T Lain: The Living Dead

Mialee didn’t wait for their next move. She was loath to use the last of her magic, but could see no alternative.

“GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

She shot her index finger forward at the nearest dwarf, moving toward her right side. The dwarf stopped leering at her and followed the faint, blue line that shot from Mialee’s fingertip straight into the center of the dwarf’s breastplate. Crackling ice crystals formed instantly around the spot and grew outward. In moments the man’s wiry beard was frozen to the metal on his chest. The dwarf squirmed and danced in a flailing panic as the ice spread and the temperature plunged inside his armor plate.

Ray of frost, Mialee heard Biksel’s voice echo in her temple. Well done, Mialee. But don’t catch a chill yourself. Can I offer you a feather?

Choke on a worm, Biksel.

The dwarf gave up trying to wriggle free of his frigid armor and ran screaming from the room.

The ray was her last offensive spell. She could cast no more until she could study her book again, but she was willing to bet the remaining dwarves didn’t know that. She whispered a cantrip, a minor effect that could cause no real harm, and glared as illusory fire engulfed her hand.

“Ice and fire, spirits of darkness, I command you to engulf these foohsh dwarves in the flame of vengeance!” she bellowed in her mightiest voice of doom.

No elf wizard ever spoke the common language when invoking a spell, but Mialee was willing to bet the dwarves didn’t know that, either.

The two dwarves froze as stiff as their companion’s armor, jaws dropped in shock. Devis, still standing beside the bed, turned to her and smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Mialee roared. “Get out!”

Devis pointed, openmouthed, at his own chest, obviously disbelieving that she wanted him gone.

“Yes, you! You, them, everybody! Out!”

“Very well,” Devis said, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He winked, grabbed his battered lute from the bedside, jerked open the shutters and leaped, wearing only the instrument on his back, out the window into the driving rain. The bard yelped as his shoulder collided with the window frame, then he was gone.

The dwarf Devis called Muhn turned to his remaining companion and said, “Don’t just stand there, idiot, circle around and find him. He can’t stay on the damned roofs all night!”

The dwarf scrambled to comply, dashing out the door after his scorched comrade.

Muhn turned to the naked elf and grinned. Mialee simply raised her hand again and let a small crackle of illusory energy spark from her fingertips.

“Out,” she said.

The dwarf raised his axe and continued forward. “The bard’s magic whore doesn’t get out of this one,” he growled. “I don’t know where he found you, but I’m going to find out.”

Mialee’s hand glowed more brightly, and she arched a single eyebrow in a gesture that carried volumes of quiet menace—she hoped. Muhn paused and his eyes flicked uncertainly to the door, then back to the elf girl.

The standoff was interrupted by a shout from outside the window. It was Muhn’s lackey.

“We got ’im! He’s heading out over the rooftops!”

The dwarf began backing out of the room, keeping both eyes on Mialee’s glowing hand.

“I’ll get out,” Muhn growled, “but you just made yourself an enemy of the constable of Dogmar.”

He turned on his heel and marched out the door after his quarry. Mialee closed and locked the door after him, then climbed back onto the bed to look out the window. About ten feet down was another, lower rooftop, and from her vantage point, she could see out over most of the town. Devis was gone.

Mialee collapsed onto the bed and closed her eyes again, trying to force herself to meditate. Her throbbing head refused to comply.

She heard a flap of wings as Biksel flew overhead to light upon the open windowsill.

Have you ever thought that perhaps this fascination with musicians is a bit unhealthy?

“Ow,” Mialee replied. “Get me a bicarbonate of soda or you can go out the window, too.”

But I don’t have the —

“Shut up, Biksel.”

Devis shivered as rain pounded his bare back. The cover of night should at least help hide him. A man wearing nothing but a lute on his back would have attracted attention in the daytime. If he kept to the alleys and shadows, however, he could stay hidden long enough to grab something to wear from a clothesline or rubbish heap and stave off hypothermia. If he had to, he’d grab a burlap sack and rip a hole in the top for his head.

He patted the lute slung over his shoulder. At least he’d been able to grab the instrument before he’d made his hasty exit.

After leaping from the window, he’d been able to run only a few blocks from the Silver Goblet before the adjoining rooftops gave out. Forced to ground, Devis chose this darkened walkway as the best place to avoid Constable Muhn and find something to wear. His naked, rain-soaked body was chilled to the bone.

Devis scanned the piles of detritus and trash littering the narrow cobblestone causeway but found nothing he might use to clothe himself. He checked the few doors that opened into the alley. All were locked.

He glanced back down the alley toward the street. A familiar, stout silhouette stood between Devis and the main road. Then another, and another. A clank of heavy armor and the thump of booted feet boomed down the alley toward him, lead by Muhn.

“Hey, Muhn, you’re not going to believe this,” Devis said, “but did you know that my, uh, my…” He looked around for a weapon, stalling. “My coming has been foretold! I, ah, got named in a prophecy yesterday! Yeah, if something happens to me, the evil one will gain dominion.”

Muhn blinked. “What?”

Devis unslung the lute and jammed a finger at the dwarf. “Kill me and Fate herself will strike you down!” He underscored that last bit, striking a single, ominous chord on the instrument.

Muhn ripped the lute from Devis’s hands and ground it beneath his boot before turning on the bard. Devis kept his hands crossed in front of his waist as the three dwarves knocked him to the wet pavement. It wasn’t just the lute he was concerned about.

Fortunately, the alley was narrow. Only three of them could kick him at a time.

Mialee’s eyes were still closed. Her head pounded. Her stomach was in knots. She was one hundred percent sure that she was about to die, and she cursed her weakness for musicians.

Mialee, please.

The wizard forced her eyes to open, bringing fresh agony to her skull. The sky was growing slightly brighter in the west, although the rain continued unabated. Mialee couldn’t guess how long it had been since Devis made his escape, but she felt like she’d been lying there for hours.

She pushed herself to the side of the bed and onto her feet. Her legs gave her roughly a second of good, solid support before giving out. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her head. The image of the screeching, gray monstrosity from the night before flashed behind her eyelids, and her stomach twisted.

Just a minute, Biksel.

With great effort, she stood next to the bed and wobbled to the window. With a weak tug, she pulled open the shutters.

“Thank you,” the bird said, then flew out to find some breakfast.

“Go choke on a grub, Biksel,” Mialee replied as she dragged herself back to the bed. The bard’s clothing, along with a few traveling packs, lay mingled with her own robes and equipment. She tripped over the pile and heard the jingle of coins. “Dwarves wanted that, you ass,” she said to the absent Devis. “Why dincha just…” but the effort of speaking brought more pain, so she cursed the bard silently instead.