SoulQuest (17 page)

“Pick up a working girl, Templar?” asked Ekala.

“Don’t be crude,” said the woman, lowering her hood. “My name is Reyche. I owe this man my life.”

“Ms. Estry here was a prisoner of the ‘esteemed’ Lord Vortai,” said Templar. “I liberated her, but was not able to liberate the Soulstone.”

“Why did you steal the stone for him if you wanted it for yourself?” asked Tanus.

“I didn’t want it. I was simply hired to obtain it,” said Templar. “When the terms of the deal changed, I tried to take the stone back. Vortai attempted to have me killed and, as such, I’m in the mood for some recompense.”

“You’re not getting the stone,” said Zarim.

“Nor would I ask for it,” said Templar. “I examined it after Corvil and it seems to hold little monetary value. Imitation jewels would fetch a higher price. But Vortai does have quite a bit of wealth in that cathedral. Help me obtain some of it, and I will help you obtain your rock.”

“Still don’t know why we should trust you,” said Ekala.

“I told you, he saved my life,” said Reyche.

Ekala gave her a skeptical look. “Sorry honey, that’s great an’ all, but who’s to say
you’re
on the level?”

“If this were a trap, I would have no need to be so elaborate,” said Templar. “I would simply have notified the Dreadnoughts inside the station. Clearly, I did not.”

Zarim nodded. “I hate to say it, but he’s got a point. Could be useful having someone who knows what we’re getting into.”

“Why were you at the station?” asked Tanus.

“Reyche and I were preparing to make an escape. Get as far away from Serenity as possible,” said Templar. “But with this opportunity...”

“What about you?” Tanus now faced Reyche. “Are you okay with this?”

“If this is how I can pay back Templar, then I’ll help,” she said. “I’ve also seen the room where the stone is.”

“Okay, then here’s how this is gonna go down,” said Zarim.

And they revised their plan.

Tanus raised the frosted mug to his lips and drank his ale while he stared out the tavern’s window at the cathedral across the street. Swul sat across from him at the wooden table, his back to the window. The diminutive being finished off his second drink and belched loudly.
 

“How long’s it been since they went inside?” asked Swul.

“About five minutes,” said Tanus. “Which makes your current progress on drinks pretty impressive.”

He smirked. “Faerie constitution.”

“I’m just tryin’ to figure out where you put it all.”
 

“Should probably keep up,” said Swul. “No one’s gonna believe a guy your size got drunk off one beer.”

“Good point.” Tanus tilted his mug back and let the brown liquid flow down his throat. He set the glass on the table and signaled to the bartender. Swul did the same. A moment later, a waitress came by with two fresh beers and took away the empty glasses.

“Hey Dreyer, just want you to know somethin’. About this brawl we gotta stage.”

“Oh?” asked Tanus.

“Once it starts, I won’t be pullin’ no punches,” said Swul.

Tanus nearly choked on his drink as he chortled. Swul’s brow wrinkled.

“I say somethin’ funny?”

Tanus set the mug down and wiped his lips with his sleeve. He grinned at his new friend. “
You
won’t pull any punches, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Is that supposed to be a warning?”

“Damn right it is!” said Swul. “What, y’ think that just ‘cause yer bigger’n me, that means you hit harder?”

Tanus leaned back, the wooden chair creaking as he adjusted. “Hey, have it your way, friend. But if that’s how it’s gonna be, then
I
won’t pull any punches, either.”

“Good, now we’re talkin’,” said Swul. “What time we got now?”

Tanus parted his cloak and reached for the pocket watch on his vest. “Looks like it’s show time. Just remember to make sure those wings of yours stay hidden.”

“Same goes for you an’ yer arm.” Swul glanced over his shoulder at the cathedral. No sign of the others. “Alright, let’s do this.”

He raised his glass, drained it in one long swig, and threw the empty mug at Tanus. The former soldier raised his arm just at the last moment to deflect the projectile. It struck the ground and shattered, drawing attention from the other patrons. Swul stepped onto the table.

“C’mon ya big, ugly bastard! Let’s see you make fun of my height again!”

He jumped and Tanus was surprised when Swul proved strong enough to knock him back far enough that his chair tipped, taking them both to the hardwood floor.
 

The loud tolling of the bells signaled for the parishioners that the service was set to begin. Zarim, Templar, Reyche, and Ekala moved as one, blending in with the rear of the crowd. In the hall, Zarim was all business, putting aside his animosity for one of his new partners and focusing on the job at hand.

“Templar, what are we looking for?”

“From what I’ve seen, there are two stairwells leading down into the caverns. One is near the altar.”

“And the other?”

“Within Vortai’s office,” said Templar.
 

“Alright, let’s go find it,” said Zarim. “You two go into the hall. If there’s anything we need to worry about, radio us.”

Zarim and Templar broke apart from the group, moving down one of the side corridors. Upon entering the hall, Ekala and Reyche sat towards the back of the cathedral, close enough to the door that they could escape quickly, if the need arose. After the congregation found their places, Lord Vortai emerged from behind the altar. The entire hall rose, bowing their heads to him as he stepped up to the lectern. Vortai bowed slightly as well, although not as deep as the parish had.
 

“
That’s
the guy?” whispered Ekala. “He looks like he’d get knocked over in a strong breeze.”

“Don’t let his appearance fool you, he’s extremely powerful,” said Reyche. “He managed to restrain me with almost no effort.”

Ekala stifled a chuckle. “No offense, honey, but I don’t think it’d take much to capture a church girl.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Reyche.

Outside the hall, Templar and Zarim moved through the corridor. They walked at a leisurely pace, not wanting to attract any attention from some of the roaming church staff. Templar took the lead, remembering the path he took to Vortai’s office the last time he was within these walls. When they reached it, Zarim went for the handle, but found it wouldn’t budge.
 

“Locked.”

“So take care of it,” said Templar.

“Ekala’s the lock-picker in the group,” said Zarim.

Templar rolled his eyes. “This is no time for quips.”

“I’m not
quipping
, it’s the truth.”

The master thief sighed and pushed Zarim aside, kneeling so he was eye-level with the lock. “Keep watch. And to think I considered you an equal.”

“Oh shut up. We don’t have time to start measuring swords, so just get the job done,” said Zarim.
 

Templar moved his hand beneath his cloak to the pouches on his belt. One contained a thin case, and when he opened it, Zarim could see a tension wrench and several picks, a similar set to the tools Ekala used in their operations. Templar examined the lock as his fingers plucked up the appropriate wrench and pick. The entrance to the office existed within a small alcove from the rest of the L-shaped hall and Zarim moved to the corner, peering around it, keeping watch for any potential threats.
 

Templar inserted the tension wrench into the lock, rotating it as much as it would go. He slid the pick inside and turned his head, listening closely for the sounds as he used the pick to push the first pin into its unlocked position.

A passing monk at the end of the corridor did a double-take as Zarim ducked back behind the corner. “Speed it up, we might have a situation.”

“Patience, this is an art.” After lifting the second pin, Templar turned the tension wrench slightly, and moved the pick deeper into the lock.
 

“Screw your art, this is us about to get spotted.” Zarim slid one side of his cloak over his shoulder, unlatching his gun from its holster. He could hear the monk’s footsteps getting closer. Zarim drew the gun, holding it by its barrel, intending to knock out the monk if he came too close.

Templar grinned at the click of the third pin. “Just one left.” He took a glance and saw Zarim prepared to strike with the gun. “Put that away.”

“Look, if you don’t do your job, I’ll be forced to do mine!” hissed Zarim.

The fourth pin was giving him some trouble. Templar had to be gentle with the wrench so he didn’t damage the lock or accidentally undo his efforts.
 

The monk took careful steps. He thought he saw something near Lord Vortai’s chambers, but that wasn’t possible in the middle of mass. As he grew closer, he could swear there were voices. He stayed close to the outside wall of the corridor, sticking his head out to get a good look. He turned the corner...

And there was nothing.

The monk stared at the closed door of Lord Vortai’s chambers. He stepped closer, reaching out and taking the handle in his grip. He gave it a slight jiggle and it was locked. The monk breathed a sigh of relief. Must have just been his eyes playing tricks on him.

Zarim stood pressed against the door, listening for the monk’s receding footsteps. Once they were gone, the pirate holstered his weapon. “That was close.”

“You need to relax.” Templar moved to the door within Vortai’s office. Zarim, meanwhile, examined the artifacts around the room, trying to determine if there were any value in some of these trinkets.
 

Templar tested the handle on the inner door and found it was unlocked. “Apparently, Vortai doesn’t expect anyone to enter his personal chambers.”

“Good, so it should be smooth sailing from here.”

“Not quite,” said Templar, leading the way down the spiral staircase. “Last time I went through this door, I found Reyche.”

“That girl? What’s the problem with that?” asked Zarim.

“She tried to kill me,” said Templar. “I imagine Vortai has upgraded his defenses since.”

Zarim appeared to be in disbelief. “
Her?
”

“That cloak is not just for subterfuge. She’s a vampire.”

Zarim paused in his descent. “What?”

“You have a faerie in your crew. Spare me the surprise,” said Templar. “She was being kept prisoner by Vortai. Held under his will.”

“He can control people?” asked Zarim.

“In a fashion,” said Templar. “I have no idea the extent of his power, though.”

A new voice echoed in the chamber. “It grows. With each stone.”

Templar and Zarim drew their weapons. They stepped into the corridor at the foot of the stairs. In the dim, flickering light of the torches, they could see a robed man. He lowered his hood, revealing the completely hairless head of Vortai’s servant, Ono.
 

“You,” said Templar. “We could have avoided this nastiness if you simply paid me promptly.”

“Greed is a terrible sin, Mr. Templar,” said Ono. His eyes started to crackle with crimson energy.
 

“What the hell are you?” asked Zarim.

“A vessel of the master’s great power.” Ono held out his arms, fingers outstretched, and bursts of scarlet lightning arced out from them, striking both Zarim and Templar, pinning them to the ground.

Swul battered Tanus’ face with his tiny, yet powerful fists. The miner was surprised at how great the discrepancy was between the faerie’s size and his strength. But one thing about Tanus is that he gave as good as he got. He reached around with his artificial arm and grabbed Swul by his neck, pulling his writhing frame off. Tanus threw him with all the force he could muster, and Swul flew right through the glass window of the tavern.
 

Tanus stood and jumped after, rolling on the street between the tavern and the cathedral, and sprung to his feet. He got into a fighting stance as Swul recovered, rubbing the part of his head that broke the glass. Both men had to keep their wits about them in this fight. Although it was intended to be a drunken brawl, and despite Swul’s comments about not pulling his punches, they had to be careful not to injure the other too seriously, and at the same time conceal some of their more obvious traits—in Tanus’ case, his artificial arm and for Swul, the wings folded beneath his cloak.

Swul ran towards his opponent and Tanus raised his arms, prepared for another jump, but the diminutive man surprised him by sliding under his legs. Before Tanus could turn, Swul jumped onto his back. His arms went around Tanus’ neck, holding a vise-like grip on his windpipe. Tanus charged up the steps of the cathedral, turned and slammed his back—and Swul—through the wooden doors. Both men tumbled into the church’s foyer. Swul’s grip loosened and the two separated once again, each slowly rose into a crouch, staring at the other.

The sounds of their scrap penetrated the doors of the hall, and one by one, the congregation left their pews, opening the doors to witness two men of vastly different statures brawling. Swul noticed the audience that had gathered and smiled. Tanus charged first this time, and Swul was surprised by the man’s speed. His human arm connected with Swul’s chin, knocking the faerie back with incredible might. Swul tumbled towards the wall. He twisted his body so his feet could strike the wood, coiled his legs, and sprung from the partition back at his opponent.
 

Vortai pushed through the crowd to see what the commotion was. The old mage was shocked to see the events unfurling around him. He slammed his staff against the floor, trying to overpower the noise of the brawl, commanding both men to cease. “This is a house of worship! Enough!”

The two men didn’t listen, though, and continued their exchange. Partly to provide their friends with a suitable distraction, but also because both men were having fun pitting their testosterone-fueled strength against each other.

Inside the hall, Reyche led Ekala to the side doors adjacent to the altar. The two young women took full advantage of the distraction and were able to enter in without the slightest bit of trouble. They proceeded down the steps, Reyche taking point and moving slowly.