Ironline's Din (part 3)

The spriggan was spoiled for choice. Of those still standing from its initial assault through the wall their eyes were fixed on the swirling grey mist that was now pouring through. Legs, tentacles, teeth all appearing and disappearing in its shroud-like folds.

“Deal’s a deal,” Grin cried over the din at Lodestone and Flicked the coin with his two fingers out over the disaster of a room and into the fog. A bone white hand emerged momentarily and snatched it from the air.

“MYTREASURE,” it roared in a more singular voice than before. It’s drifting form coalescing into more solid shapes as it drew redcaps and other bar dwellers screaming into itself, “THIEVES.”

“You teleported us next door,” Lodestone’s cry dripped with disbelief, “next door. You use a magic spell to teleport us 10 feet?’

“Well, it was a pretty old map,” Grin offered with a small sniff.

“You’re blaming my map? You are honestly blaming me for …” she gestured at the mayhem before them. The bar patrons that were alive had taken up defensive positions since the spriggan had once again positioned itself before the only exit. Weapons and weighty bits of rubble in their hands. Stabbington twirled, leading with his shoulders and leaving his hips to follow of their own accord, desperately seeking an exit. There were stories of spriggans liking redcap meat best due to the superb marinating redcaps did instinctively in blood.

“Kill it and get one-a-me points,” Stabbington yelled at the remainder. They eyed him wearily shifting their grip on weapons. He growled and pointed with a pair of wicked looking shivs, “NOW.”

Some of the group made a few hesitant steps forward. Their meek advance was stopped instantly by a bone white leg tapering into an obsidian black cloven hoof shattering the ground as it emerged from the retreating mists. It was followed by a long fingered hand of similar coloration, but dripping a putrid yellow from the nails. Blue lines of its vascular system crisscrossed the thickly muscled arms. Then another arm, then another leg, then more arms. They bristled from the hulking form of a torso. It’s bony ribcage extruding out to each arm’s shoulder section like a multi-pointed star wickedly sinking toward the center of its headless chest.

Then the chest opened like gills filled with teeth and tongues. Long slits running from the bony peak to the pit of each strong arm. A third leg or a thick tail extended from it’s back and slammed into the ground with hammer like protrusions made of the same obsidian. The spriggan roared its hatred, bone star vibrating too fast to see.

Stabbington’s gang faltered and began to press back toward the bathrom hallway. Lodestone took a tentative step backward. Nox landed silently before the small small group, stopping the gangs retreat. With a winked and a toothy smile over her shoulder she purred, “Gotsa form now. gots blood. Wanna’see.”

And she was gone between blinks. Grin watched Lodestone shake her head and gasped out her name. For once, his feelings mirrored his human partner almost identically. Nox was in the air, sharp bits of rock and metal flying from her hands toward the spriggan. She probed the body and mouths with her projectiles. Some of the createure’s bits bled the blue of the subdermal lines. Others just deflected the shots. Grin caught glimpses out of the corner of his eye but by the time his vision fixed on her spot, Nox was just at the corner again.

The spriggan hurled wreckage in return. Grin’s disdain for the spriggan’s lack of varied offense for something so versatile in form returned his face to his normal contemptuous neutrality. Regardless, the spriggan’s attacks were still quite dangerous dangerous as he found out ducking under a large piece of shattered mirror that missed Nox by inches and him by second.

“How about dodging away from friendlies?” he shouted from the ground. Nox made a sound that made him doubt she considered him friendly at the moment. She danced around the great beast, teeth chattering a staccato click. A blade imbedded here, a rock wedged there, and always dancing away just in time. Grin watched the green of his feywyrd slowly being consumed with each near miss.

“Time to wrap it up, NOX!” he encouraged. He picked up a nicely balanced piece of refuse and timed a shot down one of the open maws. Lodestone followed suit. Stabbington barked orders to aim for the openings and one by one the gang began following suit, hurling anything with an edge at the spriggan. While some found huge pieces of the once bar in vital pieces of their anatomy, their attacks created openings for Nox to strike.

Grin was barely conscious of Stabbington’s whispered pleas to get him out of this. HIs mind was encompassed searching for something magical that might pierce the monster’s hide before it finally caught his friend. Lodestone moved quickly behind a large piece of concrete floor that had landed in the bathroom hallway and narrowed her eyes at the beast. “How do we live?” she mouthed and a self-satisfied smirk formed on her face.

Stabbington’s assault had progressed to strong yanks on Grin’s coat as he made complex hand motions, threw three black feathers into the air and shouted words in his native tongue. Black birds the color of dusk flew from the inside of his jacket billowing the lining out and away as if some gust of wind had caught him full in the chest. The birds were a torrent of dark eyes, beaks, and talons. They flowed from Grin into the spriggan, engulfing it in a beating wings. Stabbington fell to the ground and rolled along the birds trajectory. He scuttled to his hands and knees hurrying toward the only cover around, Lodestone’s concrete barrier. Nox landed next to them breathless.

“Path?” she probed. Lodestone smiled and jutted her chin toward Grin. Nox made a quizzical expression. Grin felt his knees where beginning to buckle under the continued use of the spell.

“STABBINGTON,” lodestone grabbed the redcap whose forearms were protectively thrown over his head, “punch Grin in the stomach as hard as you can!”

“What?” both he and Nox dhouted in disbelief. Grin turned his head in confusion hearing his name. Nox looked curiously amused. Stabbington shrugged and got to a knee with his knife point forward.

“PUNCH! Don’t stab,” Lodestone cried again,” Grin. Stop the spell!”

“But if I stop, it attacks!” he snapped between rasping breaths.

“GRIN!”

“FINE!” he shouted exhaustedly and dropped his arms. The torrent of crows trickled away. The torrent went to a bluster, then to a few, and finally one crow emerged from his jacket and flew to a nearby rubble heap and perched, watching. All the other birds continued their attack. Grin watched teh black cloud of feathers steadily decrease in size. The Spriggan’s long arms erupting between the flights and snatching birds to shove in it’s moany mouths.

Stabbington, took a step in front of Grin, smiled, flipped his knife around hilt first and struck Grin soundly in the stomach. Grin dropped to his knees and vomited. The green of the feywyrd poured from his stomach all over the floor, along with lunch, and possibly breakfast. The green vapors of the gift exploded soundlessly in all directions free of the confinement of the spell. He watched a few wisps sneak back into his jacket and curl into the pocket holding the spriggan’s loot. Grin dry heaved again, but at the end he wore a small smile. Ironline rumbled with laughter at the thieves apparent betrayal. Heavy cloven feet stomped toward him a smattering of crows still pecking.

The room was silent except for the moans of the wounded, a few caws, and the slowly breaking bar around them. Pieces cast loose and falling to the ground in irregular beats. Stabbington retreated to safety of the concrete barrier. Grin stood and straightened his jacket. Staring directly at the towering spriggan. He reached into his pocket and drew out the creature’s treasure. With a quick gesture he upended the bag and dumped everything on the floor. With a brush of his foot he scattered the contents. Ironside screamed crumbling into mist and chasing all the odds and ends. Grin looked forlornly as the gems and priceless bits flew away from his foot. He started to stoop to pick one up near his toe.

“NO!” called Lodestone, freezing him in place. He turned to look at her. She was hurriedly snatching glittering bits of colored glass, plastic, and stone from the ground and gathering them in her shirt, “Everyone who can, grab anything bright and shiny. Get a good handful and toss it as far from the door as possible!”

Around the bar, more groans erupted as the patrons who could rolled onto their knees. Stabbington’s curses roused more and more of his gang and other patrons. Grin watched him pull little flashing LEDs from his pockets and throw them with all his might toward the rear of the bar. With each handful the spriggan separated into more wisps, chasing the baubles. Tiny little screams of rage diminishing in intensity with each. Slowly, they made their way to the doors. They timed their throws so they could hop-scotch their way through the debris ridden bar, occasionally helping a patron to their feet.

Rather than mouthfuls of dust and whatever else building were made from, the outside air was putrid. He filled his lungs anyway. Lodestone and Nox held each other up and glowered at him. Stabbington cast weary eyes around the deserted street.

“So that was a total waste,” Lodestone stated dryly. She motioned for them to start down the street toward the small apartment courtyard.

“Not entirely,” the Grin held out the bag and followed them. Stabbington pointed a knife at it and growled something casting constant glances over his shoulder. Lodestone and Nox only waited. With an exaggerated sigh at them both, he continued, “Fine. This is no ordinary bag.”

He plucked Stabbington’s knife from the redcap’s distracted hand. With a few quick slashes of the sharp blade the bag fell open. The inner lining was a softer, lighter material similar to the exterior. Sewn into it were the intricate curves of the “Other” worlds hills and valleys. Lines tattooed the material with verse attached. Grin danced around the two waving the pilfered knife like a conductor. He walked backward down the street waving the map like a flag before them.

“You stole a map,” Lodestone said flatly.

“Treasure MAP!” Stabbington added excitedly doing a quick 360 checking the shadows.

“Sorry,” Lodestone corrected, “you stole a treasure map. And why was this treasure map potentially worth our lives?”

“Because of where it leads,” he teased genteelly opening the courtyard gate for the other two. He shut it soundly before Stabbington could enter. Lodestone and Nox approached a lovingly grown sculpture using trees and vines to form a shaded archway. The shimmer of a passage formed between the plant life allowing glimpses of flower strewn hills and vibrant skies. Grin returned his gaze to the redcap, “I see it as you have 2 choices.”

If Stabbington’s expression could kill, Grin would be dead twice over, but the redcap waited. Grin offered him his knife back between the iron slats of the gate. Stabbington plucked it gingerly, cut a shallow cut on his little finger, and re-sheathed it. His eyes darted to the shadowed corners of the buildings. Grin continued, “Stay here and deal with the Trust’s footmen or come with us on a grand adventure.”

“What’s in it for me,” he asked half-heartedly.

“Well, you won’t be tossed in a cell for breaking the peace for one. You get to enjoy our company, two,” Grin’s words were matter-of-factly lain out. He ticked each off on a finely-boned finger, “and three, you get to lay eyes on Oberon’s vault.”

Nox nearly dropped Lodestone. Lodestone rolled her eyes and between strangled gurgling irritation sputtered the word myth. Stabbington merely eyed Grin.

“What’s yer price?” he asked evenly?

“Ladies?” asked Grin over his shoulder.

“Loy’ty,” Nox growled. She glid into the shimmer of the archway with a hunter’s grace and without a glance back. Grin nodded. Stabbington nodded.

“Honesty,” Lodestone added and followd through the portal. Grin nodded. Stabbington hesitated. He licked his teeth looking at the map and nodded.

“And a fair cut of the take,” Grin’s brow waggled.

Stabbington kicked the ground and cursed, “Ever’one fergets that one, ya wretch,”

“Almost everyone,” Grin amended, “deal?”

“Aye,” groused the remorseful redcap. Grin opened the gate wide. The telltale sparkle of feywyrd speckled the alleys near the pizzeria and bar trumpeting the arrival of the Trust’s scouts. With a firm hand on Stabbington’s back, Grin shoved him through the portal. With a flourish he bowed deeply to the “real” world and took a deep breath to speak. Before the words crossed his lips, Nox’s clawed hand extended from the portal, gripped firmly on his thick belt, and yanked him through.