Chapter 19
Topaz, Saffa, Ametha, and Emi crept into the guild. It seemed dark and empty. The torches had long-ago burned out and the chain lanterns on the ceiling flickered violently, giving off a fluorescent buzz. Emi and Topaz circulated the room lighting the torches as Saffa sprinted for Embrea's old quarters. When he saw the girl, lying serenely asleep in the bed, he smiled with relief, but his smile did not last long. The girl, though sound and healthy, was sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning and occasionally muttering disjointed phrases in her sleep. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and through her stringy, muddy brown hair.
Emi passed by the room and snorted. "Give it up, Saffa. You're too young for that."
Saffa waved his hand frantically, pulling them in. "Guys - listen, she's talking in her sleep." The girl's head tossed and her eyelids flickered.
"Dungeon. Battle. Midnight," she mumbled. "Green… blue… light… dark… brothers and sisters."
"What do you think she means?" Emi asked.
"Green and blue… maybe she means us," Saffa whispered incredulously. "Maybe we have to strike the killing blow."
"What I definitely understood is that we have to find Cthulhu at the dungeon at midnight," Emi responded. "Let me try something." She knelt to the girl's ear and whispered, "When must we battle?"
"Midnight… tonight," came the whispered reply. Emi pulled her watch from her pocket and examined it. It read 4:00 P.M.
They had eight hours to go.
Meanwhile...
Calythé sat in front of the campfire, scrying. "I've determined when the battle will be," she said as the pillar of smoke circulated between several different colors. "We must meet Cthulhu and the emerald and sapphire at the dungeon at midnight tonight."
"Bring it," Ramisse snarled as she slid the Blade of Terra into her hip sheath. "It's time for me to try out my shiny new toy."
"Just a second, Ramisse," Calythé said. "We'll need some proper wings. The ones we have are pretty good, but we'll need the world's best wings in order to do this."
"Easy," Ramisse replied. "I've got some wings laid away from the last pumpkin moon, and so does Monavelle."
"Then that just leaves me," Calythé murmured, pressing her fingers to her temples. With a pop, a pair of steampunk wings materialized in front of her. Ramisse picked them up, then compared them to her own.
"These have the same flight time as mine," she pronounced. "Dibs. You can have mine."
"Deal. I like yours better anyways," Calythé agreed with relief as she strapped on the wings. They were made of gnarled black wood and pale membranes. Monavelle's were dark, twisted fairy wings. Ramisse slipped the wings over her shoulders and flexed them. Puffs of steam emitted from the tubes on the leading edge of the wings.
"Let's go kill a god," she snarled, grasping the hilt of her sword in one hand and the end of her spear in the other. "I'll give him a taste of Terra."