Martin Scott - Thraxas and the Dance of Death

Trusting that Lisutaris can look after herself, I throw myself sword first at Sarin just as she’s pulling the trigger of her crossbow. My blade connects with the tip of her weapon, sending the bolt upwards into the ceiling but in the process wrenching my blade from my hands. Sarin immediately drops the crossbow and kicks me in the face and I get a painful reminder that the last time I encountered her she proved to be a formidable opponent in hand-to-hand combat. I can feel blood spurting from my nose. I ignore it and step forward with my fists raised. I’ve nothing fancy in mind, just use my bulk to overwhelm her. Sarin kicks me again and leaps backwards but I keep on going till she’s up against the wall, and then I connect with a punch which drops her like a drunken Elf falling from a tree.

I pick up my sword, and gaze down at her prostrate form with some satisfaction. I owed her that. I’m just wondering if it would be appropriate to give her a few hefty kicks when the invisible hand again picks me up, and hurls me backwards through a window, leaving me, some boxes and a great deal of broken glass plummeting to earth from a height of more than a hundred feet.

[Contents]

Chapter Eleven

Fifty feet from the ground, I’m not feeling confident. There’s a paved road outside the warehouse and I’m plummeting towards it at an ungodly rate. I curse Glixius, Sarin, Lisutaris and the hostile fates who’ve had it in for me since the day I was born. This takes me down to about ten feet. I close my eyes. I come to a gentle halt. Benevolent sorcery, presumably from Lisutaris, has rescued me. I land lightly on my feet, sword still in hand, and immediately charge back into the warehouse, ready to show Glixius Dragon Killer that I’m not a man you can toss out of a high window without suffering the consequences.

Inside the situation is confused. More people have entered the building. There’s a full-scale battle going on all up the wooden staircase. I recognise several local Brotherhood men struggling with opponents whom I guess to be from the Society of Friends. Approaching fast are five or six uniformed men from Palace Security, the King’s own intelligence service.

“Quite a commotion, Thraxas?” says a voice from behind me.

It’s Demanius, from the Venarius Investigation Agency.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“Same as you,” replies Demanius.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Then neither am I.”

Above our heads the fight intensifies. Some of the struggling figures are forced off the staircase on to the floors that lead off to either side, and I make an effort to fight my way through. My client is upstairs, currently in combat with Glixius Dragon Killer and Sarin the Merciless. I should be at her side.

When four men from the Society of Friends appear before me, swords raised, I get the fleeting feeling that I wish Makri was here to lend her strength to mine. Though if she was, she’d probably end up killing the men from Palace Security as well as my opponents and things would only get worse. Makri has no self-control once she gets her axe out.

As it turns out, I’m not alone. Demanius arrives at my side and we confront our foes together. The Society of Friends men are far from their home territory. It’s dangerous for them to venture south of the river where the Brotherhood hold sway, and I’d guess these thugs, seeing their mission go wrong, are keen to depart as swiftly as possible. I’m about to offer them the opportunity to do just that, thereby avoiding a messy conflict, when from behind me comes the sound of a Civil Guard’s whistle. I risk a swift glance backwards. Twenty or so Guards, led by Captain Rallee, are now streaming into the warehouse.

Intent on not being captured by the Guards, the Society of Friends men lose interest in me. They turn and flee up the stairs. I follow them with Demanius at my heels.

With the warehouse now full of the Brotherhood, the Society of Friends, Palace Security, Civil Guards, plus assorted Investigators, Sorcerers and murderous adventurers, I’d say that I’ve finally blown it as far as keeping Lisutaris’s problem a secret goes. When I reach the second floor and find Harmon Half Elf floating in through an open window, rainbow cloak billowing in the breeze, it strikes me that Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, might be in for some tough questioning from the Sorcerers Guild if she ever finishes her session with Palace Security. All this being dependent on Lisutaris remaining alive, of course. I ignore the struggling masses and keep heading up the stairs.

I’m just beneath the top floor when there’s a flash and a shattering explosion rips through the building. Wood and stone rain down on my head. The floorboards cry in protest as mystical forces start to rip the place apart. All around voices are raised in panic as the warehouse starts to sway.

“Get out of here!” yells Demanius.

I keep on going. I have to rescue my client. Her sorcerous conflict with Glixius Dragon Killer has brought about the destruction of the warehouse, and for all I know she might be lying unconscious with Sarin the Merciless standing over her, crossbow in hand.

The walls are now starting to buckle. Strips of wood fall around my shoulders as I rush into the room at the very top of the warehouse. Fire has broken out and smoke is now pouring from the walls, quickly taking hold. As I reach the final room the roof starts caving in and I’m knocked off my feet by a great beam which pins me to the floor. I struggle to free myself, vainly.

“Thraxas?”

Lisutaris is standing over me, looking calm and untroubled.

“I gave you a safe landing. Why did you come back?”

“To rescue you.”

I think Lisutaris smiles. In the ever-thickening smoke, it’s hard to tell.

“Thank you,” she says.

The Sorceress waves her hand. The beam flies off me. I haul myself to my feet, with some difficulty.

“We have to get out,” I gasp. “Building’s coming apart.”

There’s a blast that sounds like a squadron of war dragons crashing to earth and the warehouse caves in. For the second time in the space of a few minutes I find myself one hundred feet off the ground with nothing in the way to break my fall.

Lisutaris is beside me in mid-air. We’re both hovering gently. It’s quite a pleasant sensation.

“Did you really come back to rescue me?”

“Yes.”

“But the building was collapsing. It was foolish.”

“I have a duty towards my clients.”

The breeze blows smoke from the wreckage around our faces. From this elevation I have a really good view of Twelve Seas. It doesn’t look any better.

We start to sink, very gently.

“Are those Civil Guards?” asks Lisutaris.

“I’m afraid so. Palace Security is here as well. And Harmon Half Elf.”

“What does he want?”

“Maybe the Sorcerers Guild is getting curious.”

Lisutaris frowns. Her long hair flutters in the wind.

“Are you saying my secret is out?”

“They have their suspicions. What happened to Glixius and Sarin?”

Lisutaris doesn’t know. She didn’t find it difficult to defeat Glixius in a contest of sorcerous strength but she was unable to prevent him from bringing down the building with a blasting spell which allowed him to escape.

“As for Sarin, I don’t know.”

With any luck she’ll have perished horribly. By this time we’re almost at ground level. A lot of people are waiting for us to land.

“What am I going to say?” asks Lisutaris.

“Say nothing.”

“Nothing? That’s hardly going to convince anyone.”

“You outrank all these people. Till the Consul himself has you under oath in a courtroom, deny everything. Let me do the talking.”