Child of Fate (28 page)

Namitus froze in the entryway. He heard Kar’s
intake of breath behind him when the wizard saw what lay within.
Kar backed away, allowing Namitus to step back. The door squeaked
on its hinges as he moved to shut it. Namitus froze as a snore was
interrupted inside the house.

“Hold the door and step aside,” Kar snapped.
Namitus stepped to the side as the wizard began chanting. A few
moments later, a miniature sparkling comet of energy streaked into
the room and hit the wall. It burst into a dozen sparks, each of
which ignited small fires. A second comet arced into the room and
burst against the table. Sparks landed on several of the sleeping
goblins, catching fire in their dry clothing and spreading as they
began to rouse. Kar sent four more motes of energy into the room at
different angles, starting fires throughout the building.

“Hurry!” Namitus hissed. He slammed the door
shut. A deep shout from inside the house added weight to his
suggestion. He led Kar to the east around the house and the next
two. Rather than risk stumbling into another group of sleeping
monsters, he ran all the way to the next road and took it instead.
By the time they rounded the corner, the flames from the building
began to light up the sky.

“Told you I could make a signal,” Kar wheezed
behind him.

“Am I going too fast?” Namitus asked.

“Not if you want to live!” Kar spat between
breaths.

Between the growing fire and the distant
alarm bells, Namitus was able to guide the two of them through the
occupied city for several blocks without incident. The patrolling
guards were distracted.

Torch-bearing guards on the southern wall and
at the gate showed them their destination. Namitus felt his spirits
buoy at the sight. His optimism also proved to be a costly
distraction.

“To the right!” Kar gasped, alerting him.

Namitus turned and saw a pair of trolls
rushing toward him. They’d bent themselves forward and were using
their long arms to grab the ground and move even faster than their
legs alone could propel them. The rogue skidded to a halt on the
cobblestone street and drew his scimitar in one hand and his dagger
in the other.

The first mountain troll charged straight at
him, intent on using his mass to crush the puny human. Namitus
sprang to the side, away from the other troll, and slashed out with
his sword. His momentum and angle weakened the blow but the keen
edge of the magical blade still split the skin along the troll’s
shoulder.

Namitus rushed toward the second troll while
the first one skidded along the stones and tried to stop itself.
The second had slowed and was already turning back toward him.
Namitus jerked to a stop when something crashed against the ground
in front of the troll and sprayed its legs and feet with liquid.
Smoke burst out of the troll’s legs, accompanied with a hissing,
popping noise. The troll howled and danced around, stomping its
feet in the acid and making it worse.

“Stay back,” Kar managed.

Namitus turned from the dancing troll to the
first one and ran straight at him. The troll gnashed his teeth and
raised a hand to swipe him as he closed {in}. Namitus drew his
sword back and then flicked his dagger so that it hit the troll in
the chest. The knife fell to the ground, doing no damage to the
creature but distracting him.

Namitus ducked as he closed {in} and swung
his blade. He judged correctly but didn’t misjudge the troll’s
swing. Namitus’s curved blade carved a gash in the troll’s ribs but
the force of the claws that snagged the leathers on his back sent
Namitus straight to the ground.

Stunned and breathless, Namitus stared up at
the mountain troll. The creature picked up a foot and stomped,
landing on his hip and causing his entire body to shudder as he
felt the bones break before the heavy foot slipped off.

Namitus twisted away, rolling just enough to
dodge the long-armed swipe that caused sparks to leap off the rocks
of the street. The sparks proved that the claws of a mountain troll
didn’t just look like they were made of stone.

The rogue grabbed the hilt of his dropped
scimitar and rolled back, swinging as hard as he could. The blade
cut deeply into the troll’s arm, the same arm he’d wounded at the
shoulder on the first pass. Namitus pulled the sword down and,
using both his hands on the hilt, thrust it up and into the thigh
of the beast. The curve of the blade helped the sword bite into the
meat and dig deep enough to grate off the bone. The troll staggered
back and fell to one knee.

A rope of flames snapped out and wrapped
around the mountain troll’s chest. A pulse of fire rushed down the
mystical cord and immolated the beast. The troll howled in agony
and thrashed until he broke away from the magical rope. The flames
died slowly, revealing blackened and split skin on his body and
face. The troll stared through sightless eyesand then fell forward
less than an arm’s width from Namitus.

“Never thought I’d say this but,” Kar paused
to catch his breath, “drink the troll’s potion.”

Namitus nodded and fumbled around for the
metal flask in his pouch. He pulled it out and managed to get the
cap off. He gasped through a few painful breaths and then raised it
to his lips and drained it in three quick swallows.

Namitus fell back from his elbows and lay on
the ground, panting. His hands went to his stomach as he convulsed
and twisted up on his side. The agony in his hip took second seat
to the twisting inside his gut.

“I hate being right,” Kar spat out. “Let me
borrow this,” he said and reached down to grab the forgotten
scimitar in both hands. He walked over to the other troll that was
using his hands to try to crawl away. The wizard walked up as
slowly as he could behind the troll, avoiding the still smoking
puddle of acid, and let the scimitar rise and fall three times as
though he was chopping wood. He glanced to the south and saw a
group of goblins had gathered in front of the gate. Ogres and men
were behind them in defense of the gate.

“They’ll come at us any moment now,” Namitus
said.

Kar jumped and spun around, nearly striking
Namitus in the process. “You’re alive?”

Namitus grinned. “I am. It worked. Felt like
I had a dragon chewing its way out of my belly but once that
passed, I was fine.”

“Scary,” Kar said with a twist of his
lip.

“It was,” Namitus agreed. He saw the smile
spread on Kar’s face. “Very scary. What is it?”

“A shaman of the patron of fear. It makes
sense. Even the boons his magic grants are dangerous.”

Namitus gaped at him for a moment and then
laughed. “I see your point. Some friend. Now about those creatures
that want to kill us?”

“And you’re out of potions,” Kar said.

“You’ve still got one,” Namitus pointed out.
“We might need a few more of the tricks you’ve got up your sleeves,
though.”

“After seeing what you went through, I’d
rather give the potion to them. It might scare them away,” Kar
muttered. “But yes, we’re close enough now.”

“Close enough for what?”

“For the world to witness my glory!” Kar
said. He reached into his pouches to pull forth the magical
components he needed for his spell. Hands clutching the magical
paraphernalia, he reached into the sky and began to chant.

Namitus watched him, taken by the way his
arcane words seemed to wrap back in on themselves and repeat with
increasing volume and power. Namitus yanked his eyes away and
looked around, ensuring they weren’t about to be attacked again. He
saw a group of monsters running toward the palace to the north, but
no one was intent on prematurely ending his and Kar’s life at the
moment.

With a final shouted word that echoed off the
buildings to either side of them, Kar threw his arms forward and
the yellow glow that had gathered around his hands sprung forward
and streaked over the heads of the goblins and between the gathered
ogres and men. It struck the closed gates and exploded.

When Namitus stopped crouching from the shock
wave that had passed over them, he looked to the gatehouse and saw
one door had been blown off the hastily repaired hinges. The other
door was twisted and half open. Both were blazing with the
elemental magic that Kar had channeled into them.

The defenders weren’t gone but they would
never be a problem again. All that remained of them were smoldering
lumps on the ground.

“You could have done that a long time ago,”
Namitus said.

Kar grunted and took a staggering step
forward. Namitus grabbed him and slipped the wizard’s arm over his
shoulder. “Come on, mighty wizard.” The rogue chuckled. He dragged
the man toward a nearby building that was only a few falling bricks
away from being ruins. If they could find a defensible spot, he
hoped they’d be able to wait it out until help arrived.

* * * *

“I’m done,” Karthor said from where he’d
slumped back against the wall of the manor house.

William groaned and tried to pick himself up.
He gasped and fell back, clutching his leg in agony. He’d been
struck by the club of an ogre, breaking the bone and crippling him.
The others had suffered wounds from the patrol of ogres ranging
from bruises and scrapes to cracked ribs in Tristam’s case. Karthor
had used the last of the favor that Leander had given him to soothe
their hurts. What blessings he had at the end wasn’t enough to aid
William.

“Thork’s potion,” Alto suggested. “It’s that
or nothing.”

William’s lips were pulled back to show his
clenched teeth. He nodded and fumbled to get the flask out of his
pouch. He wasted no time in uncapping it and draining it into his
mouth.

“Bleah.” William gagged after swallowing it.
“Tastes like swamp water!”

The expression on his face changed from
disgust to shock. What color remained in his cheeks drained. He
held up his arms and stared at his hands. His fingers were curled
into claws. “My hands,” he whimpered. “They’re ruined!”

Alto and the others looked at one another,
confused. “They’re fine,” Tristam told him.

“Was he poisoned?” Karthor asked. The priest
rose up, forgetting his exhaustion and started to look at William’s
hands.

“Can’t you see?” William sobbed. “The troll
lied! They’re twisted and broken. I’ll never fire my bow
again!”

The others looked at one another, confusion
mirrored in their eyes. “How’s your leg?” Alto asked, not certain
what William was seeing that he couldn’t.

“My what?” William asked, startled by the
question. He pulled his eyes away from his hands to his leg and
then looked up at Alto and Tristam. His gaze shifted to Karthor
before he raised his knee up without any complaints. A grin spread
across his face before he put his hands down and stood up.

“What about your hands?” Tristam asked.

William held them up and stared at them. He’d
relaxed the muscles so they looked normal. “By the saints! They
ached and felt like they’d been crushed. I saw them crippled and
useless, but now they’re fine.”

“Jarook is the patron saint of fear,” Karthor
reminded them. “What does it feel like when Leander’s blessing
heals you?”

“Warm,” Tristam said.

“Like a sunny day shining on what hurts,”
William agreed.

Karthor nodded. “That makes sense. When
Jarook’s magic touches you, it fills you with fear.”

“Let’s hurry,” Alto said. “More are sure to
come.”

Tristam nodded and looked about. He seemed
hesitant until they heard the sound of an explosion accompanied
with a flash of light from the southeast. “What in the name of the
saints was that?”

“Kar’s signal to the army,” Alto guessed.

“Some signal!” William stared at the glow in
the sky and shook his head.

“He’s always loved to put on a show,” Karthor
sighed.

“It’s our signal, too,” Tristam said. “Kar’s
trying to crush the snake’s body but we still need to cut off the
head.”

Tristam turned to Highpeak’s palace they
sheltered against and climbed up the stone steps to the entrance.
Large stone statues of the first lord and lady of Highpeak had once
stood on pedestals on either side of the doors. The invaders had
knocked the statues over and smashed them, leaving the entrance
littered with rubble.

Alto held his red-glowing sword at the ready
while Tristam tried the door. It was locked. The elder warrior
kicked the door near the latch and splintered the wood. The door
flew open to reveal a man with a crossbow waiting for them. Tristam
threw himself to the side but not before the bolt made a sickening
sound that drove the breath from him.

Alto burst through the door, using his shield
to deflect any other threats. He didn’t stop until he felt his
shield hit something soft and yielding. The man he’d run over
grunted and cursed. Alto jammed his sword forward twice before he
backed away and let the dying crossbowman fall to the ground.

“Tristam!” Alto said after he spun around and
made sure nobody else was going to try to kill him.

“Just knocked the wind out of me,” he gasped.
Tristam staggered into the foyer, holding his hand around the end
of the bolt that was protruding from the left side of his
belly.

Alto stared at the injury. His mouth opened
and closed a few times but no words came out.

“What are you afraid of?” Karthor asked.

Tristam put his hand out to the wall to lean
against it. He looked down and frowned. “Getting shot with a
crossbow,” he muttered.

“Then drinking your potion should be easy,”
the priest said with a smile. “We’ve got to get it out first.”

Someone shouted a warning from their right.
Alto spun to see a man wearing hastily donned armor standing at a
junction in the hall they’d entered. He held a sword in his hand
but wore the look of a man recently awakened.