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With his back against the door Josiah felt a burning sting assault his face. His eyebrows and lashes crumbled. Fireburst Spell, he thought. Or worse, Fireblast. An adrenaline-filled breath later, boots sounded on the steps. Gurk, followed by Marigold, was in the storage room, racing toward the door. The thief held his cutlass and curved dagger while the elf had her rapier in hand. Behind them pressed Higslaff, carrying the enchanted long sword, followed by Lysine.
Josiah never suspected the pawn shop owner could move so quickly. “Fireblast!” he warned those racing toward him.
“Get out of the way!” Gurk shouted while Higslaff yelled, “Move!”
Something valiant within Josiah stirred. Without a second thought he tugged the door open and was the first one through. Rushing into the smoke and lingering flames, he both respected and hated himself.
To Josiah’s right, Coleen Sammae crouched low on the floor behind the counter. Her hair bun was like his eyebrows and her silk blouse was a blackened mess. She turned to face Josiah, a mixture of anger and anguish playing across her red and blistered face. Cradled in her arms was the charred remains of what could only be Specter, her feline familiar.
Gurk pushed past Josiah, making his way to the front door. It hung wide open.
While many of the shop’s items were burning or had been destroyed, the shelves and counter remained intact, having had some warding against fire enchanted into them.
Smoke bit into Josiah’s eyes. On the floor, next to his toppled stool, lay Bonnar. He might’ve been alive but there was nothing the barber could do for him. Josiah had expended his healing spells earlier in the day.
Marigold raced past with Higslaff right behind her. Josiah shouldered his way ahead of Lysine as they both followed the shop owner out the front door.
Porters, merchants, every type of citizen was fleeing down the narrow cobblestone street, ducking into alleys or into nearby shops—those whose doors weren’t already closed and barred.
But not everyone was running away.
On the far side of the street a gnome crouched behind a round shield, wielding a cudgel. He pressed an attack against a mace-wielding opponent wearing a Norman helm and clad in chainmail and breastplate and using a kite shield. The shield was decorated with a picture of a mule, maybe a wolf, or maybe a bizarre cross between the two painted on it.
Despite being outmatched, and suffering a solid hit to the shoulder, the gnome kept at it like a tenacious Corgi taking on a riled Rottweiler.
The cleric—Josiah in an instant determined—could’ve turned and outpaced his shorter foe, Gurk’s friend Jax. But that would’ve meant abandoning his staff-wielding partner clad in gray robes who was busy preparing to read a spell from a scroll. The determined gnome would be on the magic user within seconds.
That staff-wielding magic user stood several paces behind a long-armed, axe-wielding warrior. Barely a dozen feet away from the battling gnome and cleric, a woman, garbed in teal robes, lay in the street, unconscious and bleeding out. A severed left arm rested several feet from its dying owner.
At the same time, the axe-wielder used his shield to deflect the sword blow from a powerfully built warrior trying to get past him. The blond-haired fighter was Kalgore. He appeared intent on dealing with the gray-robed spell caster, much like he had the teal-robed one. The two warrior combatants were evenly matched. Kalgore owned greater strength while the axe-wielder possessed superior speed. That balance changed when the gray-robed man completed reading the scroll, releasing a spell.
A barrage of four tennis ball-sized missiles, glowing red in color, sprang from the magic user’s outstretched hand and slammed into Kalgore’s chest. The intervening breastplate provided no defense against the Mystic Missile Spell.
The magical strike didn’t drop Kalgore, but it staggered him. In response, a single pink Mystic Missile sprang from Marigold’s hand and struck the gray-robed magic user. The damage it inflicted was negligible. However, the path it took in striking sent it through the scroll held by the spell caster. Either Marigold had succeeded in her objective, or the magic user critically failed a Luck roll.
Wrecked, the magic user threw aside the useless scroll and prepared to enter the fray wielding his staff.
Josiah didn’t have time to take in more during those precious few seconds. Lysine, short sword in hand behind him, was right on the barber’s heels, ready to get through the doorway and help his friends.
To Josiah’s right, Thogg lay sprawled on the porch. His axe leaned against the wall, untouched. A magical attack must’ve felled the brutish half-ogre. Not wanting to maneuver over the dead guard, Josiah cut left, and ran into something—into someone. Anyone lurking invisible on the porch was up to no good. A foe!
On instinct, using the impact and grunt released by his invisible adversary, Josiah reached out and grabbed with his left hand and drove his dagger forward with his right.
The man must’ve been moving toward the steps, probably setting up a Stealth Attack on Higslaff, who’d just reached the front of the porch.
Josiah’s stabbing attack missed. Before he could attempt again to bloody his dagger, a man appeared in front of him—because attacks nullified Invisibility Spells. Pain announced to Josiah that he’d received a gut wound. The bent-nosed man’s face formed a bucktoothed, sneering grin as he twisted his short sword’s blade before withdrawing it from Josiah’s stomach.
Josiah had suffered enough wounds to know the caustic-burning sensation quickly spreading was abnormal. The pasty yellow substance spread across his foe’s blade, now stained with Josiah’s blood, screamed poison. The growing burn said he’d failed his saving throw.
Staggering back against the shop’s brick wall, he shouted “Poison!”
Before the bucktoothed thief could follow up with another strike, Josiah lifted his dagger and muttered, “Flash.”
Blinded, his foe retreated a step, before turning to flee along the porch, past the candle maker’s shop. The man must’ve retained a good sense of place, as he didn’t stumble or fall. Even so, visual impairment held him to a trot rather than a sprint.
The caustic pain continued to spread through Josiah’s abdomen, and sweat burst from every pore across his body. Before the poison affected his diaphragm muscle, he spoke the words to one of the few spells he had available, Hinder Poison. It wouldn’t eliminate the poison, but it’d arrest its spreading effects.
He was out of the fight. With his back against the pawn shop’s brick wall, he slid to a seated position on the porch.
On the street Kalgore went down after suffering an axe blow to the ribs. The blade didn’t penetrate the breastplate, but the concussive force knocked him to zero hit points, or below. That was bad news for Higslaff. He’d engaged the gray-clad spell caster, wielding the magical long sword two-handed. In hand to hand combat against that foe, he was destined to win. But, Higslaff took a heavy axe blow to his back, costing him at least a third of his hit points. Two on one, with the ax-wielding warrior interested in taking out their main target, the pawn shop owner backed away, realizing his peril. He maneuvered to prevent either of his two foes from getting behind him.
No help was coming from Gurk’s party. Marigold stood still as a statue, rapier held mid-thrust. The cleric must’ve gotten off an Arrest Movement Spell. Still, the cleric faced Gurk and his human-slaying dagger along with Lysine. A screeching and dive-bombing blue jay added to the combat’s mayhem. Sooner or later, the druid or young thief was going to get a clear shot from behind.
Jax had disengaged but, rather than lend aid to Higslaff, he knelt near the prone Kalgore and began a spell. Josiah recalled Gurk mentioning the gnome being a healer.
Not willing to abandon his friend, Josiah ignored the poison and its pain. He pushed himself to his feet. Before he could step forward, Sill Rochelle appeared on the porch. Coleen Sammae followed. The latter appeared partially healed, with some of the red and blistering faded. Without hesitation, both women released a spell. A rapid-fire of Mystic Missiles hammered Higslaff’s unsuspecting foe. Four amber strikes from Coleen Sammae and five cornflower blue from Sill Rochelle dropped the axe-wielding warrior.
Josiah shouted, “Sill, him!” and pointed at the retreating thief with the poisoned weapon.
Sill Rochelle pushed Josiah aside with her left hand and stepped past him. Two strides later she released her spell. A crackling flash of lightning, leaving a trail of ozone, sped from the enchantress’s outstretched right hand and blasted the fleeing man before he was able to duck into an alley. Foolishly, rather than continuing his escape, he’d turned to see if his companions would emerge victorious. Rare was the thief with enough hit points to endure a direct strike from a Major Lightning Spell.
The cleric and gray-robed magic user simultaneously fell an instant later.
Gurk’s dagger found the cleric’s neck, just beneath his left ear, while Lysine’s short sword bit deep into the man’s leg, behind the knee.
The magic user’s end was less bloody but no less permanent. Four of Coleen Sammae’s amber Mystic Missiles proved more than he could survive.
Coleen Sammae raced onto the street. “You okay, Boss?”
Higslaff gave a thumbs up, then pointed down the street. A company of City Guardsmen trotted around a corner and into view.
The gnome collapsed momentarily but was subsequently helped to his feet by the warrior he’d healed. Josiah could never figure out why anyone would select to be a true healer and willingly draw injuries upon themselves in order to cure others of grievous injuries.
The smoke drifting out of the pawn shop’s front door had largely abated.
Sill Rochelle said to Josiah, “Looks like that elf tart was hit by an Arrest Movement Spell. She should be okay.” The blue jay landed on the immobile magic user’s shoulder while Gurk and Lysine approached her.
The grim-looking enchantress noticed blood seeping between the fingers of Josiah’s hand covering his stomach. “You going to be okay?”
Josiah unclenched his teeth enough to say, “I managed a Hinder Poison Spell.” He took a shallow breath. “But that won’t last long. So, no.”
The enchantress wrapped an arm around Josiah’s shoulder. Higslaff was walking toward the approaching guardsmen, so she waved her free arm to get Coleen Sammae’s attention. “Poison,” she stated.
The street was abnormally quiet, so her word carried to her fellow enchantress’s ears.
Coleen Sammae’s eyes widened. A half second later she rushed onto the porch. “The boss has something for that upstairs,” she said. “Keep an eye on him—I’ll be right back.”