It happened so fast Seren had no time to even move. Marth pointed the wand at her and smiled as she stood.
She froze, waiting for the opportunity to act. The Cannith book now lay on the floor at her feet.
“Poor girl,” Marth whispered. “He told you nothing, I imagine. Another pawn in these games, no doubt. How did you come to this life? An orphan of war, I’d wager. Do you have any idea what is happening here?”
She only scowled and waited.
“Do not hate me for what I have done to your teacher, Seren,” Marth whispered. “One day you will appreciate the burden of deceit I have removed from your life. Perhaps I may yet offer opportunities for you, if you are wise enough to embrace them.”
The doors burst open and three armored soldiers charged in.
“Captain, are you hurt?” one said. The guard looked down at Jamus’s charred husk with no apparent surprise.
“No,” he said, still watching Seren. “Nothing unexpected. What is happening outside?”
“Some lunatic and a warforged are loose in the inn,” the soldier said.
“A warforged?” Marth looked at the man sharply.
Seren reacted instantly to Marth’s distraction. She fell into a roll, shoved Marth aside, grabbed the book, and rolled onto the trapdoor. It flipped under her weight, depositing her in the dank crawlspace. She locked the door behind her and ran. Seconds later she heard a riotous explosion and felt a wave of heat wash over her. Marth had turned his magic to removing the trap door. She didn’t have long to make her escape. She pushed open another door and dropped through the ceiling of the kitchen. The angry shouts of Marth’s guards sounded from the hall outside. The chaos apparently had little to do with her-the Lhazaarite was busy piling furniture against the kitchen door while the warforged braced his shoulder against the door.
“What in Khyber?” the Lhazaarite swore, looking up in surprise as he wedged another chair into the heap. “Where did she come from?”
The warforged looked at Seren, pointed at the ceiling, and returned his attention to the door.
They were, of course, the same pair she had encountered earlier in the street-Omax and Tristam Xain. Seren’s dagger was immediately in hand. She clutched the book to her chest and backed away from them.
“Don’t try to stop me,” she warned.
Tristam blinked. He glanced at Omax, then back at her.
“You’re not getting the book back,” Seren said. She continued backing away, moving toward the corner.
“Keep it,” Omax said, turning his eerie blue stare upon her. “Do you know another way out of here? Please.”
“Omax, she’s a thief,” Tristam said. “We can’t trust her.”
“Please,” Omax repeated calmly, ignoring his comrade. “If you know a way, we could use your help.”
Seren hesitated. She stood only a foot away from a sliding panel in the wall. She knew she could step through and seal it behind her before either of them could react, but she hesitated. There was something in the warforged’s plain, direct demeanor that gave her pause, and Tristam seemed far too harried and confused to be threatening. In either case, if she escaped, Omax could likely just tear the wall away and follow her.
She already had enough new enemies. What did she really have to lose by helping them?
“This way,” she said, sliding open the panel.
Tristam looked up at the ceiling, then at the passage with a look of astonishment. “Another secret passage?” he asked.
“This place has an interesting history,” Seren said, stepping into the darkness.
Omax followed, with Tristam bringing up the rear. The tunnel was narrow, passing through the walls between the ground floor rooms. Seren passed through with ease, but grimaced at the scraping clamor Omax produced as he squeezed his thick metal body through the passage. Fortunately Marth’s guards were producing too much noise to notice. The smell of smoke drifted from above.
“The top floor is on fire,” Tristam whispered. “Who are these people?”
“You don’t know either?” Seren shot back.
The warforged gave her a curious look. “Why else would we-”
“Later, Omax,” Tristam said, his voice a low hiss. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Seren pushed another hidden door aside. A cool rush of air and the smell of fresh rain washed over her. She stepped into the garbage-strewn alley behind the Buzzard and looked back at the top floor. Behind the upper windows she saw flames, and a plume of thick black smoke spiraled into the sky. Seren felt a bit of hope drain from her. The Buzzard had always been a safe place, with a dozen ways to escape, a hundred places to hide. It had been a refuge from the dangers of her life, and when she saw it burn, she truly realized that her teacher was dead.
She looked down again with a glum, distracted expression, only to see Omax emerge from the darkened tunnel at a full charge, eyes burning with violent blue fire. Seren’s hand darted for her knife, but she knew it would be too late. The warforged was too fast, and her weapon would likely do little harm regardless.
The massive creature charged past Seren, its heavy fist colliding with something behind her. She turned to see one of Marth’s guards slump against the wall, sword tumbling from his hand. She had not even noticed his approach. The warforged had likely just saved her life. Five more guards rounded the corner, shouting for help as they advanced. Seren drew her knife.
“Get behind me!” Tristam shouted, darting forward with his sword in hand.
“I can defend myself,” Seren retorted, but a heavy metal hand seized her shoulder from behind.
“Trust him,” the warforged said, drawing back behind his comrade.
The soldiers moved to surround Tristam. He held his sword low to one side in one hand and flicked his left wrist. A slender ivory wand appeared between his fingertips and for an instant Seren saw a look of terror in the soldiers’ eyes. Tristam shouted an unintelligible word, and a wave of sparkling white energy exploded into their scattering formation. Three fell among the garbage and did not rise, but another charged through the fire with sword held high. Tristam lifted his blade to defend himself, but his movements were slow, clumsy. Seren rolled between the guard and Tristam, slicing at the man’s left knee with her blade. He stumbled and his stroke flew wide, allowing Tristam to easily parry. The guard fell to one knee and Tristam swung a second time, dropping the man beside his fellows.
The other two soldiers had rallied by now, but Omax was already among them. He bore no weapons but lumbered forward with his thick, three-fingered hands outstretched. He seized the first attacker by his chest plate; the metal creaked as it bent around his fingers. The soldier screamed and hacked at Omax’s shoulder with his blade, leaving only light dents in his metal skin. He caught the other man’s blade in his free hand and twisted, wrenching the sword from his grip. With a savage heave he lifted the first soldier into the air and hurled him at his fellow, crushing a rain barrel as they tumbled in a heap.
One soldier slumped unconscious, but the other scrambled to his knees, clutching his dented chest plate in pain. He glared at the warforged and searched about for his lost sword. Omax advanced a single thunderous step, squared his shoulders, and released a fierce, reverberating roar. The man kicked up a small cloud of refuse as he fell on his rear and scurried away, whimpering in terror.
Omax looked back at them, his blue eyes casting about for any other threats. The metal plates in his torso still vibrated from the fury of his roar. “We must go now,” he said in his usual calm voice.
Tristam nodded, offering a hand to help Seren to her feet. She ignored him and stood on her own. The trio hurried through the alleys, away from Marth and his men. Alarm bells and panicked shouts came from every direction.