Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [62]
For only a moment Chev saw the Harper's fear and felt saddened that such a brave warrior should die so quickly. He paused and made a pretense of combat as the two parried and slashed at each other. He then kicked Kyron backwards and jabbed Sharkslayer through his throat.
Wiping the blades on the drapes of a window, Chev kicked the window open and dropped three stories to land in a roll. Feeling invigorated, the warrior set out for a tavern to satisfy his stomach with a meal.
"Every so often he just goes on a killing spree," Pierce said to the very few Harpers assembled in the Academy's dome. "He comes and goes as he pleases and by the time the guards get there he's already gone. Not that the guards could stop him anyway, he'd simply makes pork chops out of them."
"Pork chops?" Draque muttered to himself. "Its nice to know Waterdeep's guards can be compared to pigs. Waterdeep's prized pigs. I like the sound of that."
Khelben Arunson snorted like a hog and elbowed Draque gently. His wry smile told his compatriots that he was still quite serious about the issue.
"I've come to the conclusion that there is no mundane way of capturing or killing Chev," Pierce finished and looked about at the silent room. "Which means we need magical traps of some sort and we need them fast. Until we find such a means, I can only ask that everyone spreads the word that all Harpers in Waterdeep should find a hiding place and stay there until they hear that Chev has been captured or slain."
From bow to stern, the ship was a masterpiece of naval vessels. Even to Chev's land-lover eyes there was the undeniable aura permeating the wooden planks that made up what would soon be dubbed Wavedevil. Running a hand over the smooth wood, the warrior swallowed and wondered how he could destroy such an incredible piece of craftsmanship.
He firmed his jaw and looked down the length of the hull. This was Doctor Pierce's pet project; A magical ship that could take on any other ship or beast the sea had to offer. A ship that Chev had learned would be piloted by Harpers and only Harpers.
Lifting the torch in the dark and dusty warehouse, Chev set it against the hull and waited for the timbers to catch flame.
A sudden unknown draft snuffed out the flame.
Fumbling around in the dark, Chev relit the torch and waited a moment before trying to set fire to ship once more.
Again the draft of air blew out the flame.
Cursing, Chev relit the torch and tried once more just to confirm his suspicions. Again the torch was blown out and he threw it down in frustration. Annoyed that someone had though far enough ahead to cast an enchantment to protect the ship from fire, the warrior went out in search of magical means to aid his purpose.
He couldn't go to Valeska. He would honour his unspoken promise to her and never bother her for help again. He didn't doubt that at first opportunity she would quickly desert him anyway.
A mage was what he needed right now and he had a feeling this would cost a fair bit. Magic was never cheap.
Grymav the Grand was scarcely more than a has-been. During his younger years he had been an adventurer of sorts, but after a near fatal fall that had left his right leg somewhere in the northern regions and himself a cripple, he had retired early to the easy life of a mage for hire. He made modest spells and enchantments and sold them for a flat fee.
He lived in a short, squat building with very little dirt on the outside but with plenty enough on the inside. Grymav never cleaned his house and he was notorious for being the only one who could safely get past the foyer alive, so thwarted with magical mayhem and discarded potions that had turned foul. Only a fool would seek out Grymav in his own house.
Unless that fool didn't use the door and came through a window in the middle of the night and pinned poor Grymav to his bed with two blades braced against