The Clutch of Sharys: Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter 35- The Shouting Magma Man
All were brought to a halt by the arrival of Nepthys, still wounded in body and mind and desperate for the return of its counterpart.
Crouching in the dirt by a stone fence was not what Cara had envisioned when they had planned this entire mission. After the signal, she and the other riders had made their way to the right after leaving the street, heading towards the back of the structure. Bree unsheathed her hammer, darkness curling two symmetrical spirals around her arm as she readied a mighty strike, the muscles at the top of her arms balling up in anticipation.
Without stopping, the Countess hopped a step, swinging brutally towards the waiting stone of the wall. As her weapon met the stone, spraying it to dust with the magic enhanced strike, a wave of purple force sped past her, coating the wall and causing all noise from its destruction to fade under its influence. Quickly, they found themselves with a hole in the wall and no further time for hesitation, so the group headed in. As detailed in the drawings, great square glass windows lined the warehouse walls in front of them, proving no barrier for the silently destructive combination of Ahnn and Bree.
Cara nearly tripped over the windowsill as she clambered her way into the warehouse, pitching forward until Cheska's quick reflexes caught her with an arm to the chest. "Careful." The Farcan breathed, scooping her upright and leaving Cara with a quick whiff of sandalwood and an accelerating heart. Scrabbling claws caused Ahnn to whirl around, extending a hand towards where Cara's dragon had landed on the windowsill and was ducking her way in as well.
"Lady Myzanti. Warn me next time, please." Ahnn admonished before scuttling forward, following Cheska down the stairs. They had entered the second floor of the warehouse, because the first was below the level of the ground, the floor sinking into the stone below. A simple wooden landing ran around the interior of the warehouse, two staircases marking a diagonal path down to the lower level. Stacks of dark crates and barrels cast shadows throughout the room as Cara made her way to the stairs, grunts of pain and surprise sounding from below as Ahnn and Cheska disposed of those unlucky few who had stayed behind.
Cara descended the stairs, watching as Cheska landed an impressive kick to one guard’s stomach, ducking low over a swung blade and being forced to jump backward over a ripple of earth in the floor. The Farcan landed on one foot, pivoting and sending the other into her opponent’s midsection and finishing her job with a quick blow to the temple.
Petra made it to the bottom of the stairs, followed by Bree and Cara as they spread out, looking through boxes for one marked for an outpost called 'Kegend'. Baron Veshmi had informed them that the buyer planned to stock up before introducing their plan, and this was a large part of what they and their conspirators had gathered. Cara remained alert, keeping her eye towards the large doors at the front of the warehouse, praying that they would stay shut.
"Here." The Princess’s whisper bit across the stone floor of the warehouse, summoning all attention to where Petra stood, tapping a large crate with the tip of her sword. Quickly, Cheska used the edge of her knuckle plate to pry the lid off, shifting aside the layer of cloth on top to uncover the pile of jewel-toned ovals underneath. "Get this sealed and up." Petra said, waving Ahnn over.
"We're not fitting that out the window." Cara hissed backward, glancing over her shoulder before looking back at the doors.
"She's right." Bree intoned, her voice low. "I could just make an-" Her suggestion was cut off when Cara scrabbled back towards them, the door of the warehouse slowly scraping open. "Move!" Petra hissed, rushing past her with Bree at her side, sabre and war hammer held at the ready. Behind them, Cheska and Ahnn picked up the chest, stumbling a few steps as they struggled with its cumbersome shape.
Smooth scales brushed past Cara's fingers as her dragon took up a defensive position by her side, wings slowly unfolding as the doors opened. A short, stocky person was opening the door, and upon taking a glance at the warehouse, let out a shout of alarm that was silenced just a moment too late by Bree's hammer. Calls rang out in answer, and the group’s benefit of cover was lost, their time immeasurably shortened by the intrusion.
"Through the door, quick. I have the feeling that Fatimi knew this would happen." Petra said, her eyes flashing as she waved the two carrying the chest forward impatiently.
"Cara, with me." Bree said as Cheska and Ahnn got close to the door, prompting Cara to quickly go to her friend's side, her spear ready for a fight.
"Can you boost me?" The countess asked, urgency filling her voice as they approached the entrance. Cara desperately looked around for a source of light, but the torches bracketed to the exterior of the warehouse were too far away and would take too long. She shook her head, looking down in disappointment.
"That's fine. There's light outside; you just won't have much time." Bree muttered as Petra threw the doors wide, revealing the group of six guards blocking their way to the street, blades pointed at the group.
The one closest to them, a man of Ataran descent, with a dark beard and intense eyes, addressed the group fiercely in Cetnan, gesturing towards the chest they held. Cara caught the word "Surrik'' in there somewhere, but otherwise couldn't understand a word they said, assuming that it was something along the lines of "give up your stolen goods or die." Instead of listening, Cara spent her energy shifting her hand behind her back, beckoning her fingers towards the torch to her right.
Cara couldn't turn and watch for the risk of giving her plan away, and was thankful for the gentle warmth she felt as torchlight responded to her call, buzzing and swarming into her palm.
Undaunted by the security, Petra stepped forward, sweeping her sword in an upward crescent. The guards winced as the stone walls behind them lifted like a piece of paper, curling back from the gate they blocked and arcing backward. Taking advantage of the distraction, Cara took a small step forward, slipping her left hand into Bree's right one as though seeking comfort.
Bree's fingers immediately twitched, tightening around Cara as the warmth of her light flowed up through the Countess’s body. Turning back to face the group, the guard shouted at them, tapping the ground with his blade and leaving behind a large pool of magma that fast expanded outwards, surrounding the group. "Should we drop the eggs and fight?" Cheska asked, backing up with Ahnn away from the molten rock.
"No." Bree answered before Petra could, a smile on her face. "Just take a few steps back." The shudder of fatigue knocked at Cara's knees, and she dropped Bree's hand and stepped away from the countess, mirrored by Petra.
“You’ve got one chance to move, magma man. Otherwise, I’ll move you myself.” Bree told the guards, who either didn’t understand or ignored her because the molten rock continued to move. “So be it. I’ve got bigger boots to shake.” While the ring of magma enclosed the party, Bree took a skipping step forward, landing just before the edge and swinging her hammer wildly.
It missed any weapon or guard by at least a foot, but this didn't seem to bother Bree, because she had gotten the space she needed from the rest of the group. With Petra and Cara out of the way, the torch's light had cast a rather large, stretching shadow of Bree's hammer when she held it up. It was this she swung now at the unwitting guards, who were quickly fading out of the shock of her attack and laughing at her apparent blunder in aim.
With the power Cara had given her, Bree willed the darkness into a shadow weapon harder than steel, which sickeningly collided with the group of guards mere moments after their mirth had begun. The mocking laughter was cut off by a swift, violent crunch as three of the six, including the shouting magma man, were sent limply soaring across the yard until they collided with the wall.
Three staggered, wet thuds announced the fate of the guards as Bree finished her swing, releasing the handle as it came down to her side. "Go." Bree panted, leaning over with her hands on her knees as the cost of her magic hit her. In front of them, the guards recovered, and Petra dashed in, her blade singing as she carved it through the night air.
This was the first time that Cara had seen Petra fight with her sword, and as she dashed to protect Bree while she recovered, Cara found her gaze drawn back to the Princess's dexterous dance.
Watching Petra fight with the weapon was as much a dance as it was a combat to the death between two people. Her footwork was impeccable, with smooth, gliding steps as she parried a blade away, countering with her own attack. Her arm remained neatly folded behind her back as she easily turned aside her opponent's attacks, landing her own with surgical precision.
Stepping to the side away from a flying boulder, Petra slashed downwards, a wave of gems rippling back towards its source, tearing through the earth and knocking the guard off their feet.
One of the guards thought it best to go after the perceivably weaker opponents and turned to face the direction where Bree stood, catching her breath. They had barely taken a step forward when a wet, cracking sound ripped through their throat, an arrow of ice ending their mission before they could finish their intended movement.
Cheska and Ahnn quickly made their way around the left of the conflict, exiting the warehouse as Petra, Cara, and Bree covered their retreat. The guards, recognizing the loss of their numbers, turned and ran rather than continue a losing fight.
Outside of the warehouse, they made their way down the street in near silence, nearly murdering Fatimi when they stepped out of the shadows, several wounded soldiers following behind. "The bulk was taken care of. I apologize for those that slipped through." The archer said, swinging their bow onto their back. "Make haste. We should get these off the streets before you are spotted."
The group turned and followed Fatimi back to the Baron's manor, a kind, redheaded guard named Topher relieving Ahnn of her burden once she began to stumble part way there. The grizzled, older fighter was about Cheska's height, making the load easier to carry even though they only nodded when they offered thanks. "He doesn't speak Netian." Fatimi threw over their shoulder.
"I wish I did so I could thank him for his help." Cheska said, shooting a grin at the soldier. Looking back ahead, her brown creased before she added, "Also, so I could understand what those guards were saying earlier." Her husky voice betrayed a frustrated confusion, one that Petra corrected as she sheathed her blade, finally finished with cleaning the stains of battle from its steel.
"Just that the chest was the property of Baron Surrik, we were trespassing, surrender, or forfeit our lives. The usual stuff."
Cara looked at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow as she petted the dragon walking by her side. "You can speak Cetnan?" She asked, her voice betraying her doubt.
"Don't act so surprised. Of course, a favored princess of Netis would speak multiple languages." Petra replied proudly, sticking her nose up in the air.
"I know it, and I told her what they said." Ahnn said flatly from behind them, resulting in Petra visibly swinging from puffed pride into pouting at her lady-in-waiting.
"You didn't have to tell them that!" The Princess said dramatically. "Your honesty will be the ruin of my reputation."
"It's better than it getting us in trouble down the line when you get asked to translate and can't, my lady." Ahnn said in her slow, patient manner.
"Bah! Fine! You knowing it is practically the same as me knowing it anyway." Petra said, crossing her arms and walking a few steps ahead, ignoring the rest of them.
The rest of their group enjoyed a good chuckle at their affectionate bickering. The mood began lightening and sending a ripple of relaxation through the group, loosening grips on weapons and holds on smiles. Cara got the chance to catch up to Fatimi as they waited for the Baron's hedge-gate to open, the white-haired archer standing off to the side after placing a scale on the plate.
"That was your arrow earlier, wasn't it?" She asked, gesturing to the bow on the Cetnan's back. "That was an amazing shot."
Fatimi's grey eyes met hers as they gave her a knowing smile. They had a long, narrow face with sharp features, the lines of their countenance clean and angular but inherently proud and powerful in the visage that they drew. "I'll consider us even, now." The Archer murmured, striding ahead through the opening in the shrubbery.
"Are you doing alright?" Cara asked Bree, waiting for her group to catch up before going through.
"Me? I'll be fine, just a bit much in one go." Bree replied, giving Cara a slight smile that told her friend just how tired she was.
Rays of light had just peeked into the cavern as the raiders returned to the manor with their prize, laying it down on the ground in the Baron's reception room.
"Oh well done." The Baron said, looking once at the box before returning their attention to the group. "I'm impressed by what I saw, and I've signed the papers. You can finish the deal tomorrow, your highness, but I feel that for now, you might wish to rest."
"No." Petra said firmly, walking further into the room and sitting down. "I would complete this now and rest easy rather than have it hanging over my head all night." She picked up the piece of paper and began scrutinizing it as Ahnn settled in beside her, brushing her long voluminous hair behind her ear as she read over Petra’s shoulder.
"What will happen to the eggs?" Cara asked the Baron, concern tinging her voice.
"They will be returned to the caves where they belong, and come the meeting of Barons at week's end. I will deal with Surrik and hopefully create some sort of safeguard to prevent this from happening again. Nike here will show you to the guest rooms. I shall have a feast prepared before you depart tomorrow evening, in celebration of our new contract."
With that, Cheska, Cara, and Bree were unceremoniously ushered into the hall, where the blonde servant directed them down a corridor to their left.
Cara barely registered her surroundings when she closed the door of her guestroom behind her, slipping out of the leather breastplate and laying down the regalia of the battle in favor of slipping into simple clothes and the warm embrace of restful sleep.
The next afternoon when she awoke, Cara took a bath in the blue-tiled chamber off to the side of her rooms, savoring the gentle warmth of the surrounding water that was not too unlike the feeling of the flames she had called the night before. After drying off her body and getting dressed in a simple strapped top and breeches, covered by the wooly green bulk of her flight jumper, she happily pulled back on instead of the fancy clothes of diplomacy. One freckled shoulder peeking out of the wide collar of her sweater, Cara sat in front of the fire to dry her hair, keeping a safe distance from the flames as her copper curls slowly dripped water onto the black floor beneath her. Languidly, she flipped through the book of children's tales at her feet, pausing on a beautiful illustration of the forming of the Seal of Sharys.
An enormous arm, bigger than the horizon, pulled one of the suns out of the sky, a colossal claw directing it through a deep red sky towards the people below. Where the claw touched the orb, cracks spread apart, shattering the celestial body’s surface. At the bottom of the painting, a coalition of dragons of varied shapes, sizes, and colorations were gathered, surrounding a small group of people, whose arms were reached up towards the sky in reception of the gift.
A snort drew Cara from her examination of the rich colors of the painting. Over on the bed, the silver horned dragon had her head raised; scaly snout pointed at the door. Cara closed the book in front of her, unsurprised but a little disappointed when the knock came seconds later. She had tolerance and even affection for the girls in her group, but she also craved the solitude that she had experienced before all of this happened. Being around others was fine, but so was being on her own. She felt calmer and free in her own company, hidden from judging eyes that could catch her many mistakes.
"Lady Myzanti." An unfamiliar voice said through the door. "Baron Veshmi bids you and your dragon come to their farewell feast, after which you will depart."
Cara made a face, jerking her head back in ironic amusement. "I'm coming." She said, standing up with a grin on her face. This was one of the most aristocratic ways she had seen someone kick their guests out of their house.
She stored her book in her pack, triple-checking that all of her clothes, boots, books and brushes were packed. The clicking sound of claws colliding with the cold floor alerted Cara to her dragon's approach. She looked up and saw it had a sock she had missed in its mouth as the dragonling deposited the slobbery garment at Cara's feet.
"Thanks, girl." Cara murmured, giving the dragon a scratch and flicking the sock into the side pocket of her bag. Opening the door, she followed the servant down the hallway, and several more, until they arrived at a room, Cara had never seen before. Cheska and Ahnn were already inside, seated at an abnormally large round table, with a larger, short turntable on its top. Plates for quite a few people were set up along its circumference, and Cara found her way to her comrades and took a seat.
Ahnn gave her a silent nod before looking away, eyes focused on the door to the kitchen.
"How're you faring there, little bones?" Cheska asked, watching Cara quickly weave her damp curls into a braid. "Tired. Ready to leave." Cara said, lowering her voice as the doors opened once more. Fatimi, Bree, and the soldiers who had fought alongside them last night came in, finding seats around the table which seemed to perfectly fit all but two. Fatimi forcibly beat out Bree for a spot beside Cara, ignoring the glare the countess sent her way.
Petra and the Baron entered last, the Baron dressed in an elaborately woven silk robe this time, its fabric a decadent scene of falling maple leaves in the autumn, a collection of russets, bronzes, and golds winking out from the hem. Petra was fully dressed in her riding harness, ready for travel as she strode over to the table. She gave the group a stone-faced nod before stiffly sitting down, leaning in to speak to Ahnn in hurried, low tones. Something about Petra's unusually somber appearance put Cara on edge, even as the Baron sat down and called for drinks. She looked down at her dragon, whose eyes were wide and flitting around the room, long scaly neck taut and sending Cara’s stomach into a series of flipping loops as she too raised her awareness.
"A toast to the new, official support of Princess Petra's claim to the Netian throne." The Baron intoned as glasses were set on the table in front of them. Cara reached up to grab one when a hand seized her wrist, yanking it back down. Looking up at the hand’s owner quizzically, Cara saw Fatimi give a slight, subtle shake of their head as a whisper sounded in her ear like someone was standing to her right.
"Lady Myzanti. Do not eat or drink anything. Be ready to leave immediately." Ahnn's whispered voice was tense, the sound of magic fading after that brief message. Cara eyed their sacks along the back wall and then realized she had no idea how to get out of this place. Just what was going on? If the drinks weren't safe, then…
Cara's eyes flicked up to where the Baron stood, their glass raised. "May our business and fortunes prosper together, and may we thank those who help you along the way." Baron Veshmi nodded to the soldiers, who immediately drank deep of their cups, some finishing the entire thing with one gulp. Horrified, Cara looked down the table to see if anyone else was doing anything and tried to rise to say something herself, only to have Fatimi yank her back down, shaking their head once again.
Cara's eyes found Cheska's, seeing that the monk had come to the same conclusion that she had and was just as outraged by what was happening. The Farcan turned, opening their mouth simultaneously as Cara, both desperately trying to get a warning out.
"Spit it-" Cara got out before her voice cut out, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Near the back of the room, Cara saw the older servant with black hair raise his hand in a clenched fist. Cheska looked as though a similar thing had happened to her, but it was too late for them to do anything else, as the poison had done its work.
Seizing and spasming, Cara could see the veins turn black against the soldier’s flesh, creating a dark network that spread across their body, standing out even under the tan color of their flesh. Bulging outwards as the soldiers choked and screamed, the veins strained for one brief, cruel second before they burst under the skin, sending their victims terribly still. Cara’s blood ran cold as her breaths shortened to shuddering bursts, terror setting her senses on high alert and stealing all breath from her lungs.
"Well, now that nastiness is over." Baron Veshmi remarked, waiting as a group of servants retrieved the now limp bodies. "I hope this serves as a reminder, your highness, of what will happen should you break our contract."
The magic holding Cara's throat dropped, and she resisted the urge to throw the cup in front of her at the Baron's head.
"I think they fulfilled their contract rather well." Cheska snarled, still standing. Unperturbed, the Baron ordered that food be brought out before looking up at the woman towering over them. "The part that included violence, perhaps. But they were instructed to keep their mouths shut and thought that boasting in taverns was excluded in that."
"The Baron cannot be publicly tied to what happened." Fatimi said, releasing Cara's arm. There was an apologetic, numb look in their eyes as they glanced over at Cara, who looked back in horror. Petra and Ahnn looked unfazed by the events, and Bree had a rigid smile, eyes glittering furiously as she stared at the Baron. Unsurprisingly, no one aside from the Baron seemed to have an appetite, so the meal finished quickly, with Cara still trying to find the words to speak as she sat in stunned silence.
"Now, before you leave, Your Highness, I have one final surprise for you." The Baron said, dusting off their fingers on a napkin and rising, flicking their magnificent robe behind them as they left the room.
Their group rose, sharing many looks of doubt and tension, and followed Baron Veshmi from the dining hall, not in the least looking forward to whatever surprise lay in store.