I book two nights in a double room on the second floor at an inn with decent food so I can settle in. I push the beds together and angle them in such a way that my entire body will just barely fit and I don’t have to sleep on the floor. As a bonus, there is a desk and chair in the room to make my study easier.
I haven’t learned a language from a book for twenty years and it is harder than I remember—or perhaps the booklet is just a reflection of the Elysian prejudice against orcs. Elysians like to pretend they are tolerant and accepting of all, but it really only seems to apply if one looks like them.
The material leaves me with a headache and I decide to turn in early. I pull the curtains closed and douse the lamp after doing my nightly routine. I fall asleep contemplating the merits of verb stem conjugation versus agglutination.
I am thrust into waking by my magical alarm sounding in my head.
Someone is in my room.
The hand clutching my dagger is in motion before I open my eyes, moving across my body to protect my face and torso. I lock eyes with a masked human in nondescript, dark clothes as my blind block stops their own dagger being thrust at my chest. The block, unfortunately, does not hit blade-to-blade so the assailant’s dagger slices across my forearm. I feel warm liquid on my face and more on my chest, but the pain has no purchase through my adrenaline.
The would-be assassin is surprised and takes a moment to collect himself, pulling back his dagger.
I take this opportunity to roll out of bed away from him and stand. Orienting myself in the dark room, the door to the hall is to my right, a street-facing window to the left, nothing behind me, and my spellbook and other equipment behind the intruder.
I want my spells.
Circling around the foot of the combined beds toward the door, I hope to make him think I will try to escape. If he tries to come at me, I will be ready. I cast a spell I had prepared days ago, tapping earth and darkness to surround my body like armor. The sudden casting causes him to lunge forward, to try to attack while I am distracted, but I evade by stepping back slightly. Over-committed to an attack that did not hit the mark, there is a brief moment for me to counter.
I slap my hand onto their upper arm and chant another incantation I had made ready while out in the field. Elemental darkness laced with earth coils around him and permeates his very bones, sapping his energy the same way a freezing cold bath might.
The intruder yelps and shakes my hand off, slicing across my right thigh in the process. I can’t tell if it’s deep, but I am able to remain standing.
Using the bulk of my body, I shove my attacker toward the window. My spellbook is on the desk just to his left but I concentrate on not looking at it, only looking at him. I don’t want to give him any ideas.
He recovers quickly and picks up the chair and throws it at me. I don’t dodge well in the dark, and take a solid hit in the shoulder, side, and inner thigh, knocking the wind out of me. I focus on his silhouette, desperate to defend myself from the opportunity they’ve managed to create.
Unexpectedly, he doesn’t use the opening to attack but, rather, to flee. The window is opened and he leaps through in one swift motion. Clattering shingles followed by silence tells me he dropped down onto the street below.
How dare someone try to kill me!
I charge forward and grab my effects, tucking them under my arm and rolling out onto the awning. At the edge of the roof, I can see the assassin kneeling in the street in front of the inn. He looks up at me and I debate leaping off the roof onto him, but decide against it. Instead, I sit down and grab the edge and then lower myself to the ground with as much alacrity as I can muster. I don’t want to open myself up to an attack, but I also don’t want to break a leg or otherwise disable myself.
Though I hoped to be quick about it, the assassin lashes out with his dagger and strikes me three times: one slash on my left calf, a thrust into my right thigh, and a third strike across my chest.
Before I can let go of the roof, he starts running down the empty road. No one is about this late, and whatever Watch patrol this street are on some other part of their rounds.
I run after him, hoping my large stride will catch me up despite my injuries. Shambling against the burgeoning pain in my legs and torso, I take a gamble and leap forward into what I hope is close enough range to hit. Thrusting my dagger forward as I lunge, I catch my assailant just below the right rib. He staggers but does not stop running.
Collecting myself, and knowing I won’t be able to keep up in my state, I reach into my folio to locate the backup scroll copy of the same disabling spell I used to keep the goblins from fleeing. Though the moons are all fairly low on the horizon, it’s bright enough for me to find the spell. I haven’t needed to use my backup scrolls in the decade since I settled in Nodkis, but I am now thankful that I put the time and money into preparing them. Prepared scrolls require no memorization, which is good because I can tell I am losing a lot of blood and concentration is getting harder. Though one of the purposes of creating a scroll is to imbue it with the power to channel its own arcanum, I gather elements of earth, water, and darkness to bolster the effect and improve its chances. I intone the incantation quickly and its effects are unleashed toward the fleeing assassin. It’s my last chance since the assassin will soon be out of range.
As the spell hits home, the assassin grunts and falls to the ground. Now, effectively immobilized, I am able to catch up, but I approach warily just in case it’s a ruse.
Looking worn and afraid, the attacker watches me with wild eyes as I bend over and take his dagger. If he has other weapons on him, they are well concealed and I hold off searching for them. I need to get out of the street.
I glance up and down the street and inspect the windows of nearby houses carefully to be certain the commotion hasn’t come to the attention of anyone who can see what I am about to do.
It looks all clear.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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