Icy shards flew past Praxle. The gnome grabbed a handful of scrolls from the shelf next to him and flung them at the second mage. Three of them unfurled in flight, creating a fluttering flock of parchment distraction. The mage’s spell fired a spray of energy pellets that flew at the scrolls instead of the small gray illusionist, hitting several of them and setting them ablaze.
Teron’s roll brought him to the feet of the lead mage. He kicked up with his feet, catching the front end of the staff and knocking it toward the ceiling. The surprised mage staggered with the force of the unexpected blow, so he didn’t see Teron’s hand snake out and snag the bottom end of the staff. Teron yanked the staff toward him. The mage fought him, trying to pull it back. Teron obliged, thrusting the staff toward the mage, and their combined strength drove the tip of the magic staff squarely into the mage’s teeth. He raised one hand to his face, leaving one hand holding the staff.
The second mage stepped forward, hands held in front of him, glowing with an icy blue the color of dead flesh. He scooted over the burning scrolls, looking for the gnome that had been there but a moment before.
Still on his back, Teron swung one lag up and hooked his heel over the top end of the staff. He drove his leg down, stripping the wooden staff from the Thrane. At the same time he snapped up a kick with his other leg and struck the mage in the side, knocking him down.
Startled by the cry of his companion, the second mage turned to check what kind of threat Teron posed. Teron rolled to his feet and spun the staff in a circle. He looked at the approaching mage, and the unnatural hue to his hands. Then he saw a shadow move from the shadows of the bookshelves, and Praxle lunged forward and planted a dagger into the Thrane mage’s kidney.
The man stiffened, arcing his back against the assault, leaving himself open. Teron thrust with the staff, landing a brutal strike at the soft spot right below the breastbone, and following up with a spinning overhand blow that hit the mage on the back of the head as he doubled over. There was a loud crack as the man’s skull broke.
Teron turned back to the owner of the staff. He was holding his face and crab-walking backward. Teron leaped forward, wielding the staff like a spear. He struck the mage in the gut, and then swung around and planted a heel kick squarely on the temple. The mage flopped dead.
Praxle wiped his dagger on the dead mage’s robe. “We need to get going,” he said. “Any chance of fighting our way through the lobby?”
“Never,” said Teron. “Not with wizards and the guardian elemental. We’re going up.”
Behind them, near the door to the restricted research, a small explosion billowed forth as a Thrane wizard teleported in. “Hold!” she yelled.
Praxle aimed the hilt of his dagger at the new arrival and a blast of lightning split the air.
Teron turned, shocked. “Where did that come from?” he yelled.
“I went shopping,” yelled Praxle. “Let’s go!” The pair burst into the stairwell and ran for the rooftop. Below them, they heard the sound of multiple footsteps racing up behind. Teron moved quickly and easily, but Praxle, having to leap up stairs that were far larger than his body could easily handle, started to flag.
Teron burst into the guard tower, populated only by the cooling corpses of Thrane guards. He ran out the covered door and ran across the roof, weaving between the wicked weapons that defied the heavens. He made for the edge of the roof and grabbed the end of the coiled rope, looking for a good location to secure the line. He’d hoped Praxle’s enchantment would still hold, but the rope lay limp and lifeless in his hands.
Then he saw the shadows move.
A dozen or more figures stalked across the roof, starlight reflecting off their huge naked blades. Teron grabbed the rope and ran back toward the central tower. He saw a shifting patch of gray in the darkness, faintly visible. “Take the rope!” he hissed. “The tower by the Dormitorion!”
“What?” Praxle whispered back. “What’s the matter?”
“The statues,” explained Teron, “they’re animate! I’ll distract them, you run to the corner tower, and pray your disguise holds!”
Praxle scuttled off, low and quiet, his shifting gray coloration making him all but invisible atop the unlit roof.
Teron turned and appraised the approaching constructs. Their anatomy had no nerves, thus incapacitating them with debilitating pain was not possible. Instead, Teron had to rely on striking weak locations to cause structural damage; no small feat for creations that were, in all likelihood, perambulating stone.
He hopped to the side, striking one of the upraised pole arms with the full weight of his body. The long weapon creaked, then snapped under the pressure, and Teron hefted it. It had a wide blade, covered with barbs and jutting spikes, a perfect weapon for use against unarmored targets, but against armored foes, it was less than ideaclass="underline" the wide cutting edge dispersed the energy too much.
Two statues drew close, raising their greatswords for lethal strikes. He turned the pole in his hands, spinning the head of his weapon. He stepped in to one approaching statue, striking lightly to the face with the construct, and leaving his left side open to the second. The first statue balked as the razor-sharp spikes threatened its eyes. The second statue took advantage of the easy strike, swinging its heavy two-handed sword down to cut the monk in half. Teron sensed the approaching attack, and hopped into the air, bringing the head of his pole arm down and ushering the blade beneath him.
In the darkness, the construct warrior did not see the move in time to react. Teron guided the full force of the attack into the second, and the huge blade amputated the animate statue’s leg at the knee. The injured carving collapsed silently, then made a weak swing at Teron’s legs with its weapon. The monk hopped back and looked toward the tower where Praxle had run. He could see nothing, and decided to buy the gnome a few more moments before making his break.
The downed statue hurled its giant sword at Teron. The monk easily dodged, but the attack distracted him for a split second. In that time, the other warrior swiped its blade hard in a low, lateral stroke, cutting through the shafts of several of the upraised pole arms. They began to fall like timber, their sharpened edges arcing toward Teron. As they fell, the statue charged in.
Faced with so many attacks, and well knowing that the Thrane Congress was capable of using his blood to send magical attacks, Teron backpedaled rapidly, using his bulky weapon to deflect several of the falling shafts.
More statues closed in. He gave ground, but it became clear that the assembled creatures would wait until they had overwhelming force before attacking. Teron moved toward the central tower, but a statue blocked the way, whirling its sword in a defensive circle.
Knowing his time was almost up, Teron forced himself to press his energy lower into his body, pushing it uncomfortably into one leg. His stomach churned at the effort, complaining against the unnatural activity.
As he felt the energy start to course out of his body, Teron made his move. He used the pole arm to vault himself forward, snapping a kick out toward the face of the blocking statue. His kick was well short of the mark, but as his leg snapped to a full extension, the energy flew from the sole of his foot and struck the statue in the face. The creature staggered back with the arcane impact, and Teron took the opportunity to move. He tossed the pole arm right at the manufactured guardian while he himself dived to a roll, tumbling just past the creature’s knee while its attention was drawn upward to the spiraling spear.
Several other statues were too close now; he had to flee. Teron tumbled back to his feet and leapt for the roof of the guard tower. He grabbed the edge and pulled himself up with one strong motion. He grabbed the shafts of two of the spears that jutted from the tower’s roof and pulled himself forward, his feet clearing the edge of the roof just as three greatswords rang against the stone, spitting sparks and chips of rock with the ferocity of their strikes.