The next few days Syler spent at the Sexy Badger, resting, healing, and thinking on his plans. And plucking up his courage. The kill and the hunt did not make him nervous. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was his next confrontation that gave him pause.
Home. After finding her there he couldn’t cross the threshold. The pain of loss overlapped the joy of memory. But he must return. He needed the amulet.
The small single story house Cara and he had lived in was in the Syler District, four houses southwest of Sanctuary Tavern. She had painted it a natural green, reminding her of her childhood forest home. The shutters were the yellow of sunlight, reflecting beautifully off of the small planters she had kept at every window.
It was midnight when he stood in front of the home. Perhaps the dark could mask some pain. The blue curtains seemed almost black in the darkness. The herbs and flowers in the planters had withered, brown with decay. Dirt and dust had begun to pile up on the front porch. The dark brown door was locked and the screen slashed. He wiped his eyes, set his jaw, and unlocked the door, revealing the soft loveseat with her hand-stitched throw pillows. A small table with a bowl for keys and change was on the right, next to her coat hanging on a hook.
He gingerly ran his hand over her coat, grabbing a sleeve and bringing it to his face. It still smelled like her. Like nature and gardening. Like love.
It was several minutes before he could compose himself.
The sitting room and the kitchen were a singular space, a hallway opposite the front door leading to the bedrooms and washrooms. A bowl of fuzzy produce rested upon the kitchen counter next to the carved wooden block that held their knives.
One was missing.
He had not noticed that when he last left the house. Or it wasn’t missing then. Still recovering from the emotion of his return, he moved in a slight daze toward the hallway. The guest washroom was the first door on the left, and he glanced through the ajar door only for a second. What he needed wasn’t there. The door on the right was the guest room. Not there either. The door at the end was closed. He took a deep breath and pushed it open. The blue curtains still fluttered in the slight breeze. The red woolen blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Several more steps brought him into the master washroom. A full length mirror stood against the wall opposite the sink and toilet. Syler turned on the sink’s hot and cold taps to fully open. His pinky pushed up into the faucet and he heard a click as the full length mirror swung slightly on hidden hinges.
Behind the mirror were a series of cubbies from the floor to about halfway up, each about a cubic foot. Above that were numerous hooks that held jewelry and several magic items. At the bottom were stacks of papers of no use to him presently. He dumped the few coins he had left in his current pouch into a more filled one, placing the empty bag on the shelf. No weapons were stored there as he needed none beyond the runes upon himself. A small box held a ring that he slid on his right ring finger. He pulled Kuku’s vial from his pocket and touched it to the ring while speaking a word, which pulled it into the ring. He grabbed what appeared to be several small pieces of Tekrystal etched with the runes of Naut the God of Knowledge, and Farroh, Lord of the Sun.
Teknaus, the magic of the realm, comes in the same primary forms as matter. Solid, liquid, gas. The solid form is formally known as Tekrystal, and is commonly used by runecasters for minor enchantments or to enhance the power of the runes they cast.
The next item he grabbed was the amulet hanging in the center of the secret space and put it on. It was a locket, and opening it he saw the image of a small dog with curly yellow fur, stumpy legs, and a very short tail.
He smiled for the first time since entering the house, whispering, “My little potato.”
Tootsie was a real dog, once. He had found her in an alley after he had fled from his fourth foster home in the city. She was eating discarded corn chips the first time he saw her. He was starving, and she walked over to him, bringing him one of her chips. They became inseparable after that.
The Agency had allowed him to keep her in his room, feeding and training her between classroom and training sessions. She licked his face in concern when he was going through the painful poison and venom immunity training. She stayed by his side through it all.
Then she got sick. He did not know what she had gotten, or if it was just her old age catching up to her. When he graduated to full Agent he was given one boon to ask of the Guild. This amulet was their gift. Tootsie was now magically bound to the amulet, and he could say her name and bring her out. He didn’t have the heart to do it inside of their home, so he shut the locket and grabbed the next item.
In the uppermost cubby there were two identical adamantine rods, each a foot long with a button on one end. He checked each of them to ensure they still worked, clicking the buttons and releasing them. Each rod floated where he had pushed the button. Satisfied, he clicked the buttons again and placed them into his extradimensional hip-pouch.
“Don’t move,” a feminine yet deep voice said from the other side of the still open mirror.
“Why are you in my home?"
“Been looking for a certain roguish hero. Heard he lives in this house but hasn’t returned since his wife was killed.”
“You heard incorrectly.”
“I don’t think I did.”
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“What do you want?”
“You. Dead.”
“Do I get a last request?”
The voice laughed softly. “Sure.”
“Not in this house. It has seen enough death.”
“By all means. Shut the mirror and keep your hands up.”
Slowly shutting the door, Syler turned with his hands up, palms facing his opponent. They were androgynous, tall and muscular, holding the kitchen knife he had noticed missing. They had pointed ears and skin as white as paper. A Dokkalfar. Death Elf. Dressed in robes with a magical hue his eye scanned as a rune from Samusan, the Lord of Battle. Mage armor. Great.
The Death Elves were on the opposing side during the War of the Shard, attempting to awaken the chaotic god Kalak. Syler had killed so many of them during that time he had no idea which one they were trying to avenge. This was not the first time. No doubt he was the villainous origin of many of their kind.
Too bad for them he had his own revenge to plot. They both walked outside. Syler never dropped his hands and the Dokkalfar never turned their sight away from him. There were fewer guards out and about this late, and of course none were in sight.
“May I ask the name of my killer?” Syler said.
“Alexandros Teken’Rae.”
“Frederin?”
“My brother.”
“I remember him.”
“How would you prefer to die?” Alexandros said.
“Quickly.”
“So be it!” Alexandros drew a grey tekrystal from his robe and shoved his hand toward the ground, and Syler heard the shifting of stone behind him, turning to see an earth elemental rise up from the ground.
It seemed Alexandros was prepared.
Syler turned and ran toward his foe, drawing and firing his shadow bow in one fluid motion. The arrow ricocheted off their magic shield. He focused on the porch of the house and whispered, “Come here, Toots.” There was a small popping sound and an adorable little 12 pound yellow haired dog sat on the top step of the porch.
Syler had no time to greet Tootsie, diving to his left as a massive stone limb crashed down where he had been standing. He fired several arrows into the elemental, but it had little effect.
Alexandros traced the hunting rune of Turkan, Lord of the Hunt, in the air, summoning three magical arrows that struck Syler in his chest and left leg. He grunted in pain and focused on his runes, reaching his hand out and sending a small ball of shadow at Alexandros, narrowly missing him.
The wind left Syler’s lungs as the elemental threw a horizontal punch, launching him 15 feet into the wooden fence at the edge of his yard. He burst through it, sending wooden shards scattering around him. From his prone position, he threw two shadow daggers as he rolled to his feet, one striking the elemental, the other finally finding purchase on the mage, piercing their shoulder.
Alexandros, enraged by the dagger dissolving away from their shoulder, drew the sun rune with their left hand, the battle rune with their right and smashed them together, an arc of lightning directed at Syler.
For the first time in over a year, Syler tapped into the runes across his body to shadowstep into the plane of darkness. Into Penumbra.
The lightning created stark shadows of those around it, including the elemental. Syler seemed to melt away as the lightning bolt smashed through where he was, blasting a large chunk off the elemental. Penumbra was a place of complete and terrible darkness to any who could not tap into its power. Syler was able to see the yard, the house, the elemental, all shades of gray. The only black areas were those shadows through which he could cross. At a distance he thought both close and far away, shadow creatures flitted about. One of the dangers of shadow stepping into Penumbra. The reason no one but a very select few could travel anything but short distances therein. He willed himself forward, stepping out of Penumbra from the shadow of the elemental. Two more daggers thrown. One bounced harmlessly off the magic shield. The other piercing Alexandros’s hip. A glancing blow.
“I tire of this! Kill him!” they said, drawing the sun rune, a thin beam of lightning striking Syler in the gut, doubling him over as electricity wracked his body. The elemental kicked Syler, cracking a rib and sending him rolling to a stop right in front of Alexandros.
A red glob struck the front of their robes as Syler spit and laughed.
“I’m about to kill you and you laugh?” they said.
“You’re… not going… to kill me,” Syler wheezed.
“And what makes you think that?”
“I have a Tootsie.” A huge black shadow smashed into Alexandros, knocking them to the ground.
The shadow ball he threw toward Alexandros had closely missed them. On purpose. Tootsie had playfully grabbed the shadow ball, the Penumbral magic infusing into her as it did Syler with his armor. Tootsie grew, her muscles bulging, teeth lengthening, her fur shifting from yellow to black, her eyes glowing the same blue as Syler’s.
The magic armor of the Dokkalfar stood no chance against the pure brawn of Tootsie’s shadow form. She had gotten their neck with her tackle, and playfully shook her head, snapping it instantly. The pain from the energy in Syler’s gut subsided, the magic no longer sustained by the now dead Alexandros. His rib was still cracked, though, and he struggled to rise to his feet.
With Alexandros dead, the elemental was now free from control. It struck out at the nearest creature, Tootsie. She was still playing with her new toy, and was surprised when an earthen fist slammed into her side. She let out a small gasp and slid several feet, her claws digging deep ruts in the ground. She growled and lunged, biting and clawing at the elemental. Syler stood up straight, summoned his bow and fired two more arrows, each finding purchase with the same small effect as before. The elemental tried to shake off the shadow hound, but she had latched on and was playing her favorite game, tugging against the strength of the elemental.
The arm she had been pulling popped off, and she ran away from Syler and the elemental, dragging the flailing limb along the way. Two more arrows struck its body as Syler moved in the same direction. The elemental charged them and Syler charged right back, diving between its legs at the last moment, the dagger in each hand biting deep into its legs, chunks of earth and stone falling to the ground.
“I guess we keep hitting it until it falls down, Toots!”
Tootsie dropped the inert limb and darted forward, clawing deep gashes into the elemental, scattering more stone and soil across the yard. A few more well placed strikes and all that was left was rubble.
“Thanks, girl,” Syler said with a small smile, bending to rest his hands against his knees, focusing on his breathing. A big wet tongue smashed into his face. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Gross.” He had to raise his arms to scratch Tootsie behind the ears. As he did, he slowly drained the penumbral magic back into his runes. He bent with a groan to pick up his adorable little yellow dog, patted her on the head and began heading down to Bartle’s house, his limp no longer an affectation.