"Nice. The sword works as advertised."
"If you are feeling suicidal, you only need to ask."
"If you weren't blind as a mole with a bad monocle you would have noticed his aim was off. It would hit the wall. By the way, who was he?"
"How should I know? A butler, a bodyguard, a plaything? I don't care as long as he's dead. A good wizard is a dead wizard. What are you doing?!"
"Just... decorating." He took a pink unicorn toy from a table and put it into the hole in the body, horn first. "Look! The horsey got him!"
"You're an idiot."
They went through more chambers. They were pink, they were fuzzy, they were Archmageless.
"Where is he?!" Saalteinamariva was getting nervous. The other wizards were surely trying to open the door by now. It also suddenly struck her that there was no way out. She didn't think that through. At all. She realised that in her willingness to kill the Archmage she had forgotten to answer some rather simple questions, like 'How do I get out of there afterwards?'. Well, it was a bit late for that.
She looked at Vannard. He seemed as serene as if he was feeding the ducks by the pond. This wasn't a metaphor. The only difference was that there weren't any traumatised ducks around.
"Here, Archmage Archmage Archmage! Here, Archmage Archmage Archmage!"
"What the skunk are you doing?!"
"I'm luring him."
"Stop it! It won't work!"
"You're right. What's his name?"
"No idea."
"Oh well. I'll call him... Waldo. Here, Waldo Waldo Waldo! Here, Waldo Waldo Waldo!"
"Shut up! We'll lose the element of surprise!"
"To lose it, you'd have to have it in the first place," a raspy voice said. The Archmage was standing in a corridor. The mage who had been by the door was by his side. "Dany here told me you were coming. I thought I'd get a report about your untimely death, but I am quite surprised to conclude that I was wrong. And it probably cost me some mages..."
Saalteinamariva wasn't much for small talk. She was in a hurry. She was annoyed. And she hated the Archmage very, very much. A stream of fire flew from her fingertips.
Vannard got out of the way. Getting between two mages intent on killing each other was a bad career move. He ran out of the chamber with the intent to find another way, get behind the Archmage and stab him while he was distracted.
"Yawn," the Archmage said, instead of really yawning, and with a move of his hand redirected the stream of fire to his side. That was to indicate how little he cared about the sorceress' puny efforts. It had an unfortunate side effect. Unfortunate for Danedarius the mage, because the stream swatted away so casually hit him right in the face. With the Archmage standing next to him he hadn't bothered to shield himself, therefore he fared just as well as could be expected. That is, he was dead.
"Ermine that, I forgot he was there," the Archmage swore.
The sorceress didn't care. Another dead mage was a nice bonus, of course, but it didn't matter. Only the Archmage mattered. She gathered all her strength, all her rage, to channel fire like she never had before. She felt all her insides burn, even such remote ones as the spleen. And some she never even knew she had. Everything was on fire. And she let it all out.
"How tiresome," the Archmage said calmly and with a flick of his wrist silenced the inferno. With another wave of his hand he turned Saalteinamariva upside down and sent her flying. Shocked and confused that her fire was gone, she felt herself moving backwards. There was a vague thought in her mind about a wall. She managed to cast a magic shield herself just in time. Yet instead of stopping on the wall, she broke through it. And instead of slowing down, she accelerated.
She screamed. Yet, despite being flown through the wall upside down she didn't lose focus and maintained her shielding. It was a good thing that she did, because she flew through another chamber and broke through another wall. And another one. And suddenly she wasn't in the Tower anymore.
***
The village of Blue was in turmoil. Peasants were running one way or the other, carrying things, dropping things, picking them up again, loading things onto donkeys, unloading things from donkeys, chasing the donkeys and swearing, chasing the sheep and swearing, chasing each other and swearing, or just swearing without doing anything in particular. It wasn't all that surprising that nobody paid any attention to Arthaxiom and his companions. Even if they arrived on deerback.
"Ho there, good man!" the paladin addressed the nearest peasant, who was attaching a table to a goat. "What is going on?"
"We're running away!" the peasant responded.
"Why?"
"Orcs are coming!"
"When? Where? How many?"
"Now, duh! They'll be here any day! They're coming from..." The peasant wasn't good with directions. He decide to get help. "Oi! Dag! Where da orcs come from?"
"Dataways!" Dag pointed with his hand.
"Aight! Dataways!"
"And how many?"
"Dunno. Oodles."
"Bajillion!" Dag helped.
"Weasely ermining lot!" an old peasant swore.
"So we run away."
"We'll never get save all our stuff!" the peasant complained. "Can't get this stupid goat to carry anything!" The goat didn't appreciate being called stupid and was rather annoyed with the attempts to attach a table to its back. It bit the peasant and started running away. The table fell down, but it was still attached to the goat by a length of rope, so it ended up being dragged after it. The peasant swore and ran after the animal.
"We'll never make it in time," the old peasant said gloomily. "And even if we do, they'll catch up with us."
"Maybe they'll go after some other village?" another peasant suggested.
"There's enough of them to go after all the villages around!"
"Maybe the Imperial Army will get here in time?"
"Maybe. Even if they do, can they beat oodles of orcs?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. That's a lot of oodles there, or so they say."
An invading army of orcs. The paladin saw it clearly. That was why the Oracle told him to go to this village. He had to stop this invasion! But how? He was just one, against oodles and oodles of orcs! Well, not one, there was also the dwarf. And the princess too. But that was not enough. He needed an army! And what he had were some deer and a lot of peasants... Peasants!
"No need to flee! We can fight them off!"
The peasants didn't seem to keen on that.
"You want us to get killed?!" one asked.
"You are out of your mind!" another shouted.
"There's not enough of us!" yet another one complained.
"There are other villages! We can get people from there too!"
"Still, we'd need a miracle."
Alexander decided to help the paladin. "Hey, we're riding deer! Isn't it a miracle?"
The peasants were unconvinced. They whispered between themselves. "If these were talking deer..." one of them said, and the rest made some approving noises.
"Sup," the Deer Lord said, emerging from the nearby bushes. That aroused the peasants quite a bit.
"A talking deer!"
"He wants soup!"
"Bring out the soup!"
They scattered in search for soup.
"Hi there," Alexander said. "How did you know you were needed?"
"And why did you ask for soup?" Gaduria asked.
"I'm here because the Oracle sent me a cryptic message," Deer Lord replied.
"Oh, how quaint," Alexander said. "What was the message?"
"It was 'you'd better be in the village of Blue when that armoured dumbass gets there or I'll be very cross with you.'"
"Oooh, cryptic and threatening!"
"It was indeed. The word 'very' was written in italics. And the message was attached to a rock which hit me on the head." Deer Lord bowed a bit, displaying a bump on his head. "I hate the squirrel mail."
"I don't get it," Gaduria said. "What exactly is cryptic about this message
?"
"I couldn't figure out who did she mean by 'armoured dumbass'."
"You're not very smart, are you?"
"Hey, I'm a deer. It's a miracle I even talk. And by the way, about the soup... Isn't that a traditional greeting of lower class humans?"
"No."
"Oh well. Still, can't say no to free soup," Deer Lord said, as two women with a steaming bowl approached him.
"Here's your soup, talking deer." They put the bowl in front of him.
"Thank you." Deer Lord tasted his meal. "That's quite good. What kind of soup this is?"
"It's a goat soup," the peasant woman replied.
"Yes, from that goat over there," the other woman added and pointed at a grazing goat with a chair tied to its back.
"Excuse me, but if you made soup from it, shouldn't it be dead?" Gaduria pointed out.
"If we killed a goat every time we wanted soup, we would run out of goats rather quickly, don't you think?"
"But if we put the goat in just for a little bit, it lasts for long."
"Oh. How silly of me. Enjoy your hot water with whatever was on the goat," Gaduria told Deer Lord.
"Thank you," Deer Lord replied. He didn't seem to mind and continued eating.
***
Vannard ran as fast as he could. Corridor, door, chamber, door, another chamber, a servant, a dagger in his throat, another corridor... He knew time was short. He had to get in position before the end of the duel. If he didn't, well, he would have to face the Archmage in fair combat, which seemed like a bad idea. Or he would have to face gloating Sally. He didn't come all the way up there and not be the one to kill the Archmage.
He made it just in time. Just in time to see Saalteinamariva fly backwards and upside-down through several walls. He had never seen anything like that. He might have disliked her, but he knew how strong her magic was. Seeing her being handled like that said something about the Archmage's power. One might have considered a tactical retreat. Vannard didn't. He threw two daggers in full run and charged at the Archmage.
Despite having his back turned to the assassin, and despite Vannard not making a slightest noise, the Archmage wasn't taken by surprise. The daggers simply stopped in mid-air. The Archmage threw a ball of fire over his shoulder. Vannard barely managed to stop in time and dodge it.
"You really expected this to work?" the Archmage asked mockingly.
"Couldn't hurt," Vannard replied.
"Oh yes, it could. And it will, I can promise you that." The Archmage turned around and advanced slowly. He had all the time in the world. The assassin didn't and they both knew it. No sort of door can stop a bunch of wizards for long. Not that the Archmage expected needing their help.
Vannard drew his sword and waited.
"Not running away, eh? How brave of you," the Archmage mocked him. "So, how do you wish to die? Ice? Fire? Lightning perhaps?"
"Lightning, please."
A bolt of lightning left the Archmage's hand just to be reflected back at him by the assassin's sword. The Archmage absorbed the lightning back into his palm. "Impressive. An interesting sword, but it won't save you." He raised his hand. Vannard prepared to deflect whatever might come his way, but nothing did. Instead, an invisible force hit his sword and made him fly backwards. He hit the wall with a grunt.
"A really remarkable toy you have there. It will be a fine addition to my collection. Without it, you would be quite dead, and in several pieces possibly. Still, there will be plenty time for that."
"True, no need to hurry. Why don't you take a nap, hug that cute little llama over there and dream about rainbows?"
"Oh how funny you are." Another invisible missile was aimed at the assassin. He had to guess where exactly it was going to strike by observing the Archmage's hands. This time he managed to dodge. He dropped to the floor and rolled away from the corridor entrance, out of sight of his opponent. He ducked behind a table and waited.
As soon as the Archmage emerged from the corridor, Vannard quickly got up and kicked the table at him, immediately following with two knives. The Archmage just laughed. The assassin barely managed to escape his own projectiles going the other way. The table crashed against the wall, demolishing a picture of a pink flamingo with a rainbow beak.
"You can't do this forever, you know," the Archmage said as Vannard somersaulted above yet another magical attack. The wall gained yet another hole, this time in the rearside of a dancing capricorn.
"I'm doing this just to ruin your place a bit," Vannard replied and ducked under another blast. He ceased trying to attack back, it was pointless. Yet he still hoped that his opponent would make some sort of a mistake. After all, everyone can be killed. It was one of Vannard's core beliefs. Then he heard people running and shouting. The wizards got through the door. Time to get out. He got up and raced into a corridor. The Archmage tried to blast him, but the assassin anticipated that and caught the beam on the sword he held behind his back. That propelled him forward, away from danger and a bit into a wall.
"Don't let him get away!" the Archmage shouted when other mages came in running. The first one to follow the assassin ended up with a dagger in his face.
"Watch out for his knives!" the Archmage warned. Another wizard fired a lightning bolt, which was promptly returned, frying the shooter. And one of his colleagues too. "Use force beams only!" The Archmage sighed. Amateurs. At least this pesky assassin would be help with natural selection. Many wizards were way too incompetent for the Archmage's taste.
Vannard ran without any idea where he was going. He always chose the path of least wizards. They were slower than him, but there was just too many of them. They also learned on their colleagues' mistakes: they shielded themselves and used those damned invisible force beams. He couldn't reflect them back. He had a hard time dodging them. Fortunately, these were much weaker than those that the Archmage had used. Still, being repeatedly thrown against the walls was unpleasant to say the least.
The assassin reached a chamber with a large window. It was the first window he had seen in the tower. He had just a moment to consider options it gave him. With the mages coming in from every direction, he decided to use it. He broke the glass with his sword and climbed on the windowsill. He looked down. It was a long, long way to the bottom. He'd never make it.
He thrust his sword into the stone above the window and pulled himself up. It was all he needed to get on the roof. It was steep and conical, with a heptagon on a stick at the very top. He briefly considered going back into the Tower, but it was hopeless. He already heard screams from below indicating that they knew he was on the roof. If there were any other windows, they would be guarded now. And even if he managed to get back inside, it would hardly improve his situation. He pulled out his sword and climbed up.
He reached the heptagon and held himself against it. He was on top of the world, this time for real. The Imperial Castle was way way below and looked ridiculously small from here. He briefly considered jumping down, but from this height he had no chance to aim for anything to cushion his fall. And even if he did, not even a nice fat merchant would be enough. Maybe if he fell on Duke Thinoak...
He noticed a head peeking over the edge. He threw a knife. The head wasn't there anymore and he heard a long scream, growing more and more distant. Yet another silly mage who didn't realise that seeing the assassin also meant that the assassin saw him too, and that the assassin could hit with a dagger pretty much everything in his sight. Too bad there were still lots to go.
Vannard didn't delude himself. Not every mage would be that stupid. Eventually, they would get to him. He didn't waste time wondering how. He would know soon enough and deal with it. Or not. Since he had a moment, he moved a few of his daggers from hard to reach pockets to more handy ones that were already emptied. Even with his talent to store knives on his person, his supply was starting to run dangerously low.
He didn't wait long. A mage was levitating up to him. He threw a knife at him, but it didn't do any good. He didn't
expect it to, really. He drew his sword.
"Oh please," the mage said. "I understand persistence, but you're pushing it."
"Nobody ever won by giving up," Vannard said with a smile.
"True. You and your friend did a lot of damage, I give you that."
"She was not a friend. But she was good at putting things on fire."
"Details. Anyway, I'll let you know that I am Termisteriusus, the Second Mage. It is an informal title, but it means that I am second in power to the Archmage only. I am telling you that so that you realise that you have no chance with me. Whatever tricks you may have left simply won't work. Surrender."
"Surrender and what then?"
"I don't know. The Archmage will decide. But if you don't, you'll die here."
Vannard considered this. "Yes. Fair enough." He sheathed his sword.
"I'd really prefer if you put it down instead. And your knives too. I can sense them, you know. You have quite a number of them on you, I must say."
"Why thank you." Vannard crouched, pulled out two daggers, put them down and let them slide down, where they stopped on the edge of the roof. And another two. And two more. And then he himself started to slide down on the soles of his boots, while holding two more knives.
"What are...?!" Termisteriusus asked, but he received an answer long before he finished the question. The assassin used every bit of momentum he had and launched himself from the roof, towards the mage.
He barely made it. His outstretched, knife-holding hand just barely managed to break through the distracted wizard's magic shield and stab him in the leg. Vannard tried to hang on to him. Not that it made any difference, because the wounded mage lost his concentration and now they were both falling down.
"Fly!" he shouted at the wizard. "Fly, you fool!"
The mage was waving his hands and screaming something incoherent. Vannard had no idea if he was trying to cast some spell, or if he was simply screaming because he was falling to his death. He fervently hoped it was the first option. It was indeed, but it wasn't exactly the spell he had imagined. Below them a dark red, swirling vortex had appeared. Some sort of a portal, probably. Not too inviting, but better than cold, hard ground. Not that they had anything to say in that matter.
***
The cavalry barely made it in time to witness the meeting of Arthaxiom's deersant army and the horde of orcs. The rest of Roseduck's army was proceeding on foot as fast as possible, but there was no way they could reach the battlefield soon enough.