“Good. I can use a few hours,” the dwarf said.
The ferry manager led them past the docks and water wheels into a wealthier section of the city. The streets here were completely quiet and well lit. They passed closed businesses that catered to wealthy clientele before stopping at the door of a four-story building made of white brick. The sign out front read: “The Torbaldian.”
Gerval knocked and a bleary-eyed old man answered with a yawn. Edge found himself yawning in response. Gerval gave the man brief instructions and a boy came out to take Albert back to the stables. Rufus, who normally would have argued about sleeping with the horses, followed after Albert without complaint. The boy kept staring back at the rogue horse with wide eyes.
Even Deathclaw, who loathed sleeping indoors, followed everyone in. He sensed Edge’s surprise. In a building of this size I cannot watch over you from the roof, the raptoid explained.
“Sure,” Edge said with a smile.
Gerval bid them good night and left them in the hands of the old man, who took them upstairs. Fist didn’t think there was any chance they would have a bed to fit him, but he was surprised when the old man led him to a room with an enormous curtained bed designed for the most extravagant of nobles. It wasn’t quite long enough for his legs, but he was able to climb inside and fell asleep on top of an abundance of pillows, his feet just hanging off the bottom of the feather mattress.
Edge was taken to the room next door. His bed was just as large and comfortably outfitted as Fist’s. He stripped off his leather armor and shoved a pile of pillows onto the floor before climbing into the bed and lying face down on top of the blankets.
Deathclaw, who had followed him inside, snorted at the extravagance. He had never understood the human desire to sleep on manufactured softness. He laid down on the floor under the room’s large window and placed his hands behind his head. His left hand, newly grown and recently healed, twinged. He took that hand out from under his head. Then, after a few moments’ consideration, he grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under his head instead. It smelled faintly of human sweat, but felt surprisingly comfortable. He placed his hands on his belly and ignored the muffled chuckle that came from Edge’s bed. Moments later they were both asleep.
When Deathclaw woke him five hours later, Edge groaned. His body felt so heavy. He was still lying on his stomach and realized that he hadn’t moved an inch since falling asleep. “I think sleeping was a mistake.”
“It was a necessity,” Deathclaw said. His body didn’t need as much sleep as a human’s and it had taken full advantage of the time it had been given. He had almost fully recovered from his injuries and felt no morning discomfort at all.
Groaning, Edge forced himself to roll over to his back. That felt nice. Sleeping more would be nice.
Fist, sent Deathclaw through the bond. Edge needs help waking up.
Sure, said Fist and Edge got the distinct sensation that the ogre was eating something wonderful. It was such a strong feeling that he could taste it. Eggs covered in cheese and butter.
His mouth watered and he sat up. He still felt miserable, but now he was hungry too. You’re mean.
Oh? Is this what you were hoping for? Fist replied in amusement, and he reached out to Rufus.
Suddenly, Edge was flooded with energy. He stood and donned his armor and pulled on his boots. Then he strapped on his swords and sent Fist a mental thanks as he headed down the stairs to the common room.
The smell of the morning repast was heavenly. The tables were loaded with fresh bread and bacon and eggs and honstule. Wow, there was a lot of honstule. It was prepared in multiple ways; baked, or steamed, or fried with minced potato and ham.
The yellow vegetable had a texture that was a mix between a squash and a tomato. It grew quickly and had a faint amount of elf magic in it which made the plant hearty and gave people a feeling of general wellness as they ate it. Over recent years it had begun to populate every garden. It was a major part of daily meals for nobles and peasants alike. Edge wondered how they would all feel if they knew that honstule was created by and named after a goblin gardener.
Edge joined Fist at the table and ate until he couldn’t possibly eat another bite. Deathclaw joined them, but wasn’t interested in the well-cooked food. Edge talked to one of the servers and they went into the kitchen and returned with a dozen raw eggs which the raptoid ate shell and all.
The other patrons of the inn were likely merchants or nobles from the way they were dressed. Though some of them seemed genuinely excited to be sharing their morning meal with famous heroes, others eyed the ogre and raptoid with distaste and decided to go elsewhere to eat. That kind of behavior would have angered Edge in the past, but Fist and Deathclaw weren’t bothered by such petty things and so Edge let it go.
Lenny came down a short time later, but he didn’t eat very much. There seemed to be a lot on his mind. Edge decided not to press him about it. There was a long journey ahead and that meant there were plenty of opportunities to discuss whatever was bothering him.
Fist talked to the cook and they gathered all the leftovers and table scraps to bring out to Rufus. The rogue horse devoured it all happily while everyone readied themselves to leave. After thanking the innkeeper, they headed for the outskirts of the city.
As they navigated the busy streets of West Filgren, they were already pondering the next stage of the journey. Their first obstacle would be finding Jhonate’s trail once more. Assuming that Jhonate’s companion was truly leading her to Alsarobeth, they had a general idea what direction their quarry would take.
Edge was feeling optimistic since there had not been any rain to muddy the tracks. That optimism faded after they spent half the day searching to the northwest of the city. This part of Razbeck was all farmland and the roads were fairly well traveled. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that they caught their first break.
Deathclaw found a spot just off of one of the country side roads where a small cookfire had been built. Two people had slept in this place and he had found Jhonate’s scent. It appeared that, just over two days ago, Jhonate and the thief had taken this road in a westerly direction.
They kept to the road, Deathclaw and Rufus searching the edges of the path as they went just in case their quarry changed their mind and cut through some farmer’s field. But as they traveled, the farms became more and more sparse and eventually they entered a forest of oak trees.
Lenny recognized the area. The road they were on cut through the edges of the Fasdark Forest and from this point out there was much less traffic. Rufus picked up the scent of the horse that Jhonate was riding and was able to follow its tracks uninterrupted for several miles.
At one point during this stretch Lenny rode Albert next to Edge. “Uh, can you tell me somethin, Son?”
“Certainly,” Edge replied.
“It’s about yesterday and when you . . . healed my neck and all,” the dwarf said hesitantly.
“Yes?” Edge said and when Lenny didn’t continue immediately, he asked, “Are you worried about what I saw in your memories?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.” He frowned. “Why? Did you see anythin’ I should be embarrassed about?”
“Oh, no. Not at all,” Edge assured him. That wasn’t exactly true, but there was no need to bring up anything that would make Lenny more uncomfortable. “So, what’s bothering you?”
Lenny scratched his head. “Well, ever since you . . . did that. I feel-. I mean, do you feel any different?”
“In what way?” Edge wondered. He looked at the dwarf and switched his vision to spirit sight. That faint cord connecting from him to the site of Lenny’s wound was still there and ropes of his magic were still trying to add to the connection. “Lenny. Do you feel different? Because even though I don’t feel anything, I see something that wasn’t there before.”
Lenny’s eyes widened. “What is it?” Edge told him about the faint line and the dwarf nodded. “Dag-gum . . . So, what it is, is that
ever since then I can sorta feel what yer . . . feelin’.”
“Can you hear my thoughts?” Edge asked and as he did so, he felt through the bond looking for that connection. Where could it be?
“No. I just feel general feelin’s. Like I knew when you was tired yesterday and this mornin’ I knew you was eatin’ and that you liked it,” Lenny said.
“That is strange, Lenny,” Edge said. “This has never happened before.” Was it possible that while focusing so hard on penetrating the dwarf’s blood magic, he had somehow created something more permanent?
“And I can kind a tell where yer at. Like just where you are in relation to me,” he said. “You got any idear why?”
Actually, Edge had been giving that connection some thought. But before he could voice those thoughts, Deathclaw stopped in front of them and held out a warning hand.
Wait. I smell something.
As he said that, Rufus sniffed at the air and huffed and took on an offensive posture. He says there’s someone hiding nearby, Fist told Edge through the bond.
They were all peering at the road ahead just as a glittering sphere rolled up the road from somewhere behind them and stopped at Rufus’ feet. A buzzing sound filled the air and a powerful paralyzing spell hit the party, immobilizing everyone.
A hearty laugh echoed from the tree line beside the road and a spell of invisibility was dropped. Stepping out from the side of the road appeared a dwarf. He was about four and a half feet tall and he wore a suit of plate armor that was padded to reduce sound. It was inscribed with protective runes and glowed a dull blue to mage sight. He held a helmet under one arm and carried a large double-bladed axe in the other.
He laid the axe over one shoulder and smiled under a thick black handlebar mustache, exposing a mouthful of gold-capped teeth. He glanced at the tree line. “Looked like they noticed us ’fore we sprung the trap.”
A withered old man stepped out of the trees. He leaned on an intricately-carved staff and wore robes that were a dull red and gold. His voice sounded more youthful than he looked. “They shouldn’t have. I had us well hidden from regular sight as well as mage sight. I blame Belfae. He was supposed to cover our scent.”
An irritated snarl came from behind a nearby tree and another figure stepped out to join the others. This individual was a foot taller than the dwarf and wore a peculiar red armor covered in spikes. His skin was pure white and his head was topped with a shock of black hair. The imp focused a scowl on the wizard. “I did hide our scent. But it’s hard when someone eats garlic bulbs like they’re apples!”
“Enough, you two,” said the dwarf. “We got ’em froze up like I wanted. Just don’t screw up again.”
A set of footsteps sounded behind everyone announcing a fourth member to the dwarf’s band. In addition, there was a shifting in the trees and, even though Edge couldn’t turn his head to look, he could make out three huge shadows.
“Well-well. Lookee here. My old buddy Lenui done survived.” The dwarf walked over to Albert and as he looked up at Lenny sitting astride the warhorse, his smile turned into a sneer. I still cain’t believe it.” He gave Lenny a mocking shake of his head. “I dunno how Lana managed to miss yer big fat-.”
His words were cut off as Lenny kicked him in the face.
Chapter Seventeen
Lenui Firegobbler – Ambush
The moment that the paralyzing spell hit the party, Lenui knew what had happened. He broke free of the spell within seconds and was waiting for the right opportunity when Vern stepped within range. He put all the force he could muster into that boot to the face. There was a satisfying crunch as his heel connected to Vern’s nose. The dwarf mercenary’s head snapped back, and he staggered two steps.
“I’m dag-gum insulted!” Lenui barked. “First you send a lone archer after me? Try an assassination from long range? Then you use smugglers’ tricks to get the drop on me? What’ve you become Vern? Some kind of a sugar-bellied, wobble-kneed, mud- crawler?”
“He’s free!” cried the imp. He unsheathed a sword with a blade that was the color of open flames. Lenui had seen swords like it before. Imp smiths were flamboyant like that.
“’Course I’m free, you bloated white pincushion!” Lenui shouted. “My mama taught me how to break free of a freeze orb when I was ten!”
The imp pointed the sword at him and fire blossomed from the tip. The wizard raised his staff and prepared to unleash a spell. The three large shapes in the trees surged towards the road. Lenui ignored them, his gaze focused on Vern.
“Stand down!” Vern ordered and the shapes stopped just at the tree line. Vern had placed his helmet under his axe-wielding arm and was feeling his nose. A slow stream of blood had begun to pour from both nostrils. “Dag-blast you, Lenui! And yer filthy Cragstalker mother.”
“Say whatever you want about Maggie. It don’t bother me none. What bothers me is yer complete lack of honor! Sneak attacks? Is that the Earthpeeler way? Is forgettin’ yer heritage the only way you think you can get the better of me?”
“It ain’t just about you, Lenui,” Vern said. “I got a job to do and I aim to do it. Getting’ to kill you is just a nice perk.”
“Horse-puckey!” Lenui growled. “I challenge you to a Corntown Hoedown!”
“A fight just you and me?” Vern guffawed. “I ain’t stupid. Yer just trying to buy time fer the spell to wear off so yer friends can get free.”
“They’re already free, you garl-friggin’ idjit!” said Lenui and he shouted out to his friends. “Y’all can kill ever’body else. Vern’s mine.” As the words left his mouth, Fist disappeared from Rufus’ back.
Lenui had known not to worry about them the moment the spell hit. Edge and Fist knew how to free themselves from these spells. They had learned it early on since paralyzing spells had been one of Ewzad Vriil’s specialties. And once they were free, it would be easy for them to free their bonded as well.
Besides, Lenui had felt it through that strange new connection with Edge. The man had been startled at first, but then that emotion had been replaced with confidence. Vern and his little crew had made a big mistake.
Fist reappeared behind the bent old wizard. His eight-foot frame towered over the tiny man, his mace held high over his head.
When the paralyzing spell hit, Fist had been more irritated than worried. He quickly dismantled the threads of the smuggler-standard spell and would have acted right away, had Edge not sent out mental instructions.
Wait. Pretend their spell worked, Edge said. Let’s see what their plan is first.
While Vern walked up to confront Lenny, Fist went through the bond and cut Rufus loose from the spell. When he tried to do the same with Squirrel, he discovered that the old rodent had already freed himself.
Shall I kill them all? Squirrel asked.
Save your energy, the ogre replied. We don’t know what they can do yet.
Ever since Squirrel had learned that he could use the bond to steal Fist’s magic and cast spells on his own, he had developed his skills in unexpected and sometimes vicious ways. He was always eager to use these abilities, something that was a constant source of worry for Fist. Even in his old age, Squirrel seemed ever ignorant of how small and frail his body was.
Ooh! What about me? Can I go? Rufus begged. He was excited at the prospect of a brawl. He had only been freed for a couple seconds but it was taking all of the rogue horse’s will to hold still.
Don’t move yet, Fist sent as he analyzed the ambushers. Just a few seconds longer.
There appeared to be seven enemies. Vern, the wizard, and the imp were clearly in view. Without turning his head, Fist couldn’t make out the identities of the brutes in the trees, but from their size and the fact that they didn’t seem to be moving very quickly, they were likely ogres or some type of shorter giants. The only figure that he had no clue about was the person that had rolled the paralyzing orb into their midst. Whoever it was stood on the road behind Rufus.
Smells like a woman, Rufu
s said. Half-elf.
She’s moving, said Edge. Approaching Deathclaw.
I see her, said the raptoid.
Deathclaw had been frozen while glancing to the side of the road and without moving, he was able to see the woman’s approach. She wore black leather armor and a cloak similar to the cloak the archer assassin had worn. She had thrown back the hood to expose a head that was shaven bald. Her ears were slightly pointed and the delicate features that had come from the elven side of her heritage were twisted with hatred. In one hand she held a sword, in the other hand a dagger.
Then Lenny kicked Vern in the face and Fist new that there were only seconds before they had to act. I’ll go for the wizard and the imp, he told Edge. Catch them off guard.
I agree that they’re the biggest threats, said Edge. Are you certain you wish to handle both of them?
I’ll be fast, Fist said. Rufus will help you with the big brutes in the trees.
Ooh! Okay! said Rufus excitedly.
Squirrel let out an irritated sigh. You want me to stay out of the fight again? Fine, Fist. Just leave me on the side of the road. I’ll come in and save you when you need me.
Alright, Edge sent. Be ready to move any moment now.
That was when Lenny shouted out, “They’re already free, you garl-friggin’ idjit!”
Fist took that as his cue. He enveloped himself in a cloak of air magic, causing himself to disappear from normal sight, and reached up to grab his mace. Its name was Quickening and it was runed to enhance the speed of its wielder. Since becoming named, Fist had learned to control the intensity of its magic and at this moment, he used it to become inhumanly fast.
He dropped down from Rufus’ back and to his suddenly-enhanced reflexes it seemed as if everyone else was standing still. He could only keep up this intensity of speed for a short period of time before he would run out of energy and need to pull more from Rufus. Keeping this in mind, he rushed to the side of the road away from the enemy and hung Squirrel’s pouch on a branch, then ran to stand over the wizard and raised his mace to strike the old man down.
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