbolt, he wanted to save this brave girl from the inevitable death that approached, but he was powerless to help. He was powerless, but… and an impossible chance came to his thoughts.
He looked into Poison’s eyes, they were dull from shock.
“Poison, listen to me, I want your promise, you must fight to live for another day and I’ll promise to get you healed.”
Poison didn’t believe him, but she didn’t want to disappoint the knight. “And take me to dinner again?”
“You have my promise,” he said.
She nodded giving her promise, and said, “All right, I’ll give it my best shot.”
Standing with Poison in his strong arms he yelled for the crowd to move aside. He carried her into the lobby of the hotel and called for help.
The thin bodied manager arrived and after taking one look at Hetark’s bloody burden he started to tell him he could not bring her into his hotel.
Hetark grabbed him by his clean shirt front and pulled the man’s face closer. “You will make this woman comfortable in your best room and hire ten men to stand guard until I return. If she dies or complains in any way I will have you neutered. This will cover your trouble,” he released the man and then slammed enough gold coins onto the counter to rent the entire hotel a month.
“Yes sir, everything will be done as you asked. Have no worries, she will be treated as a Shaardess!” He snapped his fingers and started giving orders to his underlings.
Hetark was shown into the best room and he gently laid Poison on the white bed, carefully pulling the covers over her. “Hold on, Marinda,” he whispered into her ear.
A moment later he left the hotel heading swiftly for the seedy part of town.
In Vorg’s tomb, the battle was still going on, but it had been a quarter bell since the Tchulians had last tried to force their way past the knights.
Becaris and Rasal stood guard while Lasar rested a few feet away. Two of them could stop the rush long enough for the third to enter the skirmish.
They had managed to kill or seriously wound five Tchulian soldiers in the past two bells since G’Taklar and Rachael had escaped. The Tchulians had pulled back after each short battle. Then they would hit them again at varying intervals.
Becaris figured they were trying to wear them down by rotating men in against them, without leaving time for the knights to get serious rest. He had to admit that the strategy was working, he was getting tired. They could not make a break for the rope because the Tchulians would hear them climbing over the bones.
If Becaris had been leading the Tchulians he would have done it similarly, except for attacking more often to wear them out faster. Somehow he had to buy enough time for G’Taklar to escape with the signet ring. He considered sacrifice, one man could not hold them while the other two escaped, but two men could for a brief time. If he decided to go with that decision he would have to do it soon or the two men would be too tired to hold them long enough.
These damn bones, he thought, maybe one of us could begin piling them up to make an aisle down the middle. He discarded the idea instantly, it would take too long, but the thought of piling bones brought on another idea.
“Start making a large pile of bones to the side of the corridor opening,” he whispered quietly to Rasal, “When it’s large enough we’ll knock it over, blocking the passage for a short time. Then we’ll make a break for the rope, escaping before they can clear the way and follow us across the bones to the other chamber.”
Rasal repeated the plan to his brother and Lasar got up to stand guard with Becaris while his brother began to make the tower of bones.
At the sound of the bones being moved the Tchulians attacked again. Becaris dueled with his first opponent while Lasar fought shield and sword with another soldier.
The passage was wide enough for a third soldier to get close to his companions and thrust between them when the opportunity presented itself.
The third Knight Protector had kept the third soldier at bay, but now Lasar and Becaris had to take up the slack.
Rasal piled up bones as fast as he could, while his companion’s swords blurred in silvery arcs, clashing to a halt as an opponent parried, then blurring back into motion. Each time they had to start their sword back into motion it took more strength from their tiring muscles.
The Tchulians had a new strategy, every so often they rotated in a different soldier causing Becaris and Lasar to fight continuously while facing fresh fighters.
Lasar lunged suddenly, taking his current opponent in the throat. The man fell to the ground, ineffectually grabbing at the blood gushing wound.
Immediately the soldier to his right stepped over him and continued the fight, from behind hands pulled the body out of the way.
A fresh soldier stepped into the gap between his battling companions.
Becaris’ arms felt like stones were tied to them, his sword felt like it weighed four times more than when he had started this bout. He saw an opening in his opponent’s defense, parrying the ma
n’s sword out of line to the right, Becaris stepped in and with his left hand, he impaled the man on his dagger’s point.
In that moment where he stepped forward, his tired arm carried the man’s sword too high and the soldier next to him came in underneath piercing Becaris between the ribs with his sword thrust.
Becaris cried out in pain as he pulled back and parried the soldier’s follow up thrust. The soldier stepped into his dead partner’s position and continued to fight the now wounded Becaris.
The wounded knight knew he could not last much longer, the sword had penetrated his right lung; he could feel the wetness in his mouth, blood from the sucking wound in his side. Becaris doggedly continued to battle.
“Ready!” the voice of Rasal called out from the right side of the hall opening.
Neither Becaris nor Lasar could afford a moment to glance over, but they readied themselves.
“Now!” Rasal yelled.
The two battling knights leaped back as a large pile of bones collapsed in a heap, blocking the hall opening three-quarters of the way to the top.
Becaris staggered and collapsed to one knee, Rasal stepped forward and grasped his hands pulling them over his strong shoulders. Then, with the wounded Becaris laying chest down on Rasal’s back the knight crawled over the shifting bones, and called to his brother, “Get up the rope ahead of me!”
“Leave me,” Becaris commanded.
“Shut up,” was Rasal’s immediate response.
When they reached the next chamber, Rasal tied a loop in the rope and placed it under Becaris’ arms, around his chest. Then the twin swarmed up the rope, toward the hole in the ceiling.
He came over the lip and yelled, “Pull him up!” Together the twin brothers hauled their fellow knight up from the chamber below. Their nearly identical upper body muscles strained with the effort.
Becaris watched from his height of ten feet and saw the Tchulians pouring into the chamber. They screamed in rage when they saw the hole in the ceiling, and the dangling knight, spinning on the rope as the other two hauled him up toward safety.
