by Gerry "Gray" Chartier
[Editor's note: click to read Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7]
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“It’s definitely a way out onto the street. I don’t know quite where, but it’s a way out.”
Swift’s report ended a tense, silent wait in the dark. Gray conjured up a light as Charwindle nodded. “Good,” she said, “Let’s get to the surface.”
They followed Swift up a half-collapsed flight of stairs into building that was mostly intact but uninhabited, with dried leaves piled up in the corners. They crept out to a street barely less dark than the catacombs they’d left behind, dense black clouds having slid over the moon during their time underground.
“This doesn’t look like anything Gray or I saw,” Darvan said.
Gray sniffed the air and pointed into the wind. “I smell water that way. Probably the river.”
Charwindle turned to Swift. “Scout ahead. We’ll be just a few minutes behind you.”
Swift dashed off the way Gray pointed. Charwindle turned to Gray. “I think it best if you douse your light.”
Gray nodded and let the magic dissipate, the glowing orb in his hand vanishing. His eyes strained to pick out ambient light. After a few moments, he discerned a dull red glow in the opposite direction from where Swift went.
“Creator’s grace!” Kamilla gasped, “Is the city on fire?”
“It could just be the palace,” Eoin suggested.
Darvan stared at the crimson radiance. “Even if it is, that is a big fire. I don’t think there’s anything to keep it from spreading.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Charwindle stated, “We have to go.”
Charwindle led the way following Swift’s path. They wound their way through empty streets, the residents either ignorant of the danger the conflagration presented, or hiding from the forces that had caused it.
They caught up with Swift at a shore lined with wooden docks of varying ages and states of repair, a plethora of small boats tied up to them. The scout pointed downriver. “The pier is down that way, about a quarter mile. There’s a couple guys guarding it.”
“The Dock Rats?” Charwindle asked, “Or werekin?”
Swift shook his head. “Didn’t get close enough to find out.”
A howl from the way they came truncated the discussion. Charwindle glanced in its direction. “We’re running out of time. Everybody run, and form up twenty yards from the pier!”
It was a strain, but Gray managed to keep up, skidding to a halt behind the Mayerling soldiers just as they were forming a skirmish line, barely avoiding barreling into Soft. Charwindle spared them only a brief look over her shoulder before lowering her visor. “Mayerling, advance!”
Gray mused that the small squad was probably the most impressive martial display Broken Bridge had seen for as long as the ancient city had been called that name. Darvan, Eoin, Charwindle, Swift, and Kamilla marched as one, faces concealed by their helmets, their heads pivoting back and forth as they scanned for threats.
The pair guarding the pier didn’t notice them at first. They gazed at the lambent aura of the distant fire, anxiety writ large on their faces until one finally noticed the approaching soldiers. He did a double take before slapping his companion on the arm, the pair of them casting wary eyes on the seven of them.
Charwindle held up her hand, her flankers halting at the gesture. She stepped forward, shield at the ready, hand on the hilt of her sword. “Have you seen anyone? Has anyone tried to get to the ship?”
The pair looked at each other. The shorter of the two looked back to Charwindle and shook his head.
Charwindle gave him a curt nod. “Good. You men should take yourselves elsewhere. Trouble follows in our footsteps.”
As if in confirmation, another howl sounded, closer than the last one.
The two Dock Rats needed no more prodding, the pair scrambling away without further encouragements. For once, the others followed Gray as the sorcerer took the lead, pounding down the dock to Stormseeker. He leapt aboard, his footing sure as he sprang to the tiller. “Cast off the lines!” he shouted.
Eoin began unwinding the line around the bollard to Stormseeker’s stern, but Kamilla cut the process short by slashing through the rope with her sword. Darvan followed her example with the line securing the bow. Gray did a quick head count, confirming everyone was aboard before gripping the tiller. The oars slid out in response to Gray’s will, nudging the ship away from the pier before dipping into the water, rowing backwards and turning the prow to point downriver.
Thunder rumbled overhead as Stormseeker began drawing away from the pier. Gray whipped his head around at the sound of a howl right behind them. A pair of werewolves stood on the length of pier Stormseeker just vacated. He thought they might try to leap the growing gap, but instead they pointed their snouts in the air, howling in unison.
Swift waved to the werewolves. “Au revoir, fleabags! Next time try being faster!”
More howls rang out from upstream. A lot of howls.
“Buggery-fuck!” Gray cursed, “They’re guarding the river bend!”
Charwindle dropped her shield and began stringing her bow. “Mayerling! Make ready for action!”
The warriors readied themselves to shoot, nocking arrows and lining up on Stormseeker’s port side. Gray steered starboard, to bring the ship as close to the far shore as he dared, earning him a nod of approval from Char. He liked their chances in the coming engagement – until howls rang out from the far shore as well.
Kamilla whirled around, drawing her sword. “Come face us, you abominations!” she cried, brandishing her blade in the air.
Gray hated to take a warrior away from battle, but he grabbed Kamilla’s shoulder and pulled her to the stern.
“Gray, what are you doing?” Kamilla demanded.
He pulled her hand to the tiller, willing Stormseeker to respond to the elf. “I need you to take over here.”
She jerked her hand away. “But I have to stand with my comrades!”
He yanked her hand right back. “One more sword isn’t going to carry the day!”
She scowled at him, but nodded, so he turned and scrambled to the bow, jumping up onto the gunnels, hanging onto the carved stempost for stability. He wasn’t able to see far in the moonless night, but a sudden flash of lightning enabled him to pick out swimmers in the water off both sides of the bow, at least a dozen – too many for him to take with his own powers.
Letting go of the stempost, Gray reached into his belt pouch for the flask he kept there with one hand, and into one of his pockets for a copper drinking cup. Unstoppering the flask, he poured amber liquid into the cup. He dropped the flask to the deck behind him and produced a heel of bread from his pocket. Holding his offerings out before him, he began to chant.
“To any gods who may give a damn – to my friends’ Creator, if you’re listening
– we are beset and far from home. In their time of need, I offer the sacrifice of bread and mead, and in return beg your divine aid!”
He dropped the bread into the water, pouring the mead after it. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Gray was about to curse the Creator for his indifference when lightning streaked across the clouds directly overhead – once, twice, over and over. Understanding dawned on Gray. Grinning, he tossed the cup over his shoulder and he reached to the clouds, pulling at the power churning within them.
Lightning blazed down from clouds – not a brief flash, but a continuous stream, writhing like a snake pinned at both ends. Gray roared in ecstasy as his flesh began to blacken and burn, drawing more magic into him than he’d ever channeled before. When he thought he’d be atomized if he took in one mote more, he thrust his arms out and released the power, letting it shoot from his fingertips, its tongues lashing out to the werewolves.
Caught in the water, there was nowhere the werewolves could hide, electricity searing them like moths drawn to flame. They burst into fire despite being immersed, their fur vaporizing, their flesh charring, their forms twisting and writhing. By the time the last of the lightning had streaked from Gray’s hands, there was little left of the werekin but cinders drifting in the current.
“Hah!” Gray croaked, smoke puffing from his scorched lungs, “Regenerate from that!”
The strength fled from Gray’s legs. He toppled backwards towards the deck. Blackness took him before he reached it.
