Vane
"What do you mean, 'untie them'?!" Theresa demanded indignantly, stamping one booted foot on the tile floor in a manner most unbefitting the Head Enforcer of Magical Law. "Mother, these are dangerous criminals responsible for the near-total annihilation of Meribia!"
"The report we received stated that one man was responsible, and these three hardly share the aura of power our mages spoke of," the matronly voice of the Premier Millenia Ausa of the Magic Guild replied, calm and controlled but firm as a steel gauntlet sheathed in a velvet glove.
Theresa had bypassed the Guild's famous "Cave of Trials" with her spell, to Mark and Nick's mild disappointment, instead transporting them directly to the corresponding silver Magic Circle at the entrance to Upper Vane, and had briskly frog-marched the lot of them straight down the main street to the grand sprawling grounds of the Magic Guild Hall. The "Guild" was actually more like a school, complete with classrooms for teaching the basics of magic--and the occasional triple-reinforced empty room accessible only by teleportation, for lessons and experiments in the more advanced types of magic. Now they stood in the Great Hall of the labyrinthine complex, before a pair of throne-like gilded chairs padded with red velvet, one of which was occupied by the current matriarch of the Magic Guild.
Millenia was human, which hinted that Theresa's father had to have been the beast-man half of her parentage. Theresa had likely gotten most of her looks from her father, as well, save for a few subtle mannerisms and a general cast about the eyes; if not for those features, Mark might have almost thought Theresa adopted. Millenia Ausa was of middling age; the only markings of age on her face were the subtle lines of a stressful position of power, though interspersed with reassuring laugh-lines as well, making it difficult to feel intimidated by this woman. She was small, very nearly as small as her daughter, with white-gray hair that looked to have been the color she had borne all her life, since she didn't seem quite old enough for the white of age to be setting in. Unlike her child, Millenia Ausa dressed more conservatively mage-like, wearing flowing gold-trimmed maroon robes and keeping a long gilded mage's cane nestled in the crook of her arm and leaned against the arm of the chair.
In spite of her small stature and fragile-seeming build, the Premier spoke with an air of authority, her voice soft but her pronouncements unyielding, and her eyes bore a wise and knowing set, the look of years of experience running one of Lunar's three most powerful and influential societies.
"There's no way one man could have done all that, Mother," Theresa argued stubbornly, crossing her arms under her chest and tossing her long, luxurious violet hair. "That has to be an exaggeration. The man was probably either drunk or scared out of his wits." The Premier continued to favor her with a hard, unyielding stare, more that of a mother than a superior this time. Theresa shifted her weight subtly, fighting waves of guilt such a stare always produced in any child, and then finally sighed and swept out of the hall, her emerald mantle fluttering behind her. "Do whatever you want. I captured them for you anyway."
Millenia wearily lifted a hand to her temple, letting out a weary sigh--then her wise gray eyes left her errant child's retreating form and focused on the bound-handed trio behind her. "Please don't hold this against her. Theresa is...proud. She takes after her father in that. She knows the name 'Ausa' is a tall shadow to stand in, what with two heroines in the family, and she's eager to prove herself worthy of it." The woman lifted her empty hand, and with a subtle gesture she dissolved the loops of verdant light that Theresa had used to bind their wrists behind their backs--and Rose's wings to her body.
"That's funny," Rose began snidely, glancing toward the last flickers of green cape disappearing through the doorway. "I just thought she was kind of a bi--" Mark hastily shook his shoulder, on the pretense of shifting his weight, nearly dislodging Rose and forcing her to scramble for her perch. Before Mark could speak to cover the near-offensive comment, Iris beat him to it, taking up the role of spokesperson this time.
"She was only eager to prevent another massacre from taking place here," Iris said with a small nod and a smile, which was met by a wan but grateful smile from Millenia. "She's a brave young woman, if a little rash."
"...powerful, though," Nick murmured contemplatively, his own eyes still fixed on the door as he gingerly rubbed the scratches on the back of his hand. Something gave Mark the vague feeling that this was more than simple rivalry to one who had managed to defeat his recently acquired friend.
"I'm glad you understand," Millenia said with a soft smile that seemed to shave years off her apparent age, making her look almost a girl, herself. Then, however, the somber look returned, and with it the burden of years. "I'm certain you travelers would like to resume your journey, and you have every reason to want to leave as soon as possible after such a rude interruption...but..."
Mark spoke before Iris could refuse and insist they resume--though, oddly enough, she actually didn't seem upset in the least. "Is there something you need of us? We weren't able to do much for Meribia, when...the crisis hit, but we'll do what we can." He knew it was mostly his own guilt speaking, the need to make up for being so ignominiously swatted trying to save Meribia, but none of his companions seemed to object, not even Rose. They may have had their own various reasons--certainly Nick did, and Iris seemed to have some ulterior motive as well--but that was fair since he did as well.
Millenia's head shot up suddenly, as though she had never expected to actually hear those words. "Well," she said distractedly, looking like she was still trying to let those words filter through, "There is...one thing...."
Then, she seemed to collect herself, regaining her focus and her regal poise. "The reason you have not been forced to undergo the Cave of Trials, even after being identified as the warriors who tried to save Meribia instead of its destroyer, is because..." She hesitated, then glanced briefly toward the end of the hall, before speaking in a lower tone. "What I tell you now is in strictest confidence. If the populace were to learn of this it could very well begin a panic, but we have no one else to turn to and your actions have proven that you are not adverse to attempting heroics. For the past three weeks, there have been...disappearances, in the Cave of Trials. Of course, some of these are normal; the Cave is a confusing place, and the monsters there tend to discourage the more faint-hearted applicants, but for three weeks no one has emerged from the Cave of Trials.
"At first we suspected it to perhaps be a slow period; they have happened in the past. But we have sent three investigators into the Cave, mages who had passed through its hazards many times in succession. None of them have returned, either."
"So now you're desperate enough to ask complete strangers," Rose surmised bluntly. Mark hissed at her to be quiet and mind her manners, but Millenia only sighed with a weary nod.
"As a matter of fact, that's the truth. ...though you didn't hear it from me." She lifted her cane to drape lightly across her knees, looking down at it and running her fingertips over the gilded surface. "It's come to the point of near desperation; the point at which it would be my daughter's own duty as Head Enforcer to investigate personally. But she is also my only heir, and more important, my dear child. I do not wish to send her alone." She looked up at them, slowly meeting each of their eyes in turn. "So I would ask you to accompany her. Though I know you got off to a bad start, I feel that you are the only ones upon whom I can depend. You may have...failed to defeat him..." she murmured the last quietly, as though afraid of striking a sore point, and hastened to press on. "You were also the only ones to face the red-haired Destroyer's wrath and survive. That's why I feel you may be able to help her. I have no right to bid this of you, since you are not part of my Guild...so instead I implore you, brave warriors. Will you accompany her? If not for the Premier of the Magic Guild, then for the weakness of a helpless mother?"
Deeply moved, Mark could only nod, and even Rose kept her big mouth shut for once. Iris remained impassive as usual, which he was beginning to take for silent agreement, but it was Nick who finally spoke. "We'd be honored, Lady Premier. We'll do whatever we can to help her get to the bottom of these disappearances."
Millenia Ausa's shoulders sagged in undisguised relief, her head bowing with gratitude. "Thank you. Young people like you do an aging woman's heart good to meet. I would go with you myself, but my advisors would never allow the Premier to place herself in any sort of danger. Besides, I can't keep Teri under my wing forever. She has to spread wings of her own someday."
With those words, she bade them good day and gave them free roam of the city, in light of the fact that they would be investigating the Cave of Trials instead of passing it for permission to enter Vane.
Mark should have known Rose's silence was too good to be true; he was proven right once they arrived outside in the fresh light of day.
"You know, it's kind of funny how Iris' urgency to reach the Star Dragon Tower and the Blue Star waxes and wanes totally at random," she commented faux-conversationally, peering past the hair behind Mark's head at the woman in question. "One day we're expected to drop everything and make all haste to the Tower, and the next it's 'Oh, let's stop and get arrested just for the heck of it'. You knew somehow that that crazy stuck-up girl was going to try and bust us, didn't you? I don't know how, and I don't know why you got us into this, but I know you knew!"
Mark started to say something to shut his old friend up before the words could do more harm than could be readily repaired, but Iris' words took him aback. "I did," she said idly, almost distractedly, drawing stares from Mark, Nick and even Rose. She continued as though unaware of their eyes. "How and why aren't important. What's important is that there are certain people we must gather before we reach the Star Dragon Tower. Sometimes I can sense them sooner than others--I didn't sense Nick until I saw him, but I felt Theresa's presence leagues from Vane. There are only a select few, and we haven't the time to scour all of Lunar for them, but we must gather together as many as we can before going to the Blue Star."
Her three companions continued to stare at her, frozen in their tracks as she walked on down the street. They only resumed motion when she didn't stop even after rounding a bend, following a sign that proudly proclaimed "The Library of Vane" in bold calligraphic letters.
Mark and Nick exchanged glances briefly, and then nods. Mark turned to follow Iris, urging an unwilling Rose to flap to Nick's shoulder. She finally relented, upon the promise of all the fish she could eat at the next fishing village they passed, and the two veered off in the opposite direction toward the arms store.
Mark caught up with Iris just before the door to the library, and gently but firmly took hold of her wrist. "Wait," he said quietly, urgently. She stopped, turning to face him with uncharacteristic curiosity in her burning scarlet eyes. The hand whose wrist he didn't clasp lifted to run fingers through her long navy-blue hair, absently. For a moment, he found himself at a loss for what to say; he hadn't precisely thought this through. Releasing her wrist so she could turn to face him, he tucked his thumbs somewhat awkwardly into his sword-belt, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Um...can we talk?"
Iris looked as though she expected a trap to spring on her from above at any given moment, but after a glance to each of his shoulders, she warily nodded. Apparently Rose's suspicion made her more ill-at-ease than she generally let on. "Certainly. What is it, Mark?"
Instead of speaking, he lifted one of his hands to her upper-arm, guiding her past the Library and to a small, park-like patch of green beside the building, complete with a modest little stone bench and the shade of a tree's sprawling foliage.
Mark gestured for her to sit before dropping down, himself, a respectful distance away. He leaned forward, eyes on the stark demarcation where lush and bright grass gave way to thoroughly trodden paving stones, and planted his hands on his knees, even as he felt Iris' burning red gaze settle upon him curiously.
"Iris...you know I trust you, I'd trust you with my very life. And I already told you I'm not going to quit on you now, not even after Meribia." He waited for her to absorb that and then give a small sound of wary agreement before continuing. "But this isn't just about me anymore. It never was, really, what with Rose and all. But now it's involving new people, relative strangers. I think...I think we deserve to hear a little more about what's going on than you're telling us. We've already seen what these Sinistrals are capable of--I think before long everybody on Lunar will know about Meribia's fate--so we know that much of the danger involved. But it's not enough. If you want people to help you, to risk their lives for your goals, you're going to have to give us something to rely on. If people are going to pin everything on a hope, they have to know what that hope is."
For a long, long while, Iris merely sat and digested that. At least, he presumed she was digesting it; she was silent and staring at him contemplatively when he glanced up at her. Letting his gaze drop again, he slowly shook his head. He knew it had been a little harsh, but it had been true nonetheless. He didn't mind risking his own life grasping at a slender straw for some crazy quest, if it even meant a sliver of a chance to finally defeat Gades and his brethren; but now there was this brash warrior known throughout Meribia as the Eight-Stroke Sword, and soon the daughter of the Premier of Vane's Magic guild if Iris got her way. And he had seldom yet seen things go otherwise.
Finally, she spoke, and there was the strangest note of fragile vulnerability in her tone. Something so utterly alien in Iris he had to look sharply up to make sure she was still sitting next to him. "I know I'm asking a lot," she said, heart in her eyes and the even lines of her face softened by her uncharacteristic weakness. "I know I don't have any right to ask anyone to do this. But someone has to, and I can't do it alone..." She shook her head, sharply enough to dash aside moisture building up beneath her eyelids. "I promise, Mark. I promise I'll explain everything, just as soon as the time's right. We only need two more people and we'll have enough. Just four people..."
"Four? Don't you mean five?" he asked sharply, frowning. She hadn't struck him as the type to be that bad with numbers.
Tiny droplets of moisture still curled at the corners of her eyes, she shook her head. "No. I don't count, Mark. Mine isn't the right kind of power." Privately, he doubted that. He didn't think there was any enemy Iris couldn't stand up to, after all he had seen, even without her magic ring. But then, she hadn't been able to stop Gades--but he had fled without razing the city to the ground, hadn't he? He frowned, but said nothing to that, as she continued. "All we need is Theresa, and one more. Then I swear I'll tell you everything. About the Sinistrals, Dual Blade, what Dragonmasters and Althena have to do with them...everything."
Dual Blade and Dragonmasters again. Was this Dual Blade another fairy-tale he'd never heard of? He knew as well as anyone else the ancient histories, about the Magic Emperor and Zophar the Destroyer. But Hiro, legend though he had been, had still been only a man; and as old as the stories of the even more ancient Five Heroes were, he was sure "Dragonmaster" Alex had been as well. Just a man, a warrior like himself, if more powerful than most could possibly imagine. There were monsters and creatures the likes of which he had never seen, but to believe something as powerful as a Dragon, a creature one step below a God or Guardian existed...
But what about Sinistrals? They had sounded like the ravings of a madman when the doomsayer in Nells had spoken of them, but Mark had felt the incredible might of one first-hand. It was hard to be sure what was real and what was fairy-tale and moonshine anymore.
"Alright, Iris..." he said at last, with a weary sigh, and he impulsively reached over to close his fingers around one of her slender hands. "I told you I trust you, and I meant it. I'll back you to everyone else, too, until you fulfill your promise. I won't force anyone to risk their lives against a Sinistral, mind you, but I'll try to keep us all patient until you can talk."
The clasping of her hand had surprised her. He could tell that by the subtle flicker of it in her eyes, though she was always so good at concealing such things. Already, her face was beginning to resolve itself back into the hard mask of impassiveness once again, the droplets of moisture from the corners of her eyes gone as though they had never been. But she nodded when he spoke, a tiny half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. And then she surprised him, even more so than he had her: just before the last of that rare softness had fled her eyes and her visage, she darted in quick as a hummingbird--or Rose pouncing a choice catch of salmon--and he felt warmth against his mouth as she laid her lips against it.
It was a fleeting touch, over just as he realized what she had done, and he found himself blinking to find her gone from the bench and already walking toward the door of the library once again. The only thing she said, glancing over her shoulder with a similarly fleeting smile, was "Thank you, Mark." Then she was gone into the library doors.
Mark merely sat there for some time, assimilating what had just happened. The Blue Star was high in the sky and the sun just beginning to set, before he finally rose from the bench and began walking back toward the Guild Hall, where chambers had been generously prepared for them by express order of the Premier herself.
The next day, however, he almost forgot those strange events in the flurry of activity preparing for their mission. Iris certainly acted no different than she had since he'd met her, and everything seemed more or less back to normal.
Theresa was assuredly not happy about her choice of "lackeys", as she so succinctly put it. While she was still boldly convinced of her own superiority and ability to put them down if they caused any trouble, she also still wasn't convinced that Mark was not the "red-haired destroyer" of Meribia; by this point he suspected it was more stubbornness on her part than anything, though it was true she hadn't seen the power of a Sinistral in person...probably hadn't even seen Meribia with her own eyes yet.
Really, the only "preparation" left was a brief stint of re-equipment, returning their weapons and replacing mundane chainmail, shields and Nick's sword and breastplate and greaves with magical variants--all expenses paid by the Magic Guild, of course--enchanted for durability and minor protection from magic--or in the sword's case, a slightly keener edge than mere honing could produce. When that was done with, a heavy-shouldered Millenia herself led them to the western district of the Upper City, where the entryway (or, technically, the exit) of the Cave of Trials lay, with a haughty and almost sulking Theresa trailing behind.
The Cave itself was a labyrinth of caverns that twisted and wound their way through the plateau under the City itself. Normally the Magic Circle in the Lower City was used to transport first-time applicants to the Magic Guild or sometimes those accused of crimes to a matching Circle in the bottom. From there, they had to find their way through the mazelike complex to the exit into the city proper at the top, battling a specially selected assortment of beasts and monsters chosen specifically to test the skills of a budding mage. The same legend that stated the city once flew, also claimed that whole floors of the cavern had been lost, crushed like an inverted anthill when the city came crashing down to Lunar.
They were to run the gauntlet in reverse, starting at the Vane exit and working their way downward; the better to let Rose retreat and report if they found something important, in case magical escape was blocked. In case it wasn't blocked, they were also supplied with a Dragonfly Wing: a mystic artifact, a one-use charm in the semblance of a batlike wing that held the power to send a small group of people to the entrance of the Cave of Trials, provided they maintained physical contact as it was invoked. After an exaggerated motherly reminder for caution from the Premier, they began their descent.
They walked two-by-two as they stepped inside, Theresa and Nick taking point since she was supposedly "leader" of the expedition, and he had reiterated his role as Mark's "personal guard". Iris and Mark followed, Mark because Rose needed to be as close to the rear as possible in case of need to fly out, and Iris because it was the only logical position left. At least, that was Mark's reasoning. Each of the two women carried a glimmering ball of magically-spawned light hovering above one raised palm, providing light to walk by between the sporadically placed torches, but the men insisted on plucking torches of their own out of the first two wall-sconces they found. One never could be too careful; something was obviously able to dispatch powerful mages in these lower levels, and that meant something was neither afraid of nor, probably, very susceptible to magic.
The first and most conspicuous abnormality they picked up on was the fact that there were no monsters. Even when they went quite deliberately out of their way to make noise, in the hopes of drawing out whatever it might have been causing these disappearances, nothing drew near to investigate the sound. That in itself was odd, Theresa admitted, because normally the beasts were very sensitive to sounds and would charge aggressively at the faintest scraping of boots over stone.
In fact, there seemed to be little sign of habitation at all. Theresa told them that even apart from the monsters, there were always at least two or three applicants lost down in the Cave, sometimes having lived there for weeks on end without finding their way out. However, there was no hint that either monster or man had dwelt in this place in weeks. It was so quiet they could hear their breath rasping and the scuffling of their boots as they walked, tiny pebbles skittering with the motions on occasion.
"I don't like it," Rose grumped loudly, her shrill voice echoing off the high ceiling and the close walls. "Where is everybody? Or, er, everything?"
"That's what we're here to find out, Rose," Mark reminded in unnecessarily hushed tones. "Now keep quiet. We've already made enough noise; now we have to see if we can find whatever's causing all this--and hope we haven't already alerted it to our presence."
Rose lapsed into discontented mumbling after that, but at least she was quiet. There were a few points where the tunnel diverged, and Theresa was insistent on the party splitting up to cover both (or all, in the case of multiple forks) paths, but Iris would hear none of it and the agitated leader was forced to relent under the power of that scarlet glare.
It was several uneventful floors, descending rough-hewn steps two-by-two, before Theresa let out a shrill, startled yelp. At first, Mark was a little perplexed; all he saw within the globe of illumination cast about by her light spell and Nick's torch was a smear of dampness, possibly red. But apparently her mage light was for her companions' sake more than her own--perhaps having to do with her beast-race blood--for what she had seen was beyond the light, revealed before she could stumble to a halt.
Mark almost retched. Rose did, and a suddenly pale Theresa looked like she was about to. Iris seemed the only one unaffected, as even Nick seemed faintly green.
It was a body. Sort of. At the very least, it looked like it might once have been. It was impossible to tell who or what race, or even what gender the individual had once been. It was as though a great hammer, too large to even fit in the cavern--let alone be swung by human hands--had crushed the poor wretch against the wall, leaving only a vaguely human-shaped reddish mess. Iris was the only one who didn't avert her eyes, instead actually straying closer and frowning contemplatively.
"This is recent," she declared at last, with firm conviction. "Whoever is the cause of this was likely dealing with an escapee. Which means there are bound to be others still alive."
"Are we close to the bottom?" Mark asked Theresa, hoping to distract himself and Rose as much as her from the sight. "How many more floors?"
"This...This should be the bottom," Theresa answered, having only had to swallow hard twice before she could get the words out. "It should be somewhere near here."
"Sure you don't want to head back while we take care of this?" he pressed, frowning in concern. They were relative strangers, but Vane's Magic Guild needed its heiress and moreover, Millenia needed her daughter. Besides, with Iris and Nick along, he doubted very much that much of anything short of a Sinistral could stand up to their concerted might.
"Hmph. I'm not letting you dangerous criminals out of my sight," Theresa insisted stubbornly, trying almost desperately to reassert her authority. Well, if that was her way of dealing with it...
"Alright, but be careful. This could be the doing of Gades..."
Iris shook her head, though, looking over her shoulder at him. "If Gades were here, we would know. And besides, these caverns wouldn't have lasted two minutes in his presence. Presuming he could even fit into them." She shook her head, then, her hand moving to the hilt of her sword and checking that it was unobstructed. "No, we are dealing with a mere man or monster, albeit a powerful one."
Mark concealed a sigh of relief and he was sure Nick was doing the same. Men and monsters, they could dispatch. Perhaps they couldn't rely on magic, but...
"You have no idea what you're dealing with, girl." The masculine voice caused Rose, already woozy from her personal illness, to yelp and then topple off Mark's shoulder, though he managed to catch her in time to tuck her gently into a pocket of his pack. The four humanoids turned, hands moving to sword-hilts or preparing to unsheathe claws.
Before they could get a good look at the speaker, however, the silhouette at the fringe of their light-range made a sharp slashing gesture of one arm, and both light globes and torches were extinguished with a muffled "floof", plunging all into darkness. Then, the barely-distinguishable figure's arm shot upward, and somewhere above in the vaulted ceiling a tremendous globe of illumination burst into being, casting all in blinding illumination. The four shielded their eyes, even Iris setting aside dignity in the face of stabbing pain to the eyes, peering out after a moment to let their vision adjust.
"There, that's better. You can't make good sport if your hands are occupied helping you to see." The speaker seemed little more than a mere man...but even Mark could feel the waves of power emanating from him, a sheer overpowering energy that was at the same time new and yet somehow vaguely, tantalizingly familiar. He couldn't for the life of him imagine why; he had never seen this man before in his life.
The figure wore the robes of the Magic Guild, long and loose with sweeping white bell-like sleeves and a sleeveless green over-tunic, emblazoned in gold with the Guild's insignia. He was a rail-like man, scarcely seeming to possess the muscle to hold the sorcerer's cane in his right hand, and his teal blue hair was all parted slickly to one side, overly greased to the point that it shone like freshly painted metal.
"My name is Phane," he said, a supercilious sneer stamped onto his face, rapping the steel-tipped butt of his cane on the stone floor with a sharp tapping sound, "And I have waited a long time for this meeting. I see the Guildmistress didn't have the spine to come for herself, but perhaps when I have the mangled corpse of her heiress sent upstairs it will harden her backbone."
"Phane?!" Theresa stepped forward, claws abruptly forgotten, as her jaw dropped and her eyes went round. "Phane, what are you doing here? This is no time for games, you're going to get yourself killed! There's a monster down h--"
She didn't get to finish. The moment Mark saw Phane's outstretched palm, smoking slightly after a discharge of blinding light, he feared the worse. But then he realized the cry he had just heard had been male, not female. It hadn't been his own voice, surely, and he had heard a faint clatter of metal accompanying it.
Glancing from the corner of his eye, he saw Nick standing with a hand clasped to the shoulder of his shield-arm, from which smoke also wafted. At his feet, still glowing red with heat, was a shoulder-guard from his breastplate, and beyond him on the stone ground was Theresa, looking between the two plumes of smoke at opposing ends of the chamber with wide green-flecked violet eyes.
"That's dirty pool, mage," Nick grunted, massaging his lightly scorched shoulder and then flexing the arm, ascertaining that it still worked properly even as Theresa pushed herself to her feet. Iris' sword and shield were already drawn, her pack having somehow found its way to the ground against a wall during the exchange, and Mark gently lowered his to rest next to it before drawing his own sword and shield. While they stepped before him, Nick edged back to help the Chief Enforcer gingerly to her feet, and within moments he was lined up next to his comrades with sword and shield ready.
Theresa hesitated, peering at the man she seemed so familiar with...then her visage hardened, and with triplicate hisses her claws darted from their housing once more. She took her place next to the three warriors, eyes narrowed. She wasn't quite done talking, though.
"Phane...don't tell me you did this." The long steely claws extending from the back of one wrist leveled themselves in the direction of the body, trembling only slightly.
"I'm afraid poor Nile became a little...distraught...when I 'invited' him to be my assistant for a brief magic experiment. All his running and screaming ruined my concentration and besides, I'm afraid as wondrous as they are, these new powers are dreadfully hard to control."
"New powers?" This time it was Iris who asked, suspicious, and for once the heiress of the Magic Guild nodded in echo to the question in spite of this usurping of her authority.
"My new Lords have bestowed their bountiful powers on their humble servant, a man who was once the laughingstock of the Magic Guild!" Phane laughed, spreading his arms wide in an all-encompassing gesture. "Well, Teri, you'll be happy to know I haven't fizzled a single spell sense! ...though they do tend to get a bit beyond my control from time to time." Phane's shoulders lifted only half an inch and fell, in a profound show of indifference. "But you know what they say about omelettes and eggs. All the applicants to the Cave of Trials, and even the investigators themselves, have gladly been helping me to practice!" Then his wild eyes and joker's grin took on a faintly manic gleam. "And now it's your turn to help me practice, Teri. Isn't that wonderful?"
Theresa's eyes were still wide--but this time she dove aside when the bolt came careening at her, allowing it to crash into the stone wall at the opposite end of the cavern and shower stone chunks and dust in all directions. Rolling to a stop crouched on one knee, she narrowed her eyes and even let out a decidedly inhuman growl, claws scraping against the stone floor like a bull preparing to charge.
"Whoever this is," she said with deceptive evenness, her eyes remaining forward though her words were directed at her three reluctant comrades, "it isn't Phane. Kill 'im!"
The others needed no further command, and they decided to let the fact that it was a command pass; officially speaking she was in charge of this investigation. When the wild-eyed mage's next attack--a shower-like scattering of curving cord-like light beams--cascaded harmlessly off a dome-like wall of scarlet radiance around him, Mark permitted himself a hint of a smirk. Sorcerer he may be, but if his magic couldn't penetrate Iris' defenses, he was helpless against good old-fashioned steel. With three swordsmen charging him and a crackling bolt of fire careening in from a forty-five degree angle above, this would be over quickly.
Which was why Mark was so surprised when his downward slash was met with a clash of steel. From the sound of things, Nick and even Iris had been similarly deterred, and all three backed a short distance away as a brief white flash and a hissing of extinguished fire indicated the Flame Bomb had failed as well.
"You see? The New Ones protect their Chosen!" Phane cackled, already dancing further back as his three guardians lined up before him. They were vaguely manlike in general physique, though their skin was scaly and green totally hairless. They bore rudimentary armor, single-edged curved slashing swords in their right hands and small round shields on their left arms, and from their postures they were not unfamiliar with the use of these arms.
"New Ones?" Mark knew he had heard that somewhere before. Then it hit him, and his green eyes went round. "Sinistrals?! You're serving Sinistrals?!"
"So you have heard of them." Phane beamed the smile of the deluded as he affectionately stroked the polished knob at the head of his sorcerer's cane. "Then you should know there's no point in fighting this battle. All you have to do is lay down your weapons and line up as I tell you to, and I promise the experiments will go much more cleanly than for Nile.
"Nile..." Theresa whispered, gaze straying to the corner of her eye toward the mangled former body, then jerking violently forward again.
"I've got a better idea," Nick stated boldly, propping his sword lightly against his shoulder as he strode forward, then swiping it in a wide arc through the air. "Maybe if you banish your three flunkies and throw down your cane, we'll take you in peaceably. Much as I love a good fight, this dank place is hardly the atmosphere for a true battle."
"To be honest, I really liked mine better," Phane answered conversationally, offering a little shrug. "Though, frankly, I find melee combat to be vulgar and obscene anyway. I'll just let my three large friends take care of you. Dead bodies work just as well for target practice as live ones."
With those words, the mage called Phane stepped back through a door at the far side of the cavern, any attempts to pursue him blocked off by the three sword-bearing reptile men.
"Followers," Iris hissed with contempt as she stepped forward, pointing one sword directly at the creatures with an icy glare. Inexplicably they seemed almost afraid, backing away and reluctantly parting as she passed between them. When Mark and the other two tried to follow, however, they blocked the path once again, imperturbable, and even began to advance.
"Take care of these three!" Iris called as she raced through the door after Phane, "I'll take care of him!"
The remaining comrades eyed each other briefly, then reluctantly nodded and paired off, one to a Follower.
Eager as he was to see Theresa in action now that she wasn't part of the opposition, Mark had to focus entirely on his own battle. The lizard-like Follower was no amateur, he could tell from its stance alone. He was in for a real battle, but at least now he knew that Althena's Sword alone didn't make him invincible or unbeatable. It was little reassurance, but it was better than pinning false hopes on a single sword.
One thing he realized immediately was that in spite of its obvious combat expertise...the Follower was aggressive. It attacked first, its curved sword flashing out like silver lightning, and Mark barely angled his shield in time to deflect the blow. Aggressive and fast: a dangerous combination. But aggressiveness was as much a weakness as an advantage. The next swing, Mark was prepared for, ducking aside instead of blocking. Since the beast put so much might behind its rapid swings, it also put a lot of balance into them, leaving itself wide open if they weren't simply blocked. Mark's horizontal slash missed the chink in the armor at the exposed side he was aiming for, rebounding off steel breastplate instead of sinking between ribs, but it threw the humanoid monster's equilibrium even further off.
The Follower wasn't finished, though. With dexterity surprising for a man-monster of its bulk, it actually whirled on the ball of one foot as it hopped for balance, curved sword flashing out. It caught Mark unawares, but thankfully it only rebounded off the chainmail sleeve at his upper-arm, the magically-durable metal keeping Mark whole...but failing to absorb the actual impact from the swing. The full force of the monster's brute strength had been thrown behind that slash, and Mark went tumbling away, nearly losing his grip on Althena's Sword.
The Follower reached him before he could rise to his feet, and its sword flashed down in a fierce arc. He barely rolled aside in time for the sword to catch stone cavern floor instead of his head, and the second roll away was closer still. By this time, though, he had recovered his leverage, and in the midst of a third roll he twisted his body on the floor, one leg snaking in front of monster's knee and the other behind its ankle. With a scissor-like motion, he sent it toppling backward, and he shoved himself up to sit and deliver a downward chop of his own blade.
It wasn't fast enough; Althena's Sword rebounded off a hastily raised round shield, throwing up sparks and badly denting the shield but leaving the blade itself unblemished. Before the beast could make a countering swing, Mark hastily pinned its sword-arm to the ground with his shield, responding to the Follower's angered hiss by clouting it across the jaw with the dragon-head pommel of Althena's Sword.
Suddenly, with strength he hadn't anticipated, the monster lifted its own shield to strike the junction of his sword-arm's elbow, carelessly left in the open once he had pinned the sword. He saw it coming too late to do anything other than curse his own lack of foresight, even as he bit back a scream when he heard a crack upon the impact. His arm flew wide with the blow, and numb fingers lost their grip on the divine sword, sending it clattering across the stones out of reach. With his shield arm still pinning the more deadly sword, and his other arm numb from the elbow down, he was helpless as the lizard-monster continued to batter him with its shield. His only relief at the moment was that the shield's edges were too dull to actually cut, though that was precious little consolation.
He had to get his sword back if he was going to end this, but he couldn't dare release his shield, and if he stretched out to try using his bad arm to get it his side would be left wide open for shield bashing. Still, he had to end this somehow. So, taking in a deep preparatory breath as best he could under the mindless hammering of the shield, he lunged, stretching his body out as best he could to reach for the lost sword. He fought the urge to flinch as the shield hammered into his ribcage, sure that something would be at least cracked by the time this was over. At first, he felt his heart sink, as his numbly probing fingers brushed the hilt only to send it a fraction of a spin out of his reach. But then, distantly as though the limb were not truly connected to him, he felt and saw his fingers close around one of the crossbars.
It was like a lifeline, giving him strength he hadn't known he'd had, and with a tug the grip practically leaped into his hand. The Follower saw its doom coming too late, shield already on an irreversible course toward Mark's ribs...and the Sword of Althena's blade cleaved the top of its skull neatly in twain, staining the cavern floor with things Mark didn't want to think about at the moment. Slumping with relief as the assault finally stopped, he shoved the corpse violently away with his boots, too weary to even wonder how his two comrades were doing except in the most academic sense...
He was, however, aware of the cessation of the sounds of combat some time later, though how much time had passed was beyond his senses at the moment. When he heard the others half-walk, half-drag their way over to where he lay, and then saw them hover into his field of vision, it came as an odd sort of relief--if only a small one--to see that they hadn't had an easy time for that either. He berated himself for the thought immediately, but he couldn't really deny it; at least he wasn't the only one who had had a difficult time fighting just one of those things. He was, though, naturally glad to see them alive and more or less well, and he heaved a sigh of relief.
"Everybody okay?" he panted, glancing from face to face. Nick seemed a little battered, with a tiny nick at his chin and a bruise discoloring his brow, but otherwise well. Theresa, herself, bore a tiny cut at her brow and a somewhat more prominent gash crossing her cheek, making a sort of crooked X as it crossed the natural stripe already there, and her hair as slightly mussed, but she too seemed intact. Small, relieved smiles crossed both their faces as he spoke, and each nodded as they went to take one of his elbows and help him up. Unfortunately, Theresa got hold of the bad one, and instantly jerked away as though burned when he let out a hiss of pain.
"Rose!" Nick called immediately. He needn't have bothered; the winged green feline was already halfway to them when he did. She flapped down to a small rock formation at approximately head height with their three sitting figures, and began to hum, suffusing all three of their bodies in her verdant healing glow.
There was only so much even Rose could do normally, but she was well rested and well fed at the moment, and it took only seconds for the three to be restored to full capacity, all of them slowly rising to her feet as Mark uttered their thanks for them. Then they all turned to face the distant doorway, exchanged glances again, and then nodded to each other and moved toward it. Iris had taken far too long.
When they found her, she was in the process of removing various bonds from the people still alive in the chamber Phane had obviously staked for his own, cutting ropes and collar-chains with her sword, hacking padlocks off of cages and removing magical bindings with brief incantations. There was no sign of the sorcerous Sinistral agent, not a promising sign.
"Where's Phane?" Theresa was the first to demand, while Nick and Mark proceeded ahead of Iris to the non-magical forms of binding. Most of the released captives offered only a perfunctory thanks before bolting for the door like affrighted rabbits, though a few remained huddled in an increasingly growing group toward the center of the room.
"He cast an escaping spell before I could finish him," Iris answered distractedly, her fingers hovering inches from a tether of pure white light around a young woman's ankle, which dissolved the seconds after Iris resumed her chant. The warrior-woman rose to her feet as the prisoner fled, turning to face the others and slowly shaking her head. "Not that I was able to do much. Even I can't break a barrier spell granted by Daos."
"Daos?" This time it was Nick, through gritted teeth as he levered apart the bars of an apparently doorless cage with his sword and sheer brute strength.
"Sinistral of Terror," Iris clarified, already moving on to another magical binding. "He leads the Sinistrals. Most of this 'Phane's' new powers were granted by him. We'll need something that can break that magic barrier before we can hope to fight him on even terms."
"The important thing is he's gone now," Theresa admitted reluctantly, her claws parting the last rope tether as she turned to face the other three. "Though we'll probably have to leave the Cave of Trials closed indefinitely in the meantime. Mother won't be happy, but we must do what we must do." Then she hesitated, and almost seemed to force the rest out. "I'd like to...thank you, for your help. For such suspicious people you're surprisingly dependable. I may have been...hasty when I accused you of devastating Meribia."
The silence that followed was only broken by the shuffling of the prisoners still remaining, and by Iris urgently ushering them out now that the Cave of Trials was safe to pass. Finally it was Mark, himself, who strode toward Theresa, sheathing his sword and offering his hand.
"We were glad to help. And just as glad to prove our good intentions to you. We're after the same man you are, Lady Ausa, so we shouldn't be working against each other." For a long moment, Theresa only stared at his hand warily, as though suspecting a viper to slither out of his sleeve. Then, at last, she accepted the grip, clasping hands firmly and nodding.
The gesture was repeated in kind with each of the other two, and even Rose got a scratch behind the ear, before she settled pleasantly back onto Mark's shoulder.
"Come," Theresa said, her tone less imperious when she spoke this time. "Let's go make our report to Mother." There was no argument from any corner.