Firebrand

Chapter 460: Cat and Mice

Cat and Mice

Another Night Knife appeared between the buildings. He looked in the direction of the lightstone that Martel had thrown away, unable to see anyone.

But Martel saw him, thanks to his sense of heat. A fire bolt hurled through the air to strike him. He fell to the ground, throwing his chest against the dirt to extinguish the flames in his clothes. It was a short reprieve, as Martel's next fire bolt also hit, igniting the back of his garments. Screaming, he tried to tear his surcoat apart while writhing on the ground. Martel walked past him.

The remaining Night Knives tried to spread out different sources of light, whether enchanted or from torches. The latter did not help much; Martel reached out with his magic and extinguished the flames. And as darkness swallowed another spot, he moved freely, unseen by the mercenaries except when another streak of fire left his hand. One by one, they fell to his magic.

"Martel," a voice called out. Flora. "What strange twist of fate that we should find ourselves down here again. I should have known you'd be the fox inside my chicken coop."

He tried to determine her location, but the screams of dying men made it hard to focus on her voice alone. He guessed that she was hiding inside a building, as she probably knew he could see her even in the dark.

But she could also sense him through his movements, touching the earth, if he came close. He could not risk entering any house, giving her the chance to strike first. For now, he would deal with the mercenaries, blind both in terms of sight and magic.

"Look, we've done what we came for. Lady Pearl is dead. How about we call this even? We withdraw in peace and go topside. You follow at your own pace. We'll be clearing out of the bridge district, so you don't have to worry about us sticking around, waiting for you."

Perhaps this was a genuine offer, perhaps a ruse. Either way, Martel had no interest in letting her escape. Someone peeked out from inside a building, and Martel blasted them with fire.

Evidently, it was not Flora, as she spoke again. "Martel, Martel. Always getting in my way. If only Lady Pearl had told me you'd be coming along, I could have prepared a special surprise just for you. Can you believe she didn't trust me with such information?" Laughter rang out.

Martel ignored her, waiting for any flash of heat suddenly appearing before his inner eye. There – someone stepping out between two buildings. A fire bolt made them regret this.

"How do you like my lightstones? You'll appreciate this. They're enchanted by your friend, the hedge mage! Isn't that amusing? He didn't know I was the buyer, of course."

Martel dared to cross the main road. Nobody seemed to notice him, and he continued between two houses to look for more enemies on this side.

"Shoddy work, I admit. But the best I could get on short notice. I was never much of an enchanter myself. Hey, maybe I'll go talk to the old codger after this. Demand repayment – in blood."

She was trying to rile him up. It was unnecessary; Martel was already bursting with anger. But he would not let it cause him to make mistakes. He continued down the back alley, prowling like a predator. Faint tracings of heat from a rooftop. Two more archers, sticking out their heads over the edge. A ray of fire shot out to deal with them both.

"Why are you here, Martel? I know you were at the construction yard because you owed the Friar a favour. But I thought you despised Lady Pearl. Did someone else lure you in? Did you fall for a pair of pretty eyes? Or maybe pretty lips, in this case." Taunting laughter echoed through the space.

With a wild yell, a warrior came running straight at Martel. His last spell had given his position away.

The wizard blasted air at his enemy, who fell to the ground. Before he could get up, a fire bolt struck him in the back. He rolled around in the dirt, trying to extinguish the flames. As before, Martel simply added a second bolt to hit the fallen mercenary on the other side, letting him burn alive.

"I did hear talk at the tavern of a strange liaison between you and Ruby. You seemed like enemies, and yet you kept meeting up. Was it all pretence? Almost a story worthy of the stage, if so."

Martel continued his search, up and down the back streets on either side of the main road. He found nobody. Flora had to be in one of the houses inside the small area.

"No doubt losing someone seems a great tragedy when you are young. But it's also an important lesson."

"Your men are dead." Martel spoke for the first time, tired of her poor attempts at drawing him out. "Now it's your turn."

"Very well, if that's what it's to be. But allow me to make a proposal. You can sense heat, I can sense tremors – instead of all this cat and mouse, why not meet on the road?" A lightstone flew out to land on the main street. Martel thought he saw where it came from, but he could not aim any spells inside the building, and to approach, he would have to cross the light.

"Sure. Come on out."

"You agree? A wizard's duel, the two of us. No hiding in the shadows."

It could be a ploy, but if it got her out in the open, Martel accepted the risk. "I agree. I'll show myself once I see you."

"You expect me to be the first?"

"You're the one in the middle of an active betrayal." And who is preparing to betray me even now, he added in his thoughts. But he expected that he could turn that back on her.

"Fine. You seem a boy of his word." From one of the buildings down the road, he saw the heat of a shape appear. Moments later, Flora stepped into the edge of the light circle caused by the glowing stone on the ground.

Martel could strike now, but it would take more than a single spell to deal with Flora; she would retreat, and they would be back at a stalemate. Besides, he did not need underhanded tactics. He was a battlemage, trained to be a force of destruction on the field. It was time Flora understood this.

One slow step at a time, Martel walked onto the main road until he likewise stood at the edge of the light. Twenty paces separated the two wizards, about to engage in a duel to the death.