Page 129 of Awry
The beach is empty.
No Presh, DeVille, or Kris.
No footprints.
The surf is raging halfway up the shore.Long stretches of rain-soaked empty beach stretch to either side.Theknowinghas completely dissipated.
I’ve fucked up.
I’m certain I saved a lot of lives, but now I’m going to have to navigate the aftermath on my own.While keeping the murderous cu-sith placated as he stands sentry at my side.
I hear Presh shout, “No!Kris!”from somewhere behind us.
The shaggy green monster stays with me as I pivot and run from the beach, back the way we’ve come.Which is good, I suppose, because he’s not the benevolent sort.And although rushing ahead of me to his sister’s rescue might be ideal, I don’t want him accidentally killing her in the process.
The road that runs along the beach is empty.Theknowingdoesn’t kick in, though, no matter how hard I strain all my senses in search of Precious.
“Which way, cu-sith?”I ask coaxingly.Struggling to keep calm as I slow my pace at the first cross street.A closed bakery occupies one corner with a dress shop on the other.The glass in both sets of darkened windows has survived the roar of the celestial dragon.
The cu-sith huffs — just a breath of air, no actual sound — but otherwise doesn’t offer an opinion.I choose to believe it’s because he can’t pick up his sister’s presence and not because he doesn’t care.
I pause and strain some more — my ears, my eyes, and my other senses.I just need to be patient for a moment more.Some of that dire-wrought magecraft seeps toward us, most likely residual from all the battles that have been waged in the last few minutes on the streets of this small township.But it’s coming at us from three directions, so it’s no help.
How many malignant potions and spells could Chains have possibly been carrying?One of the reasons dire mages are held in natural check is that they burn themselves out, usually fairly quickly after they’ve gone dark.Moderation is fundamentally contrary to what fuels a dire essence-wielder.
Though I once would have thought the same of berserkers, and I’ve recently been given a painful lesson in my own ignorance.
What I do know for certain is that dire-wrought spells and potions have a shelf life.A short one.Otherwise, a single dark-essence-wielder could spend a half-dozen years building an arsenal— then wipe a fortified city from the face of the planet before anyone strong enough to stand against them could even be notified.
“The dire mage is here,” I whisper to the grim reaper at my side the moment I realize it.“Can you track her?”
Has Chains brought the mage for backup?Or has she decided to join the raiding party on a whim?
The battle has quieted up ahead, and despite the dark night and continual rain, I see a winged form and a large serpentine creature take flight, swiftly gain altitude, then sweep around.Toward us.
I continue walking, still reaching outward with all my senses.
“Oooo, aren’t you a pretty monster?”The voice emanates from the center of the street to my left.
A street that appears empty.
Cloaking spell.A casting strong enough to obscure my sight despite the amulet hanging around my neck.
The universe’s sense of humor is more twisted than I could have guessed.Or I’m way, way off the path.
“We have the princess,” Chains says.His voice is clear, echoing lightly against the low buildings around us.He’s pissed.But not at us.“Teleport us the fuck out of here.”
“Not yet,” the other person says.“You brought me here to play and look at the pretty puppy!”Her voice is pitched high and playful.And terrifyingly familiar.
All the hair on the back of my neck prickles.
“That is not a fucking dog!”Chains snarls.
Energy buffets me from behind, stirring my sopping-wet hair.Then the ground rumbles under my feet.Literally.Twice.
Two more massive presences, both even larger than the cu-sith at my side, now occupy the entire width of the block behind me.But I don’t look back.
At any moment, the cloaking spell shielding Chains and the others from view is going to part — to my sight at least — and I need to be ready.
