Page 57 of Killian
When they arrived at the doorway, Moira paused to arrange her elves. Cynog dutifully went to the back of the pack without a fuss. Tilva on the other hand, buzzed eagerly at the front of the line. She wanted a piece of the warlocks and wasn’t about to be coddled.
Moira cautiously cracked the door, pressed her nose into the space, and inhaled. She was aware of Tilva standing on her head and peering through the gap but decided that she couldn’t really argue at the moment. She pressed her ear to the crack and detected the distant sound of voices.
“We’ve got about fifteen warlocks,” whispered Moira. “They’re on the far side of the room. I think they’re watching Killian and the others arrive.”
The elves nodded.
“We’ll enter as quietly as possible. Our goal is to disarm and subdue them as fast and as quietly as possible. Expect a fight, but accept surrender if they offer it. Although, do search them thoroughly. Be very cautious.” She had said it all before, but she said it again. They were skilled, but they weren’t experienced and that made her nervous. “Shields at the ready?”
There was a wave of nods and Moira took a deep breath. Tilva lifted off her head and Moira glanced up at her. The sprite had her sword at the ready.
The door opened on the bottom level of the temple near afountain, fed by a trickle of water running down the bark of the tree and through the levels of the temple. It splashed with a happy burble, providing a cover of noise. The space was a wide porch-like area looking out over the valley divided by stairs cut into the tree and leading to the upper levels. On the far side of the stairs, Moira could see a knot of warlocks. They were kneeling behind the railing, watching the action below. She couldn’t see beyond the curve of the tree that served as the back wall, so there might be more warlocks on the far side.
Moira crouched down behind the fountain and counted the warlocks. She gestured to Tilva, who zinged up the stairs and returned with a shake of her head. The next floor was empty, at least. Moira could see fourteen warlocks, and she thought the fifteenth was out of view on the other side of the stairs. She also couldn’t see the stockpile of explosives. Which suggested that the two were together.
She gestured to the elves and they slipped out of the door and began to spread out.
“Jesus, there’s a lot of them,” said one of the warlocks.
“Lonnie will make sure we get out OK,” said another. “It’s all going to plan. As soon as he gets to the bridge, he’ll signal us.”
One of the warlocks spit over the edge of the railing. “Lonnie don’t give two shits about us. He left us behind because he wanted our ammo. We’re gonna die. Just so you know.”
“Well, if he gets the book, the elders can just raise us up again,” said someone sounding smug.
The spitter spared a look at his compatriot that spoke volumes about the idiocy of the statement, but as he turned his head, he caught a glimpse of the elves. He made a startled exclamation and started to swing his gun around, but with a piercing war cry, Tilva streaked forward and sank her sword into his eye. Moira leaped after her and raked her claws across his throat, silencing his cry of pain before it came from his lips. There was a hailof dart fire from behind her, and the warlock next to her went down, looking like a pin-cushion. The next few moments were filled with an overwhelming, vicious assault of sights, smells, and the sound of tearing flesh. Whatever plans there had been were out the window. Moira could only react on instinct. The goal was to stop any warlock within reach; as far as Moira was concerned, they wereallprey.
Finally, she rounded the corner to find the final warlock and the explosives. He was bleeding from a slash across the chest, but he lifted his gun and pointed it at Moira. There was a snap of command from behind her—Moira recognized Cynog’s voice—and a spell bubble formed around the gun. Tilva landed on his arm and sank sharp teeth and her sword into his wrist, slashing across his tendon. The gun dropped involuntarily from his hand and he staggered back swatting at Tilya who allowed him no quarter. Gasping, he hit the wall and dropped down, raising a hand in surrender. The other was clutching the seeping wound across his chest.
Moira stared at the wall of tree in front of her. The explosives were strapped to it, and the wolf-headed pendant spun on its chain in the center, dangling from a circle of silver wire. The explosives had all been wired to the hoop.
“It’s on a dead switch,” said the warlock breathlessly. He laughed, his lungs rattling as they filled with fluid. “He’s going to kill all of you. You think you’re so safe here in your little magical world, but you don’t get…” He wheezed, gasping for breath. “If Lonnie drops the box then your tree goes bye-bye. You’re all going to die.” He laughed again, but there was no air left to laugh with and he began to gape like a fish. Panic filled his face as the air, and then his blood ran out.
“They’re almost to the bridge!” shouted the lookout. “Ceallach has raised the flag. The council will begin the spell!”
“If the humans die,” said Cynog, “then so do we. They cannotcast that spell.”
Episode 25
Substitute
Moira
Moira knew she had to act fast, but her brain felt like she was swimming through molasses. The warlocks had enough explosives to bring down a forest. Would that be enough to kill the tree? Bring it down? Without the tree every level of the library would die.
“Tilva,” Moira turned to the sprite who spun in a spiral before coming down to face Moira. “Go to Killian and Ceallach. Tell them that they cannot cast the spell. If Lonnie drops the trigger switch, the tree goes boom. Understand? Whatever else happens, Lonnie cannot drop the device he’s holding.”
Tilva gave a sharp nod and zoomed out of the temple, a tiny sparkling light in the dusk.
“Is there nothing we can do?” asked Cynog, looking at the mess of wires and explosives that were stuck to the tree. “I don’t understand how they’re making this human technology work.”
“I don’t think they are,” said Moira, staring at the necklace. “I think they’re using some sort of spell to link their artifacts. I only see the necklace here. Lonnie must have the jar. Who is good at magic?” She turned to the elves. “One of you must be able to figure out what kind of spell they’re using?”
“Uh,” said one young woman, stepping forward. “I guess I’m all right at magic. I passed my secondary levels anyway.”
“Fantastic,” said Moira, despite having no clue what that meant. “Figure out what kind of spell is holding this thing together. We need a way to disarm it or block it or something.”
She shoved the girl at the explosives and turned to Cynog. “You’re the dryad. Is there a way to protect the tree? Insulateit? Or something? It survived the worms. How do we protect it here?”
