The noise sent a prickling sensation traveling along Zed’s arms. The cries had the sharp, hungry quality of a baying pack of hounds, but Zed could also sense something else beneath it: a ferocious intelligence.
These kobolds were communicating.
The two beasts with swords surged forward, weapons raised. One lunged straight for Brock, but was intercepted by Liza, who girded herself and raised her shield high, blocking a blow from the creature’s wicked-looking blade. She bashed it back with a quick biff from her shield.
The second, however, curved around her in a wide arc.
“They’re trying to flank us!” Liza shouted. “Jett, can you actually lift that hammer?”
At the sound of his name, Jett seemed to come to. He heaved his maul into the air and charged forward, with a cry that must have been an attempt at a dwarven bellow. In seconds he had plowed straight into the scheming kobold. It howled as the hammer connected, and skidded to the ground in a heap a couple of yards away.
The kobold engaging with Liza answered the attack on its comrade with a furious yipping cry. It dove forward, pulling in its arms and legs, and rolled neatly behind her defensive line.
“No!” shouted Brock.
As the monster sprang up he was there, daggers ready to catch the sword.
Zed had never once seen Brock fight. Despite his sharp tongue, few kids were dumb enough to chase down a merchant’s son—and the ones who were dumb enough usually found themselves being led straight into a Stone Son’s armored chest. But desperation seemed to have brought out an intuitive talent in Brock. He swiped the daggers, deflecting a blow meant for Liza with a grinding clash. Then he held the stained blade out, waving it around to fend off the kobold.
Zed, for his part, was petrified. He stood rooted to one spot, trying desperately to keep an eye on everything at once. His sweat-slicked hands clung to the training staff, held defensively in front of him.
“Fie, they’re fast,” Liza cursed in frustration, pivoting to face the retreating kobold. “Everyone, pull together!” she shouted. “Make a circle!”
The kobold that Jett had knocked to the ground rose up again, clicking its teeth. The dwarf sidled up to Liza, holding his maul high, ready to swing if the beast came near.
The two kobolds barked and lunged, but kept their distance, harrying the team while staying out of range of their weapons.
Then Zed felt it.
A familiar sensation washed over him, similar to the feeling he’d had in the presence of Freestone’s magic wards. Except instead of mint, this was accompanied by a fetid burning smell that nearly made him gag.
He’d smelled it once before that day, in the guild’s weapons hall.
Zed’s eyes landed on the third kobold, the one holding the scepter. The red stone on top shivered with an awful radiance.
“Magic!” Zed shouted.
Liza turned just as the kobold raised its scepter into the air. The red stone flared with light.
Several things happened in the span of an instant. A loud pealing rang through the forest, higher than the highest bells in the Golden Way Temple. The air around the stone began to churn, darkening to a sickly green color. A nimbus of green fog swirled around the tip of the scepter like a storm cloud, and then, as the instant ended, the miasma surged out in a growing wave, straight at Liza.
The girl braced herself, digging her back foot into the dirt.
“Down!” she cried.
Jett and Brock were still diving behind her as the spell hit Liza’s shield. Putrid clouds broke over the iron, spewing out in all directions. The two kobold warriors leaped out of the way, but Zed wasn’t as quick. A plume of the smog gushed over him.
Zed had the sense to hold his breath, but the miasma stung his eyes, making them water. He felt the strength draining from his limbs as it overtook him.
Zed coughed, and before he could stop himself, he’d gasped a lungful of the polluted air. His head swam and his stomach lurched as the world seemed to somersault around him. He fell to his knees, dropping the training staff.
He well and truly gagged now, and would have been sick right then, had he anything in his belly to throw up.
Through the dark fog, he could just make out his friends huddled together behind Liza’s shield.
Then he saw the kobolds.
Both of the monstrous warriors faced him now, finally noticing the sheep that had strayed from its flock. They strode forward menacingly, silent within the gloom.
Zed couldn’t stand. He wasn’t even sure he could lift the staff. Whatever hex the kobold mage had cast, it had worked. He was defenseless.
The smell from before hit him again—rotten eggs set aflame. It wafted on a wave of something else. Zed remembered the odd charge to the air he’d felt around Freestone’s walls.
He’d sensed the strangeness in the guildhall, too, just that morning. Lotte had been instructing the team to pick their weapons—warning them of how important the choice would be. Zed had panicked, staring at a wall full of instruments he had no idea how to use. Some he wasn’t even sure he knew how to hold.
Then he’d felt it. It was a nagging, tingling sensation. A pull he couldn’t explain, drawing him to…
…the staff.
His eyes now fell upon the wooden training staff right next to his hand.
It looked like a normal practice weapon. A little out of condition, actually.
But there was something else there. Something working from within it that called to Zed, just as it had called to him that morning. All he had to do…
The kobolds were almost on him now. The nearest, only a foot away, raised its serrated blade.
Zed reached out and grabbed the staff, and in the moment of contact, whatever was inside it reached out and grabbed him. Something within Zed, a hidden font, shuddered and was set ablaze.
He raised the staff, and the air around it rippled. The wood grew warm under his hand, then hot. Still, Zed held on.
The kobolds hesitated, just long enough.
The staff exploded.
Fire was everywhere: in the air, on the ground, in Zed’s hand. Tongues of flame licked hungrily from between his fingers, eating the poisonous cloud like starving things. The kobolds screeched as they were caught within the blast. Zed saw the dark smudges of their bodies thrown through the air.
Flame was all around him, but he didn’t feel it. Instead he felt…great. Strong. Confident. The staff pulsed contentedly in his grip.
And then it all faded.
The flames guttered out, dying just as quickly as they were born. The wooden staff cracked in half in Zed’s hand, splintering into two distinct pieces. He looked down at them and saw that the ends had been singed black. Zed raised his eyes.
In fact, everything around him was black. He was sitting in the center of a smoldering ring. The ground within the circle was charred and burning. Smoke streamed from the edges.
The two kobolds that had been hit by the blast were smoking lumps, tossed several feet away. Only Zed himself was left untouched by the flame.
He found Brock’s gaze. He, Jett, and Liza were watching him with wide eyes and open mouths.
“Zed?” Brock called unsurely.
Liza found herself first. She glanced back at the kobold mage. The creature let out a furious shriek and raised its scepter into the air again.
“It’s trying to cast!” Liza yelled. She threw herself forward, pressing her shoulder into the back of the shield. Girl met beast with a metallic clang! Girl won.
As it was bashed backward, the kobold dropped its scepter. Jett stepped forward to the instrument, raised his maul high in the air, and brought it down hard upon the red stone. There was only a flicker of bloody light as the rock was pulverized.
The kobold, clever enough to realize it had lost, leaped to its feet and pounded a howling retreat into the trees. Zed tried to follow it with his eyes, but lost the green scales in the forest soon enough.
The four apprentices stood
alone in the woods, breathing raggedly.
Then Liza turned around to face the others. It was the first time Zed had seen her smile.
“That,” she huffed, “was amazing!”
By the time night descended, Zed and the others had eaten their fill of wild greens.
He sat now against Freestone’s great wall, quietly watching the forest line. The glow of the city’s torches spilled over the wall, providing them with some dim light to see by.
Night seemed to give the forest a new voice. Strange calls sounded from within the trees—jabbering shrieks and low, mournful howls.
Zed was too tired to be afraid anymore. Whatever he’d done with the staff had drained him, leaving him more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life. He knew what mana was: the force that wizards used to power their spells. He’d even tapped into his own mana once, after reading a layman’s pamphlet on magic that Brock had bought for him. It felt just like the leaflet had described—a reservoir of…something that existed inside of him. Something that was only his.
Now that reservoir felt totally empty. The staff had used it up.
Jett had been the one to explain what happened.
“Enchanted weapon,” he said nonchalantly on the walk back to the wall. “My father works on them sometimes. The staff had a charged spell inside, ready to be used by a mage. There are a few different kinds, actually. Da says dwarven runes are the best, but no one in Freestone actually knows how to make them anymore.”
“Did you know the staff was…enchanted when you picked it?” Brock asked Zed.
Zed had shrugged. “No. Something felt strange about it, but I wasn’t sure what. Honestly, I almost went for a spear instead. I only grabbed the staff at the last second.”
“Good thing you did,” Liza said cheerily.
Zed had been so pleased by the praise that he didn’t tell them the staff felt…different from the magic at the wall. The smell of it was all wrong.
“Look at the stars,” Brock said, calling Zed back from his thoughts. Brock pointed up above the tree line, where a whole blanket of twinkling lights glittered, stretching on as far as Zed could see. “It almost seems like there’s more of them from out here.”
“There are,” Liza said faintly. “The light in the city makes them harder to see from inside the walls. Stars need darkness to shine.”
Zed inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the forest and the minty smell of the wards. For hours now he’d just been quietly admiring the trees, awash in the almost liquid sounds of the wind moving through leaves.
Mom, he thought. I’m outside the wall. I’m outside and it’s…wonderful. Did you know there’s a plant called elfgrass? It grows all around the city.
Zed turned and caught Brock frowning down at the two daggers laid in front of him. Liza had told him to keep them for the time being. She couldn’t use them while holding her shield, anyway. One dagger still had a blade stained by the tentacle; the viscous green-black smear clung stubbornly to the metal. Brock had tried to wipe the gunk away hours ago, but the substance, whatever it was, had dissolved the fabric of his jerkin into a waxy film. They left it alone after that.
“So, um…” Brock ventured quietly. “I’m sorry, Liza.” His eyes rose and found the girl. “About what I said today.”
Liza continued staring outward, but her face softened.
“Me, too,” she said after a moment. “Because the truth is that maybe I did come here expecting to take charge. My family has always believed that we—that they—are society’s betters. That it’s our duty to lead the commoners, and keep them in their place. Micah, especially, feels that way.” She winced, glancing over at Zed. “I hope he wasn’t too cruel to you yesterday.”
Zed frowned. “Brock was there, too.”
“Micah told me about visiting Old Makiva for a charm. He never mentioned seeing a snotty merchant kid….Just a boy with pointed ears.”
“Oh,” Zed said, heat prickling his ear tips.
“Is it hard for you? Are most people cruel, like my brother?”
“Not to me,” Zed said. “Usually, if I stay quiet, most people don’t really notice me at all. Or my ears.”
“But there’s always someone like Micah just around the corner,” Liza said with a sigh. “Someone lucky enough to be both cruel and perceptive.” She frowned out into the woods. “People expect nobles to be charming, trained in courtly niceties. But the funny thing is, the more noble you are, the less nice you have to be. It’s others who have to be nice to you. Micah’s mistake was not realizing how vulnerable he truly was. He’s our family’s third-born, after my brother and me. Micah and I are twins, but I’m older. By seconds. Our parents treated it like it didn’t matter, but it did. Micah never learned to be nice, because he thought our name protected him. Now he’s mean and nameless.”
“Did he ever bully you?” Zed asked.
Liza snorted. “He tried to, now and then.” She smiled at Zed. “I’m not exactly a pushover.”
“More like a pusher-overer,” Brock agreed. “I’m sure that kobold thought so.”
Liza smirked at Brock, but when she turned back to the forest, her face was thoughtful. “All my life I’ve wanted to be a knight,” she said. “Micah and I sparred endlessly, ever since we were young. I’m every bit as good as him, but in the end it didn’t matter—not to my parents, and not to the Stone Sons. I’m a girl, and that means I can never be a knight.” She frowned, and gave a little shrug. “That’s why I asked Frond to join. The Adventurers Guild doesn’t care about who you are or where you come from. It was…It seemed like the only place I could be who I am.”
“Sure,” Brock said quietly. “I get that.”
The night clicked and cooed and rattled as Zed took this in. Had he ever truly considered the Stone Sons’ decree against women knights? Before Liza, he hadn’t known any girls who dreamed of being warriors. There was the Basilisk, of course, but Frond had always seemed to prove the wrongness of it; people averted their eyes where the misfit adventurers were concerned.
And yet Liza had just guided them through battle like a dashing captain in a chivalric tale. Zed had never met a more knightly figure. He felt ashamed of his earlier anger.
“I don’t know if it’s ’cause you’re a noble,” Jett started, “but after what I saw out there, there isn’t anyone I’d rather have leading me against a pack of walking, barking lizards. But for us…” Jett paused, unsure whether to continue. Liza turned to him, her expression neutral.
“My parents are both smiths,” Jett said. “I’ve always wanted to work the forge like my da—to make great things.” He waved a hand toward Zed and Brock. “We had dreams, too,” he said. “Dreams we prepared for, just like you prepared for this. And we were close to getting those dreams. Then they were taken from us.” He lowered his hand and clasped the handle of his maul, wringing it nervously. “It’ll take some time to get used to our new lots,” he said. “Just…be patient with us.”
Liza was silent for a moment, then smiled. “Fair enough.”
Jett’s eyes found Brock’s, then Zed’s. “But it’s not all gloom and doom, either. Being adventurers means we’ll see things that our parents only ever dreamed of. We could visit the cities of our people, Zed. That’s got to be worth something to you. It’s a chance I never thought I’d have.”
Zed nodded, chastened. How many times had he imagined visiting Llethanyl? How many nights had he fallen asleep dreaming of the silver spires of an elven capital twisting into the sky?
“If you’re going to see these places,” Liza said, “then you’ll have to live long enough to do it. So let’s look out for each other. We’re a team, right?”
Jett glanced back at her, color rising in his cheeks. “Definitely,” he said dreamily.
“Lovely speech, Jett,” said Brock. “I do believe those are the most words I’ve heard you put together in a single stretch.”
“Definitely,” Zed gushed, imitating the dwarf. All four apprentices burst
out laughing, even Jett.
Zed looked to the forest, grinning tiredly.
And saw a pale white face staring back at him.
He gasped and leaped to his feet. The others followed his gaze and rose in turn, grabbing at their gear.
The strange visage watched them from the trees, wreathed in shadow so that it seemed to be floating in midair. Zed couldn’t tell whether it was male or female. In the darkness its skin looked white as an eggshell, and its lips were a bloody, fiery red. Its expression was completely placid—almost masklike.
Then there were the eyes.
Where the eyes should have been, two dark hollows stared out.
“What is it?” Zed asked nervously.
“I—I don’t know,” Liza said. “I think it’s a Danger.”
Jett took a step back. “It can’t come near the wall, right?” he said. “The wards will keep it away.”
Slowly, languidly, the pale face rose higher and inched its way forward. That was when Zed finally saw its body.
Though the creature’s face looked somewhat human, that was where its humanity ended. The pale mask grew out into a long serpentine body, jet-black and covered in scales. It had the form of a snake—the largest, thickest snake that Zed had ever seen. It was easily twice as tall as any of them. A halo of oily black hair fell from the top of its head as it moved, shrouding the monster’s empty eye sockets.
Its mouth opened—wider than any human mouth could or should—and from the recesses of its throat, a pink forked tongue emerged, tasting the air.
“Stay back and stay calm,” Liza ordered. “Close to the wall!”
The creature’s head twisted in midair, turning completely upside down.
“Naga!” a voice screamed out from somewhere nearby.
The air shook with a loud, cavernous noise. A horn was blaring from somewhere above them, in a note so heavy Zed felt it in his stomach.
The forest suddenly came alive with human figures. People melted from the trees, descended from the wall. The door into the guildhall burst open right beside Zed, and Alabasel Frond was there in an instant, her hands full of the sharp stars she’d stuck into the flag that morning.
The Adventurers Guild Page 7