The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  Ignoring the seething chronodragon, Anise raced to her bed and grabbed her daggers.

  “You intend to fight them in here?” the chronodragon asked, the shock in her voice unmistakable.

  “You see any other way out?” Anise demanded just as the pirates began battering the door.

  Shaking her head, the chronodragon glided to the Archmage.

  “Marsha, to me!” Anieszirel barked as she turned to Marshalla. “Now!”

  Nodding, Marshalla hurried to Anieszirel’s side, and as Marshalla reached her, the chronodragon raised her gaze skyward and began an incantation that would carry the three far from there. As she cast her spell, however, the door burst open as pirates streamed into the room, with more still crowding the corridor.

  “Blast!” the chronodragon spat, cancelling her spell before calling forth a bubble about her and her friends.

  “The girl!” one of the pirates cried, pointing at Marshalla. “Bind the girl!”

  At his words, the pirates within the room scattered as seven others hurried in, their hands raised as fell magic pulsed between their fingers.

  Anieszirel looked from the mages to Marshalla and back, then shook her head.

  “No,” the chronodragon muttered, then closed her eyes and raised her face to the heavens once more.

  Then, just as the mages were about the unleash their spells unto Marshalla, a raging tempest came to life within the room, encircling the three as it knocked the mages, and indeed all the pirates, clean off their feet before battering them with all manner of furnishings from within the room.

  “Bind the girl, damn you!” one of the pirates hollered. “She’ll kill us all!”

  But the tempest’s strength was beyond them, and growing. Those few who could rise were soon pulled back to the floor. Even those just outside the room were not spared, the winds from within pulling them to the door’s frame and holding them fast.

  “Bind her, damn you!”

  And then, without warning, the winds changed, turning from the intruders to the wall behind the three, and in one reverberating crash, the tempest smashed against the wall, the entirety of its fury blasting a hole wide enough for a small army to leap through.

  “Now!” one of the pirates cried once silence fell upon the room. “Do it now!”

  But as the mages raised their hands once more, a loud groan shook the air, and as pirate and mage shared nervous glances, the room’s ceiling fell free, crushing all intruders within the room and sealing those lucky to be outside out.

  “Quickly!” Anieszirel said, then floated out of the hole in the wall.

  “Wait, what?” Marshalla cried.

  “Come on!” Anise cried as she reached for the girl’s hand.

  “Are you mad?” Marshalla replied as she pulled her hand away. “We’re on the third floor!”

  “We don’t have time for this!” the Archmage snapped before wrapping an arm about her companion’s waist and racing towards the hole.

  “Wait, wait!” Marshalla shrieked, fighting Anise’s grip as she dug her heels in.

  But the Archmage’s grip was unyielding, her pace unrelenting, and before long, both were sailing through the air, one muttering under her breath, the other screaming for all she was worth, her eyes wide as saucers, till at last, they floated down to earth with nary a scratch.

  Gasping, Marshalla turned to her companion.

  “You—” she began.

  “Keep your head down!” Anise snapped, then gestured about her.

  It was then that Marshalla noticed the gathering crowd.

  “Follow me,” Anise muttered as she began making her way through the crowd.

  Slipping a hand into her companion’s, Marshalla followed close.

  “I can’t believe we got out of there alive,” she whispered after a spell.

  “Yeah,” Anise grinned, turning to her companion.

  As she turned, however, the sight she beheld behind Marshalla wiped her grin from her lips, for hurrying behind her companion were two men, both with their hands tucked within their tunics, and both with eyes cold as death, eyes only for Marshalla.

  “What is it?” Marshalla asked as the Archmage slowed.

  The men looked up, and as the Archmage stopped, so too did they.

  “Anise, what…?” Marshalla added, then began to turn around.

  At that moment, the men began to draw free their hands.

  “Move!” Anise bellowed, shouldering her companion aside before pulling free her blades, and as the men’s hands came free of their tunics, the glowering Archmage sliced deep into the wrists of both men before running the edge of her blades along the side of their throats, and as blood gushed from the men’s jugulars, the crowd erupted.

  “What’re you doing?” Marshalla shrieked as she stared at the blood fountains upon the men’s necks.

  Ignoring her words, Anise grasped hold of Marshalla’s arm, pulling her companion to her feet before breaking into a dead sprint, her grip unwavering.

  “Anise!” Marshalla cried.

  “Just run!”

  “There!” came a voice from behind the pair.

  That single word was as a thunderbolt through Marshalla, awakening her limbs and lending her the strength to wrench free her arm from Anise’s grasp and match the Archmage stride for stride, and as one, the pair raced down the street, lightning bolts and crossbow bolts sailing past them as they fled.

  But their pursuers remained stubbornly behind them. Even as they ducked between houses and raced through alleys, their pursuers remained on their tail. Even the haste spell Anise granted the pair did little to grant them reprieve from the pirates, and before long, Marshalla’s limbs began to ache and her pace began to slow.

  “Keep going!” Anise gasped.

  “I…” the young girl panted.

  “Keep going, Marsha, keep going!”

  “Go where, where’re we going?”

  “I…” Anise began, but as she searched about them, it was clear she had no idea how to lose the pirates.

  “Where’s your bloody chronodragon?” she said instead. “Is she waiting for them to make us corpses?”

  “Corpses!” Marshalla cried, her eyes going wide.

  “What?”

  “This way!” Marshalla replied, then veered to her left.

  “Marsha, what are you—” Anise began, slowing ever so slightly.

  “This way!” Marshalla repeated.

  “Wait!” Anise cried as a crossbow bolt sailed past her head, and soon both were racing towards the town’s graveyard. Before long, the graveyard’s wrought iron gates of the loomed in the distance, their heavy chain and padlock visible.

  “Can you break the chain?” Marshalla panted.

  “Why are we—”

  “Can you break the chain?” Marshalla cried. “Can you break—”

  “Of course I can bloody break the chain! Why are we—”

  “Just trust me! Break the chain!”

  Slowing slightly, the Archmage gathered her thoughts, then stretched forth her hand and began conjuring up a wind vine with sufficient strength to wrench the gates open, but as she cast her spell, a glimmer to her right drew her gaze.

  “What…?”

  As she turned, her eyes went wide as she realised the glimmer was actually three mages conjuring a fireball the size of a cottage.

  “Oh, gods.”

  Then, they hurled it at the pair.

  “Get down!” Anise cried, diving onto Marshalla and pulling the screaming girl to the ground as she called about them as hardened a bubble as she could.

  It was at that moment that Anieszirel blinked into view. With her face set and her arm outstretched, the snarling chronodragon called forth a wall of solid ice, one which held fast against the fireball before dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

  Slowly, the pair stood. The chronodragon’s back was to them, her gaze now upon the advancing pirates.

  “Where the bloody hells were you?” Anise roared
.

  The pirates had stopped now, their confusion plain.

  Ignoring the Archmage, the chronodragon raised a finger, and, as she flicked it forward, a loud screech filled the air as the chain upon the gates of the graveyard snapped and fell to the ground, the gates themselves swinging open as the chain fell.

  “Get her inside,” Anieszirel said. “This ends here.”

  There was an edge to the chronodragon’s words, one which unnerved even Anise, and without a word, the pair made their way to the gate.

  “Anise,” the chronodragon called out just as Anise pulled the gate open further.

  “What?” Anise turned.

  The pirates were advancing once more.

  “Some of them may get past me,” Anieszirel said.

  “Poor them,” Anise replied, then ushered Marshalla through the gate, and as the graveyard’s darkness engulfed the pair, the sound of battle filled the air.

  “Thank the gods for that,” Marshalla panted as they made their way deeper into the graveyard, the din from outside almost deafening.

  “Why come here, though?” Anise frowned.

  Marshalla grinned, then pointed. “There’s a hole beneath the fence, around there somewhere. Saw it on our way past when heading to Arenya’s. Figured we come in here, lose them in the darkness, they seal off the graveyard and spend all night looking for us while we slip out through the hole and leave them to it.”

  “Clever,” Anise nodded.

  “Thank you. Only I didn’t—”

  “Here, what’s going on here, then?” boomed a voice from the darkness.

  In an instant, Anise darted before her companion, her hands flying to her blades.

  “Halt,” cried the voice, “in the name of the law!”

  “Wonderful,” Anise muttered, then slowly raised her hands.

  “We could use some help from your precious law right about now!” Marshalla shot back. “We’ve spent all bloody night running for our lives!”

  “So you ran into a graveyard?” another voice shot back.

  “Well, we …” Anise began, but then the sound of footsteps reached her ears, a fair number of them, and they all came from behind.

  Then she heard something else, a unique sound that told her one thing and one thing only.

  “Get down!” she cried as she dove for cover, pulling Marshalla down just as seven crossbow bolts flew overhead.

  As the pair flung themselves behind a nearby tombstone, the dull sound of the bolts digging into flesh told the Archmage in no uncertain terms that the law would not save them.

  “It’s over, Blade,” one of the pirates said as he and his companions reloaded their crossbows. “Come on out and let’s settle this peaceful-like.”

  “Damn it,” Anise muttered. “How in the hells did she let so many slip past her?”

  “We knows it’s your little ghost out there who’s being doing all them spells,” the pirate continued as he and his companions slowly made their way towards the tombstone the pair hid behind. “Come on out, Blade. You got me word, we won’t harm your girl.”

  Shaking her head, Anise turned to Marshalla. “I’m going to distract them, make them loose their bolts. When they do, I want you to run and hide.”

  “No,” Marshalla shook her head. “You can’t take all—”

  “I’ve faced worse odds, Marsha, but I can’t do it looking out for you as well.”

  “Come on out and we’ll make it quick,” the pirate continued. They were only a couple of steps away now. “One bolt between the eyes, you got me word on that.”

  “Marsha!” Anise hissed.

  Staring at the Archmage, Marshalla swallowed hard before at last, nodding.

  “Good,” Anise nodded, then, pulling free her blades, she turned to face the pirates, then closed her eyes. As she did so, a mirror image of the Archmage popped up from behind a tombstone nearer the gate and began running for the gate.

  As one, all seven pirates turned and emptied their crossbows.

  “Now!” Anise barked, then leapt to her feet.

  As the Archmage sprang up, so too did Marshalla rise, but while the Archmage flung herself at the pirates, Marshalla spun about and raced further into the graveyard, her heart heavy and her eyes glistening.

  How long she ran for, Marshalla neither knew nor cared, but at last, when the pain in her heart was just too much to bear, the whimpering child hid behind a nearby crypt and waited in the silence, her ears pricked to hurting. Some moments passed, and all she heard was the sounds of steel upon steel in the distance. But soon, another sound reached her. Footsteps, soft and sure, heading her way.

  “Oh, gods,” she whispered, then, gritting her teeth, she crouched as low as she could, and prayed to every god she knew.

  But the footsteps continued, drawing closer and closer. With each step, Marshalla’s heart beat that much louder. With each step, her breathing became that much more laboured. She was going to die, that was all she could think of. The gods had abandoned them, and the graveyard would be their final resting place.

  And then, without warning, the footsteps stopped. A moment passed, then another, and then another, and Marshalla heard nothing. As the silence wore on, Marshalla began to hope, her elation growing as she slowly raised her head.

  “Got you, bitch!” a voice cried out from behind her as a hand darted out of the darkness, locking onto her neck and forcing her head down to the earth.

  Screaming for all she was worth, Marshalla clawed at the hand upon her neck, but the grip was as iron. Then, just as she was about to kick at the form behind her, something lunged out from the darkness before her, and as it flew overhead, Marshalla caught a flash of silver before her ears were filled with an angry hiss and a horrified howl as the something barrelled into the pirate behind her.

  Springing to her feet, Marshalla spun around as she brought her fists up, her eyes wide. But as she beheld the scene behind her, her eyes grew even wider, for behind her lay the pirate, his hand stretched out to her, and a small shape with silvery hair upon him, the terror in his eyes exceeding that which coursed through her veins. Then, she heard slurping, and memories of the Anieszirel’s words the night before ran through her mind, and as her self-control threatened to leave her, Marshalla turned round and raced forth, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Wait, wait!”

  Skidding to a stop, Marshalla spun round once more. She knew that voice!

  “Amala?”

  Rising, Amala grinned, her bloodied teeth a sharp contrast to her warm smile. “Imaging finding you here.”

  “What the bloody hells you doing here?”

  “Let’s save the questions for later, shall we? There’s another entrance. Your pirate friends have found it and are piling in here.”

  “Oh, gods,” Marshalla said, turning to the sound of battle.

  “Come,” Amala continued, grasping hold of Marshalla’s hand. “We need to get out of here.”

  “No,” Marshalla shook her head as she pulled free of Amala’s grip. “Got to go help Anise.”

  Amala shook her head at this. “Anise is capable of looking after herself.”

  “But—”

  “She’s an Archmage, not a child, child!”

  “Hey!”

  “Well, come on!”

  Grabbing her friend’s hand, the silver-haired vampire turned and hurried away from the dead pirate.

  “Where we going, though?”

  “I dug a hole under the fence the other night—”

  “It was you?”

  “It was me what?”

  “Nevermind. We got to go back for Anise or she’ll be fighting them pirates all night!”

  Stopping, Amala turned to stare at Marshalla square.

  “Would you please stop talking like that,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re still on the streets of Merethia. You and I both know you talk better than that.”

  “What you mean?” Marshalla frowne
d.

  “Marsha, I’ve been shadowing you two since you left the Tower. You speak better than that. Don’t insult me by pretending, alright?”

  Marshalla stared at her silver-haired friend in silence.

  “Alright?” Amala demanded.

  “Alright,” Marshalla muttered.

  “Good.”

  “But we still have to go back for Anise, we can’t leave her fighting those pirates all night.”

  “She…”

  “Just then, a figure blinked into being beside the pair. It was Anieszirel, her eyes wide and her snarl great, and as she raised her hand, Marshalla darted between her and the object of her rage.

  “Ani, no!” she cried as she shielded Amala.

  “You know this ghost?” Amala asked.

  “You can see her?” Marshalla frowned as she turned from Ani to Amala.

  “Should I not?”

  Frowning still, Marshalla turned to Anieszirel.

  “The battle took much of my strength,” Anieszirel replied, her frown just as deep as Marshalla’s. “It was either stay hidden or lose. And I never lose.”

  Arching a regal eyebrow, Marshalla cocked her head at the chronodragon. “Really?”

  Ignoring Marshalla for a spell, the chronodragon turned to Amala. “And what are you doing here?”

  It was now Amala’s turn to frown. “You know me?”

  “This is neither the time not the place for introductions, people,” Marshalla said.

  As one, both vampire and chronodragon fixed her with a most pointed stare.

  “Shall we get on with it?” Marshalla added before marching forth.

  After a few paces, though, another figure leapt out of the shadows, a firm hand gripping her arm and pulling her close.

  “Ani, what are you do…” Anise cried before slowly standing up straight, and as she stared in sheer incredulity at Amala, the vampire smiled.

  “You!” Anise added after a spell.

  “Hello, Anise.”

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “She’s the vampire that’s been shadowing us.” Anieszirel said.

  “Vamp…you what?”

  “Less talking, more running, hunh?” Amala replied before hurrying on into the darkness.

  Anise turned to Marshalla.

  “She’s right,” was all Marshalla could manage before hurrying after her friend.