By the Law of Fives Writing Guild
(The Catalyst, The Instigator,
The Time Reaction, and The Simple Solution)
(The Catalyst, The Instigator, The Time Reaction, and The Simple Solution)
Intro * Part 1 * Part
2 * Part 3
The air was still again, and the morning was calm. Within a few, short minutes the picture perfect morning had been shattered by flying arrows, screaming howls, and an exploding cloud of ice shards. Blood now spattered a small portion of wispy grasses and frail saplings skirting the forest of Darkmist Swamp. First light was pushing its way over the tree line, spreading its comforting warmth to the travelers who had just felt the cold rush of fear and excitement. Fog was clinging low to the ground, and the dew was as heavy as the horses' hooves, still stomping nervously on the soft earth beneath. Birds were beginning to sing in the far off distance, but none could hear past the beating of their own hearts, or the questions nagging at their minds.
"Greetings, travelers." Gustar positioned himself more comfortably, letting out a short grunt as he adjusted his broken leg. "I trust those were no pets of yours," his voice strained through gritted teeth.
"Interesting idea, but no, they weren't." Breathing heavily, both from relief and exhaustion, Gutter Slitquick turned to face his rescuers. "I..." An astonished pause hung in the air as he tried to regain his composure from what he was seeing: the shimmering aura of magic surrounding both occupants of the cart. The old man's was strong and highly defined. The archer's, however, was very faint and unstable. It was pulsing, almost synchronous with the beating of his heart. This is very odd, thought the fairy. Two magic users traveling together, one strong, one unidentifiable... both mortal. Interesting. An inkling of danger tickled his nose as he began to speak to the humans again. Perhaps these two are best to be avoided?
"Gutter Slitquick, at your service, and my weary companion," he pointed at the still-unconscious swordsman, "is called Shade." Gutter's own breathing was still quite heavy, and the burning in his limbs and shoulders was quickly draining what was left of his energy. "We would take rest in your wagon, if you would do us that service. We are heading north and--judging by the direction of your horses--you are, too. I thank you greatly for your assistance with the under-beasts, but now it is required that we rest. Creatures most foul are afoot and you will need our help if you are to make it there alive." The fairy's face was angry from showing gratitude. How could he let himself get into this position? It didn't matter now, what he needed was rest.
Gustar's eyes squinted in contemplation. Clearly these two were no threat for the time being, but the little one looked like future trouble. What, after all, was an immortal doing traveling with a human--or what looked like a human? Whatever their predicament, they would surely be powerful allies on a northward venture. "Your company would be an honor, Gutter Slitquick," said the wizard, throwing a bone to the brownie's bruised ego as he cordially tipped his head. "They are rare occasions, indeed, when humans may share the same air with beings as magical as yourself. As well, I'm sure you and your friend's abilities will greatly increase the chances of us reaching our destination safely."
"What in hell are you saying?" Nevarris questioned with offence and disbelief, wiping a droplet of blood from his left nostril. "What is that... thing with wings, anyway, And why is it covered in blood? No doubt they did something well worth being chased by those devil beasts. If you ask me, the only way we'll be in danger on our trek is if we take the two of them along with us. How else do you explain the fact that we've had no trouble on our trip until they brought it to us?"
The agitated young man tugged nervously on the arrow knocked in his bow. "And what are those damned dog-things anyway?" he asked as he leaned over the edge of the cart to take a closer look at the disemboweled carcass that lay before him. "And why don't they have any EYES?" Nevarris jumped from the cart and trudged his way through the dew-wet prairie grasses, scanning the frozen carnage left by the wizard's botched casting.
"Relax, Nevarris," the old man scolded.
"Relax? Listen, sir; I've been alive for thirty-some years, and I've seen a lot of things. Never shiny, hairless, black dogs the size of ponies, and no eyes to speak of. That is not normal. And neither are tiny, clawed men with dragonfly wings. Especially when they're travelling with albino swordsmen with glowing red eyes!"
"No. You are the one who will be listening." Gustar's tone was low and icy. "You have been appointed as an escort, not an advisor. I have more experiences in matters such as these and I can assure you: they mean us no harm." The mage was feeding his companion empty words he didn't believe himself, but revealing his true intentions would be foolish strategically. "Besides, would you leave them out as fodder if more of those monsters were to come about? What if we were the ones running through the forest, and they saved our lives?" Punctuating the mage's speech, Gutter's wings hummed to life, as his tiny frame made it's way the air to land lightly atop a barrel of dried oats.
Nevarris was speechless. The old man had a point, and besides, if he could vaporize six giant hounds with the twiddle of a few fingers, he could handle a locust and a human (no matter how vicious either looked to be).
Gustar flashed a commanding look of reassurance to Nevarris and nodded his hooded head to the ghostly body in suggestion that Nevarris should bring it to the wagon.
When Nevarris a nudged Shade with his bow, the warrior's eyes opened to reveal a crimson glow. Every limb tensed up as if to strike out until, remembering what had happened, Shade relaxed a bit and grasped the hand offered by the bowman.
With a bit of exertion, Nevarris helped the tattooed man to his legs, and steadied him as they walked to the cart. "Relax in here for a while, cutter," he said as he eyeballed the mysterious flying creature perched upon a barrel. "It's not comfortable, but it beats walking."
"Thank you," Shade said with weary indifference. "This will do fine."
Climbing back into the driver's seat, a nervous Nevarris grabbed the worn, leather reigns wrapped around the wheel-lock and brushed back a few straggling hairs from his face. The wagon creaked to a bumpy roll as the reigns slapped across the horses' backs. "I hope you know what you're doing," he whispered anxiously to the old man.
"I am not a fool." Gustar was already reading his book. "Trust me on this. Things will turn out for the better this way."
Both new passengers were fast asleep as the cart made it's way over the rolling hills of tan and green grasses. The sky's clear blue showed fair weather would bless all travels this day, as the four of them pushed northward to the distant Skagg Mountains and the caldera town of Wolfston.
If anyone had turned around to examine the battle scene one final time, they would have noticed five clouds of smoke--one large and thick, four thin-- trailing off in the morning sun like the smoldering of campfires on a slow breeze. But nobody turned, and nobody saw.
CRACK! Shade's skull bounced off the wooden bed of the wagon for the last time today. The sharp pain it left in the back of his head didn't help rid him of the fuzziness that several hours' sleep in the back of this rickety wagon had left for him. He couldn't remember where he was, but he sensed no immediate danger. So he kept still, being careful to keep from making the lump on the back of his head any bigger than it already was.
"How is it that you two mages are going to Wolfton?" Gutter asked tentatively. He wasn't sure of the depths of their power yet, or their intentions to the newcomers. It had been a several hours since Shade and Gutter had escaped certain death in the jaws of the Hund and Gutter had slept most of that time.
Nevarris shot a glance at the older mage next to him, but looked away quickly. The frustration was evident by his posture and attitude. He said nothing and kept driving the horses while the eccentric middle aged man turned to address the diminutive figure standing on top of the bench rail next to him.
"I will be meeting an old friend on some business and Nevarris here is my escort. What are you going to Wolfton for, immortal one?" Gustar didn't expect an answer. This brownie was about as stubborn as the fireball spell that--no matter what Gustar tried--always blew up too early.
"My friend has lost his memory and he is searching for answers. I offered him some help out of the goodness of my heart. The poor man doesn't even know where he is from. We immortals do have our soft spots." This was true, though Gutter's "soft spot" was for entertainment of a sort that would give children nightmares and had lead directly to his forced tenure on this plane.
It was so dreadfully boring dealing with the struggles of mortals' mayfly lives. The bone walker promised a good time all by himself: trouble would follow him around like a lost puppy, and if there was trouble there was a chance Gutter could help. Not that helping people was his strong suit, it was simply that if he didn't get free of his sentence soon he was going to go positively insane.
"The kindness of the immortals is legendary." Gustar said hoping the sarcasm in his voice wasn't too noticeable. "Do you have any ideas regarding Shade's past? "
"At this time I do not, but I do truly hope to help him find out whatever I can." Lies came so easily for Gutter but, then again, mortals were extremely gullible. The fact that he had already noticed Shade was only feigning sleep also made the fib a requirement. Gutter was positive the albino warrior would be more than a little angry if he found out Gutter was holding out on him.
"I think I recognize some of the script tattooed on his arms. If I..." Gustar was quickly cut off by a fully awake Shade springing up and grabbing his cloak. Gutter had to take quickly to the air to avoid being crushed between the two.
"I will know what they say, mage!" Shade's eyes blazed like the searing fire of a forge once more and his grip was as unbreakable as that of a man long dead.
"Calm yourself warrior! Peace! Calm! Please! There is no need for violence. I will offer you what I know and suspect, but my knowledge is that of a man versed in many things and not devoted to one." Gustar was visibly shaken. He couldn't have cast a spell quickly enough to stop the albino if he tried. Maybe Nevarris was right and these two were too dangerous to have along. Then again, it would definitely do to have them as allies as well.
Shade loosened his grip on the elder mage, but as he opened his fingers he was inexplicably sent sprawling and rolled out the back of the wagon. Once again his reflexes saved him from injury, though, as he landed in a fighting crouch with his sword drawn. Though startled and confused, the bonewalker's posture was a coiled snake ready to strike.
"What happened, great warrior? Are you going to fight a rock in the trail?" Nevarris had had enough of these newcomers and the secretive old man. As soon as they got to Wolfton he was going to figure out some way to change this situation. Nevarris, still laughing, turned back to the reigns and started the horses moving once again, not waiting for the confused and somewhat abashed warrior. Nevarris deftly wiped away the trickle of blood from his nose before any saw it.
Gutter had made up his mind. He had to stick around now. The older mage had been taught in the traditional arts as far he could tell, but the other, although the mortal hid it well, had some other sort of power Gutter had never encountered. Life could get very interesting if he threw in his lot with these three. He buzzed back to the wagon seat as Shade caught up to and hopped aboard.
Shade stared at the back of Nevarris' head for several moments uncertain as to what just happened. The others showed no sign of noticing anything out of the ordinary. Other than the enormous grins they struggled to hide. "I am sorry for my rudeness, mage. I meant no harm to you or your friend. I am driven by my need to restore the memories I've lost."
"I understand. You are most graciously forgiven. My name is Gustar Longrove and my friend's is Nevarris Garrimon. Am I to understand that your name is simply Shade?" The warrior seemed calm and collected, as if nothing at all had just happened to him. The quick changes in mood would be hard to get used to if they continued to travel together.
"I am called Shade because my name was taken from me along with the rest of my memory."
"Well, Shade, as I said before, I am not positive I can give you straight answers. But It does appear that some of your tattoos are ritual markings used by the Thaine. I have no clue as to their meanings though."
"Then that is who I need to see. Where are these people?" Shade's excitement radiated from him like light from a bonfire.
"They used to live in the far north in the very furthest reaches of the Skagg mountain range. They were one of the founding races along with Bokeen and the Kumak Ja'atan. Their magic and culture were advanced well beyond our current level, but like most races they were wiped out after the great Cataclysm. Very little is known about them. When the ground shifted in the Cataclysm their lands moved from the temperate climates that we are in now to the frigid cold of the North. The only reason I know this much is that many years ago I tutored by a mage that studied history and the pre-cataclysm races were his specialty." Gustar grinned slightly. "Until now I never thought knowing any of this would be useful." Shade sat silent; absorbing the information Gustar had just given him like a dry sponge. Gustar didn't really know what else to say, so he sat quietly and flipped open his book.
Shade had turned his senses inward. He focused on what Gustar had told him and then tried to match it with the bits and pieces of memory that he had stumbled on. The puzzle still had to many pieces missing, however. He was now even hungrier for answers.
Watching and listening to that whole conversation was painful for Gutter. Luckily the damn mage didn't give away too much and some of his facts were wrong. The bonewalker didn't need any more fuel for his inner fire right now anyway. It burned very brightly and his eyes gave that away. Shade needed to learn to control himself and his capabilities before he started getting too mad. He would need a teacher and a mentor to guide him through this most difficult of times. Gutter chuckled to himself. His debt would be paid very soon.
Finally they all shut up. Nevarris had grown sick of the chatter. It was a beautiful day. It reminded him of home and the bridge. He could only wish for the days when he was standing on Sleepywater Bridge drinking a bottle of Mashberry's wine. If only he had known this was coming he would have tried to cherish those times a little more. It was too late now.
Hours past and night crept over the rolling plains like a predator stalking its prey. The four travelers rode on through the evening in a silence brought on by the personal withdrawal of all the cart's occupants. Darkness enveloped the small cart while the moon threw its milky luminescence across the gloomy landscape. The crush of grasses from rending claws and dull reflections from chitinous hides were the only way to have noticed the black beasts' approach until they began to howl.
The horses reared up in fear at the sound of the howling rising up all around them. It took all of Nevarris' strength to hold on to the reins and keep the horses from bolting. His instinct was the same as the horses' though; he wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as possible, but knew the rickety wagon could not handle a sprint across the prairie.
Gustar immediately started an incantation, drawing from his inner power as Shade jumped down and drew his sword. The bonewalker's eyes blazed red as he faced the crawling shadows, anticipating the impending battle. Before the warrior could advance on the beasts, the wizard finished his conjuring and shouted "S'ilumarium!" while thrusting his arms upwards. Sparks erupted in a fountain from his hands and remained hovering in the air, lighting up the night.
"It actually worked for once," muttered the old wizard.
The unexpected illumination revealed a gruesome sight that otherwise would have been hidden by the darkness. A dozen of dead bodies, chewed and mangled, lay strewn about the grassy plain. Black, multi-legged creatures that looked to be dog-sized insects were all around, disturbed from their feeding frenzy. Attached to what most closely resembled a head on each were four barbed tentacles dripping a clear liquid from their tips. The light appeared to hurt their eyes and the insect creatures started to emit high-pitched screams of pain and rage. This sound not only succeeded in further disturbing the horses, but unnerved the small band of travelers as well.
The menacing creatures, upset by being distracted from their meal, started to advance on the party. The sight of the advancing insects sent Shade into a frenzy. He charged the beasts, slashing downward with his sword at the nearest lashing tentacle, removing it cleanly. Spinning and dodging, Shade hacked at the tentacles that wagged all about him. His motions were a blur as he performed his lethal dance; slicing and stabbing at any beast that dared to come near. Each time he struck at a creature, it would loose a screech of pain which further fueled his rage.
The blinding light and the presence of a mad man were enough for these simple-minded creatures. They hated to leave their feast behind, but knew when it was time to leave. Quickly scuttling away, all they left behind was a field of dead bodies and the party of four heavily breathing adventurers.
"What were those things?" Nevarris panted after he finally got the horses under control.
"Carrion Crawlers." answered Gutter. "And it appears they had plenty to feed on. It is a good thing that our warrior friend didn't get pierced by their stingers; their poison can cause severe paralysis."
"I have never seen anything like them..." Nevarris started to say.
"As you wouldn't," interrupted the fairie, "since these are creatures from underground and it is very rare to see them on the surface of your world. They live in dark places feeding on any dead meat they can find. It would be best for us to be far from here before they realize they are hungry again."
"What do you think happened here?" inquired Nevarris as he surveyed all the remaining dead bodies. The dead bodies were dressed in blue uniforms and there were mud soaked banners lying on the ground that carried the crest of Wolfton. They must have been guardsmen. There were patches of singed grass and some of the dead soldiers appeared to also have been burnt.
"This is so familiar," muttered Shade as he walked back the wagon with a far away look on his face, apparently calmed from his battle rage.
"How's that?" asked the young man.
"This reminds me of when I first became conscience months ago. When I awoke, there were bodies all around me. Some burned, like this one here," the bonewalker commented as he kneeled down next to a corpse. He touched his hand to the stiff body and images flooded his mind. Family, a sword, sunset, horses, rows of stones, a single man... a very twisted man.
"He was here!" exclaimed Shade as he quickly drew his hand away from the corpse.
"What did you see?" Gutter asked cautiously
"A man. The same man who ordered the massacre of my people." The bonewalker spoke quickly. "I swear it was him! This dead soldier saw him, probably when he died. He was HERE." His eyes flared bright red as he spoke, anger building. "I must hunt him down. I must kill him! My people WILL be avenged!"
"Stop this!" shouted Gutter. "You are just one man, do you expect to right to world's wrongs all by your lonesome! Calm down, before you bring harm to yourself." His wings buzzed quietly as they held him before Shades rage-twisted face. "There are better ways to exact revenge" He finished quietly.
Shade stopped his outward frenzy, but the fire still burned inside. The fairie was right, though: he needed help, but he would get his revenge. Shade climbed onto the wagon, sat down and quietly stared off into nowhere. His eyes smoldered in the darkness as Gustar's sparkling light spell wore down and dimmed.
"Start this cart out of here," Gutter commanded Nevarris. "Let's get to Wolfton before anything else happens."
"It appears we are too late for that." Stated Gustar as he pointed to the north. On the horizon was a bright orange glow that contrasted the dark night sky.
"There is a fire burning in Wolfton." The wizard said quietly.
Orange and yellow flames were climbing high, jumping from one building to the next. Glowing embers filled the air like winter snow as the homes in Wolfton's noble district crumbled in the roaring inferno. Wind, heat, and the thunderous cracking of collapsing buildings muffled the raucous screaming of panicking mobs in the streets. This was Wolfton's darkest hour, but the fires of treachery illuminated it for all to see.
Shumner Provis was standing in the fifth story window of his mansion, eyes fixed in wonderment at the beautiful destruction swimming through the town below him. Hearing his people cry out in agony and despair tore at his soul, and sent pains through his heart, but this is how it had to be. He was the Chief of Wolfston, yet he wasn't in control anymore. He could no longer do his own bidding; he had to carry out the wishes of another. He had to abide to the will of his master, and this is what The Master wanted. The militia's barracks had to burn, the wood mill had to burn, and so did the noble district. Shumner didn't know why they had to, but he could not resist the commands he was receiving. The fires had to be made, and they had to be made now.
The floor was growing hot; he could feel it through his boots. The fires were climbing the walls of his house and filling the rooms with smoke. His master's deep, whispering voice came from behind him, as it always did, no matter which way he faced. "You disappoint me Shumner Provis. You have disobeyed my orders you have failed me."
"How do you mean, my lord? I've done exactly as you asked," the distraught chieftain's voice was shaking and whiny. "I've burned the barracks, the wood mill, and the entire noble district! Now I'm waiting to burn with my house, so you will make me part of your family, and show me what true power is!" A slight whimper escaped his lips, "I have made all of this happen just to please you... the only thing that matters to me!" Tears were flowing steadily down sweaty cheeks as the leader of Wolfton's highest office began to weep.
"You disappoint me... I told YOU to burn these places, not hire peasant trash to burn them for you. You mock me by borrowing my authority to assign your duties to others. You are offensive to me. A disgrace." The mysterious voice was angry, and had developed a distinct growl.
"But, there is no way I would be able to burn all of those myself," the frightened politician was doing his best to rationalize his way through his tears, and out of trouble. "Someone would have stopped me! Besides, I had to warn all the people to flee the buildings. There was too much to do by myself!" Weeping subsided, the Provis' whining was flowing freely now, begging for forgiveness. "You must understand, my influence over the people allowed me to carry out your..."
"SILENCE!" The angry voice interrupted, no longer a whisper but a full bellow in the mind of the heavyset, balding mayor. "FOOL! You let the people escape? You were to burn the buildings, destroying the people with them!" The Master was livid, and ready to punish. "Fortunately, I have made preparations to offset any insolence on your part. Look to the streets, and you will see the powers I grant to loyal friends, and witness the brute force of the armies I provide them."
Shumner turned to face the window, looking to the commotion below as hordes of grayish humanoids rushed the townsfolk with joyous ferocity. On long arms and stubby legs, the large eyed creatures rushed thru the streets like primates; climbing trees and leaping obstacles for sport, before plunging claws and tusks into whatever hot-blooded creatures stood before them. Man, woman, and child fell as effortlessly as horse, dog, and mule. Blood flowed freely, running between the smooth cobblestones lining the streets, more than enough to smother the blazing infernos surrounding the fray. The surprise attack overwhelmed most of the city guard, who were busy manning bucket brigades, depleting Wolfton's resistance to such an unpredictable onslaught. Behind the advancing forces, two massive and dominating steeds galloped forth, carrying straight-backed riders. Each rider spreading devastation to untouched buildings with the wave of a hand; one sending bolts of lightning from his fingers, the other spraying arcs of fire from his palms.
Confusion wracked his mind, and the Provis no longer felt the attachment to his master that had him captivated for so many years. It was him that the Chieftain owed his title and political standing to; without the advice of the Master he would still have been wasting away at the gambling house. Without the advice of the Master, he never would have been able to feed his family. Without the advice of the Master, all these innocent people would still be alive and happy. It was time to break away, if he could find the strength.
If he were to jump, the fall would surely kill him, and that would be better than burning to death. He would be free from the evil that has been haunting him for so many years. His master used to give him good, sound counsel, rational advice. He never gave orders to hurt people or burn buildings. Over the course of a few weeks, the voice in his head had wavered from caring... to cold and militant, and that didn't set well. It was time to end this. Shumner dashed for the window.
"Where do you think you're going, snail?" The Master's voice was a vicious growl, and the fleeing chieftain felt an incredible pain in both legs. If he had time to look down, Shumner Provis would have seen his lower appendages crumple up to his waist, bone breaking through skin in multiple fractures, as if a giant hand had clenched them tight in its tight. His fat body crashed to the wooden floor in a heap of blood and broken bones. Still alive, but unable to think clearly through the swarm of pain attacking his body, the crippled man lay stranded on the smoking floor. Hot boards seared pink skin soon enough, and brought the dazed man out of his shock. Realizing the horrible fate he was in for, the man found the heart to fight on, pulling his plump body across the burning floor to the window ledge, leaving patches of burnt flesh fused to the wooden planks wherever bare skin touched.
Crying from the excruciating torment from his mangled legs, and the burning of his flesh on the weakening boards beneath, Shumner reached a weary arm to grasp the ledge of the window. Burned fingers stretched to their extreme; he grasped the sill of the open window.
"Still fighting?" The Master's voice conveyed more annoyance than amusement. "You deserve to suffer for your insubordinate ways--will not let you die quickly." With those words, the Master wrapped his will around both arms of the struggling man. Slowly, the outstretched arm pulled away from the window, and the fire-reddened fingers sequentially folded backward over each successive knuckle. Snapping and popping, both hands began to fold, and each forearm twisted and coiled like rope.
Shumner Provis could not scream. He could not cry. He could not think. All he could do was hear the screams from the street below, and feel the shattered fragments of his bones scraping against each other as his once- master crumpled his body on the sizzling hot floor.
"What part of 'Not my damned problem' don't you understand, Longrove? That's what city guard is paid for!" Nevarris seethed as he glared down at the man standing in the path of his cart. "Move or be moved over, mage." A coldness had settled into his eyes and, as Gustar realized his guardian and guide meant what he said, his own anger began to boil.
"A city is burning, man, and they need our help!"
"Not. My. Problem!"
"It will be, boy." Gustar's eye's narrowed. "If this carriage moves one horse length further from that city, it will have a corpse at the reigns.
A snarl curling his lips, Nevarris leaned forward in the bench and spoke softly, "I don't threaten easily, warlock."
"And I don't threaten lightly, you sot."
Nevarris' fingers were twitching at the reigns and sparks were beginning to arc across Gustar's palms. The situation was escalating and Gutter knew he'd need to do something quickly if he were to keep this trio of mortals together. Since it was certain the combative Shade would side with the mage, it was a matter of convincing Nevarris. What leverage could he use?
Nevarris was standing now, shouting louder. "It's the guardsmen's duty, not mine!"
The brownie buzzed through the air to land behind the cart. Burying his small hands deeply into the earth and focusing his will, the fairy pulled. Responding to his silent call, the waters that ran beneath the prairie rose up through the ground until Gutter was standing in an ankle deep pool. As Shade watched with interest, Gutter rose into the air, still pulling, and the water rose with him, swirling and fanning until it formed the vertical plane of a shimmering and crystalline lens below him.
His voice strained with effort, Gutter called out to the arguing pair and both turned at the sound of his harsh call. "Look, the two of you, and then choose your course of action." Images were beginning to form in the sheet of water below him, images of burning and slaughter. Seeing through the eyes of clouds, they watched as scores of brutish, gray-skinned men clubbed down unarmed men and set fire to any buildings not yet burning. They crushed woman and man alike beneath club, mace, and axe. With saucer-sized eyes they sought out children who hid in dark corners, thick hands pushing back heads to expose throats to yellowed and jagged tusks. Two spell-casters astride black chargers poured eldritch destruction upon the city, calling down bolts of lightning to shatter buildings and columns of flame to incinerate huddled masses of people. A few squads of city guard were all that remained, each pinned down and desperately holding ground, unable to advance against the invading horde.
And through it all strode a figure, tall and dark, whose outline shifted strangely beneath the loose folds of his clothing. Shade's bulk tensed at that sight.
Gustar looked up at the stunned Nevarris, who watched the slaughter and destruction in mute immobility. "Who's problem is it, now, Nevarris?" Between them passed a look of understanding and Nevarris reached out a hand to pull the mage aboard before snapping the reigns harshly. Again and again he lashed them, until the placid horses had been spurred into a dead run. At speeds threatening to shake the old wagon apart, it bounced through the grassland separating them from Wolfston. Shade was already staring fixedly ahead, sword in hand. Gutter knew he'd need no direction, but he flew to Gustar's shoulder and shouted over the wind of their passage: "See to the people. Shield them. I'll deal with the spell-slingers."
Gustar looked a question at the brownie, but received no answer as Gutter leaped to the floor of the wagon and dug frantically through Nevarris' gear. At last he emerged from a backpack with two coiled bowstrings in hand. "Hold on!" shouted Nevarris. Ahead loomed Wolfston Bridge.
A massive structure of wooden beams as thick as a man's waist, the bridge had stood for the two hundred years since the city's founding. It would not last the night. Already the flames were claiming it, the pitch-sealed timbers fueling sparks that would soon be an inferno. At the far end a squad of eight guardsmen were making their last stand, backs against the fallen supports of the burning bridge and facing two dozen of the gray skinned brutes. Shade's warning bellow caused them to look backward with alarm and they scattered to the sides as the cart plowed toward them.
"Brace yourselves!" howled Nevarris just before the cart's wheels hit the rubble of a fallen beam. As the frantic horses trampled onward, the wagon was tossed into the air, wheels shattered. Four bodies were tossed into the air with it, but only two came back earth.
Gutter's blurred wings carried him in search of his targets, and the levitation spell that Gustar had already been mumbling carried him gently through the air, spells of aid and protection forming on his lips. Leaping upward even as the wagon had tossed him toward the sky, Shade spun twisting through the air over the guardsmen's heads and his sword had cut through two of the brutes before his feet touched the ground.
With far less grace, but greater force, Nevarris landed hard upon his own two feet. A beard of blood dressing his chin, he slapped the ground before him and the remaining attackers were knocked to the ground. Rallying quickly to the unexpected aide they had received, the guardsmen charged forward to fall upon the downed monstrosities, slaying them before charging back into the depths of the burning city, Nevarris and Shade at their head.
Gustar watched the two depart with grim satisfaction and set about his own task. Throwing spells that succeeded more often than they failed, he did his best to aid the panicked people. Walls of stone rose from the streets to divert packs of attackers, bright flashes of strobing light blinded their huge eyes so that women could escape with their children, and roots tore through the earth to ensnare legs, holding brutes helpless as determined guardsmen cut them down. There was a chance that some good would be done here tonight, that many could be saved, but Gustar worried about the two wizards he'd seen through the fairy's scrying pool.
The two were heavy upon Gutter's mind as well. Knowing foolish mortals as well as he unfortunately did, he had known the vanity of a spell-caster like Gustar would inevitably draw him into a foolish duel. Even if the brownie had been confident that the mage could win, they simply did not have the time. His contributions in melee with the gray cavern-dwellers would be minimal, and there was very little he could do to help the panicked populace. That left only one avenue for him to pursue, where sly stealth and vicious determination could carry the day while a frontal assault might not. Darting over the burning roofs of the city, he easily tracked the two by the destruction they left in their wake. Once they were in his sights he rose as high into the air as he could before dropping like a stone.
He barely moved his wings except to direct his plummeting flight toward the first of his two targets. Invisible against the dark sky and the dancing shadows spawned by flame and spell, Gutter dove quickly, a long loop of bowstring trailing behind. His swooping descent carried him straight toward the head of the lightning-wielding mage, a twitch of his wings causing him to miss by inches. The loop of thin, waxed cord did not miss at all.
The mage hadn't even a chance to register the first touch of the garrote before it snapped taut, biting deep into his neck, the momentum of diving flight allowing the diminutive Gutter to tear him from his saddle. Still in shock, stunned by the fall and gasping for air, neither he nor his fellow spell-caster had time to react before Gutter darted back around the horse and drove the blade of his dagger-sized sword, bowstring anchored to its hilt, deep into the horse's shoulder. Already spooked by the destruction around it, the pain dragged the horse into panic. It reared up screaming, trampling the mage to pulp even as its panicked motion drew the garrote to flesh-slicing tautness. When the blast of flame from the second spell-slinger incinerated the horse, Gutter was already gone.
Darting and wheeling, the fairy strove with desperate speed to dodge the sorcerous attacks flung at him by the enraged mage. The longer he survived, the more enraged the man became, until he was screaming enchanted words of destruction at the top of his lungs. Then, as the mage bellowed forth the final line of an incantation, Gutter saw his chance. The mage choked on that last deadly syllable as Gutter dropped a final time, straight into the mortal's gaping mouth. Claws and teeth sought purchase, pulling the brownie deeper into the horrified man. By the time Gutter emerged from the mage's torn throat, the mortal mortal's bulging eyes were glazed in death.
Deprived of magical support, the invading savages began to lose both confidence and ground. The remaining pockets of guardsmen began to push back and the wedge of men led by Shade and Nevarris tore through any brutish packs unlucky enough to encounter them. Though the toll of continued spell-casting was beginning to tell on Gustar, his position floating above the roofs of the city allowed him to witness the rout. The remaining invaders, less than half of those rampaging through the city when the quartet had arrived, flooded west into the mountains, led by a the cloaked figure that never once looked back.
As the citizens rallied to fight flames that still threatened to consume their city, the four gathered at the bridge. At what was left of the bridge: the flames had claimed it during the night.
"Hey, bug," called Nevarris as Gutter landed on Gustar's outstretched legs. With tongue, tooth, and claw, the fairy began cleaning his wings. "How come, every time I meet you, you're covered in blood?"
"At least it's not my own, meat sack," responded Gutter, gesturing toward the stains crusting Nevarris' lips and chin.
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" the man asked, scrubbing at his face with the backs of filthy hands.
A tired silence settled over them all, broken by Gustar only after long moments. "So, my friends. What now?"
Nevarris gazed at the opposite shore, now more distant somehow. "Not back," he shrugged as a chunk of charred bridgework fell and hit the water with a smoldering hiss.
"No. Not back." Shade's gaze was fixed on the foothills Gustar had told him the cloaked figure had disappeared into.
"Definitely not back," muttered Gutter excitedly, seeing hints of light within the dark stone at his wrist."
The mage smiled through his soot-stained beard, tired but satisfied as the first light of dawn rose in the East. "It's settled, then. Forward. Together."