A Spell to Help or Hinder

Staying on the steps down to the basement rather than going all the way up, Martel remained hidden behind the others while he took in the scene. A handful of tavern guards stood scattered around the circle of Night Knives occupying the centre of the big common room. As of yet their weapons remained sheathed, but who knew for how long. A well-dressed man could be seen speaking with animated gestures and handwringing; Martel figured that would be the owner of the tavern.

"I don't understand, I have no business with you. I don't even know who you are!" the man declared.

"You have upset Lady Pearl, who runs this district. You'll close your tavern for the time being and throw those actors out," came the cold response.

Martel could not see, but he recognised the voice as belonging to Flora.

"Close it, with everyone coming for the show? Close it on the last day of the spring festival?" the owner complained.

"If you reach an understanding with Lady Pearl, you may be able to open it again one day. If you refuse, we'll close down your tavern right now. For good."

Martel heard whispers and turned his head to see the actors in quiet discussion.

"There's not that many," argued one of them. "With the tavern guards on our side, we can do this."

"What about the city guards? Send Ian to fetch those," suggested another.

"Lady Pearl will have bribed them," Martel interjected, joining their circle. "They won't interfere."

"We should do as we always do," Regnar declared. "Leave. It's never worth taking the fight. They'll only be back."

A loud voice, belonging to someone very young, broke through the two discussions taking place. "Leave our home alone!"

Martel looked towards the speaker and saw Ian stepping towards the Night Knives, hurling an empty tankard through the air. It hit the mercenary straight on the nose, and while hardly a threat to his life, he cursed and drew his sword to swing at the boy.

Perhaps it was the tension of the moment, perhaps the Night Knives had just waited for any provocation – they got extra pay in case of a fight, after all; regardless of reason, everyone seized weapons, and a skirmish broke out.

***

With the tavern guards scattered around the room whereas the mercenaries stood shoulder to shoulder, the latter held an advantage, immediately positioning themselves in ranks. Flora meanwhile retreated back to begin shooting spells from within their protective circle.

Martel could guess that the Night Knives would crush their opposition the way things looked now; experienced mercenaries and an earthmage against lazy tavern guards and a hedge mage. Unless a battlemage tipped the scales.

Looking at the people he knew on both sides, Martel made his decision. Retreating further down the stairs to give himself cover, he began blasting fire bolts at the ring of mercenaries ahead.

The air became heavy with sounds of fighting and the smell of both blood and magic. Rays of frost and streaks of fire battled through the space, felling fighters on either side. As everyone became aware of their enemy possessing magic, on both sides, the warriors grew cautious, keeping shields and eyes ready to protect against the spells.

Martel could not see Regnar, but he witnessed the efforts of the hedge mage. Rather than directly offensive spells, he employed the same magic as used on the stage. Lights, sounds, or even just gusts of air appeared across the room, distracting warriors to keep them from fighting.

Realising the opportunity, Martel began watching for the signs of the next spell from the hedge mage. As soon as he saw a Night Knife close his eyes or stagger backwards, Martel followed up with a fire bolt that hit perfectly.

But on the other side, Flora did work as well. Chains made of pure ice slunk through the air to wrap around defenders, immobilising them. Given their few numbers, not many remained; the Night Knives would soon dominate the room. The actors and those others unable to fight had fled down the stairs, leaving Martel and Regnar alone on the staircase; the acolyte was not sure he favoured their odds with only them left.

He needed to step up. He needed to fight like a battlemage. Clear across the room, more than thirty feet, Martel conjured up a flame wall. It was a greater distance than he had ever covered before, and he poured his spellpower into the magic just to make it happen, but it worked. Half the mercenaries were caught on the same side as him and Regnar; the other half, including Flora, remained trapped on the other side.

With much fewer enemies to contend with, Martel abandoned caution to unleash a fire ray that struck two mercenaries. They screamed and dropped their weapons, running away and jumping out of the open windows to escape.

From the other side of his fire wall, Martel heard a cold and familiar voice call out, "Pull back!"

Obeying Flora's command, the mercenaries retreated, some of them carrying their comrades out. Martel waited until everything seemed clear before he dismissed his spell, and the wall of fire vanished.

"Bloody impressive spellwork," Regnar mumbled.

Martel walked off from the stairs and surveyed the room. Most of the tavern guards looked wounded, with no sign of the owner. "We are lucky it scared them off."

"That was the spell of a battlemage," the hedge mage pointed out. "I don't think these hired swords expected to encounter that."

"Probably not." Martel reached out and applied some heat to the ice chains still wrapped around some of the guards, melting them. "Curious that their wizard didn't do the same. She's an earthmage, and I've seen her raise walls like that to control the battlefield."

"Have you now," Regnar muttered. "Well, not much use here. With the basement below us, not a lot of earth for that spell to work with." He stamped his feet against the stone floor before bending down to examine the wounds of a guard. "Theo!"

With the sounds of fighting ended, the actors appeared on the staircase. "They are gone?"

"For now," the hedge mage replied. "Some of these lads need their wounds tended to."

Several of the players disappeared down into the basement again while Theo approached the two wizards. "When will they be back?"

"Their leader is an earthmage," Regnar considered. "They tend to be cunning, calculating, but not prone to rash action. My guess is, she'll assess the situation and what exactly she is up against before returning. I doubt they'll be back today, but tomorrow? Could very well be."

Theo nodded. "We can still carry on with the play, in that case."

Martel jerked his head around to stare at him. "Are you crazy? You need to leave!"

The storyteller shook his head. "We already took the fight. Doing the play will give us some much needed coin, especially if we do have to flee. Besides, the show must go on."

That seemed a strange sentiment to Martel, considering the show had not even started yet. Around them, the other actors returned with bandages and the like.

"Theo is right. Martel, could you stay and keep watch tonight? I'll be busy doing the effects for the performance. Once it's over, I'll relieve you of duty," Regnar said.

It seemed a foolish risk for them to take, but Martel also bristled at the idea of what amounted to basically thugs throwing his friends out of their new home. "I'll stay as long as I can," he promised. "But at some point, I have to go back to the Lyceum. If I miss class, I expect they'll end up chaining me inside."

"Not to worry," Regnar told him. "Now we know to expect trouble. Your presence will buy us some time that we can use to prepare a hasty departure, should it be needed. And until then, I do believe I'll place a few wards to protect this place."

Martel nodded in response before he went upstairs, choosing a room with a window that overlooked the main street outside.