NPCs (13 page)

“Competitors,” the portly man called from the sidelines. “At my signal, the attendants shall release the crows. You may throw one dagger whenever you choose after that.”

Both Thistle and the human nodded, unwilling to look away from the shrieking birds with targets attached.

“Prepare yourselves,” he yelled, clearly readying himself to give the signal.

“RUUUUUN!” The voice came with such speed and ferocity that both attendants jumped, releasing their birds inadvertently. The human let his dagger fly, shearing a few feathers from his crow’s wing but otherwise missing entirely. Thistle, on the other hand, turned to the source of the noise, only mildly surprised to see it was Eric, dashing through the center of the arena, red-faced and panting.

“Everyone needs to get out! NOW!” Eric’s voice carried more weight in those words than any of his friends had ever heard him conjure.

“What is the meaning of this?” the mayor asked, stepping forward and addressing the intruder from his position on the balcony. “Why have you disturbed our tournament?”

“Because we’re about to be attacked and we have to evacuate,” Eric explained.

“Appleram keeps watch over these roads, and has a fine militia. There have been no raiders or outlaws spotted anywhere near here. So what, pray tell, is going to attack us?”

Thistle winced inwardly at the words; he’d heard such phrases enough to know they had a strange magic. Words like that presented a theatrical opportunity that neither the gods, fate, nor whatever uncaring being oversaw the world was able to resist. Sure enough, the mayor had barely spoken when a huge explosion from the northeast corner rocked the arena.

“Demons,” Eric replied, his voice hollowed by the realization that he was too late. Very few heard him over the screams of the audience members now fighting back a fire.

“There are demons coming.”

12.

It had been such a simple plan. Exit the building, find Grumph and Gabrielle, consult Thistle, work out what to do next. After watching for a few minutes, Eric had determined that the pulse of the gem was indeed, speeding up, but it was doing so at a steady rate. He didn’t even know for sure if this gem had anything to do with the demons; right now, it was just a coincidence and a hunch. Besides, if it was building toward a detonation, then it seemed a reasonable guess that he had at least enough time left to formulate a well thought-out plan of action.

That was when he heard the scratching. It was from a cart over, the one in which the odd hat rested. Eric searched quietly, pausing as needed to see if the sound was still coming. It took some doing, but eventually, he found the source in a large crate near the back of the cart. Inside were two more gems. One was pulsing a bit slower than the first Eric had spotted.

The other was going so fast, it seemed almost like a constant shine. This second gem also appeared to be the source of the scratching. As Eric peered into its depths, he realized the swirling patterns on the gem’s surface were far clearer in this one — so clear, he could make out an image. That image was, unfortunately one of all-too-familiar claws scraping against the other side of rapidly pulsing gem.

All hope of a plan evaporated, and Eric rushed back to the makeshift entryway he’d made in the tunnel. He exited the beams faster than he would have thought possible, mind too preoccupied on what was happening. This was no longer a hunch; what he’d seen in the third gem had removed all doubt. Now, he needed to warn people; as many as possible, as quickly as he could. These gems were bigger, and he didn’t know what that meant, but he could make a damned good guess at what three of them would entail.

Eric’s speed was so great that, though the guards noticed him emerging from the rafters, they were only able to shout at him as he tore off in the direction of the arena. His newly-discovered speed after years of wearing bulky armor assured him they had no chance of catching up. Even then, the thought of being pursued might have quickened his step, were it not already being hastened by the memory of the claws scraping against the inside of the gem. That was more than enough motivation to give him speed.

He broke into the main part of the arena just as a portly man was barking orders, but Eric paid him no heed. There was only one target for the former guard: Mayor Branders. He was the man who could move people along, the man who might get them to safety before things went to hell. Or, rather, before hell came to them. With a deep gulp of air, Eric bellowed with all his might.

“RUUUUUN!”

* * *

The high-pitched ringing filling the ears of all present, a side effect from the explosion, had scarcely begun to subside when a second boom filled the air. This time, there was no delay, a third followed immediately on the second’s heels. This final blast proved more than the hastily-built stands could handle, and a section near the mayor’s position began to collapse. Many were able to scramble away, but a few went tumbling to the ground below. Scary as it was to see people falling away, it was nothing compared to the terror of what came next.

Once they landed, the screaming started.

Grumph and Gabrielle raced forward from the pen, joining up with Thistle along the way, and making it to Eric’s side in expedient time.

“What’s happening?” Thistle demanded, his voice firm, but calm, despite the growing pandemonium.

“Demons,” Eric said. “I saw one of the gems like at the goblin camp, followed it on a hunch, and saw inside it. There were more demons, and it sounds like all three gems have let them out.”

Thistle took a breath and let the absurdity wash over him. Dealing with magic was tiresome for a logical person because it often refused to make sense. Nevertheless, time spent debating the rationale of demons popping out of gems would be precious moments wasted. It was better to accept this strangeness as fact until it could be thought through later. Right now, all that mattered was that the demons were coming. Even if Thistle had doubted Eric’s deduction, the explosions and screams were more than enough to sell him on the demon theory.

“We won’t have long, but this time, we’ve at least got a few advantages,” Thistle said. “Eric, go rally the garrison and the guards. Let them know what they’ll be facing so they don’t go in blind. Gabrielle and Grumph, go let the adventurers know what’s happening. We’ve got enough swords and magical muscles to beat these beasts back before they get established. I’ll talk to the mayor and try to get him to evacuate the citizens.”

Thistle’s directions were interrupted by the sound of splintering wood. A demon, nearly identical to the ones they’d faced only days ago save for the fact that it was over twice as large, smashed its way out of the stands and into the side of the arena. The clacking of its claws filled the air, broken splinters of wood tumbling away as it crushed them effortlessly. Among the debris, a keen eye could pick out bloodstains on the wood, answering the question of why the screaming had grown noticeably quieter.

“Well then, I guess we don’t need to alert people, after all,” Gabrielle sighed, unsheathing her axe with some effort.

“You’re very wrong,” Thistle informed her. “Remember, these aren’t just demons. They’re smart, at least, smart enough to work together. If we don’t spread that information, lives will be lost.”

Grumph snorted in agreement as he sprinted off toward the pens. Gabrielle hesitated, then followed a few moments later.

“I think I know where the guards will gather in an emergency,” Eric said, taking off in another direction.

Thistle turned his attention up to the stands, where panic had already engulfed the sea of people scrambling to get away. He was a bit surprised they’d bought that part about alerting the mayor. What could one man do to direct so many people rightfully drowning in fear? No, Thistle had given them that falsehood because he knew they wouldn’t follow orders if he told them the truth.

A few creaking steps brought him forward as he let out a low whistle then yelled toward the towering demon with all the volume he could muster:

“Hey, ugly, I killed one of you just a few nights past. Friend of yours? If so, I’d be happy to reunite you.”

The demon turned its rat-like head and looked directly at him. From the hole it had left, three more equally-sized monsters emerged, their eyes also glaring in his direction. Well, he’d wanted to grab attention, and he’d certainly succeeded. His nimble fingers danced to his sheaths, surprised at the quality of daggers he’d found there. Right; he’d borrowed Sierva’s blades before things went crazy. He hoped she had magic to find them, because he doubted he’d get to hand them back.

One demon, perhaps, he might have been able to slay, with his new magic and Grumble’s blessings. Two would have certainly killed him. Four made what he planned seem so staggeringly stupid that part of him wondered why he was standing there. That part was quickly silenced. Thistle knew the terms of the bargain he’d struck; it was why he’d been so hesitant to take it. For all the perks and gifts that came with being a paladin, there was also an unshirkable duty attached. Paladins didn’t run. Paladins didn’t hide. Paladins were the shield of flesh between the forces of darkness and those without strength to defend themselves.

Paladins held the line, no matter what. Thistle’s eyes narrowed as he whispered a prayer of blessing, causing each dagger to glow briefly. Maybe he could at least take one. He hoped it would be enough.

* * *

Grumph and Gabrielle had left a pen full of adventurers idling in a state somewhere between curiosity, confusion, and boredom. They arrived to a chorus of metal scraping against leather as weapons were drawn, armor refastened, and arrows nocked. Adventurers were, on the whole, loud, disruptive, and often boisterous to a point of spectacle, but no one could deny that, when shit hit the fire, they were always ready to charge in head-first. None of the normal folk truly understood this brazen attitude, to dive into dungeons and unexplored depths as though their lives weren’t on the line if things went poorly. Whether or not they understood it was irrelevant at the moment, though. All that mattered was focusing it.

“The demons are smart!” Gabrielle blurted, mouth moving before any sense of eloquence could make its way into her words. Most of the adventurers ignored her, but a few of the nearby ones turned their heads. After a dismissive glance, those heads went right back to whatever they’d been previously occupied with. A familiar bubble of anger tried to rise inside her; however, she was able to push it away. Now was not the time to let her fury bubble forth. That would come all too soon as it was.

“Listen to me!” Gabrielle called again, forcing herself to project her voice while maintaining a calm tone. “My friends and I fought some of these monsters three days ago. They were organized, cutting off escape routes, and splitting our forces. If you go in expecting them to be dumb beasts, you risk being taken by surprise.”

“So, you say you fought these things before, yes?” The voice came from a dwarf encased in a dented set of old armor. A thick axe was clutched in his right hand while his left held an aged mace.

“We did,” Gabrielle confirmed.

“And how many of you did they kill?”

“My party all made it out, but dozens of nearby goblins were slain before the demons were stopped.”

“I see,” the dwarf replied. “Given the way you grip that axe, I don’t take you for much of a fighter, so if all your people made it out safe, then I doubt we have much to worry about. If the only things these beasts are a threat to are goblins, then I say we let them run wild.”

Grumph started to step forward, but Gabrielle was faster. In a whirl of motion, she jammed the butt of her axe’s shaft between the dwarf’s legs, shifted her weight, and spun the weapon around and upward. This knocked the dwarf’s legs out from under him and sent him tumbling the, admittedly short, distance to the ground.

“These demons have claws that can cut through thick leather armor like it’s a gossamer web, they can leap clear across a camp in one jump, and their flesh is as thick as a dwarf’s skull,” Gabrielle said, her voice only a few shades above a whisper, yet clearly audible to the many people who were now paying her very close attention. “The ones we fought were half this size, and still soaked the ground in blood before they were done. If you want to take this lightly, then so be it, but I’d see every warrior here forearmed with knowledge before the killing starts.”

“You certainly know how to draw attention,” said a copper-haired man adorned in silver armor that shone in the midday sun. The ornate handle of a longsword jutted out from his scabbard. Gabrielle was sure he’d been much further away when the dwarf made his wisecracks. To cover such ground quickly was quite impressive. “I, for one, would like to hear what you know.”

“Might as well listen,” the dwarf agreed from the ground. “It’ll take me a few minutes to pull myself back up, anyway.”

Gabrielle nodded, waited for as many others as could fit to gather around, and then began to speak.

* * *

The trick to getting guards to listen was to put yourself outside of a situation where protocol could be followed. There were rules for messengers, procedures for other guards, and general bureaucratic bugbearshit designed to make sure that any information accepted came from a reliable source. Of course, that was only viable if the person giving the information knew anything beyond the initial intelligence.

Eric found the circle of armored guards speaking in fast tones just where he’d expected they would be and immediately sized them up. The captain was clearly the man farthest away, with a few scars visible under his helm and an aura of command. Instead of approaching him, Eric dashed toward a guard close by whose helmet had a plume on top.

“Captain,” he gasped, this part somewhat genuine due to all the running. “I was sent with information for you.”

The plumed guard looked surprised, then uncertain, and then scared once the real captain began walking over.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was rough like his face and the scowl across his brow did nothing to make either less severe.