Vannerbehn's Luck Pt. 12

- "What kind of problems?" snapped Cremyne. She'd grown impatient as I tried to find a way around her demand.

- "I'll tell you." I said. "Right after you let the cook and the maid go. They don't know anything."

Cremyne just shook her head, and smiled sadly at me. They knew far too much. Boutan and Naomi were doomed to die, just like Aressine and Kima - unless I could think of a way out of this.

- "They're in no danger." she said. "I'm not going to kill them. They'll work for me, at the Narimac - once you've signed it over."

She wouldn't kill them; that much was true. She'd have her henchmen do it.

"But I don't have all night, Kelsen. And you're trying to bargain. This NOT a negotiation. You will sign over the Narimac - or I'll make you regret the delay."

She stepped close, and lowered her voice so that only I could hear her.

"There's an easy way to do this, and a hard way. You want to be a smartass? You want to be a tough guy? My brother thinks that your girlfriend is a hot piece of ass. What if I let him and Samadar fuck her - right in front of you? And those two lugs, too. Why not?"

"They won't be gentle, Kelsen. Samadar hates your guts. He'd love to do it."

I wasn't completely appalled. I had already imagined something very much like that. But there went my Plan B. If I couldn't bamboozle Cremyne, and set her up for Ludianne's revenge, I'd hoped that I could make her angry. If she lost her temper, maybe she'd order us killed immediately.

No such luck. Cremyne was a crazy bitch - but she'd make all of us suffer if I pushed her too far.

- "If ... if I tell you what the problems are ... you'll give them a quick death?" I whispered.

- "Absolutely." said Cremyne.

Another lie. She was already angry. Boutan and Naomi, Kima ... and Aressine were going to endure torment before they died - all because of Cremyne.

I'd been wrong again. All these weeks, I'd been wondering why Syrava hated me so much, and how she could turn, so viciously, on her former friends. But the fey wizard was only part of the picture. Cremyne was just as bad - or even worse.

Plan C, then. Three pathetic little spells, and a slim blade in my boot.

That's when I saw the shadow on the stairs.

Aressine might have noticed it. Boutan and Naomi probably couldn't see, from where they were. Nor could Samadar, who was still standing next to them. Kima, of course, was facing the wrong way.

But all of Cremyne's accomplices, including her brother and Syrava, were entirely concentrated on me - or on her, and our whispered exchange. It wasn't much, and they couldn't hear us, but it was the only action going on - and thus the focus of their attention.

I had no idea who was on the stairs. But it wasn't a friend of theirs. That much I knew for sure. Play for time, I told myself. There's nothing to lose. It could be Pamna, or Fhaernala. And if it wasn't ... then we were dead anyway.

- "Syrava." I said. Not in a whisper, this time.

- "What?"

- "I'll tell Syrava."

- "Why?" Cremyne's eyes narrowed. She was suddenly suspicious.

- "Tell me what?" said Syrava. She'd heard me say her name. Curiosity is a powerful motivator. Wizards and evil bitches are not immune to it.

- "Wait -" said Cremyne, holding up one hand.

Too late. Syrava had stepped up, just within my range.

- "DAZE, DAMN YOU!" I screamed. But my pronunciation was perfect.

It worked - but it didn't. Syrava was my target. She was the most dangerous of my enemies. She blinked, and stepped back, involuntarily. Stunned, but not dazed. It would take only a moment for her to clear her head.

But it's amazing how much can happen in a moment.

The shadow on the stairs descended a few steps. I saw slipper-clad feet, and the bottom of a robe that looked very much like one of Taliesine's. In fact, it looked a lot like the one Kima had dressed her in.

- "SPERA FERRO!" shouted the figure on the stairs.

Several things happened all at once. First, a shock wave struck the room. Everyone on their feet staggered, as if hammered by a physical blow. Except me, of course. I couldn't move, or be moved.

But I felt it as a sudden gust of gale-force wind on my face. My eyes watered, and I choked as the air I'd been exhaling was driven back into my nose and mouth.

The secondary effect of that spell was miraculous: with a snapping sound, all of the shackles burst open. The ropes used to tie people up were cleanly sliced in half, and dropped uselessly to the floor. With a single stroke, Kima and Aressine were unbound.

They'd been hit by the shockwave, too. But they were seated, tied to their chairs when it hit. That had to have lessened the impact.

The final effect of the Spera Ferro - whatever that meant - made me even happier. It dispelled all of the magic in the room. My little daze of Syrava was brushed away, like a fruit fly in a stiff breeze.

But so was Syrava's hold spell. My hands fell, propelled by their own weight. I could feel the return of freedom of motion. That hold had protected me from the impact of the shock wave, but now it was gone.

I was the first person in the room to recover, and to move.

Two quick steps, and I launched myself at Cremyne. With a stiff arm, I slammed a flat hand into her chest, driving her back. She stumbled, and caught her foot on the edge of the carpet. She fell heavily.

But I'd hit her first only because she was in the way; my real target was Syrava.

I stepped into her, and gave her a Bottoms Kiss: a head butt to the face. My forehead smashed into the bridge of her nose with a satisfying crunch.

She staggered back, and tripped over Cremyne.

There was no time to enjoy my handiwork. I dropped into a crouch, and fished the blade out of my boot. Just in time, too, because Armon had recovered from the effects of the shockwave.

He made a couple of poor decisions. He reached for his sword, first, but then changed his mind. With a feral grin, he pulled one of my pistols from my belt. How appropriate - how ironic, that I should be killed with the very weapon which had saved my life on so many occasions.

Apparently, though, Armon was not very experienced with firearms. He made a rookie mistake. As he raised the weapon, he didn't realize quickly enough that it was considerably heavier than he'd anticipated. He pulled the trigger - too soon. The pistol went off ... and the bullet thudded into the floor, an inch from my foot.

I was already moving - towards him. He seemed shocked that I wasn't dead. I grasped the front of his expensive vest, and then jammed my boot blade under his chin.

It did more damage than I'd expected. The tip of the blade pierced the top of his throat, and penetrated into his mouth. But my weapon of last resort lacked a guard, or quillions, like a dagger. As I drove it into Armon's head, my hand slipped up the naked blade, and I damn near sheared my own fingers off.

The pain was sharp, but my blood was up, and there was no time to waste on examining my wound.

Instead, I let go of Armon's vest with my left hand, and plucked my second pistol from his belt. I was quite proud of myself, for how quickly, and how smoothly I accomplished that little feat. It wasn't a simple thing, with blood from his throat and mouth - and my fingers - spraying everywhere.

I whirled around just in time.

Samadar was charging across the room, dagger in hand. He was a lot closer than I hoped for. I raised the pistol, leveled it, and pulled the trigger.

There was a snap - and a spurt of smoke. Misfire.

It happens. Even with a carefully-loaded pistol, it can occur every twenty shots, or even to one in ten. A worn flint, poor-quality gunpowder ... It happens. And now it had happened to me, at the worst possible time.

Instinctively, I raised my arm - with the pistol in my hand - as Samadar crashed into me. Enraged, he tried to plunge his dagger into my heart. I spoiled his aim just enough, so that his blade plunged into my shoulder, snapping my collarbone.

His body slammed into mine, and he drove me to the floor.

Now, it may seem odd, but even in the heat of combat, I was still aware, to a degree, of what was going on elsewhere. Kima had leapt to her feet, and kicked her still-bemused guard in the crotch. Then she charged into the centre of the room.

Aressine was out of her chair, and moving like a dancer. She used her hands, but mostly her knees and elbows. She kept the first guard occupied with a flurry of blows, so that he couldn't draw a weapon. Finally, she put him down with a crushing elbow to the windpipe, followed by a devastating, leaping knee to the chin.

Then she turned to deal with the second guard, who was still bent over, clutching his crushed testicles. Kima, meanwhile, had gone after bigger prey.

Cremyne and Syrava were getting up off the floor. A swift kick knocked Cremyne down again, and then Kima seized hold of Syrava.

The redheaded fighter got an arm around the fey wizard's throat, from behind, and began to strangle her. Syrava choked, and her eyes bulged. She couldn't get a word out, to even begin casting a spell.

Samadar scrambled into a dominant position atop me, sitting on my stomach. I tried to fend him off, but when I pushed with my injured hand, the pain was so sharp - so intense - that I nearly passed out. My vision blurred, and I saw black for a second.

His face was nearly purple with rage, as he raised his dagger. I lifted my arms in a hopeless effort to block or deflect the blow that was coming.

That's when Denya appeared behind him, and drove her dagger into his back.

She was only a little girl, but I'd taught her well. She didn't stand there and preen herself, or admire the sight. Instead, she pulled her dagger back, and stabbed him again. And again.

Samadar froze, either from the pain, or from shock. I was able to seize hold of his wrist, and pull on his arm. When I shifted my hips, and bucked, he fell to the side.

Denya managed not to stop me as I reversed our positions, with me above him. I pinned his arms, and Denya slid to the side. She plunged her dagger into his throat.

At that very moment, from the corner of my eye I saw Kima, choking Syrava from behind. The fighter placed her left hand against the wizard's head, and with a sudden burst of effort, snapped her neck.

The second pirate thug was down, thanks to Aressine.

Armon lay in a rapidly-spreading pool of blood, his eyes glazed over. All of our opponents were down, except for one.

Cremyne rose slowly to her feet.

Then she shrieked, as her body was encased in a nimbus of blue fire. Her lips peeled back over her teeth, and the skin of her face seemed to stretch.

Her muscles gave up. Cremyne's lifeless body crumpled to the floor.

- "Always wanted to try that spell." said Taliesine.

I could only stare at her, open-mouthed. Our dead wizard looked very much alive.

*****