by Bill Mays
Ado ignored the taunt of calling him a common gremlin and resisted the urge to be goaded into something stupid. “Did I mention that there is magic surrounding those two? I believe I did mention that. How do you know they won’t know I’m there?” Ado huffed.
Before Tark could press the argument, a very familiar carriage with elegant gold designs on its doors pulled to a stop nearby. The many scruffy escorts also pulled their horses to a halt. The fancy vehicle was covered in dust and dirt from its days on the open road. One of the men sitting with the driver jumped down and approached the seemingly lone warrior. The eight escort riders, the driver, and the other man seated next to the driver, all held Tark under a heavy stare.
“Excuse me, warrior,” the approaching man called out in a friendly tone. “My lord has traveled a long way and would like to have a word with you.”
Tark, not wanting the attention in the open streets, waved the man away. “I’m just passing through, and I’m afraid I have little in the way of information to offer you. I mean no disrespect to your lord, but I am on a pressing journey of my own. I’m sorry; I must decline the offer of audience.” Tark dipped his head in respect, but kept his eyes on the man cautiously. He did not trust something about these people.
The scruffy man did not slow his pace. “I assure you he will make it quite worth your time, good sir. As you can see he is not without resources.” The man gestured to the ornate carriage.
Tark backed away and up the stairs to the tavern. “No thank you,” he smiled back. “There are plenty of others here who should be able to assist you in my stead.”
“I don’t think you understand, my friend,” the man grinned. “You will meet with him.” The man then rested his hand on the curved sword hanging at his side.
“Bad move,” the gladiator grumbled. Tark reached in a flash and was now holding his trident before him. “I think it is you who don’t understand. I’m not your friend, and I’m not interested,” he growled back. “Leave me alone or I’ll rip that sword from your hands and stuff it down your throat!”
“Well that didn’t take long,” Ado whispered. “Do you suppose the whole town will try to kill us now, or will the place just explode next?” Tark shot a glare in the gremlin’s general direction.
The approaching man drew his sword and gestured to the others. All eight riders, plus the extra man seated next to the elderly driver of the carriage, dismounted, drew blades and began to advance on Tark’s position.
“Damn!” The big man swore under his breath. “So much for subtlety. Ado, be ready to go get the others and get out of town.”
One of the barmaids spotted the gladiator twirling his trident on the doorstep. Soon the owner of the tavern as well as most of its patrons had gathered at the front door to see what was going on. Murmurs and whispers filtered through the sparse gathering.
“Take it away from my business!” The tavern owner shouted out angrily. He was a small middle-aged man holding a worn club. “I’ll have the town militia down on your heads before you know what’s happened! We don’t allow fighting in the streets here!”
“That won’t be necessary,” a man called out loudly from the carriage in a smooth, smug voice as the decorative door swung open. “We are claiming this man in the name of the Order of Four. Any who assist him will be declared enemies of the order as well. I would hate to have to bring the war to your lovely little town. You seem to have done such a good job of avoiding it thus far.” The man wore flowing white robes embroidered with the symbol of a long arm ending in four misshapen fingers. His brown hair was long and straight and he was exceptionally well groomed. His angular face twisted into a sly grin. “I believe you might remember me. Tark, wasn’t it? You left so unexpectedly last time, and I thought you were enjoying my hospitality,” Malark smiled coolly at the shocked gladiator.
“It’s that fake priest!” Ado whispered. “Keep your guard up. He’s a mage and his magic hurts!”
Now it was clear to the big man. He was not dealing with some pushy nobleman; these were his enemies. In a way, he felt a little better. He could unleash his full fury on these fanatics without any regrets.
“I remember one thing,” Tark growled back. “I owe you from last time we met. I should probably warn you, though; I’m in my right mind now so you’re going to die.”
Malark chuckled at the threat. “Bring him to me alive, gentlemen. I’m not too concerned with his health. As long as he can still speak, he’ll do.” The robed man folded his arms across his chest and leaned back casually against the decorative carriage.
The ten men advanced on the gladiator while the majority of the spectators pulled back inside the tavern. None dared interfere. No one wanted to bring the war to Seaside. Though they were not fans of the fanatical order, they did know there was truth behind the pristine man’s threat.
Tark leapt from the stairs of the tavern to meet the first opponent. His trident spun in a blur and blood spilled quickly. These fanatics were better trained than the others he had challenged, but with the combined forces of his magical weapon and his enhanced reflexes added to the big man’s already unequalled skill, they did not stand a chance. The first attacker blocked two blows before the three prongs bit into his flesh, skewering him to the ground. Two more men came at him. Swords flashed but Tark was too quick. He spun and blocked the first strike then swept the legs from beneath the second man. Before the fallen man could regain his footing his partner’s dead body was heaped on top of him. The gladiator was in a wild rage. Tark let himself go to his battle instincts. It felt good. He kicked out planting his booted foot solidly in one man’s face while simultaneously jabbing another man in the leg.
“I’m coming for you, Malark!” Tark growled through clenched teeth. “Pay your respects to your freakish gods while you still can!”
“Impressive,” Malark smiled. “You will make a worthy sacrifice indeed! Speaking of sacrifices, where is your little fairy friend? I would so like to see her again.” The robed man cast a devious grin at the gladiator. It only made Tark angrier.
The fanatics showed no fear of the wild warrior. They came at him relentlessly. As four of them engaged Tark, the mage-priest began to mumble a chant.
“Tark, the mage is starting a spell!” Ado squeaked from his new perch on the tavern’s roof.
The big man grunted and growled as he deflected the many blades flying at him in rapid succession. “Do something to stop him!” He called out. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed, I can’t exactly reach him at the moment.”
Ado was afraid. He felt the sting of the robed man’s magic before and it hurt. He was not really sure what he could do anyway. If he made any attack then he would become visible and the mage could blast him. It was times like these when he just wanted to follow his instincts to run and hide. Ado fought back his fears and thought hard. He began a spell of his own. Maybe he could buy Tark a little more time if nothing else. His illusion was a simple one. The road sprouted a ten-foot wall of dirt blocking Tark from the chanting man’s view. Most attack spells required a line of sight for targeting, and since it was not a direct attack on Ado’s part, he was able to maintain his concentration and remain invisible. Unfortunately, Malark’s spell had not been intended for the gladiator in the first place. The magic left the robed man’s body and each and every one of his remaining fanatical attack team were now encased in a shimmering green field of mystical armor. The enchantment made the attackers much more difficult to injure.
“Damn mages!” Tark growled as he kicked another man away. “Why can’t they ever fight fair?”
Malark stepped through Ado’s illusionary wall and it vanished. “You are no match for the Order of Four warrior, and your little gremlin trickster won’t save you from my magic this time. Do you hear me little mage? I‘ll find you next!” The white robed man casually brushed his long hair behind one ear and began chanting again.
Tark managed to pierce the protective shell and bring another man down, but it wa
s slow progress. The fanatics were all over him. Suddenly, there were three Tark’s fighting back to back in the ring of attackers. A dismissive word from Malark and the illusionary gladiators vanished. Ado grumbled a curse from hiding. Not only had the robed man cancelled his spell again, but also Ado forfeited his invisibility for nothing.
“I’ve had enough of this game!” The longhaired mage shouted. “You have been claimed! You belong to me! I will receive a great blessing from the sacred ones for your soul.” He raised his arms above his head and called upon a spell of attack.
Ado recognized the words. It was the same spell from before. “Watch out Tark!” The gremlin squeaked down loudly. “Don’t let his magic hit you!”
Golden arrows of magical force shot out of Malark’s hands. The missiles streaked for the gladiator with unequalled speed. One struck his own minion who got in the way. It negated the mystical armor surrounding the man. The second bolt Tark actually blocked with a twirl of his trident, even though it cost him a jab from one of the swordsmen. The golden arrow of magical energy exploded in a shower of sparks as the trident struck it. The third and final arrow found its mark on the gladiator’s back. He tried to twist out of its path but he just was not fast enough. It struck him at the base of his spine. There was a burning sensation but he bit back his scream. It was what followed that made Tark panic. From his waist down, his body began to tingle. He could feel his sensations lessening and then his legs gave out beneath him. They were numb. The fanatics dove in to stab the fallen warrior as he fought desperately to defend himself from the ground. His trident was difficult to wield effectively while lying on the dirt road on his back. Blow after blow left gashes all across Tark’s body. Luckily, he could not feel most of them.
Malark began to bellow out in laughter. The robed man took notice of the cowering spectators in the tavern. “Let this be a lesson to all who oppose the order. You cannot resist us,” he smiled confidently. He returned his attention to Tark. “You and your friends have been chosen for greatness. You should be happy, my faithless friend. You will feed the gods with your very souls.”
The sounds of rattling metal and jostling straps rose up behind Malark. Just then, the horses broke loose from the carriage. They were joined by the other animals belonging to the eight riders. The carriage driver could not believe his eyes as the reins and then the harnesses simply flew off the animals. It was enough to send the elderly man running for cover. The animals charged wildly into the fray. It was as if some unseen force was guiding them. Malark and several of the swordsmen were caught in their path. All of the unlucky men were knocked to the ground and trampled. The mage-priest hobbled back to the carriage in an attempt to avoid any more damage from the crazed animals. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, and he favored his right leg heavily. Two of the swordsmen were killed and three others were lying on the ground, injured badly. Tark lay bloody and unable to move in the middle of the street. Surprisingly, the animals had not harmed the gladiator. He still gripped his trident and lashed out randomly, though blood ran into his eyes half blinding him. The horses lost whatever bizarre urge guided them and ran off in fear.
“What happened?” Malark cried out angrily in disbelief. He looked to Tark for an answer then scanned the skies for the gremlin.
“I thought it only right to even the odds,” a woman called out from the steps to the tavern. Her voice was thickly accented. “I do not enjoy bullying.”
She was taller than average and dressed in a hard leather bodice that covered little. Her high stiff boots were trimmed in white fur and had heels that added two inches to her already impressive height. Her wild red hair was worn swept back in a tangled mess from her face with small trinkets woven into two thin braids that hung in front of her ears. Her arms and neck were decorated in exotic jewelry, consisting of large semi-precious stones of various colors and woven cords. A couple of strange symbols were tattooed along her forearms in dark-blue ink. Currently she was in the process of uncoiling a dark whip that hung at her hip. Tark recognized her immediately. It was the same woman who was accompanying the dwarf earlier.
One of the remaining swordsmen tried to sneak up on the woman. He cried out in agony and toppled to the ground before his blade rose to strike. A stout dwarf with long braided hair and a long braided beard stood over the body. He wore soft leathers the same mousy brown as his hair. The grinning little man had just stabbed the fanatic in the back with his short-bladed sword.
His devious grin spread into a full smile as he admired his handiwork. “We don’t much like yer order,” the dwarf smirked at Malark.
A single gesture and a sharp command of “strike” from the redhaired woman and one of Tark’s wild swings just happened to find its target. He could feel his hand tug in the right direction for the blow. Another of the swordsmen fell to his deadly trident. The dwarf dove in and made quick work of the trampled fanatics. He slit their throats neatly. It was clear by his precision that he had done that before. The three remaining swordsmen pulled back to regroup, but a wall of green flame engulfed them. To any who knew where to look, Ado was visible peeking over the edge of the tavern roof controlling his illusionary fire. The men cried out in pain and fled the licking flames. One man met Tark’s trident, another met the blade of the dwarf, and the last lost his breath as a whip twisted around his throat and strangled him at the hands of the tall, redhaired woman.
Malark watched in disbelief and then screamed out in rage. “No! You can’t do this! You cannot interfere with the will of the order! He has been chosen for sacrifice by the high council! When the high priest …”
Out of nowhere came a gurgled cry from the robed man as he struggled to reach his back. He toppled to his hands and knees and all could see his hoof-stained, white robes were now soaked in blood from the decorative dagger, which protruded from his back. A shapely leg snapped out from inside of the carriage. A sparkling red shoe kicked Malark hard in the head, twisting his surprised face to the side at an odd angle. The man gurgled out something unintelligible and collapsed dead in the street. A young woman crawled from the fancy carriage. Her hands were bound at the wrists, but she kicked the dead priest one more time in anger for good measure. She wore a full-length beaded silk gown of deep red that matched her shoes. Her shoulder length ebony hair was held from her eyes by a bejeweled red headband. It was clear from her expensive clothing and her painted face that she was of noble descent.
People began to gather around the bloody scene in the streets. Some called for the militia while others rushed for their respective ships at the docks. The news would not take long to reach back to the fanatical order. They had spies everywhere.
“Now what do you propose?” The dwarf grunted as he searched the fallen fanatics for any treasure. He frowned at their meager possessions.
“We get the warrior back to the ship,” the red-haired woman stated calmly. Though chaos was beginning to form around her, she acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Tark still could not feel his legs, and blood leaked continuously from a gash on his forehead into one of his eyes, but he had seen the two strangers save him. It was not clear to the big man what the pair wanted with him yet. He thought about what he should do, but he really did not have a lot of options at the moment. Tark did not resist as the tall woman and the dwarf struggled to lift his large frame.
“Ado, go tell the others!” The gladiator shouted to the air. He only hoped that the fearful tremlin had not already fled. “What do you want with me? Where are you taking me?” He grunted as they began to drag him along.
“We are saving your life, and we are taking you to our ship,” the woman answered evenly. Her voice held a thick unknown accent. “They will be after you again soon. You cannot remain in this town.”
“Couldn’t we rescue someone smaller? He would have to be the biggest human I’ve ever seen!” The dwarf grumbled. “He’s as big as Sslath! Couldn’t be a child or a sassy dwarf maiden, no we have to rescue a giant h
uman warrior.”
“Wait! Wait for me! You can’t just leave me behind!” The lady in red called out as she rushed from the carriage to join them. Everyone had forgotten about her. “They said they were going to sacrifice me. They killed my father because they said he was a non-believer. You have to take me with you!” The woman pleaded.
The tall, redhaired woman looked her up and down and turned back to carrying Tark. “She is … unimportant,” the taller woman huffed as they struggled to carry the big gladiator. The painted lady in red frowned at the comment.
“Why couldn’t we be rescuing her? She might be worth something,” the dwarf whispered. “And she’s a damn bit lighter I’ll bet! Keep up and give us a hand, sweetheart,” he grumbled back at the lady in the red dress.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ado watched helplessly as the bound lady joined the strange duo in carrying Tark away. He overheard them say they were taking him back to their ship. The town populace was in an uproar. Some praised the slaughter of the Order of Four members. Others preached doom and disaster for Seaside in the days to come. The gremlin listened to their arguments briefly while he decided what he should do. Tark had ordered him to warn the others of what had happened, but Ado feared if he did that then he would lose Tark’s trail for sure. What could the bed-ridden sage or the fairy do to help the situation anyway? He felt the effects of those golden arrows first hand. They left his limbs useless and numb for hours, not to mention the pain involved. The little mage watched the big man get struck in the back, and saw him crumple to the ground on useless legs. Again, Ado cursed that big oaf’s terrible luck. He was much like Teevo had been in that aspect. How did he always end up traveling with danger-prone humans?
“Tremlins weren’t meant to be in such situations,” he muttered to himself. “It goes against our nature.” With an exaggerated sigh, he launched himself into the air.