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Walking through the busy outskirts of Twelve Seas I take my usual short cut through Saint Rominius's Way, a narrow alley. Round the first corner I'm confronted by three men with swords at the ready. #2 в контекст | | |
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"Where's the Cloth, Thraxas?" demands one of them. #5 в контекст | | |
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They move to encircle me. I bark out the sleep spell. My three assailants instantly fall to the ground. Very satisfying. I'm most pleased. Every time I do that it gives me a warm glow. Makes me feel like my life has not been entirely wasted. #7 в контекст | | |
The sleep spell usually lasts for around ten minutes so I have time for a little investigating before I quit the scene. Delving into their pockets, I find nothing of interest, but they're all tattooed with the clasped hands of the Society of Friends. Behind me someone speaks. I wheel around, and realise I've made somewhat of a blunder in hanging around. The words belong to one of the arcane languages known only to us Sorcerers, and they formed a common countermanding spell. Which means any spell currently used in the area is no longer operational. Which means that three angry members of the Society of Friends are at this moment coming back to consciousness. #8 в контекст | | |
I glare at the Sorcerer with disgust. There's no point in me going to all the trouble of learning, storing and using a sleep spell if he's just going to come along and countermand it. Whilst glaring, I notice that, for a Sorcerer, he's pretty damned big. Carries a sharp-looking blade as well. "You must be the Glixius Dragon Killer everyone's talking about." He doesn't reply. The three Friends start climbing to their feet, groping for their swords. I run like hell along Saint Rominius's Way. #9 в контекст | | |
I'm worried. Not so much by the blades of the three men—I'll take my chances at swordplay against most inhabitants of Turai—but by the Sorcerer. Something in the way he chanted his counterspell makes me feel that he's a powerful man, skilful enough to be carrying one or two more spells. If one of those is a heart attack spell I'm done for. Even a sleep spell would give them the opportunity to finish me off. I was a fool to pawn my spell protection charm. I must have badly needed a beer. #10 в контекст | | |
For a man in poor condition I'm making good time, but as I round the next corner I see three more thugs coming towards me. Six armed men and the Sorcerer. I certainly have offended the Society of Friends. #11 в контекст | | |
In front of me I spy a wooden manhole cover. The sewerage system of Turai is one of the wonders of the world, so they say, with a tunnel leading all the way from the Palace to the sea. Not for the first time in my crime-fighting career, I find myself in a position to admire it. I whip off the cover and plunge into the tunnels. #12 в контекст | | |
The stench is unbearable. Rats scatter in all directions as I stumble my way through the blackness in front of me. I bitterly regret pawning my illuminated staff along with my protection charm. This is a grim, hellish place to be in the dark. Still, having been here before, I know this sewer leads to the harbour, and just before it discharges into the sea there's another manhole cover through which I can make my escape. Unsure of whether I'm still being pursued or not I halt and listen. #13 в контекст | | |
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Somewhere behind me is a greenish light. The Sorcerer's illuminated staff. I worry again about how many spells he might be carrying. Rogue criminal Sorcerers are rare in Turai, thanks to the Sorcerers Guild, but when they appear I've no real protection against them. I wade on through the filth, ignoring the stink and the squeaking rats, feeling along the wall for the ladder which will tell me when I'm under the exit. I hope there aren't any alligators down here. Rumours abound of alligators living in the city sewers. I don't think I believe them. Even they must have somewhere better to go. There's a whole sandy bay outside, unless the dolphins chase them in here, I suppose. Dolphins aren't fond of alligators, apparently. #15 в контекст | | |
I pick up the pace a little, but this is a mistake because almost immediately a man somewhere behind shouts that he can hear me and this cry is followed by the sound of feet splashing quickly through the water. I curse and hurry on but the splashing footsteps draw nearer. #16 в контекст | | |
Round the next bend I pause and turn with my sword and dagger at the ready. An ignominious death, I reflect, succumbing to a heart attack spell in the city sewers. Everyone will think I fell in drunk. #17 в контекст | | |
The sewer is around four feet wide and just tall enough for me to stand up in. Not a lot of room for fighting. The faintest of glows appear round the corner, followed by the first of my pursuers, groping his way round, a dagger stretched out in front of him. He's dead before he even sees me, his throat cut by my blade with the sort of well-measured stroke I learned in the Army when I was a confident young soldier and we drove the Niojans back from our walls and the Orcs out of our country. #18 в контекст | | |
After this it's not so easy. The next two advance more slowly. A little more light now shows, allowing them to see me more clearly. I use my sword and dagger to parry their dual attack and retreat slightly, aware that this is risky. Who knows what I might trip over down here. The combat is grim and silent. The two Society men drive me steadily back, offering no opening for attack. Behind them I can just make out the dim outlines of their companions, and further back is the largely shadowy outline of the Sorcerer, his staff casting an eerie green light over us all. #19 в контекст | | |
My assailants are not top-class fighters—gang members rarely are—but in the confined space of the sewer I find it hard to bring my superior sword fighting skills into play. The sewage comes up to my knees, preventing me from manoeuvring, and all the time I'm worried that the Sorcerer will unleash a deadly spell in my direction, although this depends on what he's carrying. Some aggressive spells are hard to direct. In this tunnel he'd be quite likely to hit his own men too. #20 в контекст | | |
The fighter on my right grows impatient and makes a sudden lunge, but he's careless and leaves a gap low down in his defence through which I plant the tip of my sword into his thigh. He groans and stumbles backwards. Another man is about to step into his place when the Sorcerer pulls him back. #21 в контекст | | |
"Leave him to me," he commands, and his staff glows brighter. #22 в контекст | | |
I've only a fraction of a second in which to act. I draw back my dagger, preparing to hurl it at the Sorcerer's face, and hope that he's not carrying a personal protection spell. Before I can release the weapon, or he can utter his spell, a horrifying shape erupts out of the water. The swordsman closest to me screams and leaps backwards in fear and the Sorcerer's spell is choked off in mid sentence. #23 в контекст | | |
Attracted by his light, an alligator surfaces from the mire and grips the Sorcerer's leg in its monstrous jaws. #24 в контекст | | |
I look on, frozen with horror. The beast is huge and the grip of its jaws must be terrible. I'm sure it's death for the Sorcerer, but he's not a man who is prepared to surrender his life easily. Mere seconds away from being dragged under the stinking water he shouts out a spell and immediately the alligator starts to writhe dementedly, shaking its huge body around in wild agony, all the while holding on to the leg of the unfortunate Sorcerer. #25 в контекст | | |
I turn and flee. He must have used a heart attack spell, or something similar. What this will do to an alligator I'm not certain. Kill it eventually, I'm sure, but maybe not before it killed you. Whether the Sorcerer will survive the encounter is anybody's guess. A dreadful fate if he dies, but the thought that the deadly spell was destined for use on me mitigates my sympathy somewhat. #26 в контекст | | |
Heart pounding for fear of encountering another monstrous alligator, I find the ladder. I haul my bulky figure up the creaking rungs as quickly as I ever scaled anything in my life. At the top of the shaft I push off the cover and drag myself into the street. All around people stare in astonishment as, filthy, bedraggled, wild-eyed and stinking, I emerge into the sunlit streets of Twelve Seas. #27 в контекст | | |
"Sewer inspection," I mutter to one inquisitive indi- vidual who nears me as I struggle on my way. #28 в контекст | | |
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