The streets were littered with debris as SJ flew towards the barracks; the town’s usual clean and peaceful appearance had been shattered. Cries and shouts filled the night sky, and SJ couldn’t tell whose they were, whether friend or foe. As she passed one of the streets, she noticed the front door of a home she had visited smashed open. There were no enemies on the street, as they must have already cleared it.
SJ paused and turned, flying down towards the entrance to Little Stuart’s home, where he had lived with his family. She entered cautiously. Her previous visit had shown the home full of Little Stuarts’ siblings, and a lantern cast ghostly patterns in the entrance hall.
The inside was trashed, anything that had been on the walls torn down and now littering the floor. Dust hung heavy in the air, and there was a faint smell of old wood. How could the attacking forces have already done so much damage? There was no fathomable answer apart from sheer surprise. The town may have been at much lower levels on average, but many were seasoned fighters who had fought the hobs and Bordon.
“Anyone here?” SJ called softly.
There was no response, only silence, and looking in the front room, she was met with upturned furniture and further destruction. SJ continued to the rear, where she knew that there was a kitchen. The contents of the cupboards had been dragged out, smashed jars and pots littered the floor, and SJ spotted Little Stuart’s net, which he used to catch Bellpops, with a hole torn in the netting.
Ignoring the devastation, she immediately moved to the stairs and flew up them; the smell of copper hung heavy in the air. The sight that met her was something she had never wished to see. Four bodies lay huddled in a bedroom, one leaning over the others. The back of the being lying over the others had a vicious slash across it. It appeared that it had been attacked while attempting to protect its siblings. SJ didn’t even need to see his face, recognising the colour of his fur and the wayward tuft of hair he had on his head.
She dropped like a stone to the ground. Immediately growing as she did, scrambling forward to grab him, turning him. Tears flooded her eyes as she looked down on the peaceful face of her little friend. He had always been bright and happy, enthusiastic and the money earner for the family since his father had passed. To see him now, lifeless, lying over and trying to protect his siblings was too much.
Kibble landed beside her, nudging her and let out a mewling sound, where she cradled him. His body still felt warm to the touch.
“Why?” she whispered harshly. There was no reason why such powerful beings had even considered this small ratkin and his family a threat. There was no excuse for them to be murdered as they were. This was inconceivable. A being fighting back was one thing, but a being lying over his siblings trying to protect them, being stabbed in the back.
“I’m going to kill them all,” SJ swore. Kibble growled, his head lowered, as he nudged against Little Stuart’s hand.
A guttural cry came from the street outside, and SJ heard the rasping sound of a lizard. Footsteps carried up the stairs. SJ carefully lifted Little Stuart and laid him on one of the beds in the room which they shared. She then did the same with his three siblings, before pulling a sheet over them. Tears continued to course down her cheeks. A flow of frustration and pain.
SJ turned away and shrank, leaving the room. She needn’t check the others. The rich coppery smell was so strong. After reaching the front door, she looked outside. A group of gnoll soldiers moved further down the street, a draconian riding lizard behind them. They had their backs to her, and she saw red. Just like they had done to Little Stuart, she would do the same to them.
Kibble sensed what she was doing, and before even Dave could interject and say anything, she took off, zipping along the street at the draconians’ backs. Her claws sticking out in front of her, like a wasp’s stinger, she plunged them into the draconian, before instantly growing.
The draconian gasped, a cry of pain, then met with a gurgling sound as her claws tore into it. She felt no remorse, no fear, only anger flooded her every cell. As the draconian’s life left it, she removed her claws, immediately shrinking. The lizard it had been riding stopped, and the gnolls that were ahead of it, none the wiser. As the lizard turned its head, it noticed the fleeting form of SJ as she hurried into a side alley. It let out an unearthly cry, its frill flaring as it did, realising that its rider was dead.
SJ, on reaching the alley, immediately flew to the roof and looked back on the street. The gnolls, having been drawn by the lizard, had stopped and looked at the draconian with confusion. A gnoll barked, stepping forward, only for the lizard to lash out at it, hissing angrily.
‘Good,’ SJ thought as she watched, the lizard getting more agitated as the gnoll’s tried to approach it. ‘Dave. Any improvements yet?’
Instead of the usual silence, if Dave couldn’t be contacted, instead, SJ’s mind was filled with white noise, a distant echo of a voice imperceptible, as though someone were trying to communicate, but the link wasn’t quite established. She cursed again, realising she had lost her link to her best friend. Usually, she would have felt empty without Dave’s voice filling her with his snarky and at times ridiculous statements, but today it didn’t bother her the same. Her only concern was checking on her friends and seeking revenge. Dave could have been jabbering away, telling her about Amathera’s most important secrets, and she wouldn’t have been able to focus.
“Kibble. Let’s go to the barracks.”
The smoke from several buildings that had caught fire was thicker as they neared the barracks. The red and orange flames licked into the night’s air, burning with a rabid fury. SJ worried that if the fire wasn’t controlled, it could easily spread. The town usually had dedicated water mages, but thought it unlikely that the draconians would even consider it.
The area in front of the barracks was crowded with bodies, not just the enemy forces, but many townsfolk. Their heads down, looking defeated and distraught, A family clung to each other at the edge as a gnoll soldier barked, prodding them with a staff. SJ watched as many of the gathered were being herded towards the rear of the barracks, where the jail yard was. SJ flying high with Kibble at night wasn’t noticed as she flew to the barracks roof, before coming to land. The yard was packed, and crying and angry shouts could be heard, as even more beings were forced into the yard through its gates. It was overcrowded, with nothing to do but stand as they were forced into the enclosure.
The scene was upsetting, and SJ watched as even more beings were herded towards the barracks down the main street that led to it. It was unbelievable to see the change and distress that these beings were causing.
‘Dave?’ SJ thought again, her 360-degree vision picking up constant movement below.
This time, there was no white noise and only silence met her thoughts.
“Damn it,” she cursed quietly. Kibble had settled on the roof beside her, lying flat against the tiles. “I’m going inside, you stay here.”
Kibble growled in response, his look one that said he wasn’t happy staying behind. Her little companion had already done so much to help, and she didn’t dare put him in harm’s way again.
The chaos from the yard overspilled as a fight broke out between two of the townsfolk, the pushing and shoving that occurred causing more screams from those trapped in the area. A group of gnolls forced their way through the crowd, pushing and beating them with their heavy staves. They lashed out, viciously beating their herded captives into submission if they didn’t move, until they reached the fighting duo and dragged them both kicking and screaming out. The orc and dwarf who had been grabbed, SJ couldn’t recognise from where she was, and she watched as they dragged them over towards where the wagonistas awning was. The now-empty area, to the side and behind the stables, appeared to have been taken over, and that was when SJ saw the formidable form of one of the draconian leaders.
The initial draconian SJ, whom she had believed to have been the leader, sat atop a large plush cushion, cross-legged. Several draconians surrounded it, and SJ watched as the gnolls dragged the two who had fought over to her, forcing them to their knees. She stood from her cushion and walked forward to the edge of the awning.
One of the gnolls spoke, but SJ, unable to hear from the distance she was, could not understand what was said. The draconian nodded and then, without a further word, drew a nasty-looking sabre from its belt and slashed it towards them both. Their cries were lost amongst the shouting from the yard below as SJ watched both the beings crumple where they had been kneeling.
These beings had no care for life and didn’t care who they killed in the process. The majority in Killic wished to live a peaceful life, yet this enemy force had brought death and imprisonment to them.
“That’s my target,” SJ whispered to Kibble.
Again, he squeaked and chirped in response. SJ wished she could understand what he was saying. “Stay,” SJ hissed as she flapped her wings and took off.
The gnolls were busy dragging the orc and dwarf’s bodies from the awning, and SJ looked down as she flew over them. She recognised the dwarf; she didn’t know him, but had seen him often in the Hogling Arms. He had always seemed jovial and content, his boisterous laughter regularly disturbing the night’s.
Her temper soared even higher if that was even possible as she flew over the awning before slowly flying down the nearest building’s edge. There were buildings surrounding the area, but due to the wagonistas’ positioning and the traffic it regularly saw, the streets here were pretty wide, making it impossible to approach without being noticed. Barked orders continued to be shouted as the enemy ordered beings about, and the female draconian who had slain the two captives returned to her cushion and sat, waving to another draconian who hurried over with a jug, pouring her a drink.
SJ triggered her identification spell. She wasn’t sure about her abilities, but looking at her attire, the draconian appeared more warrior-based than mage. She hoped that her target’s willpower wasn’t high enough to be able to track her skill trigger.
Markisha Lysterial
Level: 36
Class: Fighter - Warrior
Hit points: 479
Mana points: 55 of 55
Armour Class: 84
Strength: 53
Dexterity: 35
Attacks: Slash, Thrust
Special: Piercing Blow, Render
Weaknesses: Nil
The draconian was ridiculously strong compared to her, and her equipment appeared well-maintained. The sabre she had killed the captives with rested next to her, its blade held a faint glow. It had to have magical properties. She wore a kaftan, but underneath the kaftan, SJ could clearly see chain-mail. Around her neck, she wore a thick band, not unlike those worn by some tribes in Africa. Due to the physical build of draconians, it matched her profile perfectly.
SJ wasn’t sure how she could approach. On all four sides of the large awning, guards stood. Not gnolls, but well-armed and very focussed draconians. It was ridiculous that within such a short space of time, the draconians had already managed to take over the town and sat so comfortably within its boundaries.
SJ was about to head back towards the barracks, the pull to see if her friends were there drawing her, when she heard a voice she recognised. It was strange; she hadn’t heard it in a long time, but its raspy, almost smarmy tone reached her ears above everything else.
She turned to focus on the area fully and then saw him. His face was unmistakable. It wore the smarmy and sickening grin he had worn when she had spoken to him previously. The being that thought himself better than others, and who had challenged Zigferd for the mayorship, Bellakiy. SJ landed silently on the edge of the awning where she could listen and peer inside.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” she whispered in surprise. The last she had heard was that he had left for Asterfal in disgrace. She knew that Wystria the High Cleric was his sister, but at no point did she bring him up in any discussions they had while she was there. Once he had left, she had never even really given him another thought. How could he be tied to the draconians who were now attacking the town?
She heard him call again. “Markisha. Your father will be so proud,” Bellakiy called, his voice full of mirth.
SJ stared in disbelief as he entered the awning. One of the draconian guards pointed a spear towards him, and Markisha spoke, a harsh-sounding command, before the draconian withdrew his spear and stood at attention again. Bellakiy laughed and entered.
“What do you want, Bellakiy? Or should I say Uncle?” Markisha said. Her tone was not friendly, and if anything, it oozed contempt towards this draconian who had portrayed himself as family.
“I wished to see how things were going. I have to say, I am impressed with the speed at which you managed to hit the town. I thought the defences would have slowed you more.”
Markisha sipped from her glass, not even looking at Bellakiy before replying. “Those wooden stakes you mean. How they ever thought they would stop our forces, I don’t know.”
Bellakiy didn’t speak for a few moments, expecting Markisha to say more, but she didn’t and just sipped her drink again. After what felt like an uncomfortable time, Bellakiy spoke again. He let out a dry cough, clearing his throat. “Have you located the mayor?”
Markisha, this time, turned and looked at him. “We have.”
“And where is he, may I ask?”
“In a cell. We know he is a lycan and didn’t want to give him the opportunity to transform.”
“Excellent. I will go and see him then.”
Markisha barked her response, making Bellakiy baulk. “You will not. My father will decide who speaks to him, not you.”
Bellakiy tried to maintain his smile, although a frown crept onto his face. “Was this not our agreement?”
“You have no agreement with me,” Markisha spat. “I don’t know why my father even listens to you.”
“Markisha,” Bellakiy said, feigning hurt. “I am your uncle, am I not?”
“If you say so,” she said, turning away from him again. “You will wait for my father’s arrival before anyone even considers speaking to the mayor.”
Bellakiy started to pace impatiently. Markisha ignored him for several moments before she snapped. “Sit down, and be patient, my father will be here soon enough.”
Bellakiy stopped, his hands clasped behind his back, before he moved to a cushion and sat. “May I?” he asked, reaching for a glass.
Markisha just grunted in response. Bellakiy picked up an empty glass, and the draconian that had served Markisha hurried over and filled it.
The happenings were not at all what SJ had expected to witness. The fact that Bellakiy may have been behind the attack on Killic only added fuel to her fury. At least, she now knew that Zigferd was in one of the cells. She had visited the cells before, when Setu was locked up due to the goblinpox curfew and had a reasonable idea of its layout, although she had only ever been in the cell area a few times. She usually did not need to visit the jail.
The jail was situated in the same structure as the barracks. The left side, as you faced it, made up the jail and sleeping area for the guard, while the right side housed the town council and its offices. SJ knew that the cells opened onto the prison yard, where the townsfolk had been herded. If she wanted to try to get to Zigferd, though, the front entrance would likely be the easier option, or at least via the upper floors where the guards slept.
She pushed off the awning, a new sense of urgency in her flight as she headed back towards the roof of the barracks. She would deal with Bellakiy in due course, but not now.
Each of the cells in the jail area had small barred windows near the ceiling. Not large enough for any normal being to fit through, but for a fae in miniature form, there was no reason why she couldn’t get inside. She passed Kibble, telling him to remain where he was as she crossed the roof and dropped down the far side. All the cells were on the ground floor, and she started to make her way towards the various windows.
The night was still filled with the cries and calls of the enemy’s captives as well as the captors ordering and shouting at them. This side of the building, though, was in relative darkness; the homes behind it were all dark, their doors smashed open and ransacked by the attacking force. SJ doubted they had found much, knowing that this close to the barracks were some of the poorer areas of the town.
“Zigferd?” she hissed at the windows as she passed them.
The noise inside the jail area was no quieter than the outside, and a scream pierced the night, followed by laughing like a hysterical hyena. Barking then commenced in an angry tone, and SJ was sure that a fight had started.
As SJ approached, the next window and hissed Zigferd’s name, a face appeared at the window. It was one of the ent councillors, SJ couldn’t remember his name.
“SJ,” he whispered in surprise, seeing her miniature form.
“Hi. Have you seen Zigferd?”
“He is being held in the single cells at the far end.”
“I need to see him, and I will try to get you all out of there.”
The ent frowned, looking at SJ. “No, you need to get away from here and get safe. Thankfully, Alice escaped with Isavil, thanks to Zigferd, and I am also still alive, because of him.” The ent indicated where one limb had been cleaved off. SJ recalled ents could regenerate limbs over time if their core wasn’t critically damaged, though the councillor’s age might slow the process.
“I can’t leave the town,” SJ said.
“And what do you think you can do against these beings? They are so much stronger than we are?”
SJ didn’t reply instantly. She didn’t really have a plan; her only thought was killing every single one of them, but she wasn’t sure how to go about it. However, the current disruption and chaos did lean in her favour. The fact that chaos was her ally, that she could pick them off one by one from the shadows like they’d murdered Stuart, hadn’t passed her.
“I’m not sure fully, but I am going to clear as many as I can, and if I die in the attempt, I will have died doing something I believe in,” SJ said.
The ent smiled. His eyes were sad as he did. “We have lost too many already. Several of the councillors were killed, and I am sure that I will be disposed of, eventually.”
“How could this have happened?” SJ said rhetorically. “I will see Zigferd.”
Not awaiting a response, she turned and flew towards the end cells. The windows were closed, and she tried to peer inside, unable to see anything through the grime-covered glass. The cleaning of cell windows usually occupied by drunken townsfolk wasn’t a high priority on the council’s list of problems. There was no response after she knocked on the window, so she moved to the next.
SJ growled as she again knocked, her frustration building every moment that passed. There was still enough ambient noise to cover the sound.
There wasn’t an immediate response, but after several moments, SJ heard the turning of the latch as the window was pushed open. She immediately flew to the side and looked in.
Zigferd’s gaze met hers, his eyes flashing from surprise to fear, frustration, and finishing on anger. The side of his face was puffy and swollen. “SJ. What on Amathera are you doing here? You need to leave and leave now.”
SJ came to rest on the sill. Zigferd looked tired, his eyes sunken further than she could remember. His wrists were bound in manacles with a chain connecting to more around his ankles. “To free you, and no, I will not leave.”
“You must. There is nothing that we can do against them. Our defences... they just ploughed through... There was no warning, and once the alarms were raised, it was too late.” Zigferd’s guilt-filled gaze dropped.
“There isn’t anything you could have done,” SJ said. “I heard Alice and Isavil escaped.”
Zigferd again met her gaze, a slight sparkle returning to his eyes. “Yes, thankfully.”
“What about Lorna and the others?”
“Lorna was at the cliff edge, with Darren and various others. I have no idea what has happened to them. The attacking forces split us.”
“Damn,” SJ cursed. It made sense, though, given the enemy’s point of attack, it would split off the cliff-edge troops completely. Although if they were cut off, they may still be out there. SJ would have to find out.
There was shouting in the corridor outside the cell, as footsteps thudded on the floor, and they turned as SJ heard keys being jangled before one was placed in the lock.
“Go, get out of here,” Zigferd hissed.
“I’ll be back,” SJ said as she dropped from the sill, hovering out of sight of the window.
