Skelg lurched back, spitting and clawing at his face.
I recognized that spell. “Rade! Over here!”
“Don’t worry, my friend. Help has arrived.”
I pulled myself up and back over the edge to see Rade Tartaros, sword in hand, striding across the rooftops from the direction we’d come from. A few feet behind him was Krachma, impatiently thumping his mace against his big rocky palm.
“Watch out. Gerzog’s got the shadow-walking charm.”
My warning came too late. These darkened rooftops were such a perfect place to use that enchantment, that Gerzog had already vanished, and taken Dathka with him.
The mercenary must have been done running, because he appeared between Rade and Krachma. It was only the incredible reflexes of our duelist that kept Rade from getting stabbed in the back. Gerzog swung, Rade dove forward, and rolled on his hands and shoulder, coming back up facing his foe.
“Clever trick, orc. But that spell’s from my homeland. I can smell shadow magic a mile away.”
Stuck between two capable foes, Gerzog just gave them both a savage grin. “Catch.” And then he shoved the wounded Dathka toward the edge of the roof.
Krachma just watched her go, but Rade—who considered himself something of a gentleman—threw himself after her just as she went over. He caught her by the cloak, the sudden weight sliding him to the edge of the roof on his belly, where it took everything he had to hold on to her and not slide off.
Gerzog went at Krachma. The two giants collided, and though I couldn’t tell in the dark, I imagined this would make our lob happy for once. I was forced to stop watching and roll out of the way as the goblin managed to scrape enough spiders off his face to activate his wand. It hissed and spit as a caustic hole was melted through someone’s roof. Shingles crumbled and the wood beneath curled and scorched, but he’d missed me.
I set that little fucker on fire.
Skelg caught a snoot full of Red, and there was so much anger driving thisShroud of Fire,that his protective charm only heldit off for a few seconds. Then the goblin was trying to run away from me across a slick roof with his hair on fire.
The woman hit me with an air-dagger spell. My Frunza charm flashed and sparked as the first ones bounced off, then I felt a flash of pain as hardened air sliced open my cheek. She’d been aiming for my eyes.
“That’s my boyfriend, bitch!”
Azarin’sJolthit one of the mercenary’s bat wings and stuck there, crackling, sparking, and smoking. All the merc could do was twitch as the spell surged through her muscles.
I looked over my shoulder to see Azarin, Trax—and surprisingly enough—Morton, rushing from the other direction across the rooftops.
Seeing prey, Trax moved with incredible speed, covering the distance in seconds, to scoop up the still burning goblin, and before that poor fool had any idea what was happening, Trax was cramming him into his mouth andchewing.
“Hello, Carnavon,”Trax sent enthusiastically. “Thank you for leaving such an obvious trail.”
Arms and legs were hanging out and flopping about—and the noise!The crunching!I was glad the relative darkness spared us from the goriest details.
The goblin screamed at being eaten. The flying woman screamed at the sight and leapt straight into the air. Gerzog looked back from where he was battling Krachma, to see that he was now badly outnumbered, and no matter how tough he might have been, no one wanted to fight a Squalo. He stepped away from our lob and vanished into the shadows.
The harpy was flapping and gaining altitude, but Morton shouted, “Not so fast,” as he brought up—not a wand—but a blunderbuss I’d last seen on the wall of the wyvern pens at Smorp Brothers that was nearly as long as he was tall.
BOOM!
The recoil knocked our gnome over backward, but a bunch of holes appeared in one wing. The mercenary shrieked as that wing collapsed, and she went spiraling down. She landed on her hands and knees, and immediately began to beg.
“Wait! Spare me. I can?—”
Crunch.
Krachma, being deprived of an orc to fight, promptly bashed her over the head with his mace.
“I think that harpy was surrendering,” Azarin said.
Krachma shrugged.
“I could use some help,” Rade said, still lying on the slick roof, and his grip on Dathka’s hood was the only thing keeping her from falling to her death.
