People, either brave, foolish, or drunk, continued to mill around outside the ring of fire, which Magi finally lowered. The Mage Guards were largely gone, pulling their fallen comrades aside to try and treat them or recover their bodies. Many were hovering over Tarsh. As he expected, Magi then saw several knights approaching, each bearing the insignia of Lord Corovant: a scale balancing a trident and a war hammer.
And now it is time for the arrogant Lord of this corrupt city to pay for his wrongs. Judge me, will you, Corovant? Burn me alive, will you Corovant? Toss my own ring at my feet, will you Corovant? I will put a missile through each knight and stroll down your street with lighting in my hands, into your throne room untouched, you wretched—
He saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye as an arm dropped over his head. He felt a sharp pain in his throat, and could no longer talk. Blood began to pour from his neck, and he began to feel light-headed. Gurgling, he fell to his knees, clutching his throat. He heard more shouts from the sparse crowd. Looking up he saw a tall, pale woman standing over him. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember where he’d seen her as he collapsed into a small pool of his own blood. She immediately began tugging at his ring, removing it from his hand.
The last thing he saw was the woman racing for the dock, where she dove into the sea as everything else went dark.
Trevor
Trevor Blink was not a True Thief for nothing. When he saw the missiles from Tarsh fizzle against Magi’s defenses, he quickly disappeared into the crowd. He kept close, kept an eye on the fight, might have even helped if he had an idea how. But his overarching imperative was simply to live to fight another day. Marik was right; this kid tracked him down. They just didn’t leave port fast enough. What you get for traipsing all over Elvidor looking for books and friends.
His second imperative, only slightly less important than the first, was to get back that ring. For the third time now it was within his sight, just out of reach. Not on the hand of a sailor in a raging storm, and not in the hand of a fanciful Lord who tossed it into executioner’s burning stake. It was back on the hand of the man he had picked it from a year ago. If I nicked it from him once… He would have to get it now, before he teleported away. He felt the ground shake from a blow from above that literally seemed to crumple Marik’s friend. All of a sudden the Mage Guards sought to bind him, but unlike what he saw at the trial, this time they failed. No wonder Xaro wants that ring! Trevor was no fool; he had picked up enough truth from Marik to basically know what the ring did, and he could see for his own eyes how futile the magical attacks on this mage were. Imagine what a ring like that would be worth…Xaro would kill you, fool. He put the distraction of the lucrative Black Market out of his mind and tried to focus on how he could get close enough to this lunatic mage in front of him.
All of a sudden a ring of fire sprung up around his target, and Trevor—even quite a ways back—could feel the intense heat. He heard several Mage Guards scream as the flames engulfed them. He saw them jump back out of the fire, howling and rolling on the ground. How do you rob a ring from a man surrounded by a ring of fire?
Stumped, he watched through the flames as Marik was killed, watched him pitch forward. He couldn’t hear anything, as people were still crying out in pain, fear, and confusion. Soon the flaming wall fell. Now or never, thief. If he wanted that ring, he would have to slide up behind him and try and nick it quick, and then create a massive distraction to get away.
Then he saw it. He saw his colleague, in a flash, separate from the remaining crowd and come up to the mage from behind. He saw the knife slide across Magi’s throat, but more importantly, he saw her taking the ring! Before Trevor could process what had happened, she had dove into the water—with the ring—in a blink of an eye. It was over just like that.
One of the things a True Thief must do is adapt to changing circumstances. And the game had just changed dramatically. The knights were running over to the water, but they could not follow in their armor. “Find her! Find her for questioning!” he heard one of the captains shout.
That won’t do. Not one bit. Trevor always did have a knack for stirring up a crowd, starting with the mob that he led against Renee and the slob of a baker that she left him for. He started running toward the docks with a frantic gleam in his mismatched eyes. “He doesn’t work alone! There are two of them! I saw the other one. This was a distraction to draw knights away from our good Lord Corovant. His friend heads to the palace now, even as we sit here! I’ve just come from city-center…the Great Library burns! These mages come with power, unable to be corralled. You must head to the palace before it is too late! To Corovant! For Trident and Hammer! For Trident and Hammer!” Trevor wound his way among the knights, who slowly picked up the chant as their captain turned his horse around from the edge.
He eyed Trevor a little suspiciously, but finally said, “Let the woman drown. She killed the foul mage for us anyhow. If there be another one, we shall have at him ourselves. Order of Thunder, Order of Thorn, to the palace. For Trident and Hammer!” And he led his men in a gallop back toward Lord Corovant’s palace.
Trevor hung back, arms raised and full of passion, until all the Mage Guards that could walk had left, along with knights. The dock was now nearly empty, everyone in their homes or cabins inside the boats. Only the dead or nearly dead bodies of Magi, Marik, Tarsh, and several Mage Guards were lying there. Even the man Magi paralyzed had split once the spell was broken upon Magi’s death.
Trevor looked out into the harbor. He saw the upended rowboat, and knew exactly where Veronica was hiding. Grabbing a stone, he flung it at the tiny boat with a thump. Trevor heard a modest splash and waited. When Veronica’s head popped up from the water, Trevor motioned for her to meet him a few hundred yards away, at the edge of the harbor where the shoreline opens up into the Sea. Away from eyes and ears.
An hour later the two of them were huddled by a campfire. Night had fallen, and they were on the outskirts of Gaust, near some woods.
“That was some handiwork back there,” Trevor began. “Although I daresay Xaro will not be pleased to know you killed him. He had Marik raise the boy.”
“I considered leaving him alive, but I doubted I could get the ring that way. A poison dart is useless on mages if you want to steal from them. They just teleport away before the poison takes effect.”
“Why not knock him out?” Trevor asked, passing a flask over to Veronica. She was cold from the water, and shivering. She smelled it and handed it back.
“Why are you questioning my methods? This was your task to begin with,” Veronica snapped. “But to your question, if I was off by just a bit and did not knock him out with a single blow, I would be dead. If I was off with my knife-work, chances are his voice would still be impaired, and that was the priority if I was to protect myself from his spells. Besides, I have much more confidence in my skill with a knife up close than I do with a clumsy club. And the blood loss always creates a bit of hysteria. I needed a few seconds to pry the ring off his finger. Any more questions, thief?”
“Yes. What now?” Trevor asked.
Veronica didn’t answer immediately. She rubbed her hands close to the fire and sighed, finally looking up at him. “I think I should reach out to Xaro and update him.”
“He will want the ring brought to him immediately, and will not be pleased to know you killed this mage.”
“He will be pleased to know that I recovered his ring!” Veronica said, clipping her words.
“We recovered the ring. You would be having a pleasant discussion at the point of a spear with Lord Corovant and his knights right now if I hadn’t gotten rid of them for you.”
“The only reason it had to be recovered is because you lost it in the first place, thief.” Veronica’s eyes flashed.
“And yet it is your task that remains undone, is it not, Assassin?” Trevor asked menacingly. “If we are to provide Xaro an update now, we shall do it together, just so as there is no
discrepancies in our account of the events, of course.” He took a swig from his flask, but never took his eyes off Veronica. “You know, that ring would be worth a fortune on the Black Market.”
Veronica scowled at Trevor. “It is worth more than a fortune. It is worth our lives. Though your life might be worth considerably less than a fortune, I value mine a bit more. We shall update him together. Fennatulum,” she said loudly, inching a little closer to the fire for warmth. “And this shall be our story…”
Kari
Quentin led the group to a large cellar below The Noisy Saint. The steps led down to a large room full of shelves, with barrels of wine stored floor to ceiling. A small table at the bottom had a single, large candle sitting on it, which Quentin lit manually to light the room. Picking it up, he glanced at a door to his left that was barred, and shuddered. He passed by it and kept leading them slowly toward the back of the cellar.
As they rounded a row of wine, they heard a voice just past the edge of their candlelight. “Thirsty?”
Drawing his short sword, Strongiron moved to the front of the narrow aisle with Quentin. “Who is that? Show yourself!”
Stepping out of the shadows, Phillip had a broad, cold smile across his face. “It’s just me, Strongiron. Me…and a few new friends.” Two men appeared on either side of Phillip, and a woman appeared behind the group at the other end of the wine aisle. They were all fairly young, maybe a few years older than Kari. None wore armor, but they all had the same icy smile on their face.
“The grey-haired one is a True Mage! He is the biggest threat!” Phillip yelled, drawing a dirk from his belt as he lunged for Rebecca.
Niku threw a fine blue powder into the air and focused on a spell. The blue powder sparkled as it fell on everyone before disappearing. Quentin looked impressed.
“What was that?” shouted Kari, rushing forward away from woman approaching behind them, toward Quentin.
“It is measure of protection against the spirits’ ability to possess any of us. I do not have a ward against the pain that their touch causes, however.” Niku had already created enough light to chase all the shadows in the cellar away.
Rebecca screamed as soon as Phillip touched her, falling to her knees. Strongiron swung at the forearm holding her and sliced the arm clear off at the elbow. There was no blood flowing. The Elder didn’t bat an eyelash; he just kept smiling as he put his dirk away. Picking his arm back up with his good hand, he reattached it and drew his dirk again. Strongiron just growled and with a powerful return stroke took off Phillip’s head.
Everyone watched as the body just calmly walked over to where the head had rolled and picked it up from the floor. Like the arm, Phillip just reattached it with a twist and another smile. Not a drop of blood was lost. “The pain is exquisite, Strongiron. I should hold my neck out again for the simple pleasure of the pain, my old friend.”
Niku shot magic missiles straight at the woman who had come up behind them, and they sunk deep into her chest. They barely slowed her down, and didn’t wipe the smile off her face, either.
The possessed humans just kept coming, seemingly growing stronger whenever there was pain in the room—their own or the group’s. Phillip kept instructing them forward, and every time Strongiron sliced off a finger, an ear, an ankle—he just kept reattaching them. Once Strongiron executed an unbelievable double-stroke that took off both of Phillip’s arms. He just bent over, and his arms reattached themselves. Soon they were surrounded on all four sides, with the undead spirits seemingly inexhaustible energy closing in.
Staring around with wide eyes, Kari began chanting almost silently to herself. She kept going for minutes before finally stopping, out of breath, and turning to the others.
“Come! We must run back. To the gorge—it is the only way. Hurry!” Niku ran off, avoiding the touch of the nearest foe. The rest followed him, also avoiding the outstretched hands of Phillip and the others. Soon all the others, with Kari last, had retreated back up the stairs. There was a distant sound of the door slamming.
The four undead were stupefied until Phillip shouted. “After them! They cannot cross the gorge—get them before they plunge over if you wish to feed! Run!” They all began heading quickly up the stairs, leaving the empty basement behind.
A minute or three later, Strongiron looked at Kari as the group appeared out of nowhere. “That was brilliant.”
With a shudder, she finally dropped the illusion of their retreat, and panted for breath. “That was the most…elaborate spell…I ever…cast. I’ve never…created an illusion…with that much intricate…movement and sound.” She glanced at Quentin. “We haven’t got much time.”
Quentin nodded and motioned the others to follow. Near the back of the cellar was a large cask on the floor. He pointed at Strongiron to help him move it, which he did, revealing a small drain hole in the floor. He motioned to pour the wine from the cask into the hole, which Strongiron did, with only a slight groan at the weight.
As the wine flowed through the drain, they soon heard a slow grinding sound, and a small section of the back wall swung open, leading to a spiral staircase of pitch blackness. Quentin motioned everyone through, handing Niku the candle. Strongiron took another huge cask and moved it back over the drain hole to maintain appearances before squeezing himself into the entrance to the catacombs. Kari had already cast a glow ball.
At the first landing of the twisting staircase, they saw the wine they had poured into the drain gathered into another cask.
“This one holds the door open—like a counterweight,” Niku said. “Very clever.”
Quentin smiled and pointed at the whole contraption before he unplugged the drain at the bottom, letting the wine spill out like a thin, red waterfall to the depths below in the center of the staircase. It took what seemed like a minute before they heard the wine splatter on the floor of the catacombs. Soon the door to the cellar above had closed again.
“Let’s hope the catacombs do, in fact, lead us close to Dariez,” Niku said quietly, though his words echoed off the stone walls everywhere.
Xaro
Xaro knew something was wrong. The connective spell he had cast over all five of his council gave him the ability to “summon” them to meetings across enormous distances…and it also gave him a sense when they were no longer “connected.”
Marik was no longer “connected.”
Shortly after, he felt Veronica reach out to request a meeting with him. I think it is past time for a meeting of my entire council, actually.
Travelling north, Tar-tan and he had led their army up to the Ajax Mountains that divided the continent. Amazingly, an earthquake in the center of the range had opened up a small gap. They had felt the tremors leagues away in their approach, but coming up to the mountain range, the effect was unmistakable. Loose rock had cascaded down the face of the mountains, flattening out a path through the range. Scouts had come back and reported that the desert on the other side was a day’s ride through the debris.
Uttering silent praise to Kuth-Cergor, he found a small hillside to make camp. He and Tar-tan left the men to call a meeting with the remaining members of his council. Soon the shimmering images of Veronica, Trevor, and Malenec appeared.
Xaro began. “Before I hear your updates, I have one for you. It appears that Marik is dead…I felt my connection to him fade. He was supposed to deliver me a reformed mage that we could use to further prepare the way for our Master. When he failed, I sent him to join you, Trevor, to try and reverse your failures in recovering my ring. I even sent my Assassin to join you—”
“I have not failed you, Master. I have recovered the ring,” interrupted Trevor.
“I have recovered the ring, Master. It is right here.” Veronica pulled out the ring and showed it to the group. “If you wish, we can update you on Marik. Both Trevor and I saw what happened to him.” Veronica finished. Trevor just narrowed his eyes.
“We recovered the ring, Master. Together.”
Xaro
held up his hand. “Enough. Veronica, you first. Speak.”
She nodded. “Yes, Master. Trevor, Marik, and another mage they were travelling with—Marik called him Tarsh, I believe—were making plans to see you. They—”
“I wanted to stay and complete our task, but Marik was convinced that we needed to return to Sands End, Master,” Trevor hurriedly said.
Xaro rubbed his forehead and nodded to Veronica to continue.
“As I was saying, Master, they were making preparations. Magi had apparently tracked Marik down, and he had your ring. As you ordered me at our last update, I was heading back to Gaust to try and help Trevor and Marik. I had arrived only the previous night, and was only beginning my search for the others by the harbor when I saw them getting ready to leave. To my amazement, that was when I saw Magi teleport behind Marik and call out to him.
“Magi had the ring and was impervious to Marik as well as to a host of Mage Guards that quickly descended on the pier as word spread. He then killed Marik and nearly killed this other mage as well, whom I think he knew. They were powerless against him, Xaro—it was hardly a fair fight. I watched and waited…as did Trevor. Both of us were waiting for an opening to try and grab the ring for you. In the end, I had to kill Magi to retrieve the ring, and I left quickly afterward. Trevor was…helpful in my escape. Instrumental.”
Xaro sat down, a look of disbelief on his face. “He’s dead? Magi is dead? You killed him?”
Veronica tried not to look indignant. “I slit his throat myself, Master. It was the only way. Trevor was there, he saw all this…Trevor?” Veronica looked at the Thief.
In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) Page 60