Movement from further down the corridor spared Oralia from having to listen to any more of her team’s ceaseless griping. She recognized the first of the approaching forms from his quiet confidence. The dwarf captain, Almas Bernstein, walked with his head high and shoulders squared. His second officer trailed in his wake, gripping her ax with less confidence as she gazed up and down the dark passageway. The third arrival was more difficult to spot. They slunk along the curve of the dilapidated walls, utilizing every shadow to disguise their swift progress.
“Captain Bernstein,” Oralia greeted the lead dwarf. She addressed his lieutenant next in a similar fashion. It was the third arrival’s name, however, that took effort to say. Not through any fault of their own, of course. “Snag.”
The goblin that stepped from shadows was most certainly not Snaglebrag. The simple truth was Dewpetal looked nothing like Snag. She wasn’t even the same species of goblin, for crying out loud. As Dewpetal was the only stand-in they could muster on such short notice, Oralia was making it work the best she could. Not that the differences in appearance seemed to matter. A goblin was a goblin, as far as their enemies were concerned. If her intelligence was to be believed, Geralt Lazuli was still unaware that the real Snag and Ellisar had already slipped past his defenses.
Rali’s spirits perked at the rest of the team’s arrival. “Alright, spill it. How many did you guys get?”
“I don’t find it necessary to make everything a competition,” Captain Bernstein spoke for him and his lieutenant, unconsciously fiddling with the ends of his beard as he often did in Rali’s presence.
“None again, huh, Almas? That’s alright, at least you’re not in the negative. What about you?” Rali turned to the goblin and displayed three fingers.
Dewpetal held aloft seven clawed fingertips with a triumphant smile.
There was a collective groan from the others. One of the Stoneclaw brothers hissed under their breath, “She cheats worse than the real Snag!”
“We cleared the north and west corridors,” Captain Bernstein said to Oralia as the others were too concerned with the score to listen. “Is there something we may assist you with, Madam Pro–”
“Oralia.”
“Madam Oralia.”
“Just Oralia.” As she did not intend to stick around long enough to earn a title, she insisted upon being referred to strictly by her name. Old habits were hard to break and her former rank had a habit of slipping out of people’s mouths. “We have a witch on our hands. I believe they are holed up in one of these rooms employing some sort of anti-detection spell.”
Locating the witch would not be difficult thanks to the powerstone that hung from the chain around her neck. The entity trapped within the gem fed exclusively on magic to survive. Its constant thirst for power made it quite useful when tracking down witches. Captain Bernstein didn’t know of the stone’s existence, of course, and Oralia intended to keep it that way.
Captain Bernstein must have seen the terror that flashed across his lieutenant’s tawny face and took pity on her. He gestured to the bound elf sprawled across the ground with his iron tipped boot. “First, we will need to do something with our friend here. Lieutenant, will you see that they are safely escorted from the danger?”
“Yes, sir.” His lieutenant heaved the prisoner into an upright position and marched them towards the entrance.
Lingon watched her go, pouting. “Not fair! I called dibs.”
“Don’t worry, bucko. We’ve got a special job just for you.”
“If you’re talking about being the bait again, forget it. That last witch extraction nearly took my left nut.”
“Which is why we now stress the importance of proper clothing.”
Clearing his throat in an unspoken command for silence, Captain Bernstein shifted his stance as his concerned gaze returned to Oralia. “I am happy to assist with the witch extraction, but I am afraid I won’t be much help in the tracking department. Short of Adderwood’s former dealings with the Division of Divination, my encounters with people of the magical variety have been few and far between. I wouldn’t even know the first step to tracking a witch.”
“Oh don’t worry about that, Cappy,” Rali assured him with a playful elbow to the armor shielding his ribs. “Oralia’s got a nose for magic. Just hang back with the rest of us, she’ll lead us right to the scoundrel.”
The captain’s copper-colored eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Miss Ralizak, if that was meant to be informative, it has only left me with more questions. Most notably, how?”
A glare from Oralia served to only encourage Rali’s boundless imagination. “Well it’s a bit of a newfound ability, you see. Something she picked up on the mountain after the whole–” Rali waggled her fingers over her head, simulating some sort of explosion with her hands, which, alas, included sound effects. “Being that close to potent magic can have unintended effects on the body, you know. It sort of imprinted into her internal synapses and made her extra sensitive to spellwork. Effectively, the boss can now smell magic.”
His eyes grew wide in awe. “Unbelievable.”
“Truly,” Oralia agreed, taking the lead.
Captain Bernstein formed rank beside her and lowered his deep voice to a whisper. “What does magic smell like?”
Like lies and deception!
This is why she insisted on being excluded from Rali’s games. Oralia had never been good at fabricating untruths, at least not without hours of extensive rehearsal beforehand. Her ability to ad lib on a moment’s notice was not an ability at all, but an invariable weakness. “...Celery.”
She heard several stifled snickers behind her, but none of them dared say anything outright.
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Oralia navigated the dim corridor with the voice of the entity rippling across her thoughts. Closer, closer, stop!
She held out her palm, motioning for the others to halt behind her. Alone, she ventured several paces forward and examined the entrance to the room that lay before her. The paint chipped door was sealed shut with no light coming from underneath. Ignoring the tarnished handle, Oralia placed her hand against the wood instead. Tiny, magical vibrations shot up her arm and slammed into her chest, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs.
Shit.
She pulled away, wringing the sting from her fingers. Incapable of escaping its gemstone prison, the dark entity had a way of attracting outside magic towards it, utilizing Oralia as a conductor between it and its intended food source.
As much as it pained her to admit, she wished Daana was here. She would have known immediately what sort of witch they were facing and the best way to defeat it.
With a signal to Mul to keep watch, Oralia retreated several yards back down the corridor where their hushed conversation would be less likely to be overheard. “I cannot tell how powerful our quarry is,” she whispered. “We will have to proceed with absolute caution. Ralizak, do you have any more powder charges?”
“Two, I think.”
Lingon wrapped his arms over his scrawny chest in a self-embrace, grumbling, “Would have been more if you’d let me carry ‘em.”
The charges had been a parting gift from Snaglebrag. His recovery after the mountain had been spent experimenting with his mysterious black powder. The charges were not only effective, but downright terrifying. Fearful the Stoneclaw brothers would use them on each other, Oralia had appointed Rali as the designated carrier. The occasional distant boom in the night oftentimes made her wonder if that decision had been shortsighted.
“We will use the charge to take out the door and hopefully any obstacles beyond.” Oralia reached into the pouch on her hip and withdrew a folded slip of parchment and a chalk stick. After witnessing the symbol’s power on the mountain, she had been sure to copy a number of runes from Daana’s green spellbook. “Lingon, etch a seer’s trap onto either side of the corridor, several yards from the doorway. There is a chance whomever is inside will flee once the door comes down. I would rather catch them through smarts than brute force.”
Lingon’s gaze dropped to the items deposited into his hands. “Why’s it I always get tasked with the hedonistic symbolatry?”
Rali’s response was sufficient in sending him on his way. “Because any time I try to use you as the bait, you run away.”
“I do not mean to call your strategy into question,” Captain Bernstein whispered. “But all of this sounds incredibly dangerous, possibly lethal. As the Adderwood representative on this mission, I do feel it would be proper to offer the individual inside the opportunity to surrender first.”
“And give away our element of surprise?” Rali hissed. “Are you out of mind, bucko? There’s no etiquette rulebook at play here. This is war!”
“More of a revolution, actually. One in which you and your commanding officer–”
“Friend,” Oralia corrected.
“–have been brought on as temporary consultants.”
Rali took a daring step forward, locking eyes with the slightly taller dwarf. “The whole point of hiring a consultant is to listen to them, yeah? Well listen here, bucko. Your plan is stupid and short sighted. Not only are you taking away our main advantage, but you’re going to give our enemy the opportunity to throw the first punch.” Rali must have seen the way Oralia’s eyebrows lifted, because she added, with a dramatic roll of her eyes, “Metaphorically speaking, of course. Obviously the witch is going to be using magic and not throwing literal punches.”
Captain Bernstein was clearly not accustomed to being talked down to by someone he considered to be a subordinate. Most officers in his position would have been infuriated by the blatant disrespect, but he merely gazed back at Rali, twisting his beard in what might have been amusement. “Technically speaking, you’re not hired consultants as the New Adderwood Republic does not possess the funds to pay you.”
“Kinda feels like you’re focusing on the wrong details here, Cappy.”
“Your warning was heard loud and clear, Miss Ralizak. I appreciate your expertise. We will be doing it by the rulebook, regardless.”
As much as she agreed with Rali, Captain Bernstein was their designated military escort and, therefore, in charge. The last thing Oralia needed was to have active warrants for her arrest in more than one nation at a time. Besides, it wasn’t her war. So what if they did poorly? Her role was simply to act as a distraction, focusing Geralt’s attention away from the capital, until which time Ashwyn could be found and freed.
Oralia stepped between the dwarfs, pushing Rali back with one hand before her former lieutenant ripped the captain’s beard from his face. “If you feel it necessary, Captain. We will follow your lead.”
When the others were in position, Captain Bernstein pressed himself flat against the mold speckled wall alongside the doorway. He slammed the butt of his ax against the ground with such force, a portion of the roof sprinkled down over the top of his helm like rotten, crumbly rain. “This is Captain Almas Bernstein of the New Adderwood Republic. We have you surrounded. All who surrender will be unharm–”
Oralia felt the wave of magic before it struck. She managed to yell for the others to take cover a split second before the oak door ripped from its hinges in a shower of white sparks. A cloud of smoke rolled through the musty corridor, choking the air. As the buzzing in her ears lowered to a tolerable hum, Oralia uncovered her head, suddenly aware that there was an additional body pressed against her.
“Ralizak?”
“I told that fucker this would happen!” Rali had her limbs spread wide, as if to shield as much of Oralia as her squat frame could allow. The dwarf tilted her head upwards, squinting through the haze at Oralia. “You alright, boss? Still got your head? All ten fingers and toes?”
“Please stop doing that. The armor I am wearing is perfectly adequate. You checked it yourself only this morning.” Through the smoke, Oralia saw a shadow dart from the smoldering room. “On the move! South-west corridor.”
There was a cacophony of sound as several bodies leapt from the protection of the wall and gave chase at once. A channel of pale green light flared further down the passage, highlighting the chalk circle etched over the floor. Lingon reached the seer’s trap steps ahead of the others. His nasally voice rang out with indignation. “Mul?”
The larger brother stood stock-still, with his arms held midair, eyes wide and petrified. “Lingon, what the fuck did you do to the symbol? It’s supposed to catch witches, not me!”
“Where’d the witch go?”
“The little fucker sidled past!”
“Sucks for you then,” Lingon snickered as he pressed his shoulders to the wall and awkwardly shuffled around the seer’s trap, mindful not to step inside.
“Oh come on!” Mul bellowed as Rali and Captain Bernstein’s respective shapes bounded across the symbol unaffected by the anti-magic spell. “Don’t leave me here, you bastards.”
Oralia stopped and smudged the chalk symbol with the toe of her boot. The eerie glow of the magic faded, rendering the corridor dark once more. “Mul, this is the second time you have been caught by a seer’s trap. You do realize this means–”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got ground to cover. I know!” Released from the trap, he took off at a headlong sprint.
With a shake of her head, Oralia caught up to him just as he rounded the corner. The chase was over as quickly as it had begun. The others stood in various states of frustration only a short ways away. Oralia slowed her step as the reason for the sudden stop became apparent. A human was strewn across the ground with their hands bound, groaning. Focused on the captured witch, Oralia nearly missed the goblin lingering in the shadows beside the body, proudly holding eight fingers aloft.