Hyathic Homicide - The Mage of Lost Magic

Chapter 8

Selevin opened the window in their room and gingerly made his way onto the ledge. Ghorza stuck her head out the window, noting the uneven bricks that Selevin used as handholds. He got a few paces down the ledge then motioned for Ghorza to join him.

She took a deep breath then crawled out the window. The window made it easy to balance on the ledge, but she knew it would get harder with the smaller brick handholds between rooms.

"Just don't look down." Selevin offered her comfortably. "Grab the same bricks I did and make your way to me. There's no rush, watch your every step and grab, you should be fine."

It felt odd for Ghorza to take instruction from her protégé, but she took it in stride. Ghorza was not so prideful that she wouldn't listen to another's advice while in their unfamiliar domain.

She carefully made her way along the ledge. The muscles of her hands began to hurt. She could crush bone with the strength of her grasp, but the awkward placement and strain of the small handholds would lead to muscular exhaustion faster than expected, though not so fast that it should impede her path to the window.

Selevin moved aside, letting Ghorza peer in. The room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon. The man was there, as Selevin had said, facing a corner and not moving at all. There was something uncanny about the man's position. Almost as if he had frozen in place mid-motion. She kept waiting for him to shrug or stretch his legs, but he remained as still as a statue. Selevin was right, it was eerie and unnatural.

Ghorza cast aside her unease and refocused on the task at hand. She reached for the window, noting that of course there was no grip on the outside. She placed her palm against the glass and gently pushed upwards. The window moved, and she continued this motion until it had gone up enough to let her in.

Ghorza slipped inside, immediately standing in a ready position, hand on her sword and crouching slightly, ready to move at a moment's notice. She took a few steps to the side, clearing the opening so that Selevin could join her, matching her readiness, hands at the two long daggers on both sides of his belt.

She inched her way towards the man, her sight hindered by the shadow of Selevin who had not yet moved from his place just inside the window. She felt her muscles tense, though her anxieties were eased by the iron grip on the hilt of her sword. The surety that, should it come to a fight, she was prepared.

Ghorza was a mere step away from the man, and yet he did not move. She noted the tattered form of his shirt, and that it wasn't in fact black. There were a few white spots, the rest covered with some brown liquid that had now dried. She thought it must be blood, but anyone who had lost that much would not remain standing.

She looked back to Selevin who gave a shrug and then a slight nod. She caught his eyes, noting the determination in his gaze. She knew she could trust him to have her back. Of course, she'd known this already, but sometimes it helped to be reminded.

Ghorza reached out to the man, intending to grab his shoulder and turn him about. However, the second her skin made contact with him, before she could even close the light grasp on his arm, all hell broke loose.

The man turned and pushed Ghorza, sending her flying into a nearby table. She had never seen such force without the use of magic, and she was sure that he hadn't casted a spell. That was a push and nothing more.

Selevin was upon the man in an instant. He dodged an errant swipe, ducking under it and slicing the man in the calf. He continued this dance, ducking and diving to masterfully evade the man's attacks. They came speedily and with great power but were lacking the skill and control of a trained fighter. Though he was unarmed, Selevin had seen what had happened to Ghorza and was careful not to risk himself unnecessarily. He continued this dance, landing an occasional stab or slice, to no effect on the man. He did not scream or cry out, cringe, or react at all. The only noise he made was a hoarse, deep groan as he lunged again and again at the young Elf.