At once, the men in the courtyard heard the slam of two heavy doors nearby. They turned to look past the fountain and found their leader atop a sturdy horse. Jerrod never stopped but led his gaze to Rowan, sizing him up before choosing to ignore him.
Kelvin wasn’t worried about the man on horseback. With the Watcher’s wings, pursuit would have been effortless.
The Magician had one more trick to play, however. He cast out his arm beside the horse’s head and pointed to the ground. Searing hot flames appeared before them, and in an instant, they solidified into a substantial ramp of black ash. It remained durable enough to support their weight as they took to the sky, circumventing the iron fence and the limestone pillars.
Before many in attendance could make sense of the amazing escape, Jerrod and his steed were riding that ashen platform high into the air, until they were higher than the roofs of the nearby houses.
Not all of them were so distracted by the impressive feat, though. The smile was wiped from the Magician’s face when he brought his gaze forth again and was confronted by the Watcher.
Rowan dove forward, those clawed hands leading. By reflex alone, Jerrod cast out his hand, and a new blast of fire leapt from his digits. The man encased in stone had no hope of avoiding that flare, and it tore into his granite skin. Rowan recoiled and lost control, his wings no longer able to bear his weight and keep him aloft.
As the Watcher plummeted from the sky, Jerrod couldn’t hold back a grin. That moment of contentment was gone a moment later, when his trusty steed skidded for an instant before falling from the bridge of ash. Preoccupied with his enemy, he didn’t notice he had run out of path.
The horse squealed in protest as they dropped, but the Magician acted with haste. A platform of that same flaming ash took shape beneath them, catching the horse and rider. Jerrod blew out an anxious breath as he waited to see if his mount could endure that fall. When it took those first steps afterward, he nodded and snapped the reins again.
Just as before, he celebrated a mite too early, for a stinging pain erupted in his shoulder. Every bump and bobble exacerbated that agony, and when he looked down, he realized why. An arrow protruded from his arm, and he knew who had put it there.
Stifling a growl, Jerrod cast his attention forward. He couldn’t ignore the cold he felt that high off the ground, but the flames he summoned would certainly help.
Kelvin ran to his ally’s side, helping the fallen Watcher from the ground. Several new cracks were apparent in his stone armor, and wisps of smoke rose from where Jerrod’s latest blast of fire had struck him.
“Go after him,” Rowan directed. “If he gets to Thoro, all this was for nothing.”
The disguised prince nodded and clapped his friend on the back. At once, he took to the street, chasing after the Magician. The blood that fell from the ashen bridge as it deteriorated would lead the way, and he would find Jerrod Bodan before long.
*****
She coughed and gasped for air, looking this way and that for an escape. The young lady was drenched, her clothes and hair damp with water and her skin covered in moisture.
Those alleyways seemed so unfamiliar, even though she had lived in Argos all her life. The city she called home had become a strange and terrifying labyrinth.
Still, she held onto a glimmer of hope she would escape her horrifying fate.
Starla worked to steady her breathing as she leaned up against the wall of the nearest building. She hadn’t seen that awful scoundrel for some time, but she could still feel him nearby. Her heart trembled at the mere memory of him. His approach wasn’t that different from some of the other lecherous men she had to deal with in her line of work, but there was something about his gaze that left her unsettled. It wasn’t lust that drove him, but something darker, more sinister.
When she turned to walk away, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back. His other hand landed on her cheek, swinging her toward him. He placed his lips against hers, and when she pulled back, his teeth tugged on some skin.
Starla jerked away by reflex alone, and she was face to face with that wicked smile. That nefarious gaze was only present for a few more seconds before she pulled back again. Then, all at once, the stranger’s body took on a blue-green hue. His skin and his hair and his eyes all looked like water, and as she recoiled, he released his grasp on her and dropped to the ground, splashing away.
The bar wench had never been so terrified, and she bolted away from that street down an adjacent alleyway as soon as she could. All along the path she thought would bring her to safety, however, that man reappeared—no longer a wild-eyed human being, but an elemental avatar of water. Sometimes, he just gazed upon her from afar, but other times he jumped out before her, embracing her against her will. More than once, he pressed that liquescent face against hers, and she knew she was drowning.
She cried out more times than she could remember, until her throat was ragged and raw. Nobody came to aid her, though. Lantern lights didn’t even burn in the nearby windows, and she wondered if she had ventured into a derelict part of the city she wasn’t familiar with.
Everything seemed different there.
Starla shook her head, ridding herself of the awful memory of that man. Perhaps he had given up. Perhaps she was safe.
She didn’t notice as a trail of water rolled down the alleyway beside her, choosing its own path without err. It came up beneath her, and the being within manifested once more.
Two hands reached from the puddle that formed there, and Starla could sense something was wrong. She looked to her side but didn’t see anything there. By the time she realized she should have been looking down, it was too late.
The hands gripped her around one of her ankles and the opposite thigh, and the man pulled himself out of the pool, up around her body. Try as she might, she couldn’t pull away that time, his weight overpowering her against the wall.
The maddened elemental enveloped his prey, surrounding her, growing as he committed himself to his atrocious act. More arms grew from his body, keeping her still as she struggled to wriggle free of his grasp. Starla couldn’t even cry out, drowning beneath the force of that lust for power.
A shrill whistle echoed in the air, and before the entity could turn to consider it, another followed. The man pulled away from his victim, allowing her a chance to gasp for air. A crossbow quarrel flung through the air, and he couldn’t react fast enough to fend it off.
With a sickening slurp, that bolt flew through his head. All at once, he faltered back, away from the wall and the young woman. His body reconstituted as he recoiled. His extra arms withdrew, and his form returned to a normal size. He didn’t revert from that watery substance, though.
Starla coughed and expelled a gob of slimy water from her throat. When she looked up, she noticed her savior emerging from the shadows. Silky auburn hair fell from beneath a tricorne hat, and fierce eyes looked at the changed man from behind a domino mask.
The Silver Serpent’s hands were upon her weapons. The tip of the rapier was on the cobblestone street, but the emptied crossbow was still pointed toward the strange foe.
“Get out of here,” she ordered to the frightened woman.
Shifting aside, Starla offered a little nod and ran down the alley whence she came. A subtle, rippling growl erupted from the elemental’s watery lips, and he turned his focus instead on Marin.
She watched as the wound apparent in his translucent head sealed once more. Whole again, at least in that form, he could emphasize his features, and she saw the rage in his eyes.
The Silver Serpent swung her sword up and tossed her crossbow aside. Marin would prove to be no easy prey.
*****
He fell to the ground and gasped for air. Though the Arcanax Compendium was within arm’s reach, it was still far away, as long as the Banshee stood before him. And if her summon was heard wherever Jerrod was, he was in even worse shape than he realized.
Thoro pushed off the floor and
looked to the woman who he recruited for the Brotherhood. Ciara stared at him with sinister intentions in her eyes and advanced on him from that mysterious door at the back of the room.
“I’m not leaving without the artifact,” Thoro swore.
“Then you won’t be leaving at all,” the Banshee rasped.
The wounded man leapt for the table, but once more, a ferocious scream erupted from the woman’s battered throat. He thudded into the wall behind him and couldn’t catch his breath. His eyes watered, and he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts.
Through his blurry vision, he lifted his head and looked at the woman who was bound to take his life. It was fitting he brought her into the harsh environment, and she was set to make him regret it.
As he peered at her, though, his view of her shifted. Darkness was encroaching in the corners of his vision, and his chest felt strange. The volume of her voice was overbearing, and he knew it would only be a matter of moments before his eardrums ruptured.
That wasn’t what he heard, though.
“Fight, Thoro,” a lost but not forgotten voice called out to him. When he looked up, he saw a vision of Brielle before him. Glowing in an otherworldly luminescence, she gazed at him with a weary smile upon her face. “We thought running away was the answer, but you’re back here for a reason. You have to survive, even if it means leaving the artifact.”
“I can’t break free,” he struggled to say.
“You have to embrace the pain, even if it’s only for a little while.”
“Let it end,” he murmured. “Let me join you.”
“Someday,” he heard his lost love say. “But you have much more to offer this world. Show the Brotherhood and Argos what you’re capable of.”
Her words moved him, but his vision went black as she faded away. Thoro knew he was in no position to best the Banshee.
As the last traces of consciousness flared in his mind, he had an epiphany.
Perhaps Ciara should not have been his target.
He forced his eyes open and looked to his side. The Arcanax Compendium remained out of reach—but the table it sat upon was not. He lifted his leg and kicked out, his boot smashing against the wooden leg of the table. It tipped over, spilling the relic to the ground.
“No!” Ciara cried. Her focus on Thoro was lost in a moment. She lunged for the artifact, but it landed on the wooden floor, its pages fluttering open. When she turned back to the intruder, he was gone.
Once more, Ciara called out for Jerrod.
*****
The drops of blood had grown distant, and Kelvin knew he had lost his target. The Magician had escaped, and Thoro was in danger of being discovered at the Brotherhood’s hideout.
He squeezed his bow hard enough for it to protest with a pitiful creak, and a growl parted the prince’s lips.
To his surprise, another snarl echoed out, not far away. That was not one of frustration, however—he heard the sounds of a conflict. Intrigued by those noises, he drew farther into the harbor district.
Without an arrow, he wasn’t sure how much help he could be. When he rounded the corner and saw the familiar disguised face of his mentor, though, none of that mattered.
Marin took a mighty swing at her adversary, but two new arms came out of the strange, watery being’s chest and caught the woman’s wrists before she could cleave through him. With one of his remaining arms, he grasped her throat and tugged her close.
She had seen the things he had tried to do to the poor serving girl. There was no way the Silver Serpent would succumb to such attacks.
As the being pulled her close, she embraced that momentum, slamming her brow into his liquescent face. Her hat fell back, revealing more of her auburn hair, though that fluid adversary didn’t notice it at first. He teetered backward, reconstituting again, his extra arms drawing back into his liquid body.
With Marin’s arms free, she brought her rapier down and stabbed forth.
Her foe was not so disoriented that he missed that attack. At once, his body cast out to the side like a cresting wave, and the foil of the weapon passed by without any impending danger to him.
Once again, she was close to him, but this time it was his turn to advance on her. He cast the full weight of his body onto her, like a tempest intent on just one thing. By choice, he willed his limbs and torso apart, splashing into her like a fierce wave upon a gentle shore. Violent and powerful, he knocked her back. When he passed, Marin gasped for air she couldn’t quite reach. The elemental was still there upon her, that filmy water coating her clothes and face.
Despite the discomfort and fear welling up inside her, she wasn’t lost to the presence behind her. The madman took shape once again and wrapped his arms around her until she felt her chest crack from the immense pressure.
A growl wasn’t enough to free her when two more arms reached forward around her waist. That caress was filled with sinister intentions as those new limbs slid up her side toward her chest. Marin wriggled and writhed as much as she could, but there was no escaping the powerful hold. His rippling lips landed on her neck, and yet another hand landed upon her hip, though that time it explored farther down. Her arms were cast out wide, and she lost hold of her rapier. She snarled and whipped her head back, but there was no hope of dislodging the wicked man.
Her attempts only enraged him further, and he whipped her around toward the closest building where he could hold her against her will, ensuring there was nowhere to run.
He didn’t expect to see the young lad there, a look of utter disgust and hatred in his eyes. The being paused to consider the new arrival.
That gave Kelvin just enough time to throw the hardened clay ball upon the ground and lift his arm to shield his face.
Marin caught sight of her apprentice just as the flash bomb struck the cobblestones. She closed her eyes and looked away, but the bright display was not lost to her.
The man’s grip weakened at once. A gurgling growl emanated from within as he loosened his hold on his victim.
That was all the Silver Serpent needed. She drove her elbow into his sternum, and it connected with tremendous force. He couldn’t maintain his liquid form, beginning to revert into the man he was. Marin turned and delivered a fierce hook against his jaw, knocking him to his knees.
She tumbled off balance, landing on the cobblestones. It was the perfect vantage to see her protégé slide to the ground and lift the rapier into the air. With no time to consider what was happening, he drove that weapon forth, jabbing it into the man’s chest.
A sharp wheeze erupted from the man’s mouth as he slipped from the end of that blade.
Both of the masked vigilantes watched in horror as the elemental completed his return to form, his skin taking on a fleshy hue and his hair and eyes gaining some color as well. It didn’t take long for them to realize who they had been doing battle with.
“Constable Gerard Purdell,” Kelvin muttered.
Before the disguised prince could align his focus, the wound present in Gerard’s chest closed. A wry grin appeared on his face, but he knew he was outmatched in that moment. Without wasting a second, he spun on his heel and fled into the shadows.
Kelvin leaned forward to follow, but the sound of suffering behind him kept him rooted in his spot. His mentor vomited, and a mouthful of water splashed onto the stones below. She drew in a deep breath, and both heroes heard the crackling in her lungs.
The lad was there beside Marin in an instant, catching her before she tumbled to the ground. Her weak grip on his shoulder made it clear just how much of herself she had spent in fighting off the villainous constable.
Chapter Seven: A Legacy to Leave
As quiet as he could be, the older fellow rummaged through the scraps in the clearing behind the building. The shaggy dog just a few feet away from him couldn’t rein back an excited bark, however.
“Hush now, Finlay,” the scruffy man rasped. “Once I find something, you know I’ll take care of ya.”
Th
at yellow-coated dog was unwilling to listen, though. He wagged his tail and jumped back and forth, knowing his fellow vagrant would find success soon. When the dirtied man pulled forth a discarded turkey leg, another bark echoed into the air.
Turning about, the tramp wasn’t able to protect his finding from that hungry mutt. Finlay hopped up and braced shaky paws upon the homeless man. But with one clasp of his jaws, he clamped down on that leg and tugged it from the man’s hands.
Exasperated, the vagrant stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment. A weary sigh shook his broad frame, and he waved away the theft. “You first, then me, eh boy?” he whispered.
Finlay didn’t acknowledge his streetwise companion. Instead, his focus was on the morsels still attached to that turkey leg. The mutt leaned forward, but his rump was still aloft, and that tail wagged with no signs of stopping.
Even though he was without a bite to eat, the tramp couldn’t stifle a chortle. He turned back to the trash to see if there was anything else he could find to satiate his maddening hunger.
Neither of those famished vagabonds was ready for the sudden crash from another collection of refuse across the way. Finlay left the turkey leg where it was and ran behind the homeless fellow’s legs, peering in curiosity.
After a few moments, a man rose from the scattered trash, holding his shoulder. The moonlight glinted upon the arrow that protruded from his wound, but he growled away that pain.
“Damnable horse,” Jerrod spat. He looked down at the missile that had pierced through him. When he grasped it, flames crawled from between his fingers, and the wood disintegrated from the heat. The metal arrowhead fell to the ground, clanging like a discarded coin.
The wounded magician snarled as he looked at the vagabond and his frightened dog, but he made no moves toward them. Instead, he squeezed his shoulder and made his way toward the adjacent alley, disappearing from their view.
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