A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 59

Can't go that way.

Ian frantically tried to think of some way to escape. He leaned against the door he'd just slammed in Dakon's face and shot the bolt home. The instant the bolt was secure the door shuddered and sent Ian spilling onto the floor from the force of impact. The power behind the blow made his decision for him. He put his gun back in its holster and crawled over to the shield. Behind him, the back door splintered into a thousand pieces. Ian hefted the shield up and made a mad dash out the front door of the shop, a few shards of wood stinging his backside as he sprinted.

"NO!" Talazar shrieked, but it was far too late. His glowing hot spell sent the crowd scrambling out of his way giving him a clear shot at the front of the shop. And he had taken full advantage, unleashing his fireball. His intention had been to flush Ian out the back, but the fiery ball of destruction struck Ian's shield instead, as he barreled out the front.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the shield had several magical wards on it. The fireball struck the wards and went flying up and to the side, stunning Ian in the process. It exploded directly upon the support beams overhead in a cacophony of sound and heat. The beams promptly disintegrated, and a domino effect of misfortunes caused the whole structure to topple down, right on top of Ian.

"TALAZAR!" Fiery debris went soaring as Dakon roared, erupting from his own burial mound. The anger in his baritone voice was as palpable as the heat in the air. Several of the flung debris landed on other buildings, spreading the fire rapidly around the enclosed market.

As the knowledge that he, Talazar, was the focus of that anger flooded his mind with raw fear. His brain gave out and his body reverted to primal survival instincts. He turned and ran for the docks in a blind panic, hoping to lose himself in the crowd.

"Do not run from me!" Dakon shouted, whipping his sword from the sheath on his back.

The sword cracked like a shattered mirror, lava red fluid filled the veins and the blade pulsed sending out a wave of pure rage. Bystanders unfortunate enough to be within a block, of what would later be referred to as The Dock Riots, stiffened as the wave of red washed over them. Their faces went momentarily blank, and as the wave passed the placid expression turned to one of feral aggression. The magic was the antithesis of the calming spell that Pandora had cast earlier, and it consumed its victims without mercy.

Old grudges rekindled and a group of orcs fell into a bloody, brutal battle with any surrounding elves. A trio of gnomes set about besieging a gold half-dragon with no fear in their hearts. Dwarves joined the fight against the elves, trading insults about greed and obsession with nature. Humans were fighting anyone and everyone within reach. The less capable became nothing more than an obstacle to trample into the ground to reach the next fight. Dakon's rage had turned the scene into one of carnage and death.

Talazar was unaffected by the spell, but he was too terrified to consider why that might be. In a last-ditch effort to block the path behind him, Talazar shot off a specialized fireball of his own creation. The fireball struck the archway to the market as he passed through it and rather than explode it spilled out behind him like water from a pitcher. The entire entrance was engulfed in flames by the time he stopped to catch his breath. His rotund belly heaving from the effort as he watched the flames, fully expecting Dakon to appear. When that didn't happen, the cowardly mage turned and ran into the embattled crowd.

Beneath the rubble of the smithy Ian stirred. He felt around in the darkness trying to remember where he was. Despite being buried alive he had not been crushed, and even better was still able to move all of his appendages. It came flooding back to him as the smell of burning wood filtered through the wreckage of the building. Before the fog had cleared from his mind he made the mistake of trying to stand, whacking his head on a support beam above his private tomb. A biting curse fell from his lips as he rubbed at the fresh lump. He dug around in his belt pouch for his phone and turned it on. Once alive, he turned on the flashlight and took stock.

Above him, two of the support beams had crashed together and were holding up the weight that would've otherwise crushed him. It left him with enough space to crouch and little more. He turned off the flashlight and waited for his eyes to adjust. Then a stone block shifted, and a ray of sunshine blazed through into his tomb. It was what he had been hoping for. Wasting no time he wriggled his way towards the ray of light. He pushed against a loose stone until it fell free and more light poured in, he was going to make it. A hand crashed through the rubble and dragged him out.