The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The city was in a mad frenzy as Coin left the Obelisk, taking to the sky on a spiral of air that held him hop and leap over the buildings. From aloft he could see fleeing crowds, great tides of smoke, and churning infernos consuming a few different buildings. The worst of the flames seemed to be coming from Lowtown and the Spokes, but the other quarters of the city were not without damage.

His route took him around the edge of the spokes, where civilian fire fighters had formed human chains to speedily bring buckets of water too and from the nearest blazes. And, eventually, his eyes fell upon a huddled crowd of kobolds in one alley, warily watching the inferno.

Coin landed, against his judgement, and skidded to a halt near them. They relaxed a bit in his presence. He was, after all, the human who gave kobolds a chance and defended them.

"What are you doing?" he asked, huffing for breath. "You're... just watching the flames? Not helping to put them out?"

"Why should we?" one female asked, sniffing. "They would spit on our aid."

"We gain nothing from aiding," said another, smaller and far angrier looking.

Coin sighed. He could not fault them for their wariness. The Spokes mistreated their kind, even if it was the only place any of them could get any work. "Even so... this place is your home," he said.

"We can live in the ashes. Koboldkin are used to struggle. These ones can not. Soft humans, not used to suffering," said a voice from somewhere in the huddled crowd.

"Yeah. I understand what you mean. And those people have done nothing for you. But this is your home too. And when this is all settled, and the last of the smoke clears... the people will remember you stood by and did nothing. Don't give them another reason to hate you."

That sent a wave of uneasy murmuring from the crowd. The younger kobolds sneered at the notion. But, gradually, the older and greyer kobolds made their way from the alley and strode quickly with Coin. And soon, to the mute surprise to the humans of the spokes, another line of firefighter had formed among the group, helping to douse the flames faster.

Coin did not stick around much longer. Though, as he took to the air again, he made a point to hover over each fire in his path, creating spirals of wind to suck much of the oxygen from them. Once the would-be infernos began to shrink, it would be far easier for the people to douse them with more conventional means.

All the while he pressed on for home, hoping that everything would be alright.

Things were most certainly not alright.

Domajor, his face marked with sweat and blood, lunged at the scale-encrusted abomination with a dao clutched in both hands. His movements were swift, faster than a normal man could hope to dodge, yet his enigmatic foe weaved through each one.

Even before his mutations, it was likely Askyr could have matched Domajor closely in skill and physical ability. Now, however, the gap had grown vast in its distance.

His forearm swung up, the sharp edge of his limb shattering a chunk of the blade on impact. Domajor reeled, too slow as Akyr closed the gap and backhanded him through a nearby wall, kicking up a spray of plaster dust.

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Cricket yelled and came rushing at him, one eye sealed shut from a great black bruise. She hurled a pair of kitchen knives from her hands, both cleaving the air at speed. Sparks flew as he batted each one aside, the sharpened steel barely scuffing his scales. But it gave Cricket enough time to close the gap, landing a hard kick to Akyr's head and sending him skidding back.

"Come on ya bastard!" she spat, huffing for breath. "Think a few punches are gonna take me down! I've beaten bigger an' meaner than you!"

"Trust me, girly, you haven't. Not by a long shot."

Domajor pulled himself through the broken wall, dropping the severed sword from his hand. He and Cricket formed a vanguard in the battle-torn corridor, placing themselves between Askyr and Essine. The kobold was aghast, eyes shining as she stared at the two.

"You two... you two need to leave! Run! Stop... putting yourselves in harm's way for the sake of this one!" she cried. She was huffing for breath, her fur standing on edge. Her own efforts to stem the creature had been to no avail, and she feared even touching her profane magic while her friends were in harm's way.

"Can't do it, kanno." Cricket said with an uneasy chuckle. "Whenever someone is in danger from evil creeps? Gotta do what I can to protect them."

"And it is my duty... to try and protect the people in his home." Domajor gave Cricket a sideways glance. "Attack together."

"Good call, lanky. I like the way you think."

The two moved in unison, zooming down the corridor in the blink of an eye. Essine struggled to see the speed of their punches and kicks, and to their credit even Askyr had trouble deflecting every blow. More than a few passed his guard, earning pained growls from him.

Essine raised her shaking hands, trying and failing to make her breath level. Her fingers twitched as she fought to gather energy from the depths of Sheol. She had studied with Scylla a good deal, she knew a few tricks, but practice did not prepare her for the stress of an actual battle. Or the overwhelming fear this misshapen thing instilled within her.

Askyr caught one of Domajor's fists, the butler crying out as his arm was twisted. He kicked Cricket aside, her body crushing a table into a pile of broken wood. She struggled where she lay, blood oozing from a gash in her forehead.

Domajor summoned his strength, striking Askyr in the face with his other fist. The blow was like a clap of thunder, blood gushed from the scaly stump that had once been a nose, and a portion of the hallway shuddered from the impact. Yet Askyr was only barely staggered.

He grinned, blood oozing from his serrated fangs. "Would've liked fighting you in the past. Might have been a fair fight," he said. Askyr yanked Domajor in, headbutting the butler who then dropped bonelessly to the floor. He loomed above his two fallen foes, serpentine eyes now glaring intensely at her.

The kobold had a clear shot, and did her best to swallow her fear. A choking coil of black smoke shot from Essine's hands, creating a noise like a churning maelstrom, the noise of it drowning out Essine's impassioned cry. Akyr leapt high, dodging the whip of blackness. The talons in his hands and feet sank effortlessly into the ceiling, and the assassin bounded along the ceiling like a charging beast, rapidly closing the distance toward her.

Essine, wide-eyed, only barely threw herself back to avoid a snatching hand. She rolled onto her stomach, tried to scurry away past an entrance to the manor's study. The same hand caught her by the ankle, dragging her shrieking backward.

"Oh," Askyr said. "How I long to pull your skin off piece by piece. To carve you up, piece by piece and leave you as an offering to that mimic..."

She whipped around, hissed, and fired an entropic bolt of sickly green light from one hand. Askyr snapped his head to one side, avoiding the shot as it struck the ceiling and blackened a broad portion of it into ash.

"But... Lord Bleak wants you alive. And relatively in tact. For the time being, at least."

Pearl crept silently through the open door behind him, She held her breath, moving as silently as she could. In her trembling hands she held a fire poker, the silvery tip black with ash. Essine only barely saw the bard before she brought the sturdy metal onto the back of his head with all the force she could muster, screaming at the top of her lungs.

The jolt of the blow made her recoil, and Pearl was left staring in wide-eyed terror at her makeshift weapon. The poker had bent near in half, and scarcely marked Askyr's flesh.

Askyr smirked and caught her by the throat, stifling the scream that rose in Pearl's throat. "I'll give you credit for the attempt. When your monstrous 'friend' comes back," he sneered, leaning in close and heaving his blood-stinking breath in Pearl's face, "tell him that he can find us in Elbrinth."

Essine managed to fire another shot of magic, a bolt that clipped Askyr's shoulder as he tried to dodge. A horrid hissing noise rose in his chest, his scales bubbling and snapping off. A hard blow whipped Essine into the floor, knocking her out cold, and Pearl was tossed aside like a piece of rubbish.

The misshapen thing reached into his cloak with one hand, slowly pulling out a cube of polished black marble. He stood, momentarily recalling what Lord Bleak had told him, and aimed the cube out. A stream of green light tore from the cube, slicing a wound in reality that formed into a shimmering emerald doorway.

Askyr dragged the unconscious kobold through it, and the doorway knit itself shut behind them.