Chapter 14

 

The Crystal Orb

 

Because Jeanne De Laney had managed to absorb more of Giltherion’s spellbook during the previous voyage, she now knew simple weather control spells. With a few well-placed incantations she changed wind-directions and nudged dangerous squalls out of the way, aiding their journey without causing Bobby too much distress. The ancient brig’s progress surprised her sailors, but certainly didn’t displease them.

Jeanne also used her burgeoning power to keep the ship hidden from prowling pirates and coast-guards. The sooner they got to India the better. During her free time she practised spells until her voice croaked and fingers cramped.

Bobby kept himself in shape by working on deck and practising swordplay with a borrowed blade. During his leisure hours he made friends and tried to glean information about Raven. One seasoned sailor suggested they try Lord Henry Lovat - Bombay’s governor. Another tar who knew Algiers’ every sordid nook and cranny, showed Bobby where he could purchase some high-quality stolen weapons.

With her spells Jeanne shaved half a month off the journey, and they reached Bombay in early May. When they alighted the brig’s grizzled captain wished them well, telling them they had brought his vessel good luck.

First, Bobby and Jeanne put their belongings into storage, then Jeanne cast Comprehend Languages over herself. Two hours later, after a hair-raising rickshaw ride through the bustling heart of Bombay, they arrived at the high iron gates of Lord Lovat’s mansion. As they approached the British halberdiers, the soldiers crossed their weapons with a meaningful clack.

“What is your business here?” one demanded.

More familiar with protocol, Jeanne stepped forward. “We have some very important matters to discuss with his Lordship, the Governor Henry Lovat. Could you please let him know that Robert Frazer and Lady Jeannette De Laney are here?”

The soldiers exchanged glances, their open-faced helmets enabling Bobby and Jeanne to see their amusement. “What kind of nobles ride in rickshaws?” the first guard inquired.

“Since we only arrived in Bombay this morning, we didn’t have time to hire a carriage. Now, if you would please let us-”

The gruff soldier lifted a gauntleted hand. “His Lordship has no time for tourists! Be off with you!” He made a shooing motion.

Bobby opened his mouth to retort, but Jeanne grabbed him by an arm and hurried him off. “Don’t make this any worse!” she hissed. “I have an idea.”

“Perhaps we should have found a hotel and freshened up a little first!” Bobby muttered as Jeanne dragged him around a bend in the road, out of the halberdiers’ sight.

“You’re right about that!” Jeanne pulled her fingers through her tangled, sand-coloured hair. “We are a bit on the scruffy side.”

“So what’s your great idea?”

“I’m going to charm the guards into letting us pass.” Jeanne lifted her hands.

“Don’t they have to see you?”

“I can cast most of the spell here. They only need to see me when I announce the release word.” Without pausing, she began the incantation. Bobby shifted nervously from one foot to another. From what Jeanne had told him, most experienced people possessed spell immunity or an item of protection. If her charm failed they would be in deep trouble.

Clutching the spell’s whipping tail, Jeanne walked stiffly back towards Lord Lovat’s castle. Bobby followed. As soon as the young mage had both soldiers in her sight, she lifted a hand and freed the snarling incantation. Attuned to her own power, she watched the ghostly tendrils of controlled mana streak towards their targets and envelope them. But whether they had the desired effect, she would now have to find out.

“Here goes,” she muttered, striding towards the mansion gates. This time the guards didn’t cross their weapons.

“Back again?” the first guard asked, his voice neutral.

“Please - it’s imperative we see Lord Lovat right away!” Jeanne clasped her slender hands together. “In fact, it’s a matter of life and death!”

The soldier’s weather-beaten face broke into a wide smile. “Of course my dear!” He turned to his friend. “We can let these two in, can’t we?”

“If it’s a matter of life and death, most certainly!” the other warrior agreed. As they pulled the gates open a dhoti-clad Indian hurried over.

“Amrish - Robert Frazer and Lady Jeannette De Laney have urgent business to discuss with the Governor! See they are escorted to him immediately!”

Once inside the gates, Jeanne turned to Bobby, remembering an American custom. “I think some high fives are in order!”

Bobby slapped her outstretched palm. “All right - it worked! But what about when the charm wears off?”

Jeanne smiled. “They’ll never realise they were victims,” she declared with conviction.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Come on Bobby - guards aren’t known for their intellectual capacity. They might wonder why they were so nice to us, that’s all.”

Amrish escorted them to the mansion’s front doors, where another servant took them through opulent halls to an indoor garden. A tall man clad in grubby overalls worked in the exotic foliage, cloth gloves protecting his hands. He straightened as his servant charged in. As soon as he noticed Bobby and Jeanne, his jaw dropped.

“Wait a minute... no, you can’t be!”

“We’re Robert Frazer and Lady Jeannette De Laney,” Bobby explained quickly. Lord Lovat peeled off his gloves and approached.

“Yes - that much I gathered from Chiranjiv.” He stopped in front of them. “But my God - you look so much like Raven and his squire!”

“We’re relations. I’m Raven’s twin brother, and Jeanne is Nat’s sister.” Jeanne nodded in agreement.

“Of course.” Lovat looked down at his filthy smock. “Excuse me for a few minutes, but I must get out of these gardening overalls ere I can meet with you properly.” He turned to the servant still hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “Chiranjiv - please escort Mr Frazer and Lady Jeanne to my study, and see they are given refreshments,” he ordered in Hindi.

He bowed. “Atcha, Sahib. Please follow?”

He took Bobby and Jeanne through more trophy-filled halls into Lovat’s study. Then he departed to fetch the food and drink. “So far so good,” Jeanne whispered and patted Bobby on a knee.

Lord Henry Lovat soon reappeared clad in clean shirt and trousers, his long brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. “I am sorry for the delay. Had I known visitors were coming, I would have made myself more presentable.”

You look fine to me, Jeanne thought, and reddened. “We only arrived this morning,” she apologised.

Lovat folded himself into a large chair. “To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure why you are here. Chiranjiv’s message was very garbled. It must be something urgent, otherwise my guards wouldn’t have let you pass.”

Jeanne’s blush deepened. “Well yes - it is important. We need to find Raven, and quickly. Something we thought he laid to rest two years ago has returned from the grave,” she finished tactfully.

Lord Lovat frowned, lacing his fingers together under his chin. “I’m afeard Raven and his party left Bombay a couple of weeks ago. By now they would be over one hundred leagues away.”

“That’s three hundred miles,” Bobby muttered. “But at least it’s not across the ocean!”

“Will you tell us about Raven’s mission?” Jeanne asked. “All we know is that he came here on Her Majesty’s orders.”

Lovat continued to frown. “I have been ordered to tell no-one about the nature of his mission.”

“But I’m his brother! And Jeanne is his friend. Surely you can tell us?”

Lovat shook his head. “Nay - I swore an oath on my Queen and Country.”

Bobby heaved a frustrated sigh.

Jeanne took a deep breath. “Lord Lovat-”

“Please - call me Henry.”

“Very well - Henry. Do you know of a wizard named Stormwalker?” It was a rhetorical question. Unless Lord Lovat had been living in a Himalayan monastery for the past sixteen years, he would have heard of the diabolical mage.

“Stormwalker? Of course! Raven slew him in America.”

Jeanne lowered her eyes into shadow. “How Raven thought he slew him. We don’t know how, but Stormwalker is alive.”

Lord Lovat’s handsome face paled as he lifted trembling fingers to his lips. “Nay - surely you jest.”

“No - we’ve been tracking him for months. That’s why we need to find Raven. He’s the only one with the power to stop him.”

“You don’t know how many nights I lay awake during the monsoon season, watching the lightning and wondering when he would come for me. When I received the news he was dead, I rejoiced.” Lovat’s voice lifted in volume. “And now you’re telling me he still lives?”

“Afraid so,” Bobby answered. “We first spotted him in America. Then in London, we stumbled across one of his hideouts, abandoned but containing the remains of two chained victims.” Covered with hungry rats, gnawing through their rotting faces and bellies... Angrily, he forced the horrific memory down.

Lovat buried his face in his hands, and Jeanne felt guilt stab at her soul. My father felt as Henry does now, she thought. And the poor man died in agony...

“Do you have any solid proof of this?” Lovat asked through his fingers.

Bobby and Jeanne exchanged glances. “All I can suggest is that you contact the Queen. She will tell you everything you want to know.” If only she’d given us a royal seal or something, Jeanne thought.

Lovat took a deep breath and looked up, dark eyes haunted. He believed them, probably assuming that no-one would dare play such a cruel joke. “Raven and his party are on the trail of the Thuggee,” he croaked. “They are fanatical worshippers of the goddess Kali. They sacrifice victims to her by strangulation and mutilation. In recent months they have become dangerously powerful, causing much strife on country roads. Indians and foreigners alike are afeard to travel, even in caravans. Why, only a few weeks ago one was reported in Bombay! He slew twenty-one then fled, but not before he tried to burn the entire city down.” He took another deep breath. “The Queen ordered Raven and his men to find whoever is controlling these cultists and destroy them.”

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Bobby murmured.

Lovat nodded. “How many people did Stormwalker kill? A few thousand? Since the thirteenth century, over a million have succumbed to the bloodstained rumals of the Thuggee Cult. Until the Thuggee are suppressed, the Queen will have to hire someone else to track down Stormwalker.”

“That’s what she said.” Jeanne fingered her Pegasus amulet. “But we felt that Raven simply had to know. So - can you tell us where he is right now?”

“Hopefully a guest of Prince Bahadur Holkar in Indore, a hundred leagues northeast of here.”

Again Jeanne wished for a crystal ball. She could use it to locate the city, then teleport Bobby and herself there in the blinking of an eye. Maybe Lovat knew a mage. “Do you know how we can get there really quickly?”

Lovat gave a wan smile. “All I can offer you are fast horses.” He lowered his voice, as though afraid of eavesdroppers. “I did have a mage working for me, but no longer. That’s why news of Stormwalker’s return worries me. In the past I had a chance of surviving his cold-blooded scrutiny.”

Bobby sighed again. “Then, if you don’t mind, we’ll take the horses.”

“Of course. If you can aid Raven and his party stop the Thuggee, we would be most grateful. Locals are still living in fear after that Thug’s senseless spree. Not only did he slay hapless pavement dwellers, but respectable people in their homes.”

“Did you get a description of him?” Jeanne asked. If she knew what he looked like, she could cast a “Location” spell and track him down.

“Not a very good one. But all the reports agree that the killer was a mage. He wore black leather and a long bandana that trailed after him as he leapt over impossibly high walls. And he carried a sword with a skull on its hilt.”

Jeanne toyed with her amulet again, “A murdering Magick-user in black leather, wearing a bandana and carrying a skull-sword?” A horrible suspicion snaked into her mind. “C-could his bandanna have been a long braid?”

“Mayhap. Why?”

“Stormwalker wears black, has a plait and carries a skull-sword.”

“What?” Lord Lovat and Bobby exclaimed.

“Stormwalker is also a ruthless murderer like the Thuggee! He could have killed those twenty-one people just as easily!”

Lovat clapped hands to his pale cheeks. “Nay - he could not have been here! He would have sought me out and slew me during a freak storm in March!”

“Maybe he had more important things to do,” Jeanne answered dryly. “Look - we can prove Stormwalker was here if we find his hideout.”

“How?”

Jeanne patted Bobby on a shoulder and lowered her voice. “Robert is something of a wizard. He found Stormwalker’s house in London using a ‘Detect Magick’ spell.”

Bobby nodded, feigning modesty.

Lovat massaged his forehead. Things were obviously getting on top of him. “Better to explore every avenue. Very well - I authorise you to search the city. Try the north-eastern quarter, where the poorer people live. The fire started there.”

Jeanne smiled. “Thank you so very much for your help, Lord - Henry.” She rose to her feet.

A servant escorted them to the gates. The guards stared suspiciously at them as they walked through. Jeanne’s charm must have worn off.

“I’m not sure he believed everything we said,” Jeanne mused as they headed along Bal Gangadhar road, hot early afternoon sunlight beating down on their unprotected heads.

“I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t have!”

“But he has to be sure, which is why he’s letting us look for Stormwalker’s hideout. But even with spells, it’ll be an uphill journey. Let’s find somewhere to stay first, all right?”

“Fine with me.”

Deciding to treat themselves they purchased rooms in the illustrious Taj Mahal Hotel, located near the Gateway of India. Jeanne decided to fly out after dark, under the cover of invisibility. Bobby protested.

“It’s all right,” she assured Bobby. “I’m a big wizard now. I know my limitations. I’ll be back in under an hour.”

He took the slender woman into his arms and drew her close. “It’s hard for me to accept all these new spells of yours. A few months ago you couldn’t fly or become invisible.”

“I’ve had lots practise since.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “I only have forty pages of Giltherion’s grimoire left.”

“Really?”

“But they’ll be the hardest!” She kissed Bobby’s lips and he responded, savouring her sweet flavour.

A few minutes later, she disentangled herself. “Now I really must be off.”

“Of course. Be careful.”

Jeanne cast the appropriate spells. Bobby marvelled at the experienced fluidity of her words and movements. He might not be a mage, but he could tell that she had improved since the crossover. The past few months had demanded urgent practise.

As soon as her body faded like an apparition, and her feet bounced on air with delightful buoyancy, Jeanne walked towards the open balcony doors.

“Goodbye my love,” Bobby called, suddenly envious of her power. While he waited, he decided to practise with his sword. I might as well try to be the best warrior I can.

Jeanne jumped into the air, lifted by sheer force of will. A balmy breeze tangled her hair as she flew from the balcony and over the sparkling city below. Still a novice to the joys of flight, she allowed the unrolling beauty to carry her away until she reached the tightly-packed north-eastern quarter. Smoke wafted from numerous chimneys, stinging her eyes. Exotic smells drifted with it; roasting meals, incense and perfume masking the stink of human habitation.

Slowing her pace, Jeanne cast ‘Detect Magick’, then flattened her arms against her sides and dived. Her path carried her down into narrow, labyrinthine alleys separating piles of rubble and burnt out husks from intact buildings; flat-roofed and whitewashed. Lights burned in glassless windows as Bombay’s homeless took advantage of blackened walls and crumbling roofs. Monsoon season was approaching, and they had no wish to be caught outside in the torrential rains. Jeanne detected the bright, controlled tendrils of mana inside temples as priests created blessings, and the unwavering glow of their enchanted items. They possessed many charms and amulets, strong believers in the power of idols and talismans.

Unfortunately, Jeanne couldn’t find any auras of Not-Here. After an hour she’d only covered a small section of the burnt quarter, and weariness ordered her to return to the hotel before she lost control. Running three spells had taken a lot out of her.

 

They rose early the next morning and ate a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s opulent dining room. Before starting out they purchased comfortable travelling clothes. Bobby decided he would look good in a white kurta, pyjamas and turban, and Jeanne bought a colourful sari and matching scarf, more attractive and comfortable than unflattering English gear. Some bracelets and chains completed her outfit. “But I draw the line at nose-studs!”

Bobby laughed as they started out, their loose clothing billowing in the cool morning breeze. “I wonder how Raven is faring?”

Jeanne grinned. “Probably sweating buckets! He wouldn’t take off his armour if it was on fire!”

“So where shall we start?”

“Follow me.” Using Comprehend Languages, which lasted several hours before it needed to be recast, Jeanne called over a pair of rickshaw wallahs.

They began where Jeanne had finished the previous night. The young mage used Detect Magick to strafe all the buildings they passed. Their good spirits flagged as the hours passed, and the heat and crowds increased. Their systematic searching revealed nothing out of the ordinary. At twelve they purchased two mutton vindaloos from a street vendor.

Bobby used to worry about catching something from impure Magick Earth food. Here, refrigeration and preservatives didn’t exist. But he’d never suffered any more than cramps, and supposed his stomach had hardened. Besides, after almost five months of disgusting ship food, spicy Indian fare was probably laden with wholesome goodness. “Delicious,” he declared as he finished his meal and licked his fingers. “Christ my feet are sore!”

“Indians usually rest after lunch. Let’s do the same,” Jeanne suggested.

They found a cool spot under an awning and joined a couple of slumbering workers. After an hour, they felt refreshed enough to resume.

Their exploration continued well into the afternoon. At around five when exhaustion threatened to overcome her, Jeanne finally spotted a glint out of the corner of one eye. She spun around, noticing a soft, but suspicious aura emanating from a pile of charred rubble. Tugging on Bobby’s loose sleeve, she pointed, “Over there!”

“Where? I don’t see anything!”

“Not-Here - of course,” Jeanne sank down on a convenient step. “I think we’ve found it.”

Bobby joined her, squinting at the area Jeanne had pointed out. He could see nothing out of the ordinary - just rubbish. He rubbed his eyes as though that would help.

“Give me a few minutes. I need to gather some strength if I want to disperse the spell.”

“Do you want to come back tomorrow?”

“No - we don’t want to waste any more time.” A few minutes later she climbed to her feet and approached the mess. Using Bobby as shelter from the crowds, she cast the more powerful version of Dispel-Magick.

It revealed a steep, stone staircase leading down. A rank odour of decay mixed with burnt wood wafted from it. A sleek rat darted from the lowest step into the darkness of an open doorway.

“I don’t think we should go down there,” Bobby murmured.

“But we must be sure.”

“What about the rotting corpses?”

Jeanne toyed with her Pegasus amulet, wondering what to do. She couldn’t face more dead bodies crawling with rodents, so she cast Locate-Object and focused it on corpses. The spell didn’t give her distinct pictures, only knowledge of where the nearest bodies lay.

“They’re in the second of two rooms. If you can brace yourself against the smell, we’ll only have to search the first chamber.”

Bobby gulped, forcing himself to be strong. “Er - okay.”

Cautiously they descended into the cool, clammy cellar. As Bobby pushed the old wooden door inwards its mournful creak startled more rats. He cringed, forcing unwanted images from his mind. The stink intensified. “I hope you’re right about the bodies being in the second room,” he growled as he headed for the first door.

It swung inwards to reveal a small, grubby room with a tiny window located near its sagging ceiling. Rubbish littered the floor; mainly damp bedding and picked-clean bones. Something glassy gleamed in a corner, and an empty manacle lay on the floor, chain connecting it to the outer wall. “Looks like he left in a hurry,” Bobby kicked a pile of cloths apart. Rats had been nesting in them.

“Probably because he’d just set fire to the city.” Following him in, Jeanne scanned the room. “Why is this here?” She nudged the giant cuff with her toe. “If it was used to hold a victim, where’s the body? Something very weird is going on here.” She remembered the warm furs and empty shackle in the first hideout. “Wait a minute - could he have a prisoner?”

“What?” Bobby asked.

“The reason why he’s supplying all these blankets and this extra manacle.” Jeanne crossed the floor, attracted by the shiny thing in the corner. She knelt and carefully picked up a glass ball covered with dust. “Oh my God,” she croaked, her heart suddenly pounding.

Bobby joined her. “What is it?”

Jeanne blew the dust off and polished it with her sari’s hem. “A perfect crystal ball, probably worth thousands of pounds! Stormwalker must have forgotten it in his rush to leave.” She turned to Bobby and smiled broadly. “We have our transport to Indore.”

When they emerged from the room, they noticed a group of people gathered at the top of the staircase, startled by its sudden appearance out of nowhere. Ducking back into darkness, Jeanne used the crystal ball to teleport Bobby and herself to Lord Lovat’s front gates. The suspicious guards had been given orders to let them through, and a few minutes later they stood in the governor’s study.

“We’ve found it!” Jeanne placed the crystal ball on the low table in front of Lovat. “Show them, Bobby.”

Bobby passed his hands over the ball’s smooth surface, but it was Jeanne who willed the orb to work. Grey mists swirled inside, parting to reveal the dark cellar. A local who had just opened the end door darted out of view with his hands plastered over his mouth.

“We found this ball here.” Bracing herself, Jeanne made the orb reveal first the room Stormwalker had stayed in, then the other chamber. Gorge rose at the sight of the bodies, but she managed to fight it down. Here, the stench couldn’t reach them.

“Jesus,” Lovat croaked.

“Do you believe us now?” Jeanne asked gently.

Lovat’s voice trembled. “What choice do I have?”

Jeanne’s guilt squirmed. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” He picked up the crystal ball and handed it to Bobby. “Take it - use it to find Raven. Use your powers to help him stop the Thuggee. The sooner they are stopped, the sooner the hunt for Stormwalker can be resumed.”

Bobby nodded. “Of course.”

“That poor man!” Jeanne declared as soon as they were back in their hotel room.

“He was pretty freaked out by the news, wasn’t he?”

Jeanne gathered their things together. “Even though the Thuggee are more dangerous, it is Stormwalker who keeps him from sleeping at night.”

Bobby helped Jeanne work. “Of course. He preys on aristocrats, not peasants.”

After showering off the day’s grime and changing into clean things, they sat down on the double bed, Jeanne clutching the crystal orb. “All right - let’s find Raven.” Narrowing her eyes, she focused on his image.

“Boy is he in for a surprise,” Bobby murmured, watching the swirling mists.

The fog parted to reveal a tall, black-haired man in Indian garb, seated on a bed beside a long-haired girl with a glass ball in her hands.

“Damn!” Jeanne swore. “I’m not concentrating hard enough! I’ve picked up you, Bobby!”

Bobby laughed. “Raven’s different, Jeanne! He’s got mis-matched eyes, a bigger scar, rougher features...”

Jeanne renewed her concentration. Once again the mists took over, churning for almost a minute before parting. Three hundred miles was a considerable distance.

An ill-lit corridor appeared, lit by only a few guttering candles. A long-haired figure in black leather, one hand pressed to his midriff, crouched in a fighting pose with sword extended. A semi-circle of dark figures surrounded him, teeth bared, knives glittering.

“Is that Raven?” Bobby craned forward.

Sweat beaded on Jeanne’s brow as the concentration of maintaining such a long distance link started to take its toll. “Yes - and he’s in big trouble. Let’s go.” Tightening her grip on the ball, she started to recite Teleport.

Three hundred miles passed in a single sickening wrench.

The grinning, black-robed figures closed on Raven. He glanced left and right. He had a wall at his back, but at least four of the assassins could still attack, their weapons small and nimble.

Jeanne shoved the crystal ball into her bag and lifted her hands. No time for subtlety now! Magick words leapt from her as she twisted her fingers around the raw power and yanked it close, chaining it. She didn’t worry about protecting Raven from the spell - he was probably immune to it.

Urgency overcoming nausea, Bobby scrambled to his feet and drew his sword.

Jeanne screamed the release word as Bobby charged forward. Mana puffed from her fingers in the form of an invisible cloud of intoxicating gas. Seven of Raven’s assailants staggered drunkenly, but only three actually succumbed to Sleep Cloud and crumpled unconscious.

They must have pretty good spell immunity, Jeanne thought as Bobby swung at one of the men still standing. His blade thudded into his back. The assassin released an agonised cry and collapsed, spinal column severed. Hissing in fury, two killers spun to face the newcomer, leaving four to continue parleying with Raven.

The mercenary couldn’t believe his luck. Two mysterious rescuers had appeared out of nowhere to help him! Maybe he would survive after all! He met blades with the Thugs, but couldn’t deflect all the swift, vicious attacks. More bloody cuts opened across his belly and arms.

Regathering her concentration, Jeanne summoned another spell. She couldn’t resume mass attacks because of Bobby, so she focused on picking the killers off one by one. Giltherion’s book had taught her many forms of one-on-one elemental attack.

Bobby soon realised that the killers were very nimble with their razor-sharp knives. After his first successful kill, he slipped into the defensive, unable to keep up with all the flashing blades.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bright bolt of fire slam into one of Raven’s attackers and hurl him to his knees. He howled in pain as flames took hold. Leaving himself open, Raven dispatched him with a blow to the head, cleaving his skull.

Bobby felt something whip across his hip, and thought nothing of it until a bright line of pain seared into his flesh. “Bastard!” Fury propelled him forward.

Jeanne’s third spell destroyed another one of Raven’s attackers. He fell, a glittering spear of ice protruding from his throat. Bobby caught the powerful reek of sulphur as he struck one of his assailants in the armpit, driving his sword upwards into his body. The Thug gurgled blood from a punctured lung and fell backwards. “Suck on that you sonofabitch!”

Snarling, the second man closed, twin daggers flashing.

Raven started to sag against the wall behind him, blood pooling beneath his feet. But he fought on against the thugs and the increasing urge to fall unconscious. A desperate thrust upwards through an attacker’s defences, and another assassin choked on his own blood.

Suddenly, a door down the corridor flew open and an enormous figure charged out. Oberon Trueheart, clad in a bloodstained nightshirt, thundered into battle, swinging his massive rune-marked sword. His first blow slammed into the last of Raven’s attackers, allowing the wounded bounty-hunter to slide onto the floor. The assassin collapsed without a sound, body hitting the ground a couple of seconds before his severed head.

With an angry swung Bobby downed his second assailant. Greasy innards slid from the Thug’s side. Stepping back Bobby looked down, gaping in shock at all the blood oozing down his body and legs.

“There are more assassins in the other rooms!” the red-haired newcomer shouted as he charged the nearest door. The uninjured Jeanne took another, and Bobby followed at a slower pace. The sight of his bleeding wounds had dented his battle-high, but he couldn’t afford to stop until all the killers were dead.

In the room she chose Jeanne found an old, balding man struggling feebly against a garrotte. The assassin hissed at her, but didn’t desist, thinking the frail English woman couldn’t hurt him. Spitting Magick, Jeanne changed his mind with another Ice-Spear. The killer stared, dumbfounded, at the glassy piton embedded in his chest. Then he fell back and died. Jeanne rushed to the semi-conscious victim’s aid, yanking the cloth from his bruised throat. Then she sprinted out of the room, spurred on by shouts from across the hall.

Bobby stumbled into another battle. A wild-bearded dwarf armed with an enormous, two-handed battleaxe managed to keep two assassins out of range while another pair slowly throttled the life out of a blonde warrior. One held him down while the other tightened the rumal. Taking advantage of the Thugs’ surprise, Bobby brained one of the blonde fighter’s killers and stabbed the other. With a war cry and almighty swing, the dwarf chopped one killer’s legs out from under him. The last Thug put up a valiant battle, but Bobby and the dwarf quickly cut him down, only suffering minor injuries in the process.

“A very timely entrance, friend!” the dwarf wheezed. “Who are you?”

Bobby knelt down beside the blonde warrior, his throat shining with hideous bruises. “Raven’s twin brother, Bobby. And you?”

“Hrothgar Thunderaxe.” The dwarf joined him. “Is he all right?”

“I can’t seem to find a pulse...”

The door flew inwards and Oberon appeared. “Any more?”

“Not in here,” Hrothgar answered. “But I think poor Thorgud’s had it.”

As Jeanne hurried back out into the hall, the big red-haired warrior beat her to the room opposite. “Not Thorgud as well?” she heard him shout.

“‘Fraid so. Where’s Father James? He should be able to help!”

Oberon spun around, almost colliding with Jeanne.

“Father James? Is he an old man who’s losing his hair?” Jeanne asked.

“Aye.”

“Back there.” Jeanne jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s alive.” But I think I’m about to collapse! she mentally added. I just shot off a spell in front of a priest! He’ll have me on a stake faster than I can say “Witchcraft”!

Scanning the corridor Jeanne noticed a sallow-faced man with a droopy moustache perched beside the unconscious Raven. He appeared to be stripping the three Thugs she’d put to sleep.

“Is he all right?” Jeanne gestured towards the mercenary slumped in a bath of his own blood.

The warrior looked up in surprise. “Er - he should be. I’ve just given him a couple of healing potions. Who are you?”

“Neh - Nat’s sister, Jeanne.”

The warrior inclined his head, his pale face falling into shadow. “He’s in there.” He pointed over his shoulder at an open door.

Jeanne stepped into the room, heart racing. Netta lay sprawled on a bed, another garrotte beside her. Her eyes stared sightlessly from a pale, slack face, drained of blood. The killers had managed to complete this particular wicked deed. “Oh Netta!” Jeanne collapsed on the bed and took one of her counterpart’s cold, limp hands. Her trembling fingers failed to locate a pulse. “Oh sweet Jesus no!” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You can’t be dead - you can’t be!”

 

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