‘Andreton has seen many bigger fights.’ He said.
And this was true. Because he had been at the centre of most of them.
‘Ahh, what the crap.’ Donalt said, resigned. ‘OK. Let’s move through.’
He wagged a finger at Andreton. ‘NO DENNIS. There are some really serious penalties for using a blade in a street brawl here.’
‘Dennis is viz Francis.’ Andreton nodded to where the enormous weapon was strapped to his Steppe-beast. ‘Andreton not need veapon for brawl.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Donalt muttered to himself and he slid back down from his mount and followed Andreton as the big man started forwards.
***
Felicity hadn’t seen any of what had just happened in her vision. Fractured as her glimpses of a possible future were, she thought might have received at least an inkling that she would be caught in a blast which threw her from one side of the Tavern to the other.
Yes, the party had so far been as predicted. The Cleric was as vague and self–centred as she had expected, the fighter, while sharp, had not seen past her friendly attitude, or maybe… she would contemplate this nagging doubt once she was clear of the Tavern.
The Ranger, the brave, noble hero type couldn’t have been a better fit, and his Blink-Dog was cute. She believed she had caught sight of the warrior, and that monster should be bringing along the Rogue. But the thing that had not been revealed to her was the wizard demolishing the place. The words ‘liability’ and ‘danger to others’ sprang into her mind. Just on first encountering him the magic-user seemed to invite peril. But he had to be with them. There couldn’t be a single piece missing from the jigsaw.
Through the blaze around her she could see Valeran, Daisy and Corbett moving towards a portion of the Tavern that wasn’t ablaze, and which had a large ragged hole in it for them to escape through.
This was good at least, they had, of a fashion, teamed up to get out and this despite the Wizard being the cause of it all, this indicated that things on the vision front were working as intended if not as expected.
By ducking and dodging she managed to avoid the few remaining patrons fighting each other in the bar. It came as no surprise to her that these were mostly the warriors, who were more afraid of vegetarian dishes than they were fire. The normal patrons, who knew every exit as though they had attended classes on the subject were long gone. Felicity dusted herself down and left by a newly established exit, created by a man being thrown through the window.
Outside was bedlam. It was as though the explosion had been a wake-up call, a signal for every frustrated, skint adventurer and townsperson to pour in to the centre and deliver a bloody righteous kicking to each other. The frustration at the lack of Gates had finally reached boiling point, all it had taken was a spark, or in this case a massive blast, and the safety catches had been released. She saw the Warrior. It was hard to miss him, his head was two feet above most of the crowd, almost as wide as three men across the shoulder. He was moving slowly, throwing anyone who was in his way aside. She couldn’t understand why he was adopting such a pedestrian pace through the melee until she saw the giant animal he was towing behind him.
Finally, she saw the Rogue. He was a short man, although everyone was short next to the Warrior. He was clothed in the traditional black cloth and leathers of his profession and was doing his best to be hidden by the horse whose rein he held.
‘He knows where the Gate is.’ She thought. ‘I have to bring them together.’
She looked up the street, to where Valeran and his group were trying to press forwards, then back down to the Warrior.
‘He’s only moving as fast as the cow thing.’ Felicity looked for somewhere to stay out of harm’s way, where no one might suddenly surprise her.
Her magic needed concentration, calm. She could work under pressure but not while being jostled or having to dodge missiles. A store just ahead featured a set of stairs leading to its door and the building was raised off the ground. Most likely the owner had required a cellar or basement. She moved quickly to it and was relieved to see that the staircase wasn’t panelled shut. She ducked and moved into the recess.
This would have to do. She brought her fingers to the side of her head and closed her eyes. She didn’t manipulate the Essence in the way that other magic users did, and unfortunately she was actually no Mystic. Rather than sucking it out of the atmosphere or waiting for a God to toss them some scrap of energy, her kind tapped into its flow and moved into it.
The Essence of magic looked different to every magical observer. To some it was a constantly evolving rainbow, to others a majestic never-ending firework show. For Felicity it was an ocean of colours run through with streams of light. Not only was there colour there was also sound. Every organic creature haa one of these streams of light running into them and each has a distinctive tone and pattern of notes, almost like a twanged guitar string.
Her training allowed her to narrow her focus to the creature she desired to affect. In this instance she sought out the Steppe-beast. It was easy to see her. The animal’s stream of light was a simple bluish hue and gently pulsed. The beast was content and relatively happy. Felicity hooked on to the stream and her thoughts floated into the mind of the cow-beast. It was hard to read the thoughts of any creature, only an idea of what they were thinking could be determined this way but that was often enough for the purposes of her magic. Every creature also has a great deal of resistance to control by magical means. Only the utterly unimaginative can be easily coerced, like a sloth, or an politician. However, despite the melee going on around her the animal was calm and so Felicity was able to ease into the warm aura of her
contentment and gently slip deeper into her thoughts.
Once there, in the heat of her mind, Felicity gently probed at the Steppe-beast’s memories looking for things that might upset her relaxed demeanour.
She saw that the cow didn’t like lighting. Felicity could see memories of shocking fingers of light striking around her. A storm from her homeland perhaps, one that had scared her as a calf. She also wasn’t keen on men with sticks, but this made her angry, and that was not the emotion Felicity was seeking.
Then she saw it. And was a little surprised. But then, she had seen powerful men and women flee from the smallest of spiders and other strange phobias. Her information found, the hard part would now follow. Felicity could feel the heat of her body rise as she performed her mental manipulation of the Essence around her. A wizard would snatch this energy and force it into the material world, but a magic user like her wove it. She began to create a tapestry to present to the mind of the Steppe-beast and in a few short seconds Francis would believe there was a swarm of little brown mice scampering behind her and go fucking mental.
Corbett knew that despite the rules of magic use for offensive means in public places all of them were at it. All those capable of channelling the Essence could see when it was being drawn into the world and the bastards involved in this monumental kick-off were hard at it. Although, you didn’t need Essence Sight to know something fishy was going on when snowstorms suddenly appeared around you or a lightning bolt flashed and set your hair on fire.
Corbett even saw a Druid, arguably the most laid back of all the magic users, shapeshift into a bear and begin leathering anyone who got in his way. The skeletons running about the place and bonking people on the heads with their humerus bone was evidence enough that somewhere in the crowd a Necromancer was having a blast.
‘Don’t even think about it Corbs.’ Carl was back.
‘I’m NOT. Thank you very much. I just think it’s a bit off that everyone else gets to play Zappo the Magician while I’m in real mortal danger.’
‘Yeah, and this amount of magic, even delivered in small doses, is thinning the dimensional membrane.’ Carl warned. ‘Why’s Kezra dancing?’
‘Because she’s out of her fucking mind!’ Corbett shouted, his frustration boiling up.
‘Fair comment.’ C
arl replied.
‘What do you want anyway?’ Corbett said ducking as a badly timed haymaker swung his way.
‘Someone’s been observing you. I felt it. They didn’t try to get in but they were scoping you out son. Someone using dark magic.’
‘That girl. From the Tavern!’ Corbett said. ‘I fucking knew something was going on there.’
‘No you didn’t. You were too busy being a miserable git.’ Carl said, dismissing Corbett’s attempt at making his cluster-fuck at the Tavern more understandable. ‘So anyway, watch out. I’m going to keep an eye out for demonic incursions. We don’t need any more bloody Kezras moving in do we?’
‘No we don’t.’ Corbett agreed.
Kezra appeared oblivious to it all. She was now performing interpretive dance of the situation. He was going to have a mother of a migraine after all of this.
Seeing that Corbett had apparently stopped talking to himself Daisy moved in closer to him. Keeping her guard up and looking for any attempt to move in on Valeran. She wished the Cleric would move a little faster.
The crowd showed no sign of thinning at the moment.
‘What was all that about.’ She said to Corbett, who looked at her, startled.
‘What?’
‘You were talking to yourself. Didn’t sound like spells. Besides, you lot aren’t supposed to use magic here are you?
‘It’s complicated.’ Corbett replied.
‘Are you mad?’
‘I’m bloody furious.’ Corbett replied with absolute sincerity.
‘I mean… do you have mental problems. Is that why you’re… odd.’
‘Odd?’ Corbett ducked again, and almost tripped as Valeran took some fast steps forwards and the Wizard suddenly realised he was there to fall back on.
Daisy quickly stepped in and delivered a solid boot to the chest of the attacker, pushing him into another fight.
‘The hat. No staff or wand. You talk to yourself.’ Daisy said as she stepped back, dragging Corbett with her to keep up with the Cleric.
‘I’m NOT odd.’ Corbett snapped. ‘I have inner Demons.’
‘Don’t we all. But it’s no reason to be arsey is it.’
‘No no no. I literally have Demons in me.’
‘Oooohhh.’ Daisy said, and she stepped away slightly, just enough to cause annoyance in Corbett.
‘You can’t catch them, you ignorant bint.’ Corbett continued to fume. ‘They get into your mind via the Essence when its thin. Look, is this really the time or place.’
‘Oh shit!’ Daisy exclaimed.
Corbett’s eyebrows raised. Was this woman genuinely that concerned at his condition? It actually made him feel a little pleased that she could show such sympathy, and…
‘Oh shit!’ He cried, as he realised that Daisy’s outburst was not directed towards his plight, but at the monstrous animal that was bearing down upon them.
‘Valeran!’ Daisy shouted, ‘Move to the side!’ The Cleric, focusing on maintaining his personal shield and calling upon as many Gods as he could for scraps of energy, failed to hear the fighter’s warning. He had been using small pushes of magical force against anyone who came too near and had started to quite enjoy it. Unfortunately, a few of his Gods were getting a tad annoyed that he wasn’t tending to the sick and injured, and rather, was helping to create them. His dialogue with them was cut short when he suddenly felt himself lifted off his feet. There was something under his backside, as though sofa had magically
appeared underneath him.
‘Errrrghh!’ He cried.
Valeran found himself hurtling through the crowd. He scrambled backwards, still looking forwards as men, and women, and the occasional skeleton dived to the side, evading the rampaging beast upon whose snout he was lying. He tilted his head back. There was a giant. Some enormous musclebound thing smiling at him as it lifted men, hanging on to the shaggy fur of the beast he was being carried by, into the air and tossed them aside.
‘Hallo.’ Andreton said. ‘Hah! Francis gives you a lift. Is funny.’
‘Errrrghh!’ Valeran replied.
Andreton hadn’t noticed that Daisy had dragged Corbett up and onto the beasts back when she had leapt onto it. The Fighter clutched at the animal’s fur, keeping as low as possible so the huge Warrior wouldn’t notice her. To her surprise she had discovered that Felicity was already sat up here.
‘Hi.’ The Felicity said. Seemingly pleased to see them. On the girl’s shoulder some kind of furry, fox-like animal was curled about her.
‘One to go and our fellowship is complete.’ Felicity said. Behind them Donalt raced on his horse, using the space created by Francis’s wake. He could see that the number of people hitching a ride had vastly increased since the attractive girl had leapt on to Francis just after Andreton had mounted the animal in an attempt to calm it. Her timing was incredible. She had been lucky too. A man had rushed at her and he had no good business in his eyes, and out of nowhere a Blink-Dog had appeared and turned his face to mincemeat.
His senses tingled as though there were ants in his boots made of ice and they ran a relay race over his most sensitive bits. Something was happening right in front of him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it could be. The people on the Steppe-beast’s back didn’t appear to be threatening to harm, or at least attempt to harm Andreton in any way. Which meant they were at least half-smart.
If clothing alone were to be his guide, one of the women was a Fighter, a Sister of Steel no less. The bloke clinging to the backside of Francis, and crying, was probably a Wizard, or at least some sort of magic user, but he was wearing a really strange hat. Or he was for a moment, as when Francis suddenly jerked to the right to avoid something he couldn’t see, the man’s hat flew off his head. With reactions honed as close to perfection as a normal man could hope for Donalt leaned to the side and snatched the headgear in mid-flight. He took a quick glance at it, it was leather he thought, and then stuffed it into his jacket.
He looked behind at the town in uproar.
‘Amazing.’ He said.
The crowd began to thin as they finally escaped the heart of the Town and pressed on towards the outskirts. Donalt hoped that Francis, now it had started its mad charge, wouldn’t slow down just jet. The animal had cleared them a path faster than even Andreton could have done.
He noticed the girl who was sitting rather than lying down upon Francis turn her head to take a look at him. She was very pretty he thought. She smiled at him. He felt compelled to smile back. She waved. He waved. Then wondered what the hell he was doing.
Francis continued to run until the space between the houses became wide, and the street turned from cobbles to dirt. They reached the furthest reaches of the town and finally the animal began to slow down. At last they were free of the melee, although they had brought refugees with them.
Donalt rode up to the side of Francis and hailed his partner.
‘Andy! Stop now. We’re clear.’
Andreton brought the Steppe-beast to a dead stop.
‘There, there Francis. Not need to be scared now. Uncle Don is viz us.’ The Warrior said.
‘Uncle Don?’ Donalt decided to let that go. He had other concerns. ‘Alright you lot. Hop it.’ He said. ‘And just take note, we were nowhere near that fucking Tavern when it went bang.’
‘Oh, that’s alright.’ The attractive girl said, swinging a leg over and sliding off the back of Francis. ‘That was the Wizard.’
Corbett lifted his face from Francis’s thick fur and looked around, to make sure they had stopped and weren’t surrounded by angry people. Satisfied, he too dropped down. He wanted to offer some counter to the accusation that he had been responsible for the explosion but couldn’t because he had momentarily forgotten how to breathe due to sheer panic.
Andreton turned and saw Daisy sat behind him. He smiled.
‘Hallo.’ He said.
‘Hai.’ Daisy replied.
‘You are voman fighter.’ He said and
then pointed to each of the rises in her breast plate.
Unsure of protocol here and this coupled with a very real appreciation of the size and capability of the man in front of her Daisy decided that in this instance discretion would be the better part of valour.
‘That’s right.’ She replied.
‘Ha! Zat is very cool. In ze Steppe’s the vimmin wiz the bumpy armor are called Valkyrie and they make all Steppelander very proud.’
Daisy stared at this strange man with something only just shy of awe. He clearly had the intellect of a hairbrush and yet had something undefinably wonderful about him.
‘OK.’ She said.
‘Get me off this fucking animal!’ Valeran cried.
Donalt dismounted and reached over to help the Cleric slide down.
Andreton also climbed down from Francis and began to stroke the clump of hair on her head and whisper in her ear. Daisy eased herself off the animal too. Without the Warrior at its head she was worried it might suddenly set off again.
‘Well, introductions I think.’ Felicity said, taking the lead as the others looked around in a state of bewilderment.
‘My name is Felicity, and I’m a Freelance Fashion Designer. My star sign is Accoutrement The Salt Cellar, and my hobbies
are… I’m joking of course,’ she beamed, clearly extremely happy to here in this place, right now. ‘I’m a Mystic.’
Felicity touched Valeran’s elbow and he jumped a little. ‘This is Valeran, he’s our Cleric.’ She then pointed towards Daisy. ‘That lady there is Daisy, and she’s a Sister of Steel, our Fighter.’ She then indicated Corbett, who was slowly recovering the colour to his cheeks. ‘Our Wizard is Corbett. I don’t think there’s any doubt that Mr Corbett has the kind of power we are looking for.’
Felicity then turned to Andreton and Donalt, ‘and here we have our Rogue and Warrior, I’m sorry gentlemen but I can’t introduce you properly as I don’t know your names.’
Donalt had been lining up a few words of his own, ready to take charge of the situation, but he now found himself utterly bereft of form of leadership skills.
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