Outlaw magic, p.16
Outlaw Magic, page 16
As Trystara’s ice-infused wings beat, that frozen wind blew across the cavern. It shattered the frozen worm creatures, splintering them into a hail of icy shards.
And the wind picked up those shards, making each one a glittering crystal knife as deadly as the ones Trystara could cast at will.
The wave of icy blades slammed into the first row of advancing worm monsters, slashing through them in dozens of places. Maggots spilled across the ice as the creatures tumbled, the crude sacks of their bodies split open by ten thousand cuts from Trystara’s icy salvo. As they fell, their comrades climbed over them, heedless of the frozen grubs and bodies beneath their feet.
Trystara kept right on pulsing her wings, trying to freeze each of the monsters to the spot. She transformed the tendrils around her arms and legs into thick spears of ice, sending them singing into the ranks to explode as clouds of pure blizzard. When the worms got through that, she raked them with her yeti’s claws, ripping them to shreds as they struggled to climb over the fallen.
It was pandemonium. Pure chaos, an effortless slaughter. And it wasn’t enough.
Because for every worm monster Alec and Trystara killed, another hundred spilled into the back of the chamber.
They stood on top of each other now, like a living wave. They looked almost like the grubs that lived inside of them—a writhing mass of worms, making their way across the frozen cavern like a living glacier as they headed for Alec and Trystara. Alec conjured a ball of ice the size of a wagon and tossed it at the wave, only to see it split and sink into the army of worm creatures like it had never been there.
It was no use. The creatures had no sense of morale—even the world’s most disciplined army would turn back after seeing their soldiers slaughtered by the thousands, but Alec and Trystara could have killed ninety nine percent of the worm creatures and that one percent remaining would have fought just as hard. They were mindless, disgusting—pure terror brought to life.
Alec realized it as he watched Trystara fighting, her energy beginning to flag.
“We have to retreat!” he cried. “Warn the town!”
Trystara nodded—then a worm monster jumped on top of her, pushing her to the ground.
Alec moved without thinking. The Bloodcloak whistled around his shoulders, and the distance between himself and his familiar no longer mattered. He was simply there, swinging the Diamondspear like it was the only activity he’d committed himself to since childhood. He kicked the worm monster off Trystara, then slammed the ones nearest to her backward with an ice-infused strike.
“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling the familiar to her feet. To his surprise, she had no bites—a minor miracle. “Let’s get out of here!”
The chamber itself was beginning to quake. Even a large cavern such as this one hadn’t been designed to hold the sheer numbers Shikasta and her army of worm monsters were capable of putting out. Rocks rained down from the ceiling, crushing dozens of the creatures without the rest even blinking. The whole place began to shake and tilt, the ground beneath them lifting to the side with a sickening groan.
Trystara pounced on Alec’s shoulders and lifted him off the ground, right as the ground collapsed. She soared toward the slit in the wall like an arrow loosed from a bow, diving straight toward it with all her speed. Above it, an entire shelf of ice careened to the side, tipping over like a tower.
“We’re not going to make it!” Alec shouted, closing his eyes. “It’s going to hit us—!”
Trystara lowered her head and charged. The slit grew wider, wider, the ice falling right over Alec’s head—
They were through. The ice slammed into the ground inches behind them, sealing off the cavern. Through its multifaceted surface, they could see the worm monsters dying by the hundreds. The sight of all that carnage brought a grim smile to Trystara’s face, but it didn’t change the basic facts. This altered nothing.
Next time, Shikasta would come in force.
“We have to go back,” Alec said, taking Trystara’s hand. “Come on. We have to warn the city! Get everyone ready—that thing with the deer’s head will attack now, now that we’ve violated its agreement!”
“What agreement!?” Trystara demanded. “Alec, what was that thing?”
“It’s the thing that was here before everything else,” Alec said, shaking his head. “Before the spirits, the dwarves, the Inscribers... I think it’s the spirit of the island itself, Trystara.”
“And it’s broken,” Trystara said, staring at the icy wall behind them. “What do you want to bet it started breaking a year and a half ago, Master? Right when the dwarves figured out how to supercharge people’s familiars with special magic that only works on this island?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Alec said gravely. “Come on—we might just have time to explain this to the mayor if we run. Then we’ve got to get the group together.”
“What for?” Trystara asked as they raced down the cavern. “So we can run?”
Alec shook his head. “So we can fight. I think I know how we can destroy Shikasta before she turns the Haunted Isle back the way it was before people discovered it. But I’m going to need everyone’s help in order to do it.”
Chapter 15
Alec and Trystara entered Job’s Bet to the sound of alarms.
As they slipped through the narrow crack in the cavern wall between two buildings, a guard rushed by carrying a spear tipped with silver. He took one look at them and nearly attacked, his weapon held in a trembling hand.
“Relax!” Alec yelled. “We’re friendly! Listen, you’ve got to tell us—where is Alfhild?”
The guard’s eyes had gone unfocused in the moment he nearly attacked Alec and Trystara. Now he struggled to get himself back under control. “The mayor?” he asked, his tone fringed with suspicion. “Why would I tell you a thing like that—”
It was as far as he got. Trystara’s arms still played host to dozens of writhing, icy tendrils—she wrapped them around the man effortlessly and hauled him off his feet. His spear slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered over the bare ground.
“There’s about ten thousand of those worm monsters back there gnawing at the ice, trying to get into the city,” Trystara said, pulling the man face to face with her via her ice tendrils. “So you either tell me where to find the woman in charge, or I’ll feed you to them to slow them down!”
Alec couldn’t believe the sheer ferocity coming from his familiar. There’s something off about her, he realized, watching those vicious tendrils writhe across the demoness’s skin. Shikasta is right—this isn’t an abomination, but there’s something weird about this magic for sure. Trystara would never threaten a hapless civilian like that.
“Th-the Friendly Calf Inn!” the man screamed, struggling in Trystara’s grip. “The Mayor convened an emergency meeting there—the Diamondspear kid and his party are supposed to be there! She needs them to help shore up the city’s defenses!”
Trystara twisted, holding the man over her head so he could see Alec. “That’s the Diamondspear kid right there,” the demoness growled, flipping the man upside down. “Now stay out of our way!”
She tossed the guard away like a discarded piece of tissue paper. He slammed against the side of the bare rock wall and crumpled, groaning in a low voice. Alec raced to the man, terrified that he might be hurt, but Trystara shrugged him off.
“He’s fine,” the demoness growled. “Nothing the healers won’t be able to fix. Come on, the boss is waiting for us. From the sounds of things, that crack in the rock isn’t the only place Miss Venison Head sent her gross soldiers.”
Still more than a little shocked by Trystara’s anger, Alec followed her through the streets. He soon found himself glad to be accompanied by someone with the power of flight, for Job’s Bet resembled a madhouse. The streets were pure chaos, with citizens boarding up their windows, running for the hills, or taking the opportunity to try and loot the more desirable boutiques on the high streets. Alec couldn’t believe how quickly order had fallen apart in the subterranean caverns.
“We have to get to the spine,” Trystara said, shoving aside a halfling carrying a sack filled with grains. Whether the poor man was a looter or a shop owner trying to save his wares, Alec didn’t know—and he suspected Trystara didn’t care. “Once we drop a couple levels, this crowd ought to thin out.”
Just then, a figure raced down the street, heading right for Alec. It took him a moment to realize he recognized the dark elf—she still wore her skintight black outfit, though she’d augmented her attire with a pair of thick, almost matronly glasses.
“Alec Diamondspear!” Viya shouted, throwing an arm in the air. “Oh, thank the Archon I found you! Your fiancée is worried sick!”
Trystara’s claws extended. “Who’s this?” she growled, her red eyes flashing.
“A friend!” Alec said, holding up his hands to forestall the demoness. “She’s the boss of the Alterers—her name’s Viya. She works down on the lowest level.”
Viya wasn’t alone. Puffing along a few feet behind the slender dark elf was Maimonides himself, looking somewhat worse for wear. Still, exhaustion hadn’t dulled the gnome’s eye-searing sense of style in the slightest. Alec looked from one to the other, trying to match the sleek utilitarian black to the mishmash of colors, and realized that opposites attract in more ways than one.
“There you are, lad,” Maimonides said, coming to a stop before Alec and Trystara. “Alfhild is rallying the troops around the Friendly Calf Inn. We’re supposed to be there now, but Eleira is worried sick. She begged Viya and me to track you and Trystara down—you were both supposed to be in the common room!”
“We went hunting for spiders,” Alec explained. Maimonides nodded as if he’d expected the explanation to be something along those lines. “And we ran into an old friend.”
Quickly, Alec explained what he remembered of the woman with the deer’s head. “I think the Alterers stepped onto her territory when they tapped into this particular source of magic,” Alec explained as he finished up. “She doesn’t like that, and she’s protecting what she considers to be hers.”
Maimonides nodded gravely at this. But Viya was horrified.
“I had no idea,” the dark elf said, putting a dark hand against her glossy lips. “All this time—the attacks by the Broken, the worm creatures hurting innocent people—it was our fault! No, worse—it was my fault!”
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Maimonides said, taking the dark elf by the hand. “You were merely acting in the spirit of scientific inquiry—there’s nothing wrong with that. You had no way of knowing your experiments were causing effects far beneath the Haunted Isle, in places that men and nonhumans have never dwelled in long enough to give names to.”
Viya shook her head, the light flashing against the lenses of her glasses. “I should have realized when the attacks began to pick up,” the dark elf said firmly. “I take full responsibility for this, Maimonides. I’ll take the necessary steps.”
Alec did a double take. “Necessary steps? What necessary steps?”
A sad smile spread across the dark elves face. “Isn’t it obvious? If this Shikasta woman is attacking us because of my Alteration magic, then we’ll stop it. I’ll shut down the forge.” Viya laughed sourly. “Poor Ru’un will have conniptions, but he’ll understand when I tell him it’s for the good of the city. The magic isn’t worth people’s lives.”
Alec stood frozen in his tracks. He admired the quick decision making that Viya had taken in dealing with the problem—and the utter willingness to sacrifice her own pursuit of knowledge in order to safeguard the city’s population. For other people—even, perhaps, for Maimonides the Shadebringer himself—that decision would have only been reached after a great deal more internal debate.
“I’ll go with you, then,” Maimonides said, nodding at Viya. “Alec, Trystara, go to the Friendly Calf Inn and inform the mayor what’s happening. Viya and I should have the forge shut down within the hour.” Suddenly the gnome looked nervous. “And after that, the attacks will cease?”
Alec hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead. “If that’s the actual reason Shikasta wants to destroy the city, then yes,” he said, thinking it through. “Even if she’s still angry with us—which I guess she’d have reason to be—we should at least be able to bargain with her or something. We’ve got to try, in any case.”
The pair headed toward the elevators to put their plan into motion. Alec and Trystara followed until they reached the spine, then the demoness gripped Alec’s shoulders and dropped him to the lower level containing their quarters. The Friendly Calf Inn was just as friendly as Alec remembered, though a crowd of increasingly nervous citizens surrounded the building. Most carried makeshift weapons, although a few had more traditional fare that had perhaps come from a traveling blacksmith or a battle from days gone by.
Alec pushed through the crowd, then threw the big double doors leading to the common room open. Even more people than usual filled the great room of the tavern, mostly clustered around the roaring fire in the fireplace. Standing behind one of the largest tables, holding court and surrounded by Job’s Bet citizens, was Alfhild. The mayor was surrounded by guards and looked as if she’d been there for some time. Messengers ran to and from her table, carrying missives across the city.
Several people looked up as they entered, shocked looks on their faces. Alec didn’t quite understand why, until he looked down at his own clothing. His robes were stained with blood, sweat, and dead maggots—he looked as if he’d waded through a river of the worm monsters on his way there. The crowd instinctively shrank back, disgusted looks on their faces as he and Trystara pushed inward.
Standing near Alfhild was Alison Raleigh. The blonde looked up as Alec approached, her face flooding with relief at the sight of the young man and his familiar alive and walking upright. She pushed through the crowd, shoving aside patrons too frozen by terror or drink to move quickly.
“Get out of the way!” Alison roared. “Important people coming through! Mayor Alfhild needs to speak to these two right away!”
The crowd didn’t need to be told twice. Already looking askance at the mess Alec and his familiar had made of themselves, they quickly scooted away to give Alec and his demoness some room. Not satisfied with their pace, Alison Raleigh grabbed Alec and hauled him across the tavern floor toward Alfhild’s table.
“Your woman is worried sick,” Alison said reproachfully, stomping across the wooden floor. “We’ve all thought you and your familiar got yourself poisoned again by those maggot monsters. That you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and we’d never get to see you again—”
Alec stopped her. “Alison, I need to talk to Alfhild right now. It’s important—the city is going to be destroyed unless we do something right away.”
Alison stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You think I don’t know that? There’s incursions on nearly every level of the Nightside. The damned things aren’t as mindless as we all thought. They’ve been biding their time, waiting so they can strike all at once. Maimonides and Viya are out there fighting them. Eleira would have joined them, but I ordered her and Firemane upstairs while the authorities hunted for you.”
“I’m here now,” Alec said, feeling more than a little guilty to have worried his beloved so. “And we saw Maimonides and Viya on the way here. That’s what I need to talk to the mayor about, actually. Those two might be about to save the city.”
Alison missed a step. “Seriously? Alright, Alec—let’s get you up there, then.”
The group climbed onto the raised section of the common room nearest the fire. Alfhild had seen them by now, but the mayor was too busy to stop what she was doing and greet them. From the flow of couriers and the constant string of messages, Alec surmised that the Friendly Calf Inn had begun functioning as a sort of makeshift command center, passing orders around the city and trying to keep the defense of Job’s Bet organized. Considering the chaos Alec had seen outside, that was a tall order indeed.
“Diamondspear,” Alfhild finally said, turning away from a messenger with a scroll with a sigh. “Glad to see you’ve survived the Broken’s assault. Half the rumormongers in the city are saying both you and your familiar are dead…”
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Alec said with a faint smile. “Listen, I know there’s not a lot of time, but I need you to be honest with me right now, Alfhild.”
The dwarven woman’s brows furrowed together. Clearly, she didn’t like his tone, but there was more confusion on the mayor’s face than any other emotion. Hearing Alec, a couple of the guards at the mayor’s table let their hands stray near their weapons, just in case the lad might be about to cause trouble.
“Whatever you’ve got to say, say it, Diamondspear,” Alfhild replied. “I’m a little busy trying to save my city from being destroyed, if you haven’t noticed…”
Alec didn’t mince words. “How long have you known that what you’ve been doing here angers the deer headed woman?”
It was like he’d set off a bomb in the middle of the tavern. Pure shock showed on the dwarven mayor’s face, her skin paling to the shade of fresh cream. The guards nearest her drew their weapons, and people began screaming and diving behind tables as if a whole legion of worm monsters had suddenly dropped into their midst.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfhild said, regaining some of her composure. “People always told me the Diamondspears were insane royalists. Perhaps it was a mistake letting one of you come here, even if you’ve managed to ally yourself with House Raleigh—”
“Oh, shut up!” Alec growled. Even the guards next to Alfhild fell silent at that one. He didn’t mean to be so rude, but after fighting his way back to Job’s Bet over a mountain of monsters, the last thing he’d expected to find was bureaucratic incompetence and secret keeping. “Save your guilt for someone else, Alfhild! I’m trying to save your city, but I can’t do it if you keep lying to me! Tell me the truth!”
And the wind picked up those shards, making each one a glittering crystal knife as deadly as the ones Trystara could cast at will.
The wave of icy blades slammed into the first row of advancing worm monsters, slashing through them in dozens of places. Maggots spilled across the ice as the creatures tumbled, the crude sacks of their bodies split open by ten thousand cuts from Trystara’s icy salvo. As they fell, their comrades climbed over them, heedless of the frozen grubs and bodies beneath their feet.
Trystara kept right on pulsing her wings, trying to freeze each of the monsters to the spot. She transformed the tendrils around her arms and legs into thick spears of ice, sending them singing into the ranks to explode as clouds of pure blizzard. When the worms got through that, she raked them with her yeti’s claws, ripping them to shreds as they struggled to climb over the fallen.
It was pandemonium. Pure chaos, an effortless slaughter. And it wasn’t enough.
Because for every worm monster Alec and Trystara killed, another hundred spilled into the back of the chamber.
They stood on top of each other now, like a living wave. They looked almost like the grubs that lived inside of them—a writhing mass of worms, making their way across the frozen cavern like a living glacier as they headed for Alec and Trystara. Alec conjured a ball of ice the size of a wagon and tossed it at the wave, only to see it split and sink into the army of worm creatures like it had never been there.
It was no use. The creatures had no sense of morale—even the world’s most disciplined army would turn back after seeing their soldiers slaughtered by the thousands, but Alec and Trystara could have killed ninety nine percent of the worm creatures and that one percent remaining would have fought just as hard. They were mindless, disgusting—pure terror brought to life.
Alec realized it as he watched Trystara fighting, her energy beginning to flag.
“We have to retreat!” he cried. “Warn the town!”
Trystara nodded—then a worm monster jumped on top of her, pushing her to the ground.
Alec moved without thinking. The Bloodcloak whistled around his shoulders, and the distance between himself and his familiar no longer mattered. He was simply there, swinging the Diamondspear like it was the only activity he’d committed himself to since childhood. He kicked the worm monster off Trystara, then slammed the ones nearest to her backward with an ice-infused strike.
“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling the familiar to her feet. To his surprise, she had no bites—a minor miracle. “Let’s get out of here!”
The chamber itself was beginning to quake. Even a large cavern such as this one hadn’t been designed to hold the sheer numbers Shikasta and her army of worm monsters were capable of putting out. Rocks rained down from the ceiling, crushing dozens of the creatures without the rest even blinking. The whole place began to shake and tilt, the ground beneath them lifting to the side with a sickening groan.
Trystara pounced on Alec’s shoulders and lifted him off the ground, right as the ground collapsed. She soared toward the slit in the wall like an arrow loosed from a bow, diving straight toward it with all her speed. Above it, an entire shelf of ice careened to the side, tipping over like a tower.
“We’re not going to make it!” Alec shouted, closing his eyes. “It’s going to hit us—!”
Trystara lowered her head and charged. The slit grew wider, wider, the ice falling right over Alec’s head—
They were through. The ice slammed into the ground inches behind them, sealing off the cavern. Through its multifaceted surface, they could see the worm monsters dying by the hundreds. The sight of all that carnage brought a grim smile to Trystara’s face, but it didn’t change the basic facts. This altered nothing.
Next time, Shikasta would come in force.
“We have to go back,” Alec said, taking Trystara’s hand. “Come on. We have to warn the city! Get everyone ready—that thing with the deer’s head will attack now, now that we’ve violated its agreement!”
“What agreement!?” Trystara demanded. “Alec, what was that thing?”
“It’s the thing that was here before everything else,” Alec said, shaking his head. “Before the spirits, the dwarves, the Inscribers... I think it’s the spirit of the island itself, Trystara.”
“And it’s broken,” Trystara said, staring at the icy wall behind them. “What do you want to bet it started breaking a year and a half ago, Master? Right when the dwarves figured out how to supercharge people’s familiars with special magic that only works on this island?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Alec said gravely. “Come on—we might just have time to explain this to the mayor if we run. Then we’ve got to get the group together.”
“What for?” Trystara asked as they raced down the cavern. “So we can run?”
Alec shook his head. “So we can fight. I think I know how we can destroy Shikasta before she turns the Haunted Isle back the way it was before people discovered it. But I’m going to need everyone’s help in order to do it.”
Chapter 15
Alec and Trystara entered Job’s Bet to the sound of alarms.
As they slipped through the narrow crack in the cavern wall between two buildings, a guard rushed by carrying a spear tipped with silver. He took one look at them and nearly attacked, his weapon held in a trembling hand.
“Relax!” Alec yelled. “We’re friendly! Listen, you’ve got to tell us—where is Alfhild?”
The guard’s eyes had gone unfocused in the moment he nearly attacked Alec and Trystara. Now he struggled to get himself back under control. “The mayor?” he asked, his tone fringed with suspicion. “Why would I tell you a thing like that—”
It was as far as he got. Trystara’s arms still played host to dozens of writhing, icy tendrils—she wrapped them around the man effortlessly and hauled him off his feet. His spear slipped from nerveless fingers and clattered over the bare ground.
“There’s about ten thousand of those worm monsters back there gnawing at the ice, trying to get into the city,” Trystara said, pulling the man face to face with her via her ice tendrils. “So you either tell me where to find the woman in charge, or I’ll feed you to them to slow them down!”
Alec couldn’t believe the sheer ferocity coming from his familiar. There’s something off about her, he realized, watching those vicious tendrils writhe across the demoness’s skin. Shikasta is right—this isn’t an abomination, but there’s something weird about this magic for sure. Trystara would never threaten a hapless civilian like that.
“Th-the Friendly Calf Inn!” the man screamed, struggling in Trystara’s grip. “The Mayor convened an emergency meeting there—the Diamondspear kid and his party are supposed to be there! She needs them to help shore up the city’s defenses!”
Trystara twisted, holding the man over her head so he could see Alec. “That’s the Diamondspear kid right there,” the demoness growled, flipping the man upside down. “Now stay out of our way!”
She tossed the guard away like a discarded piece of tissue paper. He slammed against the side of the bare rock wall and crumpled, groaning in a low voice. Alec raced to the man, terrified that he might be hurt, but Trystara shrugged him off.
“He’s fine,” the demoness growled. “Nothing the healers won’t be able to fix. Come on, the boss is waiting for us. From the sounds of things, that crack in the rock isn’t the only place Miss Venison Head sent her gross soldiers.”
Still more than a little shocked by Trystara’s anger, Alec followed her through the streets. He soon found himself glad to be accompanied by someone with the power of flight, for Job’s Bet resembled a madhouse. The streets were pure chaos, with citizens boarding up their windows, running for the hills, or taking the opportunity to try and loot the more desirable boutiques on the high streets. Alec couldn’t believe how quickly order had fallen apart in the subterranean caverns.
“We have to get to the spine,” Trystara said, shoving aside a halfling carrying a sack filled with grains. Whether the poor man was a looter or a shop owner trying to save his wares, Alec didn’t know—and he suspected Trystara didn’t care. “Once we drop a couple levels, this crowd ought to thin out.”
Just then, a figure raced down the street, heading right for Alec. It took him a moment to realize he recognized the dark elf—she still wore her skintight black outfit, though she’d augmented her attire with a pair of thick, almost matronly glasses.
“Alec Diamondspear!” Viya shouted, throwing an arm in the air. “Oh, thank the Archon I found you! Your fiancée is worried sick!”
Trystara’s claws extended. “Who’s this?” she growled, her red eyes flashing.
“A friend!” Alec said, holding up his hands to forestall the demoness. “She’s the boss of the Alterers—her name’s Viya. She works down on the lowest level.”
Viya wasn’t alone. Puffing along a few feet behind the slender dark elf was Maimonides himself, looking somewhat worse for wear. Still, exhaustion hadn’t dulled the gnome’s eye-searing sense of style in the slightest. Alec looked from one to the other, trying to match the sleek utilitarian black to the mishmash of colors, and realized that opposites attract in more ways than one.
“There you are, lad,” Maimonides said, coming to a stop before Alec and Trystara. “Alfhild is rallying the troops around the Friendly Calf Inn. We’re supposed to be there now, but Eleira is worried sick. She begged Viya and me to track you and Trystara down—you were both supposed to be in the common room!”
“We went hunting for spiders,” Alec explained. Maimonides nodded as if he’d expected the explanation to be something along those lines. “And we ran into an old friend.”
Quickly, Alec explained what he remembered of the woman with the deer’s head. “I think the Alterers stepped onto her territory when they tapped into this particular source of magic,” Alec explained as he finished up. “She doesn’t like that, and she’s protecting what she considers to be hers.”
Maimonides nodded gravely at this. But Viya was horrified.
“I had no idea,” the dark elf said, putting a dark hand against her glossy lips. “All this time—the attacks by the Broken, the worm creatures hurting innocent people—it was our fault! No, worse—it was my fault!”
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Maimonides said, taking the dark elf by the hand. “You were merely acting in the spirit of scientific inquiry—there’s nothing wrong with that. You had no way of knowing your experiments were causing effects far beneath the Haunted Isle, in places that men and nonhumans have never dwelled in long enough to give names to.”
Viya shook her head, the light flashing against the lenses of her glasses. “I should have realized when the attacks began to pick up,” the dark elf said firmly. “I take full responsibility for this, Maimonides. I’ll take the necessary steps.”
Alec did a double take. “Necessary steps? What necessary steps?”
A sad smile spread across the dark elves face. “Isn’t it obvious? If this Shikasta woman is attacking us because of my Alteration magic, then we’ll stop it. I’ll shut down the forge.” Viya laughed sourly. “Poor Ru’un will have conniptions, but he’ll understand when I tell him it’s for the good of the city. The magic isn’t worth people’s lives.”
Alec stood frozen in his tracks. He admired the quick decision making that Viya had taken in dealing with the problem—and the utter willingness to sacrifice her own pursuit of knowledge in order to safeguard the city’s population. For other people—even, perhaps, for Maimonides the Shadebringer himself—that decision would have only been reached after a great deal more internal debate.
“I’ll go with you, then,” Maimonides said, nodding at Viya. “Alec, Trystara, go to the Friendly Calf Inn and inform the mayor what’s happening. Viya and I should have the forge shut down within the hour.” Suddenly the gnome looked nervous. “And after that, the attacks will cease?”
Alec hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead. “If that’s the actual reason Shikasta wants to destroy the city, then yes,” he said, thinking it through. “Even if she’s still angry with us—which I guess she’d have reason to be—we should at least be able to bargain with her or something. We’ve got to try, in any case.”
The pair headed toward the elevators to put their plan into motion. Alec and Trystara followed until they reached the spine, then the demoness gripped Alec’s shoulders and dropped him to the lower level containing their quarters. The Friendly Calf Inn was just as friendly as Alec remembered, though a crowd of increasingly nervous citizens surrounded the building. Most carried makeshift weapons, although a few had more traditional fare that had perhaps come from a traveling blacksmith or a battle from days gone by.
Alec pushed through the crowd, then threw the big double doors leading to the common room open. Even more people than usual filled the great room of the tavern, mostly clustered around the roaring fire in the fireplace. Standing behind one of the largest tables, holding court and surrounded by Job’s Bet citizens, was Alfhild. The mayor was surrounded by guards and looked as if she’d been there for some time. Messengers ran to and from her table, carrying missives across the city.
Several people looked up as they entered, shocked looks on their faces. Alec didn’t quite understand why, until he looked down at his own clothing. His robes were stained with blood, sweat, and dead maggots—he looked as if he’d waded through a river of the worm monsters on his way there. The crowd instinctively shrank back, disgusted looks on their faces as he and Trystara pushed inward.
Standing near Alfhild was Alison Raleigh. The blonde looked up as Alec approached, her face flooding with relief at the sight of the young man and his familiar alive and walking upright. She pushed through the crowd, shoving aside patrons too frozen by terror or drink to move quickly.
“Get out of the way!” Alison roared. “Important people coming through! Mayor Alfhild needs to speak to these two right away!”
The crowd didn’t need to be told twice. Already looking askance at the mess Alec and his familiar had made of themselves, they quickly scooted away to give Alec and his demoness some room. Not satisfied with their pace, Alison Raleigh grabbed Alec and hauled him across the tavern floor toward Alfhild’s table.
“Your woman is worried sick,” Alison said reproachfully, stomping across the wooden floor. “We’ve all thought you and your familiar got yourself poisoned again by those maggot monsters. That you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and we’d never get to see you again—”
Alec stopped her. “Alison, I need to talk to Alfhild right now. It’s important—the city is going to be destroyed unless we do something right away.”
Alison stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You think I don’t know that? There’s incursions on nearly every level of the Nightside. The damned things aren’t as mindless as we all thought. They’ve been biding their time, waiting so they can strike all at once. Maimonides and Viya are out there fighting them. Eleira would have joined them, but I ordered her and Firemane upstairs while the authorities hunted for you.”
“I’m here now,” Alec said, feeling more than a little guilty to have worried his beloved so. “And we saw Maimonides and Viya on the way here. That’s what I need to talk to the mayor about, actually. Those two might be about to save the city.”
Alison missed a step. “Seriously? Alright, Alec—let’s get you up there, then.”
The group climbed onto the raised section of the common room nearest the fire. Alfhild had seen them by now, but the mayor was too busy to stop what she was doing and greet them. From the flow of couriers and the constant string of messages, Alec surmised that the Friendly Calf Inn had begun functioning as a sort of makeshift command center, passing orders around the city and trying to keep the defense of Job’s Bet organized. Considering the chaos Alec had seen outside, that was a tall order indeed.
“Diamondspear,” Alfhild finally said, turning away from a messenger with a scroll with a sigh. “Glad to see you’ve survived the Broken’s assault. Half the rumormongers in the city are saying both you and your familiar are dead…”
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Alec said with a faint smile. “Listen, I know there’s not a lot of time, but I need you to be honest with me right now, Alfhild.”
The dwarven woman’s brows furrowed together. Clearly, she didn’t like his tone, but there was more confusion on the mayor’s face than any other emotion. Hearing Alec, a couple of the guards at the mayor’s table let their hands stray near their weapons, just in case the lad might be about to cause trouble.
“Whatever you’ve got to say, say it, Diamondspear,” Alfhild replied. “I’m a little busy trying to save my city from being destroyed, if you haven’t noticed…”
Alec didn’t mince words. “How long have you known that what you’ve been doing here angers the deer headed woman?”
It was like he’d set off a bomb in the middle of the tavern. Pure shock showed on the dwarven mayor’s face, her skin paling to the shade of fresh cream. The guards nearest her drew their weapons, and people began screaming and diving behind tables as if a whole legion of worm monsters had suddenly dropped into their midst.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfhild said, regaining some of her composure. “People always told me the Diamondspears were insane royalists. Perhaps it was a mistake letting one of you come here, even if you’ve managed to ally yourself with House Raleigh—”
“Oh, shut up!” Alec growled. Even the guards next to Alfhild fell silent at that one. He didn’t mean to be so rude, but after fighting his way back to Job’s Bet over a mountain of monsters, the last thing he’d expected to find was bureaucratic incompetence and secret keeping. “Save your guilt for someone else, Alfhild! I’m trying to save your city, but I can’t do it if you keep lying to me! Tell me the truth!”
