Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [15]
Even before it landed in his hand his attention was focused on parrying away Mitch's sword and ducking under the reach of Tarrasqueslayer. He dodged backwards with a smile, foresight telling him once more that Marque Draque's warning spell had went off and the drow was on his way.
The stranger, his face lit by the glowing magical blades, sensed that something was wrong in Pierce's new tactics and backed away towards the doorway.
A moment later another oak door opened with a bang and Marque Draque entered, his way lit by a fire faerie. He smiled and placed a cigar in his mouth, giving Pierce's foresight time so the warrior could run for cover. He held up a hand, pointed two fingers and twin arcs of blue-white light flew towards the stranger.
The first struck the man in the chest, throwing him backwards into a heap. Whereas the second struck Tarrasqueslayer and travelled up the warrior's arm to shock him even more. Dropping the hot blade, he rolled through the doorway out of sight.
"How badly are you injured?" Draque demanded, running towards the Doctor.
"Just my leg, I've got two of them," Pierce spat with a half-grimace, half-smile, realizing how much it stung as the pain finally started to register in his brain. As always he was a little annoyed at how motherly Draque was at times. Even when they had first started out adventuring together, Pierce's foresight had been a mystery to the mage and they had went through many experiments to determine its range, strengths and weeknesses. "And even should I lose it, I'm sure you could replace it."
Draque ignored him and ripped the arm off his tunic, using it as a crude bandage which he tied quickly with a cantrip spell even as Pierce ran across the domed amphitheatre and scooped up Tarrasqueslayer. "I'll alert the guard and wake the rest of the barracks," he shouted after the Doctor. "Keep your wits about you!"
Pierce grunted and ran down the hallway in pursuit of the stranger's footsteps.
Taking a scroll from his belt marked 'Display', Draque looked up at the windows in the domed ceiling with a wicked smile. The spell, designed by a colleague was actually several spells bound together into one big explosion of magical energy. The problem Draque had found however was that it took so damn long to learn. Using a magical scroll solved that problem when it came to emergencies such as this.
Unrolling the scroll, Draque glanced at the fire faerie who flew up to provide the mage with light to read. Speaking the arcane words, he lifted his hand to an open window. His smile spread as he felt the warm glowing feeling of power building within him and travelling up his arm, ready to be released.
The sharp bang and crackling explosions that followed woke up more than half of Waterdeep and alerted the watch that not only was there something wrong at the Academy of Combat, but it was also a pretty impressive display of fireworks. Among those who heard the call to arms was a bald drunk named Martinez, a warrior who despite his frequent bouts with the bottle was a Harper who had fought alongside Doctor Pierce on more than one occasion.
Hefting his longflail, a weapon that was more quarterstaff than flail, in one hand, and giving out a belch that sobered him as much as he ever was these days, the warrior charged down an alley way and spat out a word of magic that made him airborne as he used a spell that allowed him to ride the wind. A normal mage would have realized that the wind was heading the wrong way but then again, a normal mage wouldn't have been a sailor in his youth and would know how to tack into the wind and still use it to his advantage.
Help was on the way.
It was incredibly, Pierce's thoughts whispered to himself. This warrior, a stranger totally unknown of, was a superior warrior than he. He found it hard