Nixy sat up. Blood was streaming from her broken nose and busted lips. She was dizzy but slowly she regained her wits. She could do little more than watch but was surprised when Reaton-Stav cast a spell on the little boy that caused the bloody gash on his gut to glow red and slowly close. When he was done, he looked at Nixy, then bent down and picked up the limp child by his hair. He held him with his feet dangling inches above the ground for her to see. Thankfully, the little boy was unconscious.
"I've healed your maggot," he said, "but I will kill him just like I killed Debain, one bone at a time if you so much as think of betraying me."
"All right, all right," she pleaded. "Just put him down. He is only a little boy."
Suddenly, everything around them flashed back to normal. The people in the crowd were no longer moving as if they were caught in molasses, and the din of their fear was plain to hear. The boy crumpled to the ground in a heap when the necromancer let him go.
Reaton-Stav's eyes closed for a few moments, and Nixy almost grabbed up the child and ran for it, but she couldn’t summon the courage. Soon, a carriage pulled up to them, and he motioned for her and the boy to get inside. The horses pulling it were as dead as the driver. Nixy did as she was told and held the boy's head in her lap. Confused, and still bleeding from the injuries to her face, she had to fight to contain her tears as the opulent vehicle lurched away. They stopped just across the bridge, and the necromancer opened the door and spoke a few words she didn't understand to no one she could see.
Nixy was forced to watch his manic glee as the bridge between they and Antole crumbled into the river it spanned. Hundreds, if not thousands of people disappeared into the water and rubble, and those who hadn’t yet crossed were left for the gothicans raiding the city.
Chapter Eight
Thaelos was surrounded. He had purchased two wagons, with a single horse each, but was forced to steal the third, a fancy two horse rig. When he saw three men in leather armor closing on him, he thought they might be the rightful owners of the one he'd taken, but they were not. They were big, angry robbers who'd seen the pouch of coins he'd used to purchase the second wagon and followed him out beyond the main flow of people, where they could ambush him and take the coins he had left. He had just figured this out after he offered them the stolen wagon. They laughed and said he could keep one of his wagons if he gave up the gold.
"Don't you know that Antole is under attack?" Thaelos said as he drew his sword. "There are piles of gold and houses full of goods being left behind there. And no one will stop you from taking them."
The biggest robber laughed. "That is why after we kill you and take your gold, we are going to ride your horses into the city and fill two of your wagons with whatever we like."
"Well then, you've got some work to do," the elf said, throwing back his hood. He reined Bolt around toward the nearest man. The horse reared up and lashed out, with his hooves catching the robber in the neck and shoulder, sending him to the ground. Bolt then whirled around, and Thaelos had to swing out his arms to keep his balance. When he did, the very tip of his sword grazed the biggest man's chin, leaving a thin red line under his lip that soon began to drip bright red blood.
"You've done it now, fool," the big man spat and charged. Thaelos couldn't see the third man. He was busy defending himself from the big thief's sword. The second man was getting to his feet, and things weren't looking too good. Luckily for Thaelos, Bolt was a smart horse and did a quick sideways dance. With his powerful hind legs, he kicked the man who had just gotten to his feet square in the chest. The man went stumbling onto his back, clutching at what had to be an armful of broken ribs.
The big man made a lunge. His sword stabbed into Thaelos' leg and went clean through his calf muscle and a good two inches into Bolt's side. The startled horse leapt away frantically, and Thaelos lost his seat. He landed hard but somehow managed to keep his sword. Back down the road, people were gathering, too afraid to pass the scene before them. A few of the braver ones sped by on their horses and didn't even glance at the altercation as they went.
The big man was laughing now, and the third man ran up to the struggling elf and nearly ran him through. His sword missed by just a fraction and made a wide gash across Thaelos' side.
"It's an elf, Glyden," the startled man said. "It's bad luck to kill an elf."
"Ha! Then don't kill him," the big man said, squinting and stepping around to get a look for himself. “Just cut off his foot or something.”
"He's right, Glyden," Thaelos said, now willing to try anything to keep these idiots from taking the wagons. He wasn't sure if he could stand or not, and he hoped Nixy and Savon were coming soon. If he could stall these goons, then maybe he could give the orphans a chance to get here. "You can't even harm an elf or your whole family will be cursed."
"Bah!" The big man spat. "That's nonsense. The only family I have is Jeets over there." He pointed to the man Bolt had kicked.
"I'd say he's pretty cursed," the third man said.
Bolt whinnied, and with blood streaming down his belly, started galloping back toward them. He looked to be bearing down on Glyden. Thaelos struggled to his feet and was about to charge at the other man, but he caught something in the horse's eyes that told him to go the other way. He didn't understand it, but the bigger man was so fixed on the horse that he didn't even see Thaelos' sword as it ran through his ribs. When the other man heard Glyden scream, and turned to see him and the elf both collapse onto the ground, he just stopped and stared at them. When he looked back up, Bolt was right there, and at a full gallop. The horse knocked him flat, and before he could recover, Bolt turned back on him. With a snort of what sounded like disgust, the animal stomped the man's face, and then his stomach with his front hooves, and when he brought down his rear hooves on him, the crunching sound was sickening. The sound the man made after the horse limped away was long and inhumane. Thaelos was so unsettled by it that he limped over and dragged his blade across the man's throat so he would not suffer anymore.
"We're not done elf," the big man rasped. He'd somehow gotten to his feet and stood in the middle of the road. "You killed my brother and my cousin." He stood with his sword at the ready but blood poured down his side.
“See, the curse has already taken effect,” Thaelos managed. He shook his head and let out a sigh. He didn't have anything left in him. The all-night ride into the city with no rest, and only a half a night's restless sleep the day before, had taken its toll. The gash through his leg hurt terribly, and he could barely stand.
Behind the big man, he could see a dozen people bundled up from the cold, skirting the far side of the road with their belongings loaded onto a couple of wagons. One of them had an arrow nocked, but didn't bother to help. Reluctantly, Thaelos limped out to face the robber.
"Haven't you had enough of the curse?" he asked Glyden through pain-clenched teeth.
"Nay, beast," Glyden returned, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth when he spoke. "I'm dead already, and I aim to take you with me."
Thaelos looked around for Bolt and hoped the faithful horse had a trick or two left because Thaelos was already getting dizzy. The world was starting to spin. He saw the horse pushed up against a tree, probably rubbing its wound against the bark. Glyden's charging bulk was a dark blur. When Thaelos raised his sword to block, it slipped from his grasp.
Glyden smiled wickedly as the elf faltered before him. He was about to deal the death blow when a voice called out to him from the crowd that was now breaking up.
"Hey you," someone yelled. Glyden turned. Thaelos saw the flash of an arrow that came through the air and sank into the man’s throat, leaving his next words trapped there for eternity. Glyden fell to the cold, hard-packed earth, choking and flailing. His gasping and thrashing only lasted a moment, though, for another arrow struck him in the gut and sank well into his heart.
Thaelos wasn't sure if he'd been killed and was envisioning all of this, or if he had truly been saved. Either
way, he was thankful when he slipped away.
Father Veristy held back the children while two of the oldest orphan boys and Savon helped drag the dead man off the road and out of sight of the little ones. One of the mothers tended and wrapped Thaelos's wounded leg. It wasn't until they had everything settled, and all of the children in the wagons, that Prism and Palon came thundering up the road. The boy's face was wide-eyed and streaked with tears, and he held onto the saddle with little, white-knuckled hands until Father Veristy pried them loose and helped him down.
"Where is Nixy?" Savon asked Palon gently. He felt a tinge of guilt because he’d left her after putting an arrow in the neck of that dead man, but only because the people on the bridge were about to trample the children.
"The bad man came to her," was all the terrified boy could say. No amount of questioning or prodding could produce any more of an answer. Savon was tempted to race back and try to help her, but Father Veristy pointed out that Thaelos was too injured to help and that Savon was the only one left who could defend the group. He assured the elf that Nixy was capable and resourceful, and that she would probably turn up before they made it to Sonly. Savon stayed with them, agreeing that Nixy was capable, and made sure he was ready if the worst were to happen.
Riderless and limping, Bolt kept pace with the group but wouldn't let anyone approach him. His wounds were not mortal as far as anyone could tell, but they looked painful and seemed to open and close with his every step. Twice Savon had tried to get the saddle off him, but Bolt would have none of it.
Luckily for all of them, Thaelos had kept the pouch of coins, for in all the chaos no one had thought of getting food for the group. The children were cold and hungry and the going was slow. It seemed that every time they were starting to gather momentum one of the children had to relieve themselves.
Father Veristy was certain that they couldn't out distance him by much, and he ran back toward Antole with some of the coins to purchase a sack of oats, some bread, and spices from some of the other people fleeing the city.
He had to pay ten times the value of the goods from a store owner who’s gotten a lot of his wares into a wagon. Then the priest had to beg for simple utensils like spoons, pots, and bowls so that they could cook the food and serve the children. The terrain was open and sparsely wooded. There were no streams or lakes, and that first night, though they could see a dozen cook fires burning both in front and behind them, they had no way to make a meal. Once again, the priest set out and had to pay dearly for a half cask of water just so they could boil the oats into a meal.
They set up their camp on the side of the road, and several times throughout the night, passing groups of refugees woke them all. Savon was on edge, but vigilant. His elven features, no longer hidden under a hood, seemed to keep most folks away.
Three days later, with a sore and battered Thaelos driving the first wagon, they rolled into Sonly tired, hungry, and as thirsty as they could be.
Bolt finally let Savon lead him to a stable to be tended, and only then did the mothers break down to mourn the death of the two little girls and the little boy who was possibly killed on the bridge. Both elves felt their sorrow for they'd hoped to see Nixy come riding up at any time, but she hadn't appeared, and Palon's account of the bad man left them fearing the worst.
Chapter Nine
Nixy hushed the waking boy. They weren't very far from the Sorcerious, and she secretly hoped the foolish necromancer would try to get her to go into Debain's room where Suclair lay in wait for him. She'd learned yesterday, when the boy first woke, that his name was Delvin. He was seven years old and far too unhealthy to be scared. His outer wounds were healing, but he had lost so much blood he was still sickly pale three full days after taking his wounds. Reaton-Stav had only fed them once in that time, and Nixy saved most of her portion to feed Delvin so that his little body might stay strong enough to recover. She was famished, and the bowl of fruit that was always fresh and full that sat on Debain's table was on her mind. How she was going to get Delvin into the magically warded room with her was something else she was pondering.
Surely, Reaton-Stav would send her after whatever it was he wanted and keep the boy with him until she returned. Maybe she and Suclair could overpower him, or maybe Sue could zap him somehow without harming the little boy. Neither option seemed likely. Reaton-Stav, however despicable and vile, was far more powerful than Suclair and easily a hundred times as ruthless.
Nixy figured she would have to play it by the moment. She knew that she and Suclair had the advantage of surprise, and that Reaton-Stav probably still thought that Father Veristy was in there. She'd heard him muttering curses about the priest to his henchmen outside the coach.
As they approached the Sorcerious, Reaton-Stav began chanting a prayer to Pharark. Nixy's stomach twisted in knots, as she realized that she and the boy might not live through this. The necromancer had called for the demon to come personally to the Sorcerious to claim the bait that would bring Braxton and his jewel to them. Apparently, the demon had agreed because Reaton-Stav's smile didn't fade even when his ghouls told him that Baragon had been killed by a dozen elves that supposedly wielded powers similar to his own. In fact, this news made him smile even broader.
Delvin was taken by a stinking corpse and immediately began to cry and call out for Nixy. Reaton-Stav touched his face, and the terrified child fell instantly asleep. The fact that the boy's fate was in her hands, so to speak, left Nixy no reason to restrain herself, but she was flanked by putrid walking dead men while Reaton-Stav ordered them into the old, dark building through a side entrance Nixy had never seen before.
"My master is coming so there isn't much time," Reaton-Stav said to her when they came to a stop in front of Debain's now closed door. "You will fetch the old man's spell book and drag out the priest or I will feed little Delvin's guts to Pharark when he arrives." To emphasize his threat, he took the sleeping boy from his henchman.
Nixy hoped that Suclair didn't jump out and blast her to dust when she opened the door. Luckily the door opened outward and nothing happened, except they found an almost sheer sheet hung over the opening just inside the jamb. She couldn't see in, but she figured Suclair could see out enough to know who was there.
"What am I supposed to bring you, Reaton?" Nixy asked rather loudly, to let anyone inside know it was her, not the necromancer, who was about to walk in.
"Books, all of them," Reaton-Stav yelled. It was clear that his patience was wearing thin. "And the priest. You hear that priest? You’re going to pay for mocking me."
"All right, I'll do it,” Nixy agreed. “But please don't hurt the little boy."
Suclair was listening. She was going to blast Reaton-Stav with the same sort of destructive spell that destroyed the heavy gate right after Nixy came through the curtain, but after hearing he had a little boy out there, she had to figure out what was going on before she made a move.
As soon as Nixy came through the curtain Suclair, pulled her to the side out of sight.
"What are you doing here?" Suclair asked in a harsh whisper.
"The orphans are safe," Nixy said, then fell sobbing into Suclair's arms. "Most of them, anyway. He has a little boy out there, and the demon himself is coming."
"Here?"
"Yes, and soon." Nixy wiped at her tears and tried to gather herself. "We have to do something. Reaton-Stav is going to give me to Pharark so he can use me as bait to trap Braxton."
Suclair remembered that Nixy was pregnant with Braxton's child, and that she’d told him as much in the letter she sent him from Jolin.
"Little Delvin is about to die," Reaton-Stav yelled through the door. "Hurry!"
Suclair closed her eyes and searched her mind while Nixy threw a few unimportant books out into the hall and explained that the priest was not in the room. After some deep thought, Suclair very calmly, and without a word spoken aloud, cast a spell and touched Nixy’s forehead.
Suclair had to catch Nixy as she fell, for
she’d spelled her into a deep sleep. She dragged her to the bed and undressed her down to her small clothes. Carefully, she covered and tucked Nixy into her father's bunk. Then she began rummaging through the chest the elves had brought her from her room. From it, she produced a wig of black hair she'd purchased to hide her embarrassment after burning all of her hair off. She donned Nixy's clothes and leather top, then kissed her friend's cheek.
"I did this is for your baby," she whispered. “I only hope it isn’t in vain.”
Reaton-Stav was furious and starting to lose control. Already, one of his minions had come and told him that the demon was there and coming.
"The spell book, Nixy. Now," he yelled.
"First, send the boy in," she said. "I have it right here, but you'll not get it until the boy is safe."
He put Delvin down and began casting a spell. Before he could do anything, an arm reached out and yanked the boy into the room. He started to go into a rage, but to his surprise, Nixy emerged moments later, walking backwards dragging a blanket with books piled loosely upon it.
Pharark was just coming down the hallway in his hideous red-eyed human form, and when Reaton-Stav glanced up at him, Nixy turned and shoved a long, razor sharp dagger right into Reaton-Stav’s chest, and then heaved it down toward his groin with all she had in her.
His eyes flew open with sudden pain and recognition. The armor and the black hair made her look just like Nixy from behind, but it was the idiot girl Suclair who had just pushed cold steel through his even colder heart.
Suclair looked at Reaton-Stav and grinned. Then she saw Pharark and started back for the door. It slammed in her face. She'd seen the demon at the drained lake, where he'd killed Darblin, but never in this human form. Still, she had no doubt it was him. His eyes, though smaller, were the very same eyes she'd looked into just before he blasted her back in the Wilderkind.
Demon of Destruction (Fantastica Book 3) Page 5