The club rebounded off the armor hidden beneath his cloak, bouncing back towards the attacker. Without a moment's hesitation, Jasper spun around, smashing his fist into the assailant’s face. He could feel the bones and cartilage smushing beneath his fist, the man instantly falling to the ground, his hands twitching in involuntary spasms. But Jasper had no time to finish him off as a mob of attackers swarmed him.
Their faces were covered in masks, their weapons nothing more than a simple club, but that didn't make them any less effective. If he had been out in the countryside, a few simple Shooting Stars would have wiped them off the map. But in the midst of a crowded marketplace, full of civilians and children, Jasper quickly found himself on his back heels.
A club whistled toward his head. Somehow, he managed to snatch the attacker’s arm at the wrist, wrenching it to the side with an audible crack. But the club fell harmlessly to the ground, another smashed into his ribs, while, from behind, a third slammed into the back of his knee. His knee buckling, Jasper fell on the pavement. He lashed out wildly to the left, his fist connecting with the attacker beside him, who retreated with a pained yelp, even as the man behind him rained blows down on his back. With a desperate heave, Jasper threw himself forward, knocking the man with the broken wrist to the ground.
They rolled across the cold pavement, Jasper kicking the man free of him, but as he struggled to get to his feet, a net was tossed over his head. It hit him like a pile of bricks, the net lined with hundreds of lead balls that drove him down into the pavement. His face slammed into the rocks, slicing his cheek open.
With a scream he pushed himself up, fighting to get back to his knees as clubs slammed down onto his back. Up till now, he had been holding back, not wanting to harm any onlookers, but adrenaline overrode all his concerns. Seraph Burst.
Jasper surged up a foot, as the net strained to hold him down. To his surprise, the net won. The force of the spell, having nowhere else to go, smashed him back into the pavement. But the spell was not over yet. As the razor-sharp, spectral wings exploded out of his back, his body was twisted into a violent spiral, the wings raking across his restraints. In a hail of lead balls and metallic rope, the next was ripped asunder, the wings quickly expanding to their full, deadly length. A shower of blood spattered across his face as the assailants surrounding him were ravaged.
Shaking, Jasper stood up, surveying the carnage. Screams filled the market as the crowd fled, pushing and shoving to get away. The bodies of a dozen men lay around him, and to his relief, more lay around Ihra, who was struggling against the net. “Can you pull this thing off me?!”
He ran over her, dragging the weighted net to the side. The men around her were dead, sprawled on the ground with contorted faces, their hands grasping at their throats. “How did you-“
She shook her head. “Just get me out of here.” He managed to pull one side of the net off the ground, and she crawled beneath it. Behind him, the loud clatter of footsteps echoed across the market, the armored sabatons noisy on the bloodied pavement.
“Halt, criminals!”
They turned to see a squad of men rushing toward them. Long spears similar to harpoons were clutched tightly in their hands, but Jasper relaxed when he saw they were wearing the colors of the city. The guard.
He raised his hands non-threateningly, speaking calmly. “We’re not criminals. These men,” he nodded at the corpses surrounding them, “attacked us without provocation.”
“Shut up,” the captain barked. The guards fanned out around them, their spears held at the ready. “Throw your weapons on the ground, slowly.”
Jasper was beginning to feel a touch concerned. He wasn’t sure he was willing to just surrender. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We just defended ourselves.”
The captain jerked his hand, a whip suddenly materializing in the air. It snapped against his cheek with a painful sting but failed to break through his toughened skin.
Jasper’s worry turned to anger in a second, a spell quickly forming in his hand as he stepped toward the captain. “What the hell do you think you're doing? We were the ones attacked-"
The captain lowered his spear, light quickly gathering around its head. "Stand back-"
“Stop! Stop!” The priest of Yarha came racing toward them, waving his arms in the air. "Captain, please stop! These two were only here at my request, as honored guests of our temple."
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The captain groaned internally as he turned to face the new nuisance. As soon as he had seen the two strangers standing over a gang of dead ruffians, obviously beaten up, but victorious, the captain had understood what had happened. Somehow, one of Lord Nabul’s little “operations” had gone wrong, and now he had a mess to clean up, as quickly and quietly as possible. He needed to get the two out of sight and into a cell. He’d arrange a little accident for them and, with any luck, after just long enough for it to not seem like an obvious reward, he’d receive a promotion. It was his lucky day.
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Of course, this stupid priest just had to interfere. He quickly realized the man was from one of the lesser temples, Yarha, but the captain, ambitious though he was, wasn't willing to do his lord a favor at the cost of pissing off a deity. Muffling his sigh, he acknowledged the priest, “You have something to report, s̆angu?”
The priest come to a stop, his eyes wide and frightened as he glanced at his honored guests. The captain could see a moment’s hesitation in his eye as the priest no doubt drew the same conclusion as he had. He held his breath, hoping the priest would retract his word, and the situation could get back on track. But it was not to be; as the priest’s eye fell on Ihra, the tip of her antlers just peaking from beneath her cap, his resolve stiffened.
“Yes, captain. These two were honored guests at our service - they were attacked shortly after leaving the temple. They have done nothing wrong!”
The captain of the guard frowned, his irritation leaking into his voice. “Perhaps, s̆angu, you have been deceived. Who knows what mischief these two have been up to in the city?”
“The only ‘mischief’ these two have been up to in the city, captain, is bringing a large shipment of merchandise to the auction. I'm sure the merchant's guild would be interested to know they're being detained for protecting themselves.”
A cold and imperious voice rang out behind him. Almost afraid to look, the captain turned to face the speaker. Even if he hadn’t known her, her milky white skin left no doubt as to her identity, but the captain knew her all too well. Cursing internally, he bowed. “Lady Qarda. You know those two?”
She swept forward, accompanied by her partner, Labbu, who smirked at him. The guard captain pushed down a wave of irritation; he’d lost nearly a year’s wage to the Moon-kissed captain in a game of cards but, rather than collect, the man had opted instead to mock him. It was, of a sort, a mercy, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow.
“Indeed, I do captain. They are trading partners with my house, here on my invitation. They are not criminals." She pointed at the shredded remains of the nets scattering the ground. "Unless you think the two of them were attempting to capture slaves in the open market-" the sarcasm in her tone was clear - “it is obvious that they were the wronged party.”
The captain knew when he was beaten, the crowd around them quickly growing as more and more of the citizens gathered to watch the drama. Lord Nabul will just have to take care of his own mess this time, he realized. With a sigh, he ordered his men to let the prisoners go, their obvious jubilation at their victory like sandpaper to his soul.
As they dragged the bodies back to the morgue, he could only relive, over and over again, the moment he watched his promotion slip between his fingers. “You alright, captain? You seem kind of glum.” He turned to find the rookie standing beside him. “Just been a long day, kid,” he rumbled. Damn Moon-kissed.
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Jasper breathed a sigh of relief when the priest came running to their rescue, but it wasn’t until Qarda showed up that he knew the captain would have to let them go. Once the fight had ended, a steady stream of curious onlookers had trickled back into the market. When the captain finally released them, the two pushed through the crowd as quickly as possible, following Qarda and Labbu back to the Moon-kissed’s estate. They were only blocks away, but it wasn’t until the ponderous doors slammed shut behind him, that Jasper finally felt safe.
“What the hell was that?” The rage that had been building up inside him spilled out.
“Yeah, seriously guys, what the hell?” Ihra growled.
Qarda just smiled. “The plan worked, didn’t it?”
Jasper massaged his ribs, which screamed in protest at the lightest of touches. “You are supposed to fake an attack, not actually attack us.”
Qarda shook her head primly. “The attack needed to be convincing.”
“It didn’t need to be that convincing,” he grumbled. Jasper paled as another thought suddenly occurred to him. “Oh my God, did I kill your men?”
“No,” Labbu cut in, a smug smile on his face. “We hired some of the same ruffians that Nabul uses, men that are known to be connected to him. As far as they knew, they were really supposed to kidnap you.”
Jasper groaned. “So that’s why it hurt so bad. Those nets were tough.”
“They were designed to trap people; you did well to escape. News of the attack will spread quickly, and soon everyone will know that Lord Nabul dishonorably attacked you. He’ll have to think twice before trying it again, if he’s even willing to take the risk.”
Ihra frowned. “Are you sure he won’t just deny it?”
Qarda shrugged. “So what if he does? His operations are an open secret; even his own men won’t believe he wasn’t behind it.”
Labbu begins to snicker. “Honestly, right about now, Lord Nabul probably thinks that he was responsible. He’s likely interrogating his men right now to find out which one of them jumped the gun and tried to kidnap you early to garner his favor.”
“So do you think I’m safe,” Ihra asked, a note of worry still in her voice.
Qarda pursed her lips, reluctantly shaking her head. “As much as I would like to believe that, I can’t in good conscience promise you that. People will risk a great deal when power is at stake and you, my dear, are a tempting prize to a Zaphonite who just learned that their elvish patron has left on a suicide trip.”
“Then what was the point of this?”
“We made sure the entire city knows that he is plotting against you and, far more importantly, we made sure that were seen in the company of our faction. Lord Nabul will no doubt try again, desperate to salvage the situation and save face, but he will be forced to do so alone. The other lords in his faction will not want to risk upsetting us. Come,” she turned and walked deeper into their compound. “You might as well spend the night here. It will be safer than at that tavern.” Her nose wrinkled. “Not to mention much cleaner.”