Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [143]
The insult sent Vasha leaping to her feet. The table upended with a clatter, bringing a faint cheer from the tavern's patrons. So far, the evening had been too quiet for their liking.
The warrior brandished her sword; Toth plucked an identical blade from the empty air. They crossed weapons with a ringing clash, and the fight began.
The combatants were well matched and in grim earnest, and for a few minutes the tavern patrons were content to watch and wager. But something in the air drew them toward mayhem like bees to clover. Small skirmishes broke out here and there. Those who had blades used them. Others contented themselves with lesser weapons, each according to his strength: humans and half-ores brawled using fists and feet, goblins and hags pelted each other with mugs and bread, mongrelmen lobbed shrieking halfling servants at the ogres, who promptly returned fire with furniture. In moments the entire tavern was engulfed in wild melee.
Liriel edged to the side of the room, skirting the worst of the fighting and occasionally ducking a flying halfling. Despite the natural immunity to magic that was her drow heritage, she could feel the seductive tug of some unknown spell pulling her toward battle. This Toth was good.
But however good he might be, the runecaster underestimated Vasha if he thought that a tavern-wide disturbance might distract her. True, the goblins' mug-throwing had showered her repeatedly with ale, and the growing piles of bodies necessitated some extra footwork in the dance of battle, but the swordwoman did not seem to care or even notice. Her face was set in an ecstatic grimace as she slashed and pounded at her long-sought prey. Liriel watched closely, impressed that Toth managed to hold his own against such fury. But drow wizards were also trained fighters, and Liriel knew that swordplay was no serious deterrent to spellcasting.
Spellcasting was generally frowned upon in this tavern, but the melee thoroughly absorbed the attention of the other patrons. Thus the drow was the only one to see the forgotten wedge of stone rise from a puddle of water on the floor, fly into the runecaster's hand, and meld with the half-circle he held. Only she saw Toth slip the time-coin into his scant loincloth, saw his lips move as he spoke unheard words of magic. For a moment Liriel eyed the handsome runecaster and wished she'd paid better attention when that halfling pickpocket had tried to teach her the trade. But, no time for regrets. She quickly cast an incantation of her own, then waited confidently for what surely would happen next.
Toth disappeared, as expected.
And with him went the spell of battle-lust. Most of the combatants ceased at once, blinking stupidly as they regarded their upraised fists or drawn blades. One ogre, who had lifted a halfling overhead and hauled him back for the throw, stopped so abruptly that the hapless servant went flying backward as opposed to hurtling into enemy ranks. His shriek, loud and shrill in the sudden lull, indicated that he did not consider this fate an improvement. The halfling crashed feetfirst through the tavern's wooden door and hung there, half in and half out, groaning softly.
The rush toward the halfling-bedecked exit was sudden and general. All who could leave the tavern did so, for participation in fights of this magnitude was usually rewarded with a night in Skullport's dungeons. In mere moments Vasha and Liriel were the only able-bodied persons left in the room.
The barbarian's roar of frustration rattled what little crockery remained. "Coward! Oath breaker! Vile runecast-ing son of a wild pig!" shrieked Vasha, shaking her sword and fairly dancing with rage.
"You should have seen that coming," the drow said calmly.
"How could I, Vasha the Red, an honest warrior, foresee such treachery? I fought with honor! Here I stand, drenched in the blood of mine enemy-"
"That's ale," Liriel pointed out.
Vasha abruptly ceased her ranting. She looked down at her sodden raiment and saw that it was so.