Nikolai knelt, looking her in the eyes. He waved a hand, and three crossbowmen moved closer, their bolts ready to let loose. He smiled. "Now, let's kill you, and get this over with, shall we?"
"What will you do with Stanislav?" she asked.
"I must admit to some unfinished business in that regard. Don't worry, though, I shan't kill him. Not yet, at least."
Nikolai stood, looking on with interest as Natalia tried to stare down the crossbowmen. He raised his hand, ready to signal that they should fire.
"No, wait," said Natalia. "You can't."
"Of course I can," he replied. "You have a big bounty on your head, Natalia. It's nothing personal." He paused a moment. "No, that's not right. It IS personal. Tell me, do you still remember freezing my arm?"
"You were trying to kill me," she responded.
"Not true. It was Stanislav I was trying to kill. You were merely in the way. If truth be told, I wanted you alive. How better for me to retrieve your bounty?"
"And now?"
"Now, I shall take your head and deliver it to the Volstrum. I hear there's a nice prize for proof of your death. Do you have any final words for your former mistresses?"
"No," she spat out.
"Then let's proceed, shall we?"
"No, wait, I'm carrying a child."
"You're lying," said Nikolai. "You'll say anything to stay alive."
"No, it's true. I swear it."
Nikolai lowered his hand. "A child, eh?"
"Yes," she said. "The child of a powerful caster. Worth a hefty reward, I should warrant."
"You have me intrigued at the possibility. The bounty on you was the largest ever issued for an initiate. I wonder what they'd make of you now, crawling on the ground and begging for your life?"
"Do we kill her, my lord?" asked one of the crossbowmen.
"No," replied Nikolai. "If what she says is true, her child will be worth a fortune. Let's take her back to our hideout. We shouldn't wait around here for her barbarian friend to return."
He reached into his sleeve, pulling forth a small vial of liquid. "I wasn't sure if I'd need this, but I see now it has some use." He unstoppered the vial. "Don't worry, I'm not poisoning you. I had this specially prepared, just in case. It's magebane, and a strong dose at that. I've been warned how resistant you are to its effects."
He moved closer, forcing her mouth open and pouring the contents down her throat. "Make sure you swallow it all," he warned.
Natalia felt the liquid as it made its way through her body. She couldn't help but think of the irony, for she couldn't cast a spell even if she had wanted to.
Nikolai drew his sword, and for a moment, she wondered if he had changed his mind. That notion was soon put to rest as he brought the hilt of it down on her head, sending her into darkness.
Athgar stumbled down the street, his mind in turmoil. No matter what might happen to him, he couldn't leave Natalia to face Nikolai alone. Turning around, he was determined to return to the theatre, but then his leg nearly gave out beneath him. He looked down to see blood soaking his thigh. Cursing his luck, he fell to the ground, examining his injury as best he could. He tore off a sleeve, bundling up the material, and held it against the wound.
Looking around, he tried to get his bearings, but when he saw the trail of blood he was leaving, his heart turned cold. He must either find somewhere close to hide or do something before they discovered him. He looked down at the blood-soaked rag and winced, for he knew he could run no more.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath as he held the rag in place with his left hand and raised his right, calling forth words of power. A small green flame leaped to life in his palm, and he stared at it a moment, contemplating his next move. He took one more deep breath, then acted. Removing the rag, he placed his right hand on the wound and immediately felt an intense burning as the magical flame took hold. The smell of searing flesh was overwhelming.
It was all over in a moment, and then the world spun. Athgar fought to keep his wits about him, but there was little he could do as darkness claimed him.
Athgar awoke with a start. He saw the moon peering out from behind the clouds, lighting the street with an eerie glow. He had fled the theatre in a mad dash; now he needed to get his bearings. The streets of Ebenstadt were difficult to navigate at the best of times, but now, given his present circumstances, he was utterly lost.
He took a breath and pushed himself to his feet, staggering from the pain of it. In the wilderness, he could have oriented himself using the stars, but here, the buildings hampered that task, making it all but impossible.
Athgar took a step, testing his legs. They were weak but functional, allowing him to make his way farther along the street. He reached a crossroads and found himself looking up towards a familiar sight: The Wolf of Adenburg. Perhaps the Gods were looking out for him after all? Gritting his teeth, he forced himself onwards.
As the inn drew closer, sounds of merriment drifted out into the street. Finally reaching the door, Athgar pushed it open to be met with a wave of warm air. Staggering through, he sought somewhere to sit in the crowded room but found no open seat. Slowly he moved forward, using the wall to steady himself, intent on making his way upstairs to his room.
He was ready to ascend, lifting his foot for the first step when a sudden rush of pain coursed through his leg. Looking down, he was dismayed to see blood flowing freely once more, his wound reopened. In his haste to cauterize the injury, he
