Rendering Nirayel-Stepping on Arbitos

by Nathan P. Cardwell

  "Ahem," coughed the Private.

  "Er…yes. Quite right," Reginald intoned, quickly reassuming a more official bearing. "I am afraid there are a number of our own Garrison soldiers who may have enlisted to serve our enemy," he reported gravely as he bent to retrieve the spyglass.

  "There's no might about it," Selina said flatly, still bracing her aching head, which was all the evidence she personally required.

  "Ahh, Corporal Valorous," Reginald brightened, only now noticing her. "And Lieutenant Goodfellow as well. I am so relieved to see both of you are all right."

  "It's true, milord. We had something of a run-in with the Colonel, and her dishonored following," Marcus added.

  Reginald's previous expression of anger returned upon this confirmation.

  "Not to mention the Dis'Errant who was with them," Selina volunteered.

  "It would appear that you three have already been to battle," Reginald observed as he returned his attention to the Private, and then leaned, speaking in his ear while pointing in a southwesterly direction.

  "Not yet, but we intend to," Borin confirmed with a hard grin.

  "…and hurry," he concluded as the Private took off running in the direction indicated.

  "I think not," the Captain countered. "This information sheds a different light on matters."

  "What do you mean, Father?"

  "Mistress Bane sent word that she intercepted information which would indicate a more elaborate strike than what we are currently enduring. If the information is accurate, then I am afraid this new revelation leaves us with little choice but to evacuate the city."

  "You can't be serious!" Borin voiced in disbelief, reluctant to accept what he was hearing.

  "The report initially indicated three main targets," Reginald continued. "We are standing at the first. The others included the Docks, and the Garrison, and the majority of men I just witnessed carrying Clawtorn across enemy lines were personnel whose assignments centered around both of the purported latter targets. That tells me one thing. The second and third signals reported by Mistress Bane weren't targets at all. They were meant to mark areas to be spared: areas of no military import."

  "That's no reason to just give up the city!" Borin countered.

  "No. The Captain's right," Marcus offered. "If that much of our overall force has already been infiltrated, then we have no way of knowing how far the corruption actually spreads. One of the men I killed wasn't even assigned to those areas. He walked a beat in an entirely different sector."

  "Can no one be trusted, then?" Borin asked rhetorically.

  "From what we now know, anyone you've sent into battle could easily backstab the people whose backs they are supposed to be protecting," Selina added. "Which means you have no way of knowing exactly how much of your remaining force remains loyal."

  "Except they are far less loyal than when the battle started," supplied Marcus.

  "Quite so," Reginald sighed.

  "The stones of a city are nothing compared to the lives therein," Marcus quoted.

  Borin paused, as if experiencing an inner conflict. He scanned the scene of carnage before him, yearning to engage the invaders. Then he looked back over his shoulder and scanned the city. How many thousands would die, were the wrong choices to be made! "Right, then," he said, walking over to a fallen guardsman, and then kneeling as he commenced to remove the dead man's armor.

  "Aaack!" exclaimed Selina. "How can you do that?"

  Borin glanced up at her, noting her expression of morbid revulsion, and then returning to the task of stripping the corpse. "He doesn't need it anymore. Besides, I'm not about to retreat while wearing a gown. That's just too much to ask."

  "The only viable answer is to warn the Citizens," Reginald intoned with conviction. "After that, we fall back…and abandon Arbitos."

  ***

  Magnatha gave him an expectant look. It was the same type of warning signal she had always given her children when they had committed some infraction of manners. He couldn't count the times she had shot that expectant prompting at him for having placed his elbows on the table.

  "What?" he silently mouthed while shrugging.

  Rather than offering a verbal explanation, she simply intensified her expression of irritated expectation as her eyes kept shifting to the Cleric.

  Then it finally dawned on him. "Wait!" he shouted as the man resumed his efforts to report to duty.

  "Yes?" asked the man, turning to see what Jester wanted.

  Rather than offer, Jester simply commenced casting. The man was showered in Shield of Cambium, Ursan Strength, and Essence of Canis.

  Rather than offer words of thanks, the man simply bowed at the waist, illustrating both his appreciation and his respect. As he turned southward to once again continue on his way, there came a high-pitched howling that seemed to emanate from all directions.

  "What is it?" Delphi shouted over the deafening resonance.

  "It's the evacuation alarm!" Magnatha replied.

  "We have to make our way to one of the portal stations!" shouted the Cleric. "There's a supply of emergency gate potions, maintained for just such a contingency."

  "I'll just port us all back to Wiccaris!" Jester shouted.

  Before he could begin, Delphi caught his arm. "We can't leave yet!"

  ***

  "You might as well come in, Goren," Tobar said in a casual tone.

  Goren slipped into his grandfather's library, obviously disappointed. "How did you know I was there?"

  "I heard you breathing. I heard the stairs creaking. I even heard you stub your toe."

  "I'm never going to be a proper Rogue," sighed Goren heavily.

  Tobar glanced over his spectacles to note Goren's staring ruefully down at the offending digit. "May I ask what you're doing out of bed at this hour?"

  "I couldn't sleep."

  "I see," said Tobar shortly, before returning to his research.

  Goren stepped over and sat in the same chair that Delphi had occupied earlier. Presently, he began to thumb through a large selection of open sheath scrolls that listed ancient Rogue Quests according to skill level. He continued to do this for several minutes, pretending to be interested in the numerous writs.

  "I didn't realize that you were so fascinated with Elder Homidris," Tobar remarked casually.

  "I can read it," Goren replied indignantly.

  "Oh, well, excuse me. I had no idea how well versed you are," Tobar crooned.

  Goren glanced up, proffering a quick scowl before returning his studious attention to the scrolls. "I understand…some of it," he insisted. "I mean, most of the words make sense. It's just the way they're put together. Why did people talk like that?"

  "I don't suppose you might be just a bit nervous concerning your impending first class with Master Bane?"

  "No," Goren drawled with exasperation, but without removing his attention as he continued to concentrate on the index of Quests.

  "Hmmm."

  Several more minutes passed while Goren continued to riffle through scroll after scroll. Presently, he stopped, and then sat back in his own chair, in much the same fashion as his grandfather, only his feet didn't quite reach the floor. "Well, maybe a little."

  "What's that?" Tobar asked, pretending to have returned to his tome.

  "Nervous," Goren confirmed with a hint of exasperation.

  Several more minutes passed as Tobar continued his reading. Finally, he returned the book to its position on the shelves behind his desk. While looking through another group of reference scrolls, he nonchalantly mentioned, "You know, I seem to recall your mother having a similar dilemma."

  "She was nervous about something?"

  "Ahh…no."

  Several more minutes passed.

  "What then?" Goren finally asked, just short of shouting.

  "What's that?" Tobar asked, seeming to have forgotten.

  Goren's scowl had become much more pronounced as his effort to keep his temper became something of a
strain. "What dilemma did my mother have that was similar?"

  "Oh, that."

  "Yes, that," Goren repeated through his teeth while rolling his eyes.

  Tobar turned to face his grandson. "Well, as I recall, she was perhaps the clumsiest student I ever had, especially when she was around ten summers of age."

  "Really?"

  "Quite. As a matter of fact, I remember one time when she was practicing simple poison application, and accidentally dumped an entire liter of distilled Nightshade. The rest of the class was simply livid with the poor girl. They had to finish out the course with snake venom, one gland at a time."

  "No." Goren intoned incredulously.

  "Oh, yes indeed," Tobar intoned reassuringly. "It was really quite a sight, all those youngsters scrambling about the grounds of North Arbitos in search of any poor snake unfortunate enough to blunder within their grasp."

  At this, Goren's face took on a quizzical expression. "But Mother reached level fifty seven."

  "Why, yes, she did, didn't she?"

  Goren sat back, absorbing the implications for some time. He then abruptly got to his feet and headed out the door.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I've got to get some sleep. I have to get up early."

  "Oh, well, goodnight then," Tobar smiled.

  ***

  Goren had just pulled the blanket over his shoulders when he heard the chime denoting a presence at the painting. Ordinarily, he would have raced to see who it was, but his sleep time had already been diminished by several hours. He was determined to be fresh and ready for his first Class with his new Master.

  Then he heard a number of voices, one of which definitely belonged to Master Bane. He jumped out of bed and bolted for the stairs. As he neared, he could hear the city's evacuation alarm as it finally reached the guild's interior, now that the soundproof painting-door no longer held it out.

  "No, not until just now!" Tobar shouted with his hands over his ears. "I had no idea we were so well insulated!"

  "I'll get Goren!" Delphi shouted, while quickly making for the stairwell just as he topped the stairs. She stopped short, motioned him over, and then pulled him to her as she ushered him toward the others.

  "Is this everyone?" shouted Magnatha.

  Tobar and Delphi both nodded.

  Jester prepared for teleport by drawing upon his mana, but rather than opening a portal, all he received was an odd fizzing sound.

  "What's the matter? Delphi shouted."

  Jester only shrugged.

  "I hope you didn't use all of your mana on me!" shouted the Cleric.

  "Certainly not!" Jester shouted indignantly.

  "This guild was built over the original Garrison before the shipping lanes opened!" Tobar shouted.

  "What has that to do with my fizzing?" shouted Jester.

  "They musta left the old wards behind!" shouted Magnatha.

  "You mean you don't know for sure?" Jester shouted.

  "I'm not that old, ya scallywag!"

  "She's right!" shouted Tobar. "I've seen the original plans!"

  "It still doesn't make any sense!" Jester shouted. "If wards were blocking my spell, then surely they would have blocked it completely! There would be no fizzing!"

  "Try to keep in mind that these wards were already several thousand summers old by the time they tore the Garrison down! Even the strongest of warding spells will eventually begin to loose potency!"

  "Then all you have to do is keep casting until the portal opens, right?" shouted Delphi.

  "Maybe, but all this fizzing costs a lot of mana! If I fizz that particular spell again, it will take some time before I can make another attempt! It would be easier simply to step outside!"

  Magnatha started to slide the door open wider, but stopped. A number of Dark-elves were standing about the gallery's interior. One of them had a dead Human on top of the wet bar's counter, the better to drain the man's blood into tankards from a slit in his throat while a short line of others waited their turn. As the blood-flow first slowed to a dribble, and then stopped altogether, he lifted the Human corpse up to get the last few drops, and then dropped him to the floor. "Sorry, that's all there is!" he shouted apologetically. Then he noticed the opened painting-door, and Magnatha standing in its doorway.

  She backed into the guild quickly, sliding the door shut as fast as possible. Unfortunately, the closest of the Dark-elves was quicker. He managed to poke his head through the opening just before it slammed shut. Rather than a resounding bang, there came a dull crunching as the door crushed the invader's skull.

  With the other Dark-elves rushing in from behind, there was no time to dislodge the now defunct Wognix. Instead, Magnatha dropped the bolt down where it was, and then quickly wedged a cane between the bolt and the wall-mount just as a number of Dark elves slammed into the painting. This would at least hold the door in place for the moment.

  ***

  {What's going on? You're not too far from having an actual heart attack!} [Oh… We're just…doing…some calisthenics.] {Oh, I see. Whew. For a minute there, I thought you were in trouble again.]

  "How are we to know if everyone made it out safely?" Borin shouted while running.

  "There is no way to know for certain!" Marcus shouted.

  "That's why we installed the alarm system!" shouted Reginald.

  "By the way!" shouted Selina. "How much longer…are they gonna keep…blaring?"

  "Not long!" shouted Reginald. They're all linked together by mana crystals that run off the same central mana-cell, but it has a short- lived charge!"

  "How long is…not long?" Selina shouted, still holding her head as she ran. Just as she completed her question, her answer came, not from Reginald, but from the alarms themselves as they all ceased their resonant discord at the same time. "Thank God," she sighed.

  "Which one?" Marcus asked.

  She looked to her left to find that he had run up alongside her. "Huh?" she asked, caught off guard, and then stumbling and almost falling.

  Marcus quickly grabbed her about the waist, and assisted her to regain her balance.

  "Thank you," she offered sincerely, and then noticed that his arm was still wrapped about her waist, as she nearly fell again. This time, she came to a full stop while prying herself free of his helpful grasp.

  "You two had better move it!" Borin shouted from in front of them, though without slowing.

  They both looked, first to Borin, and then behind them, as that was the direction in which Borin pointed. What they saw was a horde of countless blue Elves heading straight for them at a dead run, each brandishing blades raised high as more and more of their growing numbers poured in from side streets.

  As they bolted simultaneously southward, neither Selina nor her would-be champion took the time to verify if the other had taken Borin's advice.

  ***

  "We're trapped!" shouted the Cleric hysterically as Goren's eyes grew wide with fear, and he gripped Delphi's hand even tighter.

  Delphi bared her sharp teeth to the Cleric as she grabbed his collar, jerked his ear to her mouth, and growled, "Hold your tongue, fool! There's a child present!"

  The Cleric, who was already frightened beyond reason, didn't seem even to hear her. Wide-eyed with fear, he shouted at Jester again. "Quickly, Druid! Port us out of here!"

  "No!" Magnatha exclaimed. "If he fails again, then we're all as good as dead! Now just calm down!"

  "We may not be trapped!" Tobar shouted.

  "How's that?" shouted Magnatha while whacking the knuckles of yet another blue hand, which attempted to snake between the opening of the not quite shut painting-door, and then retreated the way it came before any more bones could be broken.

  "The aqueduct system!" shouted Jester, remembering stories he had heard about the guild's secret tunnels.

  "No!" shouted Delphi. That's no good! I know my people! It's the first place they'll secure!"

  "I didn't mean those tunnels, anyway!" shouted Tobar.
>
  At that moment, the city's alarms suddenly shut off. Jester sighed with relief. In spite of the Cleric's restorations, his time with the guards and vigilantes had apparently left him with a dull headache.

  The absence of the alarms was most welcome, though now they could hear the efforts of the bloodthirsty Elves as they endeavored to break down the door.

  "What did you mean?" Magnatha asked Tobar in a normal tone.

  "Hey!" shouted Jester, catching everyone's attention as their expressions implied that they were about to remind him the alarms had ceased. "Where's Chummy…crummy… Where's the blasted Dwarf?"

  ***

  For a moment it looked to Crumly as if he might get a chance to bolt out the front door. Of course, there might be more of them waiting outside. On the other hand, there was no reason to believe that would be any worse than remaining cowering where he was. At least out there, I'd be in the open. Might even make it to a portal.

  Three of the Dark-elves that had been attempting to break through the painting returned to the gallery's display of ornamental armor. They appeared to be looking for something particular, though he knew not what.

  What he did know was that he had missed his chance to run. Now he was trapped between two groups again. Upon reflection, he doubted that he could have screwed up the courage to run anyway. Crumly, you fool! he cursed himself. You just had to stop for a drink!

  The scavengers discovered a number of small battleaxes hung near the entrance. They ripped them down, and then returned to the main group. The majority of their own weapons were too light to use against the secret door. The battleaxes, though old and rusted, and not good for much other than the ornamental purpose suggested by the shop's curator, were still good enough to hack through the door-painting, given enough time.

  He wished that he could warn the others. Perhaps I could muster the courage, shout a warning, and then run out the front door before they could react. Then one of the returning Wognix passed close to the wet bar. Crumly withdrew further beneath the bar's cupboard, making himself as small as possible. His eyes shifted wildly as the footsteps came closer, and then passed by.

  As he calmed down, he considered himself cowering in a dark corner like a frightened animal. And if I survive, what have I preserved? he asked himself, almost as frightened of the answer as he was of the Dark-elves themselves. No! No more hiding behind bars, or bottles! No more drowning in cowardice! I would just as soon be dead!