Chapter 16 - Part 2

“You that way, I this way,” the eldest druid whispered. They had to silence Greoche, and though they had not told Blessing this, lethal force had been authorized if necessary. House Tharashk would be very angry, but the woman was hip-deep in this, and suspected of other things. The Gatekeepers would be forgiven out of necessity, even if the people involved in tonight’s operation would never be allowed to go into the Shadow Marches again.

A sound like vomiting came from behind the kitchen door. The druid and the bear backed up, and the three swordsmen stepped together towards the door.

Long seconds passed, and the sharp-eared druid heard a muffled whisper. “Syrup of ipecac,” he said. “And a caffeinated elixir.”

“Sir?” one of the swordsmen asked in a whisper.

The druid was about to explain himself, when the black bear roared and turned around. An electrical jolt hit the druid in the back, stiffening his limbs, and he spun around to see the thing that walked like a man, the thing with the symbiont in his neck, slash a greataxe at his bear. The door to the kitchen burst open, and Brode fell upon his men with vigor from the other side, hacking away at them.

The druid moved behind his bear and cast a healing spell. Much of his magic was already in the bear, enchanting its claws, strengthening it, and making it faster. He simply had to keep his spells apace with whatever the daelkyr half-blood could dish out. Its face was snarling, a hateful expression.

“Unnatural filth!” snarled the eldest druid. Behind him he heard screaming, and he looked backwards. Two of the swordsmen were dead, their bodies torn open by the raging half-orc’s falchion. The third swordsmen had hurt the half-orc, but in its frenzy it had not slowed down. Back in the kitchen, Greoche was loading a heavy crossbow and waiting for a clear shot, yelling at her nephew to clear the doorway.

The druid realized that Brode was more durable than he looked, and he regretted leaving the shifter outside. Kneeling quickly, he touched the wooden floor and chanted. His power was such that he needed no holly or mistletoe, just raw will.

The wood floor shifted and twisted, and rose up, wrapping itself around the half-orc’s ankles and feet. Brode was stuck in place, immobile, and the last swordsman ran him through. The half-orc gargled and swung, cutting a fine length along the swordsman’s torso, but another strike, this one across the front of the half-orc’s neck, ended Brode’s life.

Seconds later the swordsman stiffened as the crossbow bolt went through him. He too fell onto the floor, his blood mingling with the other three dead men.

The druid could spare no thoughts for Greoche’s marksmanship, however. Thomas was actually forcing the bear back, and the druid needed to know why. He cast a simple divination spell, and discovered myriad effects on Thomas’ person. Within seconds he noted the mostly empty scroll bag on Thomas’ back. The half-blood had his own magic.

Smiling a cold smile, the druid cast one of the few spells he had left, and a summoned snake, a large, poisonous viper, appeared behind Thomas, flanking him.