Salrissa checked the flap to make sure the actions were not noticed, but the loud sounds of battle happening outside masked pretty much anything quieter than a clap. Salrissa moved around the pole cutting their bonds.
"It took you long enough!" Robart blustered quietly, as he rubbed his wrists.
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. He made a point of ignoring it, but made no further remarks. "Get your things, and let's get out of here. Your two friends will be back any moment."
Hoyle had already moved to the chest and had tossed Robart his greatsword, and was throwing possessions to each of the companions as he went through them.
"I am afraid the shadowy one is correct," the voice whispered as the tall thin figure stepped into the tent, glancing at the bodies briefly. Fresh blood-drawn runes covered his face and dripped onto his robes. Now Hoyle knew why the warlock chose that particular burgundy-brownish color. In behind him came Brows, his thick eyebrows down in a scowl. He had already drawn his weapon and looked set to use it. Before anyone could react, the warlock intoned a spell and tendrils of shadow reached from the darkest corners of the tent and bound all of them.
Celia responded with a spell of her own, and flames wreathed her body, casting heat into the otherwise cool tent. The shadows dissipated like smoke around her, and she countered with another spell, whipping her hands up in a circular motion. Wind began to spin up as Whisper began chanting again and Brows moved towards Celia. The wind became stronger, a vortex sucking in the sides of the tent and pushing air out the smoke hole at the top. Small items began to fly through the air, and Celia directed them at the enemy.
Dice, and dice cups began pelting their two adversaries, and to a lesser extent them, but then some of the larger objects began to lift off the carpet and batter about the tent. Valena got hit in the side by one of the chairs, and Celia flinched, but did not relent in her attack. Whisper finally finished his spell, and a beam of darkness shot from the palm of his outstretched hand, striking the shield of flames that protected her. The flames flickered and died, having absorbed all of the beam's energy.
"Look out Celia!" Hoyle shouted, noting that Brows had come up near her left side. Suddenly, a tendril of shadow entered his mouth and throat, effectively gagging him, while still allowing him to breathe. He felt his earring flare and felt the gag dissipate, and could feel the shadows grip on him loosen, though only slightly. He decided to stay quiet for now, hoping his situation was not apparent.
Celia ducked, but not quick enough, taking a glancing blow to the side of her head from a mailed fist. She staggered and fell to the carpet, the vortex dissipating. But then Hoyle saw Brows stagger and turned to face Salrissa, his hand over his kidney area, blood running through his fingers.
"Shadows cannot bind creatures of shadow," she explained. As she attacked Brows again with her two daggers, one bloody, the other not. He managed to deflect one with his arm encased in chainmail, but the other carved a path across his forehead.
Hoyle watched in dismay as Celia was bound up in more tendrils of shadow while she lay on the floor, still stunned from the blow to the head. With nothing he was able to do to free himself - it seemed like the warlock was sustaining this spell consciously - he turned to watch the battle between Salrissa and Brows, along with everyone else, including the enraptured warlock.
Brows had managed to get his sword up in time to block the next series of strikes, but was at a disadvantage in the close quarters of the tent, his broadsword requiring more room to swing than Salrissa's shorter daggers. Blades flicked back and forth in the light of the two remaining lanterns, a deadly dance of steel to the song of metal ringing that had the audience enraptured whether they were bound or not.
Salrissa ducked a swing aimed at her neck and rolled past his legs to come up behind and jab backwards towards his unprotected back. He managed to block her forearm with his, but he was off balance, and she managed to rake the dagger along his arm with a shriek of steel on steel. She stepped forward, away from Brows and whipped her cloak in wide arc, using it to hide a spinning back-kick to his chin as he turned to face her.
She whipped her cloak around again, but this time Brows grabbed it with his empty hand and gave it a hard yank. The cloak broke free from Salrissa's throat with the first hard pull, leaving Brow holding it and swinging his sword through empty air where he assumed Salrissa would be after his maneuver. But she was not there, instead stepping in behind his swing, driving the hilt of her dagger up into his nose, breaking it with a loud crack. Hoyle was not sure why she did not go for the killing blow, but assumed she had her reasons.
Brows stepped back and swiped his hand across his face, smearing the blood from his forehead and nose together. "I'm going to kill you!" he cried angrily. He stepped forward, throwing Salrissa's cloak at her head, which she ducked, right into the knee Brows brought up. The blow knocked Salrissa back, stunned. The huge man took advantage of her momentary disadvantage and brought his sword around for a killing blow, but Salrissa's knees gave out as she dropped below his decapitating blow. Hoyle was not sure if the move was intentional or not, as Salrissa still seemed to be moving sluggishly, just managing to roll away from the next downward blow.
Hoyle, while watching the battle of two masters of their chosen weapon, noted a change in the background noise from outside. While it had been the distant sounds of battle; catapults firing, weapons clashing, men yelling; there was a new sound occurring, much closer to the command tent. He could now hear the screams of men in terror rapidly closing on the tent.
The others had not yet heard the difference, and he was only aware because he was expecting it. In fact, he was hoping for it, and it - they, couldn't have arrived at a better time.
Brows' boot came around and clipped Salrissa on her shoulder as she tried to stand. She was knocked over, but managed to leave a dagger stabbed into her assailant's calf. Brows screamed in pain, doubling over and pulling the dagger from his leg.
"Now how's that feel?! Not too nice now, is it?" Robart taunted before he was choked off with a tendril of shadow.
"Tsk, tsk. Not nice to taunt." Whisper chastised in his typically quiet voice. "Marcon, quit playing and finish her!"
Brows threw the dagger at Salrissa from his position on one knee, who managed to block it with her other dagger. Suddenly another dagger appeared in her empty hand as if from nowhere. Hoyle knew she had at least seven daggers, knives and assorted small weapons stashed about her body, and was a master at sleight-of-hand when it came to such things. Marcon got to his feet, heavily favoring the one leg and growled.
Suddenly, screams pierced the night.
Chapter 28
Celia managed to duck most of the impact of the blow to her head, but it still sent her to the ground with her head spinning. As soon as she hit the carpets of the tent, she felt the tendrils of shadow wrap about her body, and slide into her throat, causing her to gag. She couldn't speak, but she could still breathe.
She watched as the two combatants whirled around the tent, blades slicing thin air as often as flesh. She managed to get kicked at least twice as Salrissa and Brows fought. She managed to roll herself, though bound, over to the side of the tent out of the way.
She could feel the violet quafa'shilaar, now in her pocket, but could not access it without being able to speak her spell. It was the first object Hoyle had found in the chest as they were collecting their things. Her backpack with her tomes was still in the chest, and she suspected that they would remain there, unless they were really lucky. Only luck had saved them all from death to this point.
Abruptly, screams of terror ripped through the night from nearby, startling everyone in the tent. Well, almost everybody - Hoyle had a big grin on his face. Celia could feel the familiar beginnings of irrational fear stirring within her that she had only felt the one time before - in the Goralonian Merchants' Guild tower. She steeled herself against it as she watched the same feeling pass over the occupants of the tent. She could feel the q
uafa'shilaar help bolster her defense, muting the apparently magical fear that was approaching the tent.
Brows and Salrissa had stopped fighting. Brows wiped a sleeve across his face, smearing blood away from his eyes as he backed over near the warlock, weapon ready. Salrissa was now trying frantically, with no avail, to free Valena from the shadow bonds on the opposite side of the tent from the duo.
"I told you that you would be afraid, before the end of the night." Hoyle stated, looking at the warlock and shrugging. Celia could tell he was gritting his teeth against the fear, his jaw muscles clenched furiously. The warlock looked at Hoyle, just now realizing that he had slipped free of his bonds. Celia noted the firebird earring's eyes dimming from a red glow as it finished absorbing the shadow magic. The warlock must have stopped maintaining the spell she thought trying her own bonds. No luck, they were still holding tight.
At just that moment, a familiar grey-skinned figure pushed through the flaps of the tent, knuckles dragging on the ground, followed by its two black cloaked handlers. "Dar karak sssed duth!" one of the Rak'soraa commanded in his hissing voice.
At that command, Celia felt tears running down her face, the terror nearly overwhelming her. The quafa'shilaar sensed it and fed her emotion that felt like anger, helping her resist the fear being emitted from the Scenter. She could see Salrissa kneeling on the ground, hands on her knees, head down. Valena was weeping quietly, still in her shadow bonds. Robart was down on his knees too, gritting his teeth against the false emotions running through the tent.
The man called Marcon had only dropped to one knee, and was baring his teeth at the Fear Squad in defiance. Only Whisper and Hoyle seemed unaffected. Celia could see the firebird earring's eyes glowing brightly, obviously absorbing some of the magic the scaazi was using. It had taken her a while to form her suspicions, but this evening's events had confirmed that it was indeed the earring the he wore that imparted the wearer some sort of resistance to magic.
"About time you got here," Hoyle directed at the Rak'soraa. A hateful glare was directed his way from those glowing eyes deep within that dark hood.
Turning back to the two Goralonians in the tent, the shorter of the cloaked handlers raised his hand containing a metal rod and pointed it at Brows. A bolt of lightning leapt from the end of the rod, but failed to reach its target. Brows was now standing, having raised his sword in front of him, absorbing the bolt. The sword was crackling with residual energy, a magestone glowing on the hilt, the obvious source of the sword's magic.
Brows stepped forward and swept his sword wide, slicing the arm from the Rak'soraa, spraying green-black blood all over the tent. The creature screamed an inhuman screech that hurt Celia's ears. Brows then swung the sword around and drove it into the creature's chest, hilt deep. He lifted a leg and kicked the dying creature off his sword and dodged backwards as the scaazi raked his claws through the place where he had been standing only a second before.
As the scaazi engaged Brows, Celia felt the fear affect subside slightly, and only noticed it due to the heightened awareness supplied by the violet quafa'shilaar in her pocket. She inched closer to the other four, and cast a sphere of protection spell, causing the rest of their group to unlock from their fear-induced paralysis. Robart started towards Brows and Whisper, who were the sole targets of the remaining Rak'soraa's ire. Hoyle grabbed his arm, which elicited a scowl from the larger man.
"Let them fight it out. It is not our business... yet. Besides, if you step too far away, I suspect you will be paralyzed with the effects of that Scenter again. Correct Celia?" Hoyle asked, not looking in her direction, his eyes focused into the eyes of his former torturer.
"Correct," she responded. "Three paces is all I can manage."
"Why do you even care?!" Robart almost shouted at him, amidst the howls, grunts and cries of battle not ten paces away.
"Not really sure myself," Hoyle responded, "Just do."
"Well stop. I can take care of myself."
"Fair enough." Hoyle replied, letting Robart go and turning back to watch the battle, as the dying Rak'soraa thrashed about, not three paces away. They could see the glow fade from the creature's eyes, its hood falling away from the reptilian face as it finally died. Green-black blood pooled under it, and from the stump, causing the carpets to begin to steam in those spots. Some blood had managed to reach the bodies of the guards, and they began to steam and bubble as well. Apparently Rak'soraa blood was acidic.
Celia could feel her eyes begin to sting from the vapours created by the blood as it ate away at the carpets, the other bodies, and robes the creature was wearing.
"This way," Salrissa said as she lifted Valena to her feet and directed her to the back room of the tent. "Out the hole I made in the back wall." She followed immediately after.
The rest of them followed, though Robart reluctantly. Celia hardly noticed the bedchamber's contents as they entered; only noticing the two oil lamps illuminating two small camp beds, another desk, and Valena huddled against the fabric of the back wall of the tent. Of Salrissa, there was no sign.
Hoyle moved to join Valena, who kept looking back at Robart, concern in her eyes. Robart was standing guard at the partition between the two rooms of the tent, still watching the battle. Celia quickly moved to the desk and looked about for something of worth. She saw several maps with markings on them and scooped them up into a roll and slid them up her sleeve. She also saw several heavy tomes, but noted that they were probably too heavy to carry, so left them.
Suddenly, she heard Valena scream a tortured "Noooo!" and run for the front room from her position by the back wall. Celia raced over and grabbed her, seeing Robart run towards Brows on the far right-hand side of the tent. There was no sign of Whisper, but immediately behind Brows was a large swirling vortex of dark clouds and shadow. She watched, barely able to contain Valena even though she was almost two hands taller than the diminutive healer, as Brows stepped backwards into the swirling vortex of shadow and vanished.
Robart yelled back as he ran for the portal, "Now it's my turn to save your sorry arses, and then we're even!" He leapt forward as the portal began to shrink, and dove through just moments before it closed.
Valena wailed, and collapsed into Celia's arms just as Hoyle arrived to help. Just then Celia noticed the other two beings still in the tent to the far left, where they had momentarily retreated. They turned their attention on Celia, Hoyle and Valena standing in the doorway to the back room.
She noted that the scaazi had several long slashes across its chest, which appeared to be closing as she watched. One arm hung limply, but she could see the fingers twitching as the severed muscles began to knit together before her eyes.
"We have to leave now." Hoyle whispered to Celia. "Any tricks you might know to get us out of here?" He turned to the Rak'soraa, death filling its gaze. "Now you understand the threat, and that we were not the cause. You can now report back to your master, as you have seen the true threat with your own eyes."
"You ssstill mussst return with usss," the creature replied in its sibilant whisper. "The massster gave ssspecific inssstructions."
"I don't think so," Hoyle replied, stepping backwards, pulling the limp, weeping Valena with him. "Celia, whatever you have, now's the time."
Salrissa stepped back into the tent through the tear she had created earlier. Her eyes bore into them. "Are we leaving or what?"
"We're leaving." Celia responded as she intoned the words to a spell she had not known only a day ago. Power crackled from her fingertips as she channeled the energy of the quafa'shilaar through her body, feeling alive, but dying at the same time. She directed the energy to one side and a large circle of white energy spun into being, growing larger to about two paces across, pushing outward from the center. The center began to still, while the energy ran around the perimeter, like a continuous white river, the image in the center stilling to a large meadow in the dark of the moonless night.
"Where does that lead?" Salrissa inquired
as she gripped her knives tighter.
"Does it matter?" Hoyle said at the same time as Celia grunted each word, "Can't hold it open long..."
Salrissa shrugged her shoulders and leapt through, turning in a circle once on the other side, checking for trouble.
Hoyle threw Valena over his shoulder and hopped through.
Celia moved quickly through the portal, the sounds of screams and battle dying off as she stepped into the meadow. Apparently, only objects could travel through, and not sound. She hoped this also applied to spell energy as she turned to see the Rak'soraa and scaazi step into the room they had just left. The hate-filled glowing eyes of the Rak'soraa bored into Celia's as she let the portal dissipate abruptly, dropping them into almost complete darkness. Only the stars above gave any illumination.
Celia was sure that she would have nightmares of that Rak'soraa's glare. She was right.
Epilogue
Zazaril
Zazaril sat in her cold study, the fire unlit, curtains closed to the almost moonless night. She shook her head for the fifth time in an hour. She understood the order of course, and even understood the personal sacrifice that she had been asked to make as part of the greater good. At least for the Dar'Shilaar.
She had now finished penning the third attempt at the letter, and reread it in the light of the small candle on her desk. She nodded her head and sprinkled sand across the parchment to help it dry. She took the previous two copies, lit them from the candle, walked across the room and tossed them into the cold fireplace. She stood for a moment, watching the hot flakes of parchment float up from the burning sheaves and disappear up the chimney, making sure they burned completely.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 31