The ogre’s fist exploded, sending gray flesh and muscle and bits of bone flying in every direction. A yellow-nailed thumb thumped onto the table behind her, and the off-duty FRoE agents leaped out of their chairs. “Oh, come on!”
The ogre bellowed and Cheyenne moved away from him, clamping her hands over her ears and seeing two orange skaxen staring at the mangled, shredded stump of the ogre’s detached wrist.
The troll came up behind her and sent his purple fist into her kidney. Cheyenne screamed and stumbled forward, barely avoiding the bellowing, lurching ogre as he gripped his mangled arm and waved it around like a lunatic. The drow halfling spun around to face the troll, staggering sideways because of the pain still echoing through her lower back. Another blast of icy shards erupted from his palm. She threw a hand up in front of her face, and the shards pinged off the tiny black shield she’d somehow managed to cast.
“Huh.” She glanced at her hand, the shield dropped, and the troll launched another attack at her as the skaxen leaped at her from the other side. Her tendrils lashed out to wrap around the orange ratface, catching him in mid-air and jerking him in front of her toward the troll. The shards peppered his face over the slashes left by her purple sparks. The skaxen’s scream broke off when he crashed into the troll and sent them both tumbling across the floor.
“My fucking hand!” Spit flew from the ogre’s mouth, his eyes bulging as he stared at the bleeding stump. He just kept flailing it around.
“Hey, you brought dirty fighting into this.” With a grunt, Cheyenne stalked toward him and cocked back her arm.
When he caught sight of her, he threw his arms open wide like he meant to end this fight by crushing her spine in a giant hug. Blood sprayed from his mangled stump, hitting her friends’ table just after Bhandi snatched up her tankard and jerked it safely out of the way.
Slipping into drow speed, the halfling ran between his open arms and cracked the palm of her hand against the underside of his chin. A shudder of agony jolted down through her forearm, and she pulled it back with a hiss.
Time sped up again, the tavern filled with noise, clicks, crunches, and thumps, and for all her drow strength and speed and the ogre’s gargantuan mass, his feet only lifted about an inch as his head whipped back. Shattered teeth sprayed from between his lips, and this time when he crashed against the wall, he didn’t move.
“Okay, who’s next, huh?” The drow halfling whirled to face the skaxen and the troll.
They’d untangled themselves and gotten back to their feet, but they swayed a little, hunched over and panting.
“Aw, come on.” Cheyenne shrugged. “You wanted a party, right? Let’s party.”
When she stormed toward them, the troll hesitated before drawing up a hissing, flashing rod of yellow and green light between his hands. He yanked it tight with a snap, then lashed out at her with the crackling whip of his spell.
“Hey, that’s cute.”
“You’re done, drow.” The way the troll spat the word sounded a lot more hateful than whatever they kept calling her. “If we don’t take you in, someone else will.”
“See, I think you got that backward.” She opened her hand, just to see what the last two thugs would do.
They both flinched, but the troll recovered quickly and drew his arm back to snap the yellow-green whip sparking in his hand. Before he could bring it down, the drow halfling shot her whipping black tendrils toward him. They coiled around the whip and jerked his spell toward his throat. The yellow magic fizzled, and her other hand sent more tendrils coiling around the troll’s arms, torso, and neck. She yanked him toward her, released her whips with one hand, and landed a mean right hook to his jaw.
The troll’s bright-red eyes rolled back in his head. Behind him, the skaxen snarled and leaped, not toward Cheyenne but past her, jumping across the tables lining the tavern and sending tankards and metal plates flying onto the floor behind him.
The halfling released the troll, who dropped like a purple bowling ball and turned after the skaxen. All she saw was a bunch of magical patrons at the Empty Barrel, staring at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Anyone know that guy or where he’s headed?” Cheyenne pointed toward the tavern’s door as it swung shut again behind the skaxen’s desperate escape. “No? Okay.”
With a shrug, she turned back around and eyed the bloody, nearly toothless ogre against the wall, the troll in a heap at her feet, and the bloody orc lying face-down in a pool of his own blood and spit. No one moved.
The drow halfling sighed and moved quickly toward the off-duty FRoE agents. All three of them stared at her with wide eyes. Bhandi cradled her tankard against her chest. Tate’s scarlet eyebrows went up even farther, and Yurik’s open mouth let out a dry click when he swallowed.
Cheyenne reached across the table and pointed at the copper mug in Tate’s hand. He gave it up immediately. The halfling took one glance inside, blinked, then knocked back half a cup of fellwine and slammed the cup back onto the table with a clang. She sucked a sharp breath through her teeth. “Pretty sure I know why they made this stuff now.”
Bhandi pointed to her head and stared at Cheyenne’s. “You got a little…”
“What?” The halfling picked at her hair, finding a spray of someone’s blood on her hand before a yellow fingernail and teeth tumbled onto the table. “Gross.”
“That was…” Yurik blinked. “I’m not sure what I just watched.”
She pointed at him. “Yeah, well next time, when I say I got it, that means don’t—”
A loud clang rose behind her. Cheyenne turned slowly around just as an old, skinny goblin with dull-green
