From alt.pub.dragons-inn Sat Jun 17 12:16:13 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8506 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!nntp.crl.com!decwrl!reeve.research.aa.wl.com!WS008013F18C2D!simonj From: simonj@rh.wl.com (Jeff Simon) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Jake Shade] Chapter 6: The rest of chapter 6 Date: Sat, 10 Jun 1995 06:52:35 EDT Organization: Parke-Davis Rochester Lines: 389 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: 198.205.215.16 X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B final beta #4] *********************************************************** Read the prior half of this chapter first or be damned to eternal confusion! *********************************************************** ******************** Winder was sitting in the window sill when Yvette woke up. He was shirtless, the lower two thirds of his body wrapped in a sheet against the chill of the morning air. Around his neck he wore a necklace, some kind of charm. It was a copperpiece, threaded on a leather thong. Yvette had never seen it before. "Where'd you get the necklace?" she asked. "Shhhhhh!" Winder motioned for silence. Yvette's senses came immediately to full attention. She quickly slipped out of her hammock and glided over to where he was sitting. She looked over his shoulder and out into the street. "What do you see?" she asked him quietly. "Over there. Behind the Bread-cart. See those two guys that're leaning against the wall?" Yvette nodded her head, but since she was behind Winder he couldn't see that. "I see them," she told him. "What about them?" "They're Falchion's men." Yvette shivered at the mention of the Crime Lord's name. "How do you know that?" she asked her brother. "I've seen them walking around with him before," Winder lied, continuing to watch the two men. "What do you think they're doing here?" Yvette asked, not seeing how it concerned them. "They're keeping an eye on this place," Winder informed her solemnly, turning to look at her for the first time. "They've been there since sunrise." "Why?" Yvette still hadn't put things together. Winder almost sneered, but he managed to stifle it. Yvette was usually the smart one, the one who made the connections first. This time, she just couldn't see how the pieces fit together. "The talisman. They must know that I'm the one who stole it from Big Leorn," Winder told her. Yvette gasped in surprise, her hand going to her throat. "Grace saw it when he grabbed me last night," she told her brother. "Well, if he shows up too, I guess we'll be truly fucked." Winder was glum. He hadn't mentioned it to Yvette yet, but there were two other men keeping watch on the back door from a nearby alley. Things were not looking good. "What do you think they're waiting for?" Yvette asked him nervously. "It could be anything. Maybe they're just keeping an eye on us. They could be waiting for reinforcements. Maybe they think we're not here and they're waiting for us to come back." "Maybe they're waiting for dark," Yvette told him. Winder looked at his sister again, catching her eyes. "Maybe they are." ************************ Grace strode across the bridge that spanned Malfaedor's fetid swamp of a moat. The tall Lieutenant hated the fact that an occasional visit to the necromancer was necessary. Hated it with a passion. Malfaedor loved to play the role of evil sorcerer to the hilt, meaning that the archmage made sure his stronghold's atmosphere matched that of his own black nature. A man-sized creature of reptilian nature dragged itself onto the bridge ahead of Grace. It looked something like the mutant offspring of an albino scorpion and a crazed alligator. It hissed venomously at the Lieutenant, lunging at him with jaws snapping. Grace barely broke his stride, stomping on the reptile's neck savagely. Cartilage crackled as he ground his heel down viciously before lifting his boot. He continued on, leaving the creature behind to thrash out the last moments of its life in agony behind him. Two skeletal warriors stood at the entrance to Mal- faedor's tower, one to either side of the massive port- cullis. Whatever intelligence they still retained after their ghastly resurrection; it was enough for them to recognize the tall swordsman. They moved their rusty pikes aside as he stomped past, not even sparing them a glance. Malfaedor was feeding what looked like a baby mouse to his raven when Grace walked in. The bird hissed angrily at the Lieutenant from the safety of the Archmage's shoulder. Malfaedor chuckled softly. "You have a certain charm about you, Grace. Animals seem to sense it right away." Grace did not reply to the Archmage's jibe. He glanced about the huge antechamber for a moment, deciding which of the ornate rugs covering the floor was likely to be the most valuable. Finding it, he walked over and began wiping his boot on it. If Malfaedor was displeased by this behavior he gave no sign of it. Instead the necromancer sniffed the air, cocking his head curiously. He sniffed again and looked at Grace with a quizzical air. "Have you been sleeping with gypsies?" he asked Grace. "You smell like a campfire." "There was a fire down at the mercantile compound earlier this morning," Grace told him. "A merchant was tragically killed and all his worldly possessions destroyed." "And you just happened to be there." Malfaedor laid a finger alongside his nose mischievously, on the side of his blind eye. Grace looked at him blankly. Malfaedor knew no answer would be forthcoming. "Has Falchion located the talisman yet?" the necromancer asked, tossing another squirming morsel to the raven. Grace snorted. "Falchion claims that he knows where it is. He says that he'll have it to us by tomorrow night." "Let's hope he makes good on his promise," Malfaedor told him. "If he fails, it won't matter." Grace assured the Archmage. "Oh? Why is that?" Malfaedor asked, raising an eyebrow. "Last night I ran into . . . an old acquaintance of mine. It turns out that she has the talisman. A couple of outlanders prevented me from recovering it, but I know where to locate her if Falchion fails us again." "Well, well, well." Malfaedor chuckled to himself. "The mighty Grace, foiled by a pair of mere outlanders." "They had help," Grace snarled, "One of them dragged that crowd from the Dragon's Inn into the matter. There was nothing I could do with so many witnesses in the area." "Oh, I believe you Grace, really I do." Malfaedor said in a mocking tone. Grace ignored it and took a seat. "I think that one of the outlanders is the one who knocked Bungarelli out of commision," he told the necromancer. "Jacobius Bungarelli. Wasn't he the one who was originally supposed to pick up the talisman from the Dothasians?" Malfaedor asked. "Yeah, he's the one. I told you we shouldn't have put that group of Middle Marches momma's boys in charge." Grace had never ceased reminding Malfaedor of that particular point. "I'm more interested in this outlander. If he is the same one that melted Bunggarelli's brain, that's twice that he's come between us and the Aroch Talisman." Malfaedor left off feeding his familiar, and began pacing the chamber thoughtfully. "I'm sure that it's just a coincidence," Grace told Malfaedor. "If that crowd of Dragon's Inn flitboys hadn't shown up, I would have taken the outlander out of the equation permanently last night." "I am not so sure," Malfaedor mused quietly. "When you are dealing with arcane matters such as the talisman, it's best not to make assumptions." Grace rolled his eyes as he always did when Malfaedor began talking about 'Wizardly matters' and climbed to his feet. He flexed his long legs as he did so, working out the kinks. He spared a glance for his boot, checking to make sure he had gotten all the moat-creature's blood off of it. "If you're so worried about the outlander, I'll kill him. It shouldn't be that hard to locate him. He doesn't seem to be the type to keep a low profile." "No Grace," Malfaedor ordered. "I want you to stay on top of Falchion and the recovery of the talisman. I'll send one of my other agents to deal with the outlander." ************************** "What'd he say?" Panarchus asked, eyeing the reptilian monstrosity nervously. Grace booted the broken thing over the side of the bridge, where it was seized and devoured by other, larger things. The two men walked off the bridge and out of the wizard's compound. "He said to forget about the amulet and to concentrate on the outlander and the girl," Grace lied, checking to see if he had gotten more ichor on his boots. "Well, that sucks," Panarchus bitched. "He's the wizard, not us. How the hell does he expect us to find these people without a crystal ball?" Grace chuckled and tapped his friend on the arm. "It just so happens that I saw the girl coming out of a Fortune Teller's shop last night. Let's go see what he told her. It might give us some leads." "Sounds like you're grasping at straws to me," Panarchus told him. "Could be, Panarchus ol' buddy, could be. Regardless, we better get a move on." "To the Fortune Teller's?" Panarchus asked. "No, I need to get my boots shined first." Panarchus sighed. ********************* "They're gone," Winder told Yvette. Startled, she wiped sleep out of her eyes and looked out the window. It was after dusk. Winder had packed all of their stuff while she had been out. "Why'd you get all our stuff together?" she asked her brother groggily. "We're getting out of here, that's why." Yvette snarled and began checking her gear. Winder had missed a few things. She went and got them, then busied herself repacking her bag. It was pitifully small when she was done. "This is just typical, Winder. Where the Grauna are we supposed to go? Just because you saw -" "I've got a place for us to go," Winder cut his older sister off. "A safe place." Yvette caught Winder's eye and glared. His gaze didn't flicker, so she knew that he was on the level. That left her even more puzzled. "What was that?" she asked suddenly, heart beginning to race. "What was what?" Winder asked. "I didn't hear anything." Yvette bit back a scream as the inside of the bakery shook with the sounds of a tremendous impact on the front door and wood splintering. She cursed, realizing that her stiletto had been lost during the altercation with Grace the night before. Winder grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the back of the bakery. Lacing her fingers together, Yvette boosted Winder to the top of one of the ruined ovens. Winder reached down and helped her scramble up beside him. Yvette felt even more adrenaline flood her system as the back door also shook under an impact, the door rattleing in its frame. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow moving in one of the high windows. She did not have time to look as she and Winder frantically cleared their makeshift patch from a jagged hole in the roof. Once the hole was clear, Winder shimmied through. Yvette heard something moving on the floor below her, but before she could turn her head to look, Winder's pale arm reached down for her. She grabbed it and swung herself to the roof. She got to her feet, meeting Winder's gaze across the hole. Below them, the front door finally gave and crashed loudly as it fell into the bakery. Winder motioned for her to follow and took off over the rooftops. It was a long time before the pair stopped for breath. "Where are you taking us Winder?" Yvette asked him, gasping for air. Winder was not much better off. He had to suck in a few breaths himself before he could answer. "We're going deeper into the Low City. Closer to the Shunned Center." Yvette looked at her younger brother with wide eyes. Winder could see that she was thinking of bolting in the other direction. He put out his hand and after a moment, she took it. "I have some friends there. Trust me." *********************************************************** All the characters appearing in this Jake Shade story are copyrights of Jeff A. Simon, 1995, with the exception of Lt. Panarchus. He appears courtesy of somebody else I don't know. Helpful suggestions were made by Kent Peter- son. The reprinting of this or any other Jake Shade story is prohibited without the express permission of the author. ************************************************************ -- The opinions expressed in this message are mine alone. This message does not necessarily reflect the positions or opinions of my company or organization.