As he finished his almost thoughtful statement, Dherk flipped his right hand up from where it hung at his side.
He released a small knife that hadn't been there a moment earlier.
The knife buried itself in Seren's throat. Her eyes went wide. Blood welled around a protruding blade smeared with green paste. A cry of excitement went up among the gang members as the wizard staggered backward, one hand clutching at the knife hilt.
Raidon charged. He aimed a flying knee at the treacherous youth.
Just before his knee connected with Dherk's head, one of the constructs nail hands clawed Raidon out of the air.
The monk was hammered to the ground. Three of the scarecrow's nails remained behind, two in Raidon's coat and one in his arm, all three punched through to the wooden floor. The monk was nailed to the ground.
He yelled," 'Ware the construct's hands!" as he tried to pull free.
Thoster said, "Quit playing around, Raidon!"
The monk tensed, jerked, and pulled his arm free of the nail. Blood poured down his arm as he rose. He ducked beneath another claw. The thing wasn't actually that fast- it had caught Raidon off guard. Seren got a grip on the knife hilt and pulled the blade free. More blood flowed. It was stained green from the paste. She gurgled, "Poisoned!" She let the dagger fall.
Thoster twisted his sword's hilt. A vial dropped from a previously hidden hollow. He palmed it and pressed it into Seren's bloody hand. "Drink it, eh? A restorative. And an anti-venom!"
Seren uncorked the vial with her teeth and gagged down its contents.
Raidon swayed like a tree in the wind to avoid another heavy but slow swipe by the construct.
Dherk tried to flank the monk, another knife held high. He brought it down in a brutal blow as if wielding an ice pick.
Raidon deflected the knife with his left forearm. His right hand balled into a fist and lashed straight into Dherk's throat. The youth made an odd noise and dropped the knife.
Raidon followed up by snatching the lapels of the youth's sleeveless coat. Still holding Dherk, he twisted his upper torso. The youth's feet left the ground as he was swung around the monk's body, propelled by the force of the throw until he sprawled at Thoster's feet.
The captain put the point of his sword in the hollow of the gang leader's tattooed throat. He said, "Call off your construct," levity gone from his voice.
Dherk gasped, yelled, "I can't! Japheth, that sheepstraddler, set it in motion!"
The seashell-crowned bulk heaved toward Thoster and Seren but avoided stamping on the bleeding tough at its feet.
"I've had enough of this," hissed Seren, her voice hoarse but furious.
The wizard brandished her wand and whispered three syllables like a cold wind blowing through the eaves. A wintry line momentarily connected the wand tip with the advancing driftwood scarecrow. Ice blossomed around it until the constructs body was trapped in a frozen sarcophagus. It ceased moving.
The faces watching the fight through the inner doorway had lost their grins. One by one, they faded into the shadows.
"Lost your nerve, eh?" Thoster yelled after them. He glanced back down at Dherk, who he still threatened with his sword. "Your gang ain't up to defending its turf."
Dherk snarled, "We're a little tired of mages appearing out o' nowhere and blasting us to the Hells and back for a lark!"
Raidon motioned for Thoster to sheathe his sword. He crouched next to the angry young man. "Tell us where to find Japheth, and we'll trouble you no more."
"Why're you so antsy to find him?"
"He stole something from us. We want it back."
Dherk's eyes narrowed. He studied Raidon, his clothing, and the sti ll-sheathed shape of the sword riding the monk's back. He said, "He's stolen something from us too! All the work we do, day and night-he's taking most of it!"
Seren slipped her wand back into her belt. The vial Thoster had dispensed had nearly smoothed away the gash in her neck, though dried blood remained and her hair was uncharacteristically disheveled. She fixed the gang leader with a hard stare and said, "The warlock is skimming your coin?"
"Yeah!" said Dherk. He sat up. "He said he needed it to bankroll something he was working on. He also wanted us to score traveler's dust. I don't really care what he's doing- all I know is he's taking what belongs to us! So yeah, I'll tell you where to find Japheth. If you promise he'll trouble the Razorhides no more."
"You ain't in a position to demand things, lad!" Thoster said.
Raidon helped Dherk to stand and said, "Take us to Japheth. When we get back what the warlock stole from us, we'll see about what 'belongs' to you."
Dherk smirked. "Now you're talking."
*****
Tendrils of arcane formulas twined up the vault wall. Sigils, runes, and sympathetic congruencies combined to create an elaborate diagram. Alphabets jumbled together, so that the graceful swoops of Rellanic battled the crude lines of Davek while intertwining uncomfortably with the even more elaborate loops of Supernal. Where lines intersected, glimmers of light gathered.
Japheth traced the inmost lines for the hundredth time to the diagram's center, where a magical sum was scribed in chalk. It was a conclusion that, no matter how many ways he varied the formulas, refused to change. He turned, swaying with exhaustion. His eyes fell on Anusha's sleeping form. "You were right. I didn't save you at all."
Lucky raised his head from his paws. Japheth rubbed at his forehead, smudging it with chalk. "It's impossible."
The dog whined.
The warlock dropped the chalk. He called the dog over and ruffled him behind the ears. "Don't worry, I'm not giving up. But…" He shook his head. "But I'll have to take a trip. No way around it. Anusha's mind is fixed to a new focus. Breaking the Dreamheart won't bring her back-it would sever my last hope for finding her."
He shook his head. "If I fail…" Despite how he liked to think he was a hard man living in hard times, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he was unable to save Anusha.
Lucky wagged his tail, not really comprehending. He was happy to see Japheth moving again after hours of intense scribbling and muttering.
The sound of something breaking jerked both their heads around. A puff of cold vapor rose from the birchwood podium next to Anusha's bier. Japheth examined the clutter of arcane implements piled there. His eyes dropped to the hemp cord that dangled off the podium's side.
The nautilus seashell lay broken on the floor, its whorled shards frosted with ice. It was the amulet keyed to the construct he'd left in the Razorhides' den.
"The construct is defunct," he mused, "destroyed by winter magic. I wonder how Dherk managed…"
He frowned. Japheth placed a finger on the largest remaining piece and closed his eyes. The connection was already dissipating. He concentrated, forcing the bond to remain active another few heartbeats. For his effort he received a stabbing headache and the image of Raidon Kane.
"Mystra's corpse, they've found me!" he gasped.
How long since the driftwood scarecrow was destroyed? Mere moments? Given the inexpert way he'd crafted the thing, that might be a fool's hope. The amulet's destruction could be relaying old news.
The disturbing plan he'd half conceived as his final recourse had become, with one look into Raidon's determined gaze, his only option.
He contemplated simply waiting for Raidon. He could try to patch up the misunderstanding and explain his need.
But the half-elf and his relic-sundering sword might not listen to reason. He might demand the Dreamheart. Of course Japheth wouldn't give it up. He'd already risked everything to free Anusha. He'd invested too much to gamble losing her.
"I will go to Xxiphu," he whispered, incredulous. He'd travel to that horrid place where her mind's new focus lay and cut her spirit free.