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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2152504" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 364Freija Doorgan battled a combination of seething rage and ongoing stabbings of terrible pain as she half-ran, half-scuttled down the corridor.  Tears born in both emotions streamed down her face, and she struggled with the last shards of her dignity as she glanced back over her shoulder every few steps, alert to any sign of pursuit.  She should have heard something, if they were coming after her; the fiendish tiger she’d summoned to delay pursuit would certify that.  It should, anyway. And according to Regidin, she should have had no difficulties dealing with the intruders, either. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire.  Damn her for not bringing a healing potion.  Damn Regidin for not granting her more reinforcements.  And most of all, damn those adventurers.She’d had matters well in hand.  Where had those others come from?  Disguised as fiends, they could have been anyone…  Did they have additional rivals to contend with?  The Cagewrights had lots of enemies…Could it have been?  No.  He could not know of their designs... Could he?  Freija felt a cold thrust of pure fear stab through her, cutting through the pain of her wound as if it wasn’t even there.  If he had found out about their ultimate plan...“Well, hello there, my dear.”Freija started in surprise.  She’d been so intent on the passage behind her, she’d almost run into the group coming up the tunnel toward her.  She tried to recover her gravitas, but with an arrow jutting from her shoulder and blood staining her dress, that was a fairly difficult procedure.The two individuals before her were as odd a matched pair as one could possibly expect to find. Ardeth Webb was a lean, muscled figure of a woman, her otherworldly heritage instantly obvious in the nubs of ivory horn that jutted from her forehead.  She was clad only in a tight, form-fitting suit of white silk that left bare her upper arms, belly, and ample chest.  Much of her exposed flesh bore intricate multicolored tattoos.  Like Freija, most of her accoutrements were practical rather than fashionable, infused with potent magic that augmented her physical talents.  In Webb’s case, this involved the ability to pound just about anything living into a shapeless mass of bloody ooze within a matter of seconds. The monk’s companion was a middle-aged human man whose sardonic expression seemed etched onto his face.  He looked like a soft merchant at first glance, but that was an erroneous first impression that had proved deadly for more than one person in the past.  Nulin “Fish” Wiejeron was a master assassin, and the rapier dangling at his belt with a gem-studded decorative hilt was a potent magical weapon, rather than some noble’s fob.  He too bore numerous magical adjuncts upon his person.  Freija had spent some effort cataloguing the various magical items owned by each of the Cagewrights, and collectively they would create an inventory that would rival the best guild storehouses and shops in the great metropolises of the Heartlands. Behind the pair two dark shadows stood, identifiable instantly by their stench.  Farastu demodands, which Freija quickly dismissed with a haughty sniff. “Why, my dear, I do believe I’ve never before seen you this… mussed,” Wiejeron offered.  She’d intended to keep her cool, but Freija could not stifle a retort that came out like a feline hiss.  “Fool!  The intruders have broken through the outer defenses, and slain Coalfire and his minions.  Regidin’s ‘allies’ were worse than useless; that half-fiend sorcerer of his turned invisible and fled, and is probably already looting our stockpiles as we speak.”“Nothing came this way, invisible or no,” Webb said.  Her voice was like silk sliding over glass, soft and sibilant. Freija mastered herself with an effort, despite the agony of her shoulder.  “The point is, they will be coming, if they are not already.  Regidin was wrong about their strength; the adventurers from Cauldron have been reinforced by a small group of powerful spellcasters disguised as fiends.”The two other Cagewrights did not betray anything at that statement, but Freija knew that they would quickly make the same connections that she had.Webb finally shrugged.  “They will fail.  Already the ritual is nearly complete.”’Nearly’ is not ‘finished’! Freija thought.  She knew more than any of them just how true that was, and she thought of the failsafe she’d been tasked with integrating into the Tree.  Regidin knew what she did, and her lips tightened as she recollected their earlier conversation.  “So now we have two groups of foes arrayed against us, eh?” Wiejeron said.  Freija wondered if the man’s idle façade concealed an inner worry, of if the man was truly feebleminded. “Now that you have finally deigned to join the defense, you can go see for yourselves,” Freija said.  “I must return to my quarters, and restore myself before the next confrontation.”  She started to walk past them, but Wiejeron forestalled her.  It was uncanny the way the man moved, sometimes; one moment he was standing to the side, and then suddenly he was there, in front of her. “An ancillary defense is being established close to the Tree,” the assassin said.  “Webb will escort you, and see that your wound is tended, my dear.  I suspect that we shall have need of your spells, if these intruders are as dire a threat as you say.  Regidin no doubt will wish to query you regarding their abilities, as well.”Freija did not respond, but Webb grinned, cracking her knuckles noisily as she settled her petite hands into the fists that the conjurer knew could shatter stone.  For a moment, the conjurer had to fight for self-control as the words to her prismatic spray spell came unbidden to the surface of her mind, so close that her tongue began to shape itself into the first syllable of the spell. But she was still in control.  Gritting her teeth, she nodded.  “Let us go, then,” she said. Wiejeron waved his hand idly.  “I think I will go on ahead, and take a quick look at these intruders.”  He shot a quick look at Webb, then turned down the passage.  “I summoned a guardian,” Freija interjected, regretting the words as soon as she’d said them.  Wiejeron’s smile was tinged with contempt, and then he was gone.  No spell, no trick of the Art that she might have followed, just… gone. The man was very, very, good at what he did. “Come then,” Webb said, her words dripping with false sympathy.  “Let’s see to your injury.”The two women returned down the passage, the two farastus following a short distance behind them.</blockquote>

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