The Compass Key (Book 5) (20 page)

“Good girl,” Nyx whispers as she turns around and hugs Luke. The great beast nuzzles the side of her head and squawks. “I’m glad you liked my song. I made it just for you. Now, I need to do something to you. Delvin will explain it to Luke when
he wakes up.”

“Luke is asleep?”

“My song can summon a griffin, but it made Luke’s consciousness fall asleep.”

“Will you get in trouble?”

“I’ve been calling griffins to the tower since I was seven. As long as I ride her back, nobody will get in trouble. The other griffins will be the only ones that are suspicious, but they’re nice.”

The
beast shoves Nyx and playfully purrs with her head cocked to the side. The caster holds up the Map of Depth, quickly pulling it away when the griffin attempts to bite it. A magical smack on the beak causes her to blink rapidly and bow her head in apology.

“I’m going to bond this magic item to you,” Nyx explains, moving to the griffin’s side. “I promise that it won’t hurt you. You know I’m your friend, so you can trust me.”

Nyx presses the Map of Depth to the warm fur, her free hand rubbing the beast’s flank. A shiver runs through the tense muscles as a warm wave of magic rolls over the griffin. The map shimmers and sticks to the fur when Nyx moves her hand and kneels down to blow on the leathery relic. Sparks fly off the edge of the map and burrow into the griffin’s skin, causing the beast to make a strange chuckling noise.

“It’ll work off his bard’s memory now,” Nyx quietly announces
, rolling the map up and handing it to Delvin. “You still have to hold it open while you two are flying. By the way, where is Timoran? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“I sent him into the city to find the local militia and get involved
.”

“Gaia doesn’t have a militia
.”

“Not an official one, but I’m sure an underground group has formed to do what they believe the guards refuse to do,”
Delvin explains with a knowing smile. He clears his throat and stops smiling when Nyx stares at him, her arms crossed. “In situations like this, there is always a group of citizens who believe they can save the city. They turn their fear into defiance, but their common sense doesn’t factor into their actions. I’ve seen groups try assassinations, arson, open battles, and kidnapping during city invasions. Every time, the situation escalates and more people die than necessary. I’ve been in Gaia enough times to know the places that such a group would gather, so I asked Timoran to handle it. He seemed pretty happy to get out of the tower and help the city.”

“You do realize that puts him into conflict with our enemies,”
the caster points out. She stumbles forward when the griffin playing pushes her with a wing. “Stop it, Luke. Now, Delvin, we need to maintain our element of surprise.”

“Our enemies know we’re coming. Knowing that the Lich is dead, they probably assume we’re already here,”
the warrior states. He reaches out to take the young woman by the hand and stares into her violet eyes. “Trust me, Nyx. I know what I’m doing.”

She
smiles before grabbing Delvin by the chin, cringing at the feel of his rough stubble. “What if Timoran gets captured, great leader?”

“Already taken care of,” the warrior answers, gently removing her hand. “Have you seen Fizzle around recently?”

Nyx stares at him for a few seconds before an impish grin crosses her face. With an echoing laugh, she leaps onto the griffin’s back and soars into the night sky.

*****

“The guards are asleep,” Onryth whispers. He presses himself against the alley wall and inches back to the others. “I guess we got lucky. It’s a clear run to the ships and Ult is going to be masked by clouds for a little while.”

Varti holds
the halfling back with a tight grip on his shoulder. She looks back at Timoran and the twenty men behind him. She growls at the fact that most of the recruits failed to return to the tavern in the morning, including the rest of her inner circle. Now they have just enough manpower to set the fires, but only Timoran and herself are properly trained to defend them from warriors.

“Are you sure they’re asleep, Onryth?” she nervously asks. “We can’t afford to make a mistake.”

“I believe they were celebrating,” Timoran calmly interjects. He feels a comforting weight drop onto his shoulder, but refuses to look at the invisible drite. “Chaos elves do not get to indulge in good alcohol very often. So it would appear that they are taking advantage of the situation.”

“Makes sense to me,” Onryth admits, drawing an ornamental dagger. “I’ll lead the way, but everyone be quiet.”

The halfling takes a deep breath and sprints out of the alley, his running awkward because of his heeled boots. He leaps over a sleeping chaos elf and disappears into the shadows of a tavern. The others jog out to him in a line, their boots making dull noises on the ground that seem to echo around the docks.

Timoran grabs Varti by the arm before she can follow the noisy men.
“It is not too late for us to turn back. I know you are worried about your husband and your city. It is a testament to your courage that you are willing to go this far, but your men are going to get caught. I have gone along with this in the hope that you would not take things this far.”

“We hired you,” the orc
reminds him with a low growl. “I didn’t think a barbarian could be a coward.”

“There is cowardice and there is wisdom. I am trying to push the latter,” Timoran insists, ignoring her attempt to
insult him. He looks out at the patiently waiting men and lets out a staggering sigh. “I must confess that I never attempted to work with the guards. I am part of an adventuring party and was sent to join the local militia. My role was to make sure you did not make things worse and get yourselves killed. I could have done this by force, but I chose to give you time to reconsider your path. Now, I politely ask you to return to your homes and trust that this will be handled.”

Varti smiles at the barbarian, her white incisors visible in the darkness. “I thank you for your honest
y, Timoran Wrath. What will you do if we continue?”

“I will go along to keep you from dying
.”

The orc
nods and hurries to catch up to her comrades while Timoran slowly follows. He keeps his eyes on the rooftops, every movement causing him to stop and listen for signs of archers. With a gentle pat to Fizzle’s tail, he signals for the drite to take to the air and keep an eye out for danger. Even with the extra set of eyes, Timoran draws his axe and moves cautiously among the buildings.

The militia is already dividing the oil canisters and flints by the time Timoran catches up to them. Onryth gives the barbarian a distrusting glare before leaving with three others for the far chaos elf ship. One at a time, the other four groups race into the open and hurry to get within the shadows of the docked ships. Varti and Timoran hang back in the shadows while the arson crews throw oil on as much of the ship as they can.

“Should we try to find your husband?” Timoran asks, noticing that the tall woman is staring intently at the Gaian ships.

“I considered it, but it would be too risky. It’s best that he stays as a hostage and they don’t know my connection to him,” she answers. She draws her broadsword and
expertly spins it from one hand to the other. “If this is successful then we can do a rescue operation later. I want to send the chaos elves a message that they shouldn’t mess with Gaia.”

“Good to see that you are thinking.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Varti leans against the side of the building, her eyes paying more attention to the arson crews working behind Timoran. She crosses her arms, so that her sword is pressed against her shoulder.

“Why are adventurers involved in this?” she asks, nodding her head toward the enemy ships. “There is no treasure
to be found or an ancient beast to slay here. I find it strange that someone like you simply wants to help.”

“My friends and I are not your standard adventurers,” Timoran claims with a warm smile. He draws his great axe and watches the ships for signs of chaos elf activity. “It is only recently that I became an adventurer. Prior to this, I wandered Ralian to help those that needed help. Yet, I believe I can do more for Windemere with my new friends. They have already led me into several great battles and we saved Hero’s Gate from multiple threats. This invasion appears to be within our interests.”

“I don’t understand,” she admits. She shrugs and returns to watching the ships catch fire, the smell of burning wood filling the air. “At least this is going-”

Timoran is off like a startled deer before Varti can react. The nearest arson team is too busy celebrating to notice the dark forms
sneaking out of the shadows of the Gaian ships. A shriek rings out from a terrified woman when she turns in time to see the glint of a chaos elf’s dagger. Her voice is drowned out by the roar of Timoran, the barbarian barreling into the startled enemies. The would-be assassins are set tumbling into the ocean where they scramble to swim to the nearest ropes.

“Everybody run!” Timoran shouts.

Instead of retreating back to safety, Onryth drops his dagger and scrambles toward the nearest Gaian ship. The halfling is left alone as he clambers up the gangplank and adds himself to the hostages. The rest of his team is easily captured by the chaos elves, who drag their new prisoners toward a nearby tavern.

Timoran looks back to find that the team he saved are still cowering behind him. With a primal shout, he scares them into action and they rush back to the buildings. The remaining teams are already being dragged toward the ships and the buildings, effectively
defeating the Gaian militia in a matter of minutes. Varti and Timoran are the only warriors left as the chaos elves approach them. The orc looks terrified as she backs toward the barbarian, the heat of the fire making her sweat.

“You were right,” she whispers.

“Now is not the time for this,” Timoran replies as he moves her behind him and lowers her sword arm. “Put your sword away, so they do not attack you. I will protect you as best I can.”

“But-”

“You have a husband to return home to.”

Varti begrudgingly sheathes her sword, but is prepared to defend herself with her bare hands.
“I will fight if they come too close.”

The chaos elves close in, drawing their blades and clubs. They back away when Timoran swings his axe in a wide arc. It is a short
-lived stalemate when the barbarian barrels through his enemies. Two chaos elves are sent rolling across the ground, their unconscious bodies coming to a stop several yards away. Timoran whirls around and spins his great axe over his head, keeping the other warriors at bay.

“Kill even one of us and you start a war,” a female chaos elf declares. She darts at Timoran and is quickly taken down by kick to her face.

“You would be surprised how little that rule concerns me.”

Timoran slams the flat side of his axe on the head of a chaos elf, dropping the enemy as he turns to grab the face of a charging warrior. He easily moves away from the thrusting sword and uses the mumbling chaos elf as a club to knock four more enemies away. With a powerful vertical leap, Timoran avoids a slice to his side and lands with a crunch o
n his attacker. A one-handed swing of his axe sends two female chaos elves tumbling into the ocean. The barbarian looks bored as he continues knocking out his enemies. By the time he headbutts the last of the chaos elves, he is yawning and barely paying attention.

“We have to save the others,” Varti says as she runs over to Timoran. She is surprised when he catches her by the arm and
shoves her toward the buildings. “What are you doing? We need to save them.”

“I will do it,” he growls. The steely gaze in his blue eyes forces her to stay quiet. “I can do this, but I need you to escape. I cannot protect you and save your friends.”

“Actually, you can’t do either,” a voice mentions from above them.

Timoran glances up in time to see an armored halfling leap off the railing of the burning ship, a shortsword held above his head. The barbarian jumps to the side and readies his great axe as Vile lands in a crouch. Vile ignores Timoran and charges at Varti, a dagger appearing in his off hand. He is about to strike when a shadow passes over him, forcing him to roll to the side and avoid a crushing blow from the furious barbarian.

“You’re fast for your size,” Vile says, letting the orc run away as fast as she can. He looks over his shoulder at the departing form. “If it means anything, I only attacked her to test your reflexes. I was confident that you would save her.”

“And if I had not moved in time?”

“Then her death would be on your hands.”

Timoran hears a series of blasts from behind him and is suddenly doused in cold, salty water. The ambient light from the fires disappears as the geysers of water swallow the roaring flames. A flood of smoke and steam covers the dockyards, giving Vile enough cover to disappear from view. He is nearly upon Timoran when the barbarian leaps into the air, slams his axe into the nearest ship, and hangs out of reach of the halfling.

“You do not give me enough credit, little warrior,” Timoran proudly says. He scans the fog for any sign of the halfling. “I do not wish to fight. Please release your hostages and let us return to our homes.”