Chapter 111 Prize.
It was getting late.
Ireen Igral yawned as she flicked her finger, the glow of the OPEN sign turning off with a hiss. Handy little cantrip. But that was what most of her products were. Simple things easily used. That was where the real money was.
Smiling to herself, Ireen shut the curtains and reached for the handle of the door.
Only for it to turn.
The door slide silently inward.
A cold wind breathed into the shop. Ireen shivered, taking a step back. A man stood in the doorway, hood pulled low and shadowing his face.
Of course, none of this was unusual. Ireen ran a magic shop, and one of the ones that didn’t vanish the next morning, leaving some poor sap holding a monkey’s paw or item of arcane ironies. Strange, mysterious figures in dark cloaks showed up all the time. But this one was different.
Ireen could sense it as innately as she could the web of magic defences that burned around her.
"We’re just closing," Ireen said.
"Even for me?"
Ireen gasped as the hood went down, revealing a sharp face with a short goatee and toothy grin.
"Loris Lynch!"
"The one and only. You’re a tough woman to find, Miss Igral."
Ireen blushed. "Sorry. I mean, I didn’t expect..."
"That I would take an interest? Nonsense. You’re a fascinating woman, Ireen. I knew it the moment you and your friend entered my workshop. The painting you both made thrilled me in ways I cannot express."
Ireen’s smiled nervously, fidgeting with her ring. "What ah... what can I do to help you?"
Loris slid past the door, into the shop. "I was hoping you and your friend might assist me with something. A new piece. I hope..."
Loris trailed off, his eyes glued to the far wall. A low thump echoed through the air. He seemed to stiffen, and Ireen glanced that way too.
The sculpture Ava had left with her sat atop the counter. Ireen stared at it. Hadn’t she put that in the back? She felt sure she had. She’d never leave an artifact of potential menace lying around.
Ireen felt a cold tendril of fear claw through her belly. She looked back to Loris, who was looking at her again. But she didn’t like that look. It was too intense. Too fixed.
Too...
Hungry.
"My," Loris breathed. "That is an interesting artifact you have there, Ireen. Where did you come across it?"
Ireen took a wary step back. "That? Oh, a ah... a sailor pawned it off. You know how it is."
"Would you believe that I do?" Loris said, still smiling, taking a step after her. "Would you be interested in selling it?"
"Oh, I couldn’t part with it," Ireen said as she reached the towering dragon sculpture in the corner, one of the lynchpins of her shop’s defense.
"How convenient. I was hoping you might come with it," Loris said.
Loris stepped closer, the threads of her wards sparking, slipping off him with flickers of deactivating magic. Ireen’s eyes widened. She had suspected he might be a sorcerer of some kind, but an untrained one. He was clearly powerful if he could so easily rend apart her shop’s defenses. The last of them broke like cobwebs caught alight and he was right before her. Reached for her with a grim smile on his face.
"Stay back!" warned Ireen.
"It will all be over soon, my dear," he said. "There will be pain, yes, but so very much pleasure too. We will create such wonderful art together!"
With that, he lunged for Ireen. She was quicker, finding the hidden rune on the underside of the of the dragon sculpture’s muzzle. The rune clicked with a press of her fingers and life pulsed between the scales and in the eyes of the dragon. The guardian golem growled. Loris stopped short of grabbing Ireen.
"What’s this?"
"This is Charlotte," Ireen said. "Char, attack!"
The dragon leapt from its pedestal with a fearsome roar and tackled Loris to the ground. Flames curled from its open maw. A fire growing in its belly that it would soon use to roast the artist’s head.
Loris pressed himself against the floor, his eyes wide.
"Don’t kill him," Ireen said. "I still have some questions. Just, you know, scorch him a bit."
Char growled with disappointment, its huge stone paws holding Loris pinned to the floor. Ireen relaxed with a sigh.
Right up until the group of hooded men burst into her shop. In a flash she counted at least six of them. Their leader carried a staff with a swirling head reminiscent of Ava’s sculpture. The rest were armed with daggers made from sparkling green metal shaped into rippling blades.
"Char! Attack!" Ireen cried, frantically retreating behind the counter. Char’s head swung up, and flames gusted from the dragon’s maw. Unholy magical energy flashed as it met the dragon’s attack, blinding in its brilliance. Ireen heard one man scream in pain, but then a terrible crash as the dragon was smashed aside by the staff.
It was over so fast, and suddenly the men in robes were before her, knives glinting. "Alright," Ireen said, holding up her hands, "you got me! But my friend is going to figure out what you did and kick all of your asses."
"Your friend?" Loris sneered as he was helped up by another cultist. He swept a hand through his hair, his eyes glittering with rage as he looked at the sorceress. "Oh yes. That elf slut with the big tits? Don’t worry, witch. We will deal with her soon enough. Why, she might already be dead."
Ireen struggled against the cultists with reflexive anger as they tied her arms behind her back and gagged her with a cloth.
"We’d best hurry," the cultist with the staff said. "The ritual should be completed forthwith."
"Pity we pissed away that money on the gangster," the one behind Ireen said as he cinched tight her bindings.
"What does money matter to us now?" Loris said. "Now quickly! To the catacombs. Let us finish this city, and claim our prize."
Ireen groaned against the gag stuffed in her mouth. She desperately wanted to warn Ava, but she couldn’t cast a spell while bound and gagged.
The elf would have to fend for herself.