The dark-skinned gnome eyed Tanthalas up and down, the pipe in his mouth stuck between gritted teeth. A small trail of smoke escaped from the rogue’s lips as he considered what to do about the elf. Tanthalas released his grip on the now-unconscious orc, standing up, sword still in hand as he eyed the figures before him.

“So what are you doing here?” the gnome stated calmly, but with an edge in his voice. The assassin’s hooded companion a few lengths away still held a bow, trained on Tanthalas, waiting for the wrong move.

“Same as you, trying to stop them” the elf responded, not wanting to give too much away yet.

“That doesn’t explain why you showed up in my town, fully armed and ready for a fight.”

“We’ve been hunting these Dark cultists for a while now and the trail has led here.” Tanthalas had no backup and it seemed like this conversation might be on the edge of a knife. He was going to have to tread carefully. From behind his legs, his tiny dragon friend hissed in disapproval. Blitz didn’t seem to like the gnome.

“Interesting” murmured the gnome, pausing to take a pull on his pipe and let out a small smoke cloud. “I think the boss might like to meet you.”

The gnome lifted an open palm into the air, signalling to his companion, who responded by lowering and stowing away their weapon. They began dragging the orc’s incredibly heavy form down the dark alley toward the light of the street lamps.

“Thanks for the help” the gnome stated, begrudgingly. “You handled yourself well.”

Tanthalas was about to respond when a voice was heard from the street, calling out in a sing-song voice.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? No, no, no…. not me.”

A haunting melody began, the words of a song that Tanthalas had never heard before, but powerful magic was woven into its tune. There was a strange glow beginning to emit from the street lamps ahead, switching from a sickly green to a beautiful violet and then occasional yellows or pinks. Tanthalas felt a tug on his mind, but pushed it aside. He knew a fey trick when he felt one.

Those around him, however, were not so fortunate. The orc drummer’s body was dropped unceremoniously in the alley as both the gnome and his hooded companion slowly walked out towards the street. They moved at a slow pace, moving closer and closer to the source of the singing. Tanthalas rushed forward, chasing them to the start of the alley and looked out upon the scene before him.

In the middle of the road was the singer from earlier, standing firmly and singing into the air. On her back were the translucent echoes of fairy wings, glowing and spreading out around her. In fact, her entire body seemed to be covered in an otherworldly glow of greens and blues and yellows, swirling around her as she sang. A cloaked figure on a rooftop across the street was slowly crawling down the side of the building to reach the street. Two of the gnome’s men were standing only a few feet from her, awe-inspired and drawn to the music. The gnome assassin himself was slowly walking towards her, his sword hanging loose in his hand at his side.

Tanthalas would have to act quickly before this creature did something horrible.

Silence, you!

Brylla pumped her legs as hard as she could to keep up with the others. Flynver was at her side, his tiny feet slapping against the hard cobblestone as his wizard’s robe flapped behind him.

“Do you hear that singing?” he shouted, as they rounded a corner.

On the far end of the street they could see the woman they were pursuing, but she looked different now. The fey woman, for it was clear that was what she was, was being surrounded by dark-cloaked figures who seemed to be entranced. Brylla spotted Tanthalas weaving around the crowd, moving in for an attack. Unsurprisingly, the singing was coming from the faerie who seemed to be trying to keep them docile. It was time to put a stop to that.

Closing her eyes, Brylla grasped the amulet around her neck and whispered a short prayer. The dwarven priestess raised her left arm, gesturing towards the street before her, her open hand slowly closing to a fist as she willed the very essence of the space before her to alter. The singing stopped. The scuffling of boots on the cobblestone disappeared. Complete silence!

The crowd in the street looked about in surprise, wondering what had just happened. In the midst of them, the faerie’s mouth was held open, her lips moving, trying to send the notes onto the night air, but no sound would come out. Flynver and Brylla could hear the sounds of their companions around them but the area down the street was completely quiet. Brylla watched as Tanthalas noiselessly slipped behind the fairy and swung his blade.

The faerie recoiled, using some sort of protective fey trick to keep from being mortally wounded. A cut was clearly visible upon her, though, and those around her took the opportunity. Soon, she was under a barrage as the mob rebelled against the now-silenced creature. Only one of them didn’t seem to be grabbing for her, focused instead on defending her from the mob. Brylla watched the chaos unfold before her as her companions joined the fray.

***

It was all going so wrong. Kade was here, so close. She reached out and grabbed the gnome’s own shortsword, wrenching it from his hand and driving the blade forward at him. Even charmed, the gnome side-stepped her clumsy attempts easily. Almost taunting her. Her voice was silenced, useless, while the mob beat down upon the arcane protections she had woven earlier. Each blow hurt, but the wards were holding well enough to keep her alive for now. As blades cut into her, and arrows and bolts flew her direction, Nikki dodged and weaved, intent only on one goal: the gnome’s death. She knew that to break further up the chain she needed him out of the way, but these meddlesome heroes were getting in the way!

A sudden pain ripped through her back as a squirming form latched onto her, nearly shoving Nikki to her knees from the impact. As she struggled, she had to dodge the bite of what appeared to be a small dragon. Her eyes went wide, wondering where this had come from? Kade didn’t have a dragon pet, did he? No matter how it had gotten here, the small wyrmling was currently trying to drag her down to the ground, snapping and gripping onto her with all its might. It took all her strength just to keep upright, trying to move and push it off of her.

Where was Drokh?

Her eyes scanned around the street, trying to find him beyond the crowd that was pressing in on her. Nikki braced herself for the blows as she noticed a hooded figure moving behind her and reaching out, but instead of another blow she suddenly felt the drake’s talons ripped off of her as the weight of the beast came free. She stared into the eyes of the elf who was helping her, wondering whether this was because of one of her charms or not, but the help was enough for Nikki to push forward, finding some freedom from the pressing of the crowd for a few seconds.

The noise of her boots on the pavement suddenly rushed at her as the sounds of everything came back at full volume. The jolt from absolute silence to even the quiet sounds of her own feet was a little disorienting, but Nikki wasted no time. Letting out a high-pitched wail, she tried to protect herself from the chasing mob. Still screaming her painful melody, Nikki rushed down the side alley that they had agreed to use, looking for her orc companion in the dark. A lump caught in her throat as she spotted his bleeding and unconscious body lying in the alley, limbs at an awkward angle. Poor Drokh… he had just wanted to help her! Now, here he lay, in the dark, alone.

Nikki stood atop him, rage filling her heart. A rage she knew she wasn’t supposed to be allowed to feel. A rage that THEY would have stopped, if they could. Her voice lifted, stronger and stronger, pulling them forward. She felt so weak, but she had to succeed.

Confrontation

This was ridiculous. Flynver was practically shaking his head at what was going on before him. With the mass of people in the streets, it was difficult to make out the details of what was going on, but Flynver could tell that the fey must have broken free because that song of hers was echoing from the alley and the mob in front of him was moving in unison in that direction. It didn’t make any sense?

“You need to give this up! It isn’t worth it!” he shouted down the alley. He couldn’t quite make her out in the darkness, but the glow of her wings was enough to give a general sense of her outline. She was standing over something, something big.

“They have to be stopped! I WILL STOP THEM! Do you know what they’re doing? They’re controlling everyone!” came the retort, her song briefly pausing as the fey screamed back at him.

“You mean like forcing somebody to help you against their will?”

“I’m doing this to stop people from hurting others!”

The desperation in the fey’s voice was obvious. Flynver could see Tanthalas moving in on her, weapons drawn, ready to take her down. Her charms weren’t working on the elf and Flynver knew that there would only be moments.

“Don’t you see that you’re doing the same thing as they are doing?” added Brylla, trying to talk her down from this last stand of hers.

The fey was grabbing for something around her neck. Tanthalas could see it clearly in the dark, a white pendant in the shape of harp. She was holding tightly to it, now straddling the orc, her fingers nearly white with the force of her grip on the pendant. Flynver and Brylla were insistent on talking her down, but the elf wasn’t taking any chances. She wasn’t listening to reason. This anarchist might think they were different, somehow taking down the oppressor, but she was obsessed. She couldn’t understand the hypocrisy of controlling others to stop them from controlling others. She just kept claiming that they didn’t understand. And clutching that pendant.

The elf noticed a brief flash of something happening as the pendant glowed and he knew it was time. Swinging the hilt of his blade down on her head, the ranger knocked her to her knees. The pendant still in her hands, she ripped it from her neck and held it in her hand. She reached out with the last of her strength towards the elf, the necklace dangling from her fingertips. Tanthalas caught it in his free hand as the fey lost consciousness and collapsed atop her orc companion.

Looking down at his hand, the small harp-shaped pendant glowed dully. It was beautifully made, a fine ivory or perhaps made of polished bone? It seemed very old, but why had the…

Tanthalas’ thoughts were interrupted as a surge of psychic power blasted into his mind. Visions of buildings being constructed, roads being paved, great mine tunnels being dug out, cities rising from nothing, great speeches from thrones, the birth of a little child. Thousands upon thousands of years of history were being pressed into his memory all at once. One word stood out amongst the millions of ideas: Harper.

The elf struggled to maintain concentration as some of the others moved into the alley. The elf had heard of the Harpers before, an ancient organization that had long ago been in charge of spreading the news around Lani, keeping the oral history of the people, and generally acting as the keepers of knowledge before the advancements came to allow people to keep history for themselves. Was this how they did that? The elf could feel his mind aching from the sudden onslaught of information, but he focused himself, closed his eyes, and found his way through it. Tanthalas would not let this break him!

Somewhere nearby were voices. Talking. Arguing? It sounded like Flynver. And the gnome?

“Will they be interrogated? You need to tell me that you aren’t going to kill them.”

“The boss doesn’t believe in interrogation.”

“We’re not letting you take them if you can’t promise they won’t be killed.”

“Are you sure about that?”

All around Tanthalas, the gnome’s crew suddenly drew their weapons, aiming at the elf and his friends. Bowstrings were taut and crossbow triggers were at the ready, the slightest move and any chance at negotiation would be over.

Near the street, the gnome stood, puffing on his pipe, one hand in the air as he signalled his crew to hold their fire. The small dark-skinned figure stared intently at the halfling wizard before him, sizing him up, daring him to make the move.

Credits

• Cover image: “Nikki”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe