The Empress of Beasts, page 73
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“That’s it? You could take on fourth-year students, but not—”
He slashed with his wand. A sword of light cut at the air, but Pisces’ reach was longer. The [Necromancer] leapt forwards, slashing with his rapier, stabbing, vanishing backwards. This time he raised his hand and a bloom of light flashed in the Drake’s eyes. Isceil cursed, spoke a word. Pisces saw the barrier appear and [Flash Stepped] left. He lunged in, saw the Drake pointing his wand behind him, right at Pisces.
“[Flame Spray].”
This time the fire caught Pisces. He shouted in pain, leaping backwards, his robes and hair burning. Pisces shot frozen air, blasting his skin, ignoring the blisters forming. The Drake crowed, but cursed as he felt at one arm. Pisces had cut him above the arm in the clash on his buckler arm.
Isceil’s companions watched the magical duel calmly. The Minotauress was shouting, clenching her hands, watching Pisces warily—the Selphid and Centaur were more casual. The smoking Centaur called out as he watched the Drake raise his buckler.
“Having trouble, Isceil? He’s not bad!”
“Shut your damn mouth, Palt!”
The Drake roared back. He shot a flurry of spells at Pisces, curving them and aiming where Pisces would be. The [Necromancer] disappeared backwards, throwing his own spells, but defensively. The Selphid watched with interest. The Drake’s body the Selphid was wearing held two wands and she was flicking them as she analyzed the duel.
“This Human really is as good as Beatrice said. I never saw him duel, but he’s quick! [Fencer]?”
“Maybe. But Isceil will win.”
The Centaur nodded knowingly. He watched as Pisces retreated backwards. The [Mage] had conjured his [Barrier of Air] again. But the Drake shattered it with a single spell. Pisces fell back, panting. He stared at the Drake, poised, ready to dodge. Isceil aimed at him, eyes narrowed, and the two froze for a second.
Pisces’ mind was whirling as he stared at his opponent. He was good. And the buckler had some kind of spell that was drawing Pisces’ attention and attacks. Every time Pisces lunged—the [Necromancer] glanced at the other three [Mages]. Isceil’s eyes narrowed. His wand shot a scythe of flames horizontally.
“Your opponent’s here!”
“Damn it, Isceil! We’re right here!”
The Selphid leapt forwards and cut the flames in two as they shot. Pisces had already ducked under the fire, but Isceil had been aiming for that. Grinning, the Drake aimed at the crouched [Necromancer]. He saw Pisces flick one hand and a ring flashed. A bolt of magic shot towards Isceil’s face. The overconfident Drake blinked.
“Isceil! Dodge!”
The voice that rang out came from the side. Isceil’s eyes widened. He raised his buckler, caught the edge of the [Shatterbolt] on the rim of his shield. His buckler trembled as the magical spell hit it. It glowed, cracked, and exploded. The Drake howled.
“My shield!”
“Isceil!”
His friends cried out in shock. The Drake raised his wand, whipping around wildly for Pisces, but the [Necromancer] was gone. He was—Beza pointed.
“Damn, he’s running! Get him!”
Pisces was dashing at them. The Selphid, Centaur, and Minotaur all reacted. The Selphid leapt backwards, out of the way of a slash. Beza swung barehanded, but Pisces leapt past her. He [Flash Stepped] forwards zipping forwards with each step—
And found himself facing the other way. Pisces stumbled. He was running towards the [Mages] again! He saw the Selphid raising her wands, unguarded, and leapt forwards.
“Oh rot—”
A hail of missiles hit Pisces from the side. It was like being hit by heavy, sharp punches. Pisces staggered. The Centaur!
“I’ve got you covered. [Light Arrow].”
He was pointing at Pisces with both hands. Bolts of light appeared at his fingertips and flew at Pisces. They shot from his fingers as fast as rain. Pisces dodged backwards, but again, he found himself stumbling as he tried to get down the street. At last, his frantic mind connected the dots.
He was under an illusion spell. The [Necromancer] twisted, snarling. The Centaur’s lit joint puffed. And the cloud turned orange as he blew a smoke ring.
“He’s trying to break my illusion. Anyone want to stop him? Anyone?”
“I’ve got this.”
“He’s my prey!”
Isceil was running forwards. But the Minotauress had had enough. She strode forwards. Pisces narrowed his eyes. The Centaur trotted backwards, watching Pisces carefully. The [Necromancer] dodged left and Beza cursed.
“Damn. [Haste]—”
She blurred. Now it was her versus Pisces and the Minotaur was fast. Pisces backed up as the female Minotaur came at him. She stepped in—not a blind rush, but a boxer’s stance. She swung, fast and compact, but each swing missed him. He slashed out; she blocked with one arm. His swing didn’t even break her flesh!
“[Steel Body]. Ulinde?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
The Selphid appeared behind Pisces. Now it was two-on-one. No, three. The [Necromancer] turned. He grabbed his bag of holding and threw it.
“Rise!”
Bones spilled from the bag, assembling upwards. A hand reached for the Selphid. She turned, raised her wands.
“No you don’t! [Ray of Force]. [Aerial Burst].”
The Bone Horror exploded as the spells sent the bones flying. They rained down around the street. Pisces stared at the Selphid. They smiled in the Drake’s body and leapt.
“[Flame Scythe]. [Stone Spray]!”
Fire and stone. Pisces dodged backwards. But he was too slow. This time the fragments of stone struck his leg, drawing blood. He stumbled, his skin blistering. The Minotaur raised a hand.
“Ulinde, we want him alive.”
“It’s only Tier 2 spells, Beza—”
“Ulinde, Beza! Back off!”
The Drake bellowed as he aimed at Pisces. The Minotauress turned on him angrily.
“Isceil, finish it if you’re so bothered. But if you can’t catch him—”
“He won’t dodge this.”
Pisces saw the Drake lower his wand. The [Necromancer] leaned on his good leg, ready to dash. He inhaled raggedly. What was coming? If he couldn’t flee, he had to send a message to Ceria, take out the Centaur and—
Isceil inhaled. Pisces whirled. Oldblood Drake. He dodged left, prepared for an attack. But what issued from the Drake’s mouth was a stream of frost. An ice-type? But then Pisces saw the ice was a cloud. An expanding black cloud—
Darkness and ice? The [Necromancer] paused for a crucial second as the cloud curved around him. Too late, he realized it wasn’t aimed at him, but cutting off his back—he tried to dodge left, but the swath of magical bolts caught him. Three stuck him and he stumbled backwards. Freezing ice and sapping darkness from the cloud struck his back.
“Got him.”
Burning pain. Pisces’ body spasmed. He cried out; the bolts had torn his flesh. He looked up as the Drake leveled his wand. His body was slowing. Freezing. The four [Mages] watched him.
“Surrender.”
The Minotauress called out. Pisces coughed. He said nothing. Isceil’s eyes narrowed.
“[Hail of—]”
Pisces raised his hand and flicked it at the [Mages]. All four recoiled, but the [Shatterbolt] spell didn’t come. The ring on Pisces’ finger was still recharging. But that opening was all he needed.
Pisces leapt forwards, his rapier extended, aiming straight for the Drake’s open mouth. A [Fencer]’s lunge. He stepped through the cloud, but the magical breath couldn’t touch him for more than a moment. And his bone rapier was aimed straight for the Drake’s open mouth.
It was less than a split second, a [Flash Step]. In that way memory has of catching up to action, Pisces saw the Drake’s eyes widen, him try to move. But it was too late. The rapier’s tip aimed at his mouth—
And Pisces slammed into something. So hard that he felt his arm crack and his rapier skid twisting out of his hands. He recoiled, and then fell backwards, stunned by the impact. He’d hit—
Isceil was cursing. He raised his wand, but his spell struck the magical barrier protecting him and dissipated harmlessly. He whirled.
And the fifth [Mage] stepped forwards, shedding her own [Invisibility] spell. Her voice was low as she moved forwards, the staff in her hands glowing.
“Step back, Isceil. Now.”
“I had that! I—”
The hooded head turned towards him. The Drake swallowed his fury, lowered his wand. Pisces scrambled for his rapier. He tried to get up, but he was winded. He looked up, biding his time. The fifth mage wore a dark hood. But now, she pulled it back and looked down at him.
She had bright red hair, fizzy, fair, Terandrian features. She was young, a bit younger than he was, but only by a year or so. Her eyes were pale, saffron and topaz. She stared down at Pisces and spoke. Her voice was lower than he remembered. But so familiar.
“Hello, Pisces. Remember me?”
The [Necromancer] froze. He stared up at her. His eyes widened and his mind went blank for a second. He looked at the young woman as her companions, her team spread out behind her.
Drake. Selphid. Centaur. Minotauress. They all bore the marks of Wistram, but Pisces knew none of them. But her? He knew her. The young [Mage] leaned on her stave.
Her staff was something like marble, a hexagonal base ending with a hoop-like design at the head. Inside the ring hovered a red gemstone. But what drew the eye was the strange, polished orb hovering around the staff. It looked like a ball of…copper? Yet, Pisces had only eyes for her face. He spoke sharply. A pained name. Memory.
“Montres—”
“[Lightning Bolt].”
The magic flashed from the orb, not the staff. The thunder rolled and broke. The other [Mages] winced, but when the flash and sound cleared, Pisces was trying to get up. He’d shielded himself even from that, but—
Pisces rose. This time a fist swung at his face. He jerked, but it spun him on his back. The Minotauress watched as his head cracked the paving stones. She stood over him. The Drake advanced, aiming a wand down at Pisces. Montressa du Valeross watched.
“Give up. Now.”
“Montr—”
The Drake’s foot flashed out and stomped on Pisces’ hand as he reached for his rapier. The [Necromancer] shouted in pain. Now there were three. Selphid, Drake, Minotauress. Beza leaned down. Her horns were capped with an ornamental tip of silver and gemstone. She spoke once.
“Give up.”
Pisces stared up at them. The [Mages] waited. He looked past them at Montressa. Right at her. He inhaled once, clutching at his chest. And spoke.
“No.”
He rose. This time there was no duel. He slashed, a knife of bone appearing in his hands. The Minotauress struck him in the stomach and he folded, gagging. The Selphid knocked his legs out from behind, and the Drake [Mage] stepped forwards and kicked him in the face. Pisces stabbed at his leg, drawing blood. Isceil hissed.
“That’s it.”
He kicked Pisces again. The [Necromancer] slashed at him until Beza ripped the blade from his hands. But he refused to surrender. He snarled, then, biting, clawing, magic swirling and breaking unformed as they interrupted his spellcasting.
Selys Shivertail stood in the street where the Selphid had dragged her. She watched, vaguely, as the three magic users surrounded the young man on the ground. Some part of her was troubled. But the rest of her couldn’t find the words to explain why it hurt. The [Mages] didn’t bother with spells anymore. They just hit Pisces, again and again. The sounds bothered Selys, heavy thumps. Blows. Curses. But her vacant eyes never looked away.
They didn’t stop as long as he was moving. And he refused to stop. The Centaur looked away, inhaling deeply and blowing out smoke. When it was finally over, they stepped back. The Drake’s eyes were alight with fury. The Minotaurs’ disdainful. The Selphid looked disgusted.
And Montressa? She stepped over to the young man, as the Drake wiped off a spatter of blood and spat. And she stared down at him with hatred as she drew the Silent Box. Pisces never moved as Montressa bent.
Hatred and fear.
——
Yvlon Byres had never been to Wishdrinks, but she’d heard all about the reputation of the bar. And it was well-deserved. For, when she visited it at last, she found it was not only the most popular bar in Liscor, but it had a waiting list.
So the adventurers went to a normal tavern instead. The alcohol was cheap, and they were sitting around, drinking and talking. Humans, mostly. Ksmvr was there, and Ceria, but it was mostly the old adventurers. Stan. Alais. Walt. Kammy, who was ‘Kam’ to everyone. And more. Silver-rank adventurers Yvlon had met once or twice before, or whom she’d heard of.
They were talking, laughing, telling stories, and toasting each other. It was somber and funny. Mostly funny, actually—Yvlon was laughing. She couldn’t help it.
“So then—then I saw Gerial and Ceria trying to drag Calruz up the stairs. They were all too drunk, and so the Minotaur kept on falling backwards and those two idiots weren’t about to pull him up themselves. So they just left him on the stairwell. But here’s the best part: they forgot to clean him up, so he still had all the crap on him. And the tavern’s dog—it must have gotten through the door with some of its buddies, because it began eating all the scraps on him. And then it began puking and crapping on Calruz, so when we got down the next day, we found him covered in—”
A roar of laughter followed Walt’s story. Yvlon snorted, more disgusted than amused, and she saw Ceria bury her head in her hands, blushing. But also laughing.
“Dead gods. This is why we don’t work with your team, Walt! And you’re one to talk. I remember one time we had to find you after you went drinking and we found you in a pigsty, spooning with a pig!”
Kam coughed on her drink and Walt laughed. He was already deeply into his cups, and it wasn’t even near dinner yet. But then—Yvlon’s head was also clouded. They’d been drinking. Talking about the past.
“Those were the good old days. Remember when we were all just out of Bronze-rank? Your team jumped out of it fast, Ceria. That damn bull was too strong and you had those ice shards—”
“Ice spikes. I still have them. Yeah. If only I’d had my [Ice Walls]. That’d have been really useful. In the crypt.”
The other adventurers sobered a bit. Ceria had related the tale, the real tale of what had gone down in the crypt with Yvlon’s help. It hadn’t been easy, hence the drinks. But they weren’t the only ones.
“Undead. They get you. My team and the Ghouls—it was a bad hand. Cervial would’ve never opened that door. That thing—Skinner? It must have come out. It was a trap. I—well, we heard differently.”
Stan leaned on the counter. He hadn’t drunk as much as the others, being the oldest save for Ceria. He looked around and the others nodded. Kam made a disgusted noise.
“I never believed it. I knew Ceria and Calruz and everyone else. You shouldn’t have listened to those other adventurers, Stan. They’re not team captains. You know what Terrica did after I booted her from the team for getting us into that ambush? She complained. Filed a report at the Adventurer’s Guild saying that I cut her out of her fair share. Unjustly.”
“Bitch.”
Walt missed his mug. Some of the other team leaders nodded.
“She really walked your team into a full ambush?”
“She was either drunk, or she’d been taking some of those powders. Or…I don’t know. I thought I could trust her.”
“I lost two friends on a [Bandit] mission three years back. Just bad luck. I was taking point. That was an honest mistake, but that’s why I resigned as captain. There’s some truth to the folks who’re angry at the Horns. And your team, Kam. But let’s be clear: it was a mistake. Both situations could’ve been avoided, sure. But no one wanted either incident. We’ll correct anyone we hear spreading false rumors.”
Pelico, a [Rogue] adventurer nodded seriously. The other adventurers nodded too. Yvlon had to raise her mug, nodding gratefully.
“I’ll drink to that. And again—that fight in the Adventurer’s Guild? That was my fault.”
“We provoked it. Tempers were hot. It was Albez, really. Pure jealousy over that. As well as not hearing anything after Liscor and getting your side of the story.”
Alais muttered into her cup. Stan nodded gravely, and he raised his cup.
“To mistakes. We’ve all made a few.”
The adventurers drank. Yvlon saw Ksmvr drinking quietly; the Antinium had been listening rather than sharing his own stories, of which he had few. Now he rose.
“Excuse me. I must excrete.”
Walt choked on his drink. Yvlon heard laughter from the others.
“Ksmvr! Don’t tell us that!”
The Antinium tilted his head.
“But I will be away for a longer period than normal. The typical toilet is ill-configured to dispose of my waste. I must find a proper receptacle.”
He wandered off. Yvlon heard Walt choking and laughing, but then the other adventurers leaned in. Kam looked at Yvlon and Ceria.
“Alright, since we can ask now—tell me honestly, you two. Is he really okay to have on your team? I couldn’t believe you had an Antinium on your team. I thought they were these mindless killing machines.”
The others nodded. Yvlon looked at Ceria, and spoke up first.
“Ksmvr’s odd. But he’s one of the most loyal teammates I’ve ever had. The Antinium are strange, but some of them are just like us. Just a bit different.”
“Different how?”
“Well, he doesn’t understand a lot of things. He lived in the Hive all his life. He’s actually three years old.”
“Dead gods. Seriously?”
“Yes, but listen, Kam, everyone. He’s the kind of teammate you want. Ksmvr’s the most trustworthy friend I know. If anything, we have to take care of him because he’ll put his life on the line before ours. He thinks he’s expendable compared to us; he’d lay his life down in a heartbeat.”
