Without further conversation or any warning, the gnome thrust the instrument into the charred remains of the leg. He worked quickly with long, nimble fingers, explaining in his clipped sentences that he was closing the valves and loosening the attachment points. The pain wasn't as bad as Zarfensis was expecting. Certainly nothing compared to the fusing process that he had also endured at the gnome's hand.
Greneks dropped the tool back in his pouch and grasped the leg. With a twist that demonstrated the surprising amount of strength in the gnome's wiry frame, he removed the entire assembly and sat it to the side.
Zarfensis was almost afraid to look down, but the curiosity that compelled him would not be denied. The sight he beheld wasn't nearly as bad as he was expecting. The solid ring with its metal teeth was still in place. A few flexible segmented tubes ended in tiny valves. The thicker supporting rods and rings that held the prosthetic in place had tiny claws that were open, as if waiting to accept the leg once it had been repaired.
“Will fix soon,” Greneks said, hefting the leg as easily as a feather, though it was easily three times his own weight. “Bring back. Stay here.”
The gnome trundled over to another work bench and began unpacking his bag, singing to himself in a strange language Zarfensis didn't recognize. Stay here, the gnome had said. As if he could go anywhere else. He had no crutch to lean on. He was effectively trapped in the workshop until the gnome completed his task.
After several hours, the gnome announced that his task was complete. A few spells needed to be prepared, he said, but Zarfensis would be whole again very soon.
Every muscle in Zarfensis's body was aquiver in anticipation. In the years that had passed since the battle in the ice cavern, he had never expected to have a functioning leg again. At first, he expected the vermin to execute him outright. Then, when they didn't and instead left him to rot in one of their subterranean jails, he had assumed he would die of neglect.
The day that the Grand Inquisitor had come to the prison to tell the guards that he would be transferred to the city to have his connection with the Quintessential Sphere severed was at turns the most terrifying and elated moment he could remember. The dragon who had stayed in contact throughout those years promised that he would be freed and he had been.
Regardless of anything else Stryne said or did, he had lived up to that promise and it seemed that he was about to live up to this one as well. Of course he had ulterior motives, but if their motives aligned in the extermination of the vermin, a dragon was a powerful ally to have.
Greneks was singing a jaunty tune as he came to stand before Zarfensis. His black eyes danced with merriment. He finished the last verse of his song before he sat the prosthetic down in front of the High Priest.
Zarfensis could hardly believe that in a few mere hours, the gnome had produced this from the mangled remains of his previous leg. Where the original had been a mass of exposed gears and bundles of cording, this new leg had plates of armor that wrapped around the points most prone to damage or attack. Gone also was the crystal window that had held the runedust powering the leg's magic. This concerned the Xarundi, but he had learned enough from the gnome to know that anything important would be explained in due time.
“Is good yes?” Greneks waved a hand at the contraption, his dark eyes staring intently at Zarfensis.
“Not just good. Amazing.”
The little creature beamed and took the strange instrument from his pouch. Zarfensis assumed his previous position without being asked and Greneks set about reattaching the leg to the metal ring. After it had been reattached to the studs that circled the rings, the gnome began to open the valves he had closed only a few hours before.
As Greneks enervated the prosthetic, Zarfensis felt a surge of power flow through him. This wasn't just the return of his mobility, although it was certainly that. The leg had begun to thrum with muted power upon being fed his living blood. This was something different entirely.
Greneks stood back, motioning for Zarfensis to stand. The Xarundi got unsteadily to his feet, relishing the feeling of being truly mobile again after so long. He took an experimental step forward, finding the motion of the leg to be much smoother and more natural than the previous version.
“You've outdone yourself, Greneks.”
“Pleased, yes?” The gnome steepled his long slender fingers under his chin and regarded the massive Xarundi as he flexed the leg, taking a few more steps to get the feel of the augmented limb.
“What about the runedust chamber?” Zarfensis asked, bending at the waist to get a better look at the armor plating that surrounded the leg.
“No runedust,” Greneks said with a grimace. He displayed his left hand and Zarfensis saw that half of the smallest finger was missing.
Sudden comprehension sent a chill up Zarfensis's spine.
“You mean...” The High Priest trailed off, feeling uncharacteristically squeamish about voicing what he suspected.
“Gnome magic most powerful machine magic,” Greneks replied solemnly, nodding. “Is power and protection.”
Without warning, the gnome thrust his right hand forward, fingers extended. He spoke words that crackled with power. Zarfensis recognized it as a spell, but had no time to counter with magic of his own.
A jet of green flame leapt from the gnome's fingers, striking the prosthetic leg. Zarfensis instinctively jerked it back, but not before he saw that the armor plating had deflected the flame. He reached down and touched the spot where the flame had touched. It was no warmer than the air around them.
“Gnome machines, gnome protection,” Greneks said, as if that ended the conversation, which it effectively did. There was nothing left to say.
Greneks turned toward the door and motioned for Zarfensis to precede him. The High Priest bounded easily into the common room, relishing in the comfort and stability the new leg provided him. It had been so long, so many years, since he had been whole. If nothing else, the dragon kept his word. Now it was up to them to keep theirs.
“Greneks, would you be so kind as to summon the women?”
The gnome grinned his wide smile, his triangular teeth glimmering the dim light. With his head still bobbing up and down, Greneks opened the door to the safe house and stepped outside.
#
Tionne and Nerillia stood in the shadow of the safe house, watching panic sweep through the city. The magical safeguards Tionne had put in place around their hiding place keep them free of the wraiths as they jumped from host to host, consuming as much blood as they could before splitting and resuming the hunt. Tionne glanced at Nerillia and the older woman flashed her a wide smile, gesturing to the city.
“You did that, Tionne. That's your power, set free and rampaging through Dragonfell. How does it feel?”
“I feel alive.”
“That's all?” Nerillia frowned. “I thought you'd feel more.”
“Oh, no, Nerillia,” Tionne corrected her. “You don't understand. I've never felt this alive. I feel full to bursting, when I've always felt empty. This is my purpose. This is what I was born to become. I live to serve the will of the Ancient Dyr.”
Nerillia sniffed.
“You sound like Zarfensis.”
Tionne shrugged.
“He might be right, Nerillia. Maybe I do have some strange, unknown connection to the rune and its ancient power. All I know is that I can feel them. I can feel every single wraith loose in the city. I feel them swelling. I feel them growing. I feel them spawning. I feel the terror they're spreading and the death they are causing and it all feels so...so...alive!”
“I told you that you'd fulfill your purpose with us,” Nerillia said. “You just had to believe in yourself.”
“I had a good teacher,” Tionne said, slipping her hand into the Lamiad's and giving it a squeeze. “I couldn't have done it without you.”
The Lamiad shrugged and looked out over the city. “I imagine you could have. I just pushed you in the right direction.”
“Why couldn't you help me with the ritual?” Tionne asked, peering curiously at Nerillia. “I know you're a vessel. I can feel the link shock dancing between us.”
She squeezed Nerillia's hand, sending a renewed tingle through both of their bodies. Nerillia pulled away, her crimson eyes troubled and focused far away.
“I can't.”
“Surely you have the knowledge,” Tionne blundered on. “You taught me the ritual--”
“No. You don't understand. I can't. They took that part of me.”
“They took--” Tionne gasped, her hands going to her mouth. “They censured you? Who? How? When?”
“Censure is a human ritual,” Nerillia replied, her voice bland. “Other races have other rituals, but the end result is the same. Who isn't important. It was a long time ago. Hundreds of years before you were born.”
Tionne's head jerked up and she looked at the older woman. She didn't seem more than twice her own age. How could she be hundreds of years old?
“You're hundreds of years old?”
“I am,” the Lamiad replied with a hint of her usual humor. She slid her palms down her voluptuous body, writhing in exaggerated sensuality. “I look pretty good for my age, don't I?”
“Yes,” Tionne replied flatly, and Nerillia laughed. “How did you survive? Faxon cut me off from the Sphere for seconds and I thought I was going to die.”
“I found a way to adapt. My people are skilled with magic of the mind.”
“I'm impressed.”
“Don't be. I'm far more impressed with how you've managed to survive.”
“Why?” Tionne was puzzled. It was the first time that she and Nerillia had compared experiences.
There was something ridiculous about their confessional moment. They were standing on the porch of the safe house, watching blood wraiths lay waste to the capital city of the Human Imperium, yet their conversation was as easy and natural as ever.
“Because I was able to sequester the emptiness I felt. You've lived with that lack all your life. It's hardened you in ways I can't imagine.”
Tionne thought about that. She'd never really seen it that way, but she supposed that Nerillia was right. After all, she'd never tried to block out the emptiness, just find ways to temporarily fill it. To find things that made her feel whole. Tonight, standing here watching Dragonfell fall, she felt more whole than she'd ever felt in her entire life. She felt almost drunk with it.
Hinges squealed in protest behind them and Greneks stepped out from inside the darkened safe house, cutting off their conversation. His long tapered fingers were folded under his chin and his huge eyes seemed to drink in the madness around them.
“Is time for you to witness the marvel, yes. High Priest to have his leg back. The white one commands it.”
“Well,” Tionne said with a giggle. “Let's not keep His Holiness waiting.”
She dropped her arms to her sides and let Greneks take one of her little fingers in his tiny hand. The gnome led her back inside and the Lamiad followed.
Zarfensis stood in the center of the room. His mechanical leg was no longer a twisted mass of blackened metal and melted rubber. It was an armored work of art. The meticulous craftsmanship of the appendage was obvious. There was a faint metallic whine when Zarfensis moved the leg and the articulated claws at the end of the foot sheathed and unsheathed themselves at his will. Even Tionne could see that Greneks hadn't just repaired the leg, he'd improved on it tenfold.
“Congratulations, Your Holiness,” she said, her voice earnest. The Xarundi’s jaw dropped in the equivalent of a grin.
“Yes, whelp, I am whole again. I've heard the screaming in the city and I know your part of the plan is already underway. You've done well. Now, we finish this and claim our due rewards.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tiadaria would have been happy if all they had to follow was the sound of screams. As it turned out, they were able to follow a trail of bodies as well. They'd come across three more corpses, each in worse condition than the last. Some of them were missing large sections of torso or head. The blood wraith was growing, just as Adamon had predicted. They needed to find it, and find it fast.
“This way,” Tia said as another scream pierced the night. She grabbed Wynn by the arm and drug him into the dark alley.
“Just once, I'd like to fight in broad daylight,” he complained between breaths. “Maybe against some nice bunnies, or a fearsome deer.”
“Careful what you wish for, Wynn.”
They left the alley and found themselves on the wide lane that wound through Dragonfell, serving as both the main street and the central market. Market Street ran the entire length of the city, north to south, with a large square in the middle. Merchant stalls that would sell all manner of goods and services in the daylight lined both sides of the street, long abandoned for the night. Tia glanced this way and that, irritated that her line of sight was broken by so many obstacles and so many irregular shapes. Anything could be hiding out there and they wouldn't know it until they were on top of it.
She slipped into sphere sight, hoping that she might be able to catch a brief glimmer of the wraith. Tia thought that it probably was sentient enough to try and hide itself, but it couldn't hurt to try. She scouted up and down the quiet street but saw nothing. With a sigh, she slipped back into the physical realm.
She stood in silence, both hoping for and dreading the next scream that would give them a location for their prey. They stood there several minutes and heard nothing. Wynn was shifting back and forth on his feet and Tia wanted to scold him, but she dared not make a sound. They listened some more and still heard nothing that would give them a nudge in the right direction.
If it hadn't been for that all-encompassing silence, Tia wouldn't have heard the soft whisper of a slipper on the cobblestones. She whirled, just in time to face the monstrosity that had been sneaking up behind them. Tia cursed her lack of foresight in not drawing her weapons earlier. Now the wraith had hold of both of her wrists and was pushing her backward toward one of the empty stalls. There was no doubt that it wanted to pin her down and consume her as it had done with its other victims.
The blood wraith drove her into one of the stalls, the rough wood digging into the small of her back. Tia was bent backward over the edge of the stall and she couldn't get her foot between herself and wraith. There was a sickening crack as Wynn brought his staff down on its skull. Turning to face a new attacker, it loosened its grip just enough that Tia could spin away from it and draw her scimitars.
Tia shifted into sphere sight, hoping that her heightened speed would give her the upper hand against the wraith. As she turned to strike, the wraith whipped out a long tendril, wrapping it around her ankles and pulling her legs out from under her. It was fast! She hit the cobblestones hard and her breath left her in a whoosh. She rolled to her stomach, still gasping for breath. She got up on her knees, trying to crab crawl away. The blood spirit's grip on her tightened and it started dragging her across the stones.
A quick glance over her shoulder spurred Tia into a more desperate struggle. The wraith's tendrils had multiplied, reaching out to trap her. Its eyes glittered with dark menace. She wondered what had happened to Wynn when a cone of flame lit up the night. The fire passed between Tia and the wraith, severing the tentacle. It lost its cohesion, turning to liquid and splattering on the street.
The quintessentialist, using his staff as a lance, drove it into the wraith's chest. It split down the center like a cracked egg, spilling sickly grey entrails at Wynn's feet. He jumped back as if the offal were on fire. The wraith careened into another stall, shattering it and sending slivers of wood flying.
The body gave a massive heave and then was still. Wynn ran to Tia and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. They spread out and flanked the unmoving body. Wynn glanced at Tia and she nodded, giving him a gesture to flip the body. He worked the tip of the staff under the ungainly mass and rolled it over.
It was just a h
usk. The wraith's essence had left the host, leaving a twisted pile of flesh in its wake. Wynn stepped back and summoned a globe of light, suspending it above them. Wet slapping sounds echoed across the empty street as the wraith scurried under the stalls and away, south along the road.
“Damn it!” Tia ran after the wraith and Wynn followed, his globe of light trailing along after them like a child's kite.
Reaching the large Market Square in the center of the city, Tia pulled up short. She spun in a circle, her eyes ranging around the square. Sphere sight or normal sight, it didn't matter. The wraith was gone. How could it have gotten away so fast?
“What now?” Wynn asked, coming up behind her.
“How did it get away?” Tia kicked a rock and sent it skittering across the road. It hit the opposite curb, bounced away, and fell into a slit in the street. They heard a faint splash and looked at each other.
“Great Gatzbin's gonads!” Tia swore. Wynn interrupted her by grabbing her elbow and pointing down the road.
“There! Look!”
The lanterns that lined the streets cast pale yellow circles of light on the stone street at regular intervals. The wraith was crawling out of a similar drainage slit further down the road. Back on the road, it propelled itself forward on its tendrils with a speed that had to be seen to be believed.
Tia grabbed Wynn's still outstretched hand and pulled him along behind her. She heard him gasp and knew that he'd come to the realization she'd had only a few seconds earlier. The wraith was heading straight for a squat grey stone building just off the main avenue. The Hospital of the Lyr. Providing both care and education for healers in training, the hospital would be an ideal feeding ground for the wraith.
The hospital was surrounded by a low wall, but its purpose was ornamental, not defensive. Between regular knockouts for aqueducts and sewers, there were probably a hundred places or more that the wraith could get through the wall. Tia and Wynn weren't so lucky. They had to race along the edge of the wall until they reached the heavy ironwood gate that opened into the compound.
The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 03 - The Pegasus's Lament Page 12