Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

A shout from up ahead sounded familiar and Tia bounded up the street to find Wynn backed up against the wall by a pair of Xarundi. One stood nearly eight feet tall and its companion was only a foot shorter.

“Tia!” Wynn shouted. “Help!”

The larger of the Xarundi whirled and Tiadaria was struck by two thoughts almost simultaneously. The first was that she had seen this Xarundi before. She could see it standing on the battlefield at Dragonfell before the quints had blasted it halfway across the valley. The second thought, the one that her brain had trouble coping with, was the fact that the creature had a massive metal leg grafted onto its thigh. The absurdity of that thought gave her just enough pause that the Xarundi got the drop on her.

With a brassy howl, the larger of the Xarundi began to chant in their guttural language. Tia felt the coldness of the mist coalescing at her feet and leapt away from the spell’s influence. Yes, she had definitely faced this Xarundi once before. The smaller of the pair was still menacing Wynn, so she decided to deal with that one first.

Slipping into sphere-sight, she jumped forward, her blades crossed. The larger of the beasts tried to intercept her, but she was too quick. Tia whipped the blades outward, parting the monster’s head from its neck and kicking the body away from Wynn. Even in the dim light, he was as pale as milk.

“Now would be a good time to fight, Wynn.”

Tia didn’t have time to expand on that comment, for the Xarundi with the metal leg was casting another spell. She bounced toward it, intent on cutting its throat and ending its magic. The metal leg flashed up, impossibly fast, and caught her in the side. This time, it was her own ribs she heard crack and she crumpled into the street, rolling away from the Xarundi. Breathing hurt and she had to force herself to get out of the vulnerable position she was in. Get up! Get up! Get up! She heard the Captain’s relentless command as surely as if he were standing next to her. You’re a fighter! Fight!

Tia circled the Xarundi, looking for an opening to press the attack. Suddenly she found all the air gone from her lungs. She fought to breathe and was unable to even gasp. In the moment it had taken her to get reoriented after the savage kick, the Xarundi had managed to wrap her in the suffocating grip of his magic. A ridiculous thought flashed through Tia’s air starved mind. This Xarundi was going to kill her and Wynn was just going to stand there and watch her die. She tried to struggle against the powerful magic holding her but was unable to concentrate enough to call on the power of the sphere.

Her hands went weak and the scimitars dropped to the ground. She felt herself lifted by an invisible hand around her throat, the toes of her boots dangling an inch above the street. Tiadaria prepared herself to die. Her vision was starting to go gray around the edges and flashes of light were dancing across her eyes. She wondered if this was how the Captain felt just before the end.

There was a brilliant flash and it took her a moment to realize she could breathe again. The pain in her chest was excruciating, but she forced herself to take one deep breath after another, filling her starving lungs. Another flash seared her vision and she realized that these weren’t from her near suffocation. The quintessentialists had rallied and were sending magic missiles at her attacker. Two quints had rounded the corner at the end of the street and were casting as fast as they could speak the words of power. The Xarundi fought back, answering their magic projectiles with dark, seething missiles of his own.

Tia picked up her scimitars and glanced at Wynn. He was still backed against the wall, paralyzed with fear. The quints were losing ground to the Xarundi and she waded into the fray, her blades slicing the air toward the beast’s good leg. He caught the descending blade easily with his claws and threw it off, hitting her with a pulsing wave of magical energy that knocked her backward into the street.

The Xarundi whirled and grabbed Wynn, hauling him up by the collar and using him as a shield. The quints tried to flank their enemy but were unable to get a shot that wouldn’t harm Wynn as well. As he turned his shield to face his attackers, the Xarundi turned his back on Tiadaria. A momentary advantage was all she needed, and she sprang forward. The beast whirled, its claws extended, but Tia dropped and slid, screaming as her cracked ribs grated against each other. She drew her blade across the living leg as she slid. Blood spilled on the cobblestones.

She had hoped to sever the tendons behind the knee, but she missed. Fortunately, the resulting gash was deep enough that the Xarundi howled in pain and rage and tossed Wynn aside. Tia heard flesh tear as the creature’s claws raked down the young man’s face as he fell. Tia didn’t have a chance to check on Wynn, instead she danced into striking range, intending to strike a killing blow to the creature who had been responsible for the Captain’s death.

The Xarundi knocked the attacking quints away with another spell burst. He caught her around the throat. There was no invisible grasp this time. He had her in is very real, very dangerous hand. He lifted her easily over his head. Other quintessentialists had appeared from either side of the street, converging on her captor. Tia wanted to shout at them to kill them both, but she couldn’t do more than croak.

Its eyes locked on hers, the blue fire searing into her soul. When it spoke, its harsh rendition of the common tongue sent chills up her spine. “I am Zarfensis, High Priest of the Xarundi, Chosen of the Shadow Assembly, and I will see you dead, Swordmage. I swear it.”

Zarfensis threw her into the wall that Wynn had been backed against and her head rocked back. Just before she passed out, she saw the Xarundi close the distance to the quintessentialists in two astounding leaps. He slammed into the tight-knit group, tossing them aside like so many rag dolls. The monstrous beast disappeared into the darkness.

Wynn lay a few feet away, the left side of his face a ruin of blood and torn flesh. Tia’s stomach churned when she saw that his eye was gone. She coughed and tasted copper on her tongue. Her chest hurt so badly and fighting for breath was becoming harder.

Tia tried to call for help but couldn’t make the words come. Lying there in the street, her outstretched fingers nearly touching Wynn’s, she slipped into blackness.

Outside Ethergate, the eleven remaining Xarundi gathered in the gathering light of day. Chrin’s maw was a mass of blood and gore. Most of his nose was gone, bare cartilage exposed by the flashing blade of the Swordmage’s scimitar.

Zarfensis struggled with his metal leg. The gnome had told him that it would need to be recharged periodically with runedust. The High Priest had fished about in his belt pouch only to find that the vial of dust that he had been carrying for that purpose had been shattered during the fighting. He pried the chamber open and poured as much of the dust as he could scrape out of the pouch into the leg. It helped some, but the journey back to the Warrens would be a slow one.

“That’s twice,” Chrin snarled. “That the vermin have bested us, High Priest.”

“I don’t know that they bested us, Chrin. We lost four of our brothers, but we killed scores of vermin, including their magic users, and we gained a valuable ally. The gargoyle gave us the means to summon him at our will and will be uniquely suited to providing information we cannot hope to obtain elsewhere.”

The warrior glared at him, saying nothing.

“I know it goes against our nature to flee from vermin,” Zarfensis said. “All I ask is that you trust me a little longer. Wars aren’t always won with the first battle.”