Chapter 16
Calamity
Trying to be methodical was really fucking boring sometimes.
Calamity had been on her best behaviour as the party had scoured Southhelm for a lead into Josse’s whereabouts, but she was losing patience quickly.
They’d spoken to at least three people who clearly knew something, but who also knew better than to talk about a local contact to a random group asking questions about him.
Liam’s diplomatic approach and Yorick’s charm offensive were getting them nowhere, especially since Southhelm was bustling with excitement over a tournament taking place over the coming days, and people had better things to do than help a rag-tag group of adventurers find one of their own.
Liam and Morgana were attempting to speak to the barkeep at a pub near the arena, nearly shouting questions over the din of dozens of patrons – questions like, “Do you know where Elies Josse is staying?” causing heads to turn.
They were being both too relaxed and too obvious at the same time.
The barkeep obviously knew something, too; the dwarf’s eyes had widened slightly when they asked if he knew where Josse was staying, and again when they asked if Josse ever came to the pub.
But they would never get answers this way, just taking his non-responses at face value.
When the dwarf finally grew weary – or perhaps wary – of their questions and turned to walk away, heading towards the storeroom, Calamity’s paper-thin patience finally wore through. She followed him, waving off the hisses of concern from her friends, her palms already tingling with magic.
The moment the door swung shut, she slammed the dwarf into the wall, pinning him there with her forearm and tail so that his toes only just grazed the floor.
She wound back her free hand, poised to cast her readied spell, sparks swirling over her palm.
Metal tankards fell from his hands and clattered to the ground, and his eyes went wide, flicking from Calamity’s horns to the fiery motes and back again.
“My coffers are empty,” he said, desperation in his voice. “I have only what we’ve made today. But you can have it all.”
“I don’t want your money,” Calamity said, rolling her eyes. “I want you to tell me where Elies Josse is staying. What his weaknesses are.”
“Like I told your friends—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Calamity growled down at him.
“I know you have more insight than you’ve offered.
So spill, or this whole place is going down in flames.
” She focused her attention on brightening the sparks in her hand, trying not to jump in surprise when a full-on flare erupted from her palm.
She wasn’t used to metering her magic, and it felt ready to leap from her body.
But, despite what she’d said, she didn’t actually want to start a fire in the middle of the city; especially not when the guard presence was at a peak.
The dwarf didn’t know that, though, and the fear in his eyes grew. There was an acrid stench in the air all of a sudden, and Calamity looked down to see a wet patch forming on the dwarf’s trousers. She felt a pang of regret, but she couldn’t back down now; he was clearly about to fold.
“Josse is staying in the next inn over,” he said. “He frequents my place, and he was supposed to stay here, but we’ve had to cut corners lately. He said it’s not fit for a man of his station any longer.”
Even around the terror, Calamity could hear the bitterness in his words.
“And weaknesses? It would be easier for me to list his strengths. He’s rich. But beyond that, he’s a mess. Drunk half the time. Angry the other half. Has bets out on a dozen different things at any given point.”
Calamity loosened the press of her arm on his chest, and his feet met the floor.
“What is his ante for this tournament?” Calamity asked, and she saw relief flood the dwarf’s face. She let the sparks on her hand die.
“Some magical item,” the dwarf said. “Some necklace. He was blabbering about it last night.”
Calamity moved to leave, having gotten what she wanted. But as she turned, she heard the unmistakable chink of sharp metal, and she felt something hot slice across her side.
She pivoted to look back at the barkeep, who now held out a knife in front of him, shaking in his hand.
Calamity felt rage bubble up within her as blood trickled down her side, and her hands began to properly burn.
She lifted them up in front of her, and they glowed white-hot as a flame formed between them.
The dwarf opened his mouth to say something – maybe to apologise, or to land a final barb – but the flames engulfed him before he could get it out.
The whole storeroom went up like a tinderbox, and it took Calamity a good few seconds to realise what she’d done. The flames licked closer, and she magically shielded herself, unsure what to do.
The door banged open behind her, and she whipped round to see her friends staring wide-eyed at her. Liam grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back from the growing flames, but she shook him off, casting another spell instead.
A huge gust of wind burst forth from her, snuffing out the fire as it went, but the damage was done. One whole corner of the building had burned away in the seconds it had taken her friends to get to her, and she could see people on the street behind gawping at the commotion.
“What have you done?” Nashala asked as she stepped over blackened beams to get to Calamity. “What happened to not making a scene?”
As if on cue, an alarm sounded nearby; someone had alerted the City Guard to the mayhem.
“I got the information,” Calamity said, not willing to be shamed by someone corrupt enough to work for her father. “Now, let’s just go.”
“It doesn’t matter if you got it,” Liam said, “you also just guaranteed us a spot on Southhelm’s most wanted list.”
“He stabbed me!” Calamity cried, pointing to her side. Now that she looked at it, though, it was quite a small wound. Pathetic, even.
“This is nothing,” Liam said, laying a hand on Calamity’s side. The small cut healed instantly as the cool sear of his magic sent a chill up her spine.
Calamity looked down at her friend Yorick for support – he knew a thing or two about his temper getting the better of him. But even he shook his head.
“As long as we got what we came for,” Calamity huffed, “what does it matter?”
“The ends don’t justify the means,” Nashala sneered. “Especially when the means are as nonsensical as this.”
“As if you’re one to talk,” Calamity said, squaring off against her. “You serve the Prince of Pandemonium, don’t you? Aren’t you here to do his bidding?”
Nashala matched her confrontational energy, stepping even closer – so close that Calamity could make out the shape of every speckle on her face.
“My entire kind only exists because we willed it,” she said. “Our willpower was literally strong enough to tame the chaos of our liminal plane. So, no, I am not a slave to chaos, no matter with whom I choose to affiliate.”
Calamity rolled her eyes. “Well, aren’t you special. In the meantime, the rest of us are just trying to get the job done.”
Nashala looked around at the wreckage Calamity had caused. “I hope you feel good about what you’ve done, then,” she said, and from the way she set her mouth into a hard line, she clearly knew that Calamity didn’t, in fact, feel good about it. Not at all.
Shouts sounded from outside, and the rest of the party began to panic, muttering about guards, but Calamity held Nashala’s gaze.
She wouldn’t be the first to move away. There was a heat radiating between them, and it stoked the fire inside Calamity, her rage and regret and every overwhelming emotion mounting.
She flexed her fingers to make sure it wouldn’t manifest in another outburst.
Eventually, Nashala stepped away, a smirk playing at her lips, and Calamity finally exhaled. Then she turned and ran through the gap she’d created, needing to be by herself for a while.