But instead a large furry hand picked her up. She grasped it. Her
rescuer was a large minotaur. He cracked his whip as he took her to
the edge of the market. "Move." The mob parted before him.
He put her down behind one of the market stalls. "Stay here."
His tone was low and melancholy.
Novalee found a comfortable place to hide, but she could still easily
peek over the edge of the booth to see what was going on. She could
see the minotaur still wading though the market. She could see the
dark she-elf firing off her balls of eldritch magic took keep those
who were trying to attack her. there were three others who seemed to
be on the 'winning' side of the battle. One was a strange man who
seemed to be made of Fire. He fought skillfully with his sword, and
drew several of the stronger fighters away from those who were trying
to escape. The second was an Elf who was clearly a sorcerer of some
kind. from his staff and orb came strange mystical and arcane
creations. The last was one of the tree folk.
Novalee noticed that the minotaur was about to be hit from behind.
She grabbed an apple and hurled it. It hit the man in the head,
giving the minotaur plenty of time to send the man flying. The
sorcerer was pushed back and crashed against her booth. He looked
pretty beaten up. She leaned over the edge and began to sing a song,
using the words of power she had been taught in the temple, words
that could be used in this case to strengthen the weak or weary. he
shook his head. "Thanks..." He said waiting for her name.
"Novalee."
He nodded, "Thank you Novalee."
"Look out!" She yelled. He brought his staff up just in
time to block an attacker. Then the fight took him farther away. She
watched, the mob continued it's bloody business. If only there was
something she could do. She ducked as a small dagger embedded itself
into the booth's wood where her head was. She grabbed it. It was a
small thing, but on the hilt was carved a set of pipes. As she
gripped it the pipes morphed into a harp. Novalee had heard of these
before but she had never seen one. It was a song blade, these were
the renowned weapons of the bards who were brave enough to chase
after stories, not just to sing the ballads and epics of others. Song
blades came to bards who would be part of great adventures. She could
feel the power pulse in the blade. Could she be one of those bards?
She leaned back. it was dangerous out there. People were getting
killed.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing on the booth.
From there she could see the market. There were still people
attacking the minotaur and the dark elf. The sorcerer was back to
back with the fire man. They were surrounded. She sang out "beware
the step may fall," and pointed the dagger. Her words turned
into the sound of thunder and the caused the group that surrounded
them to stumble away.
Novalee bit the inside of her lip; it was a start. Next She saw that
the Dark elf was being beaten down "Stay away from her!"
The words were strong and sunk into the assailant's mind. He held his
head allowing the elf shoot him with her cross bow. She rose no
longer noticing her wounds.
The tree women looked pained. Novalee could see sap pooling at her
feet, there was someone near by who was going to beat down on her.
Novalee pointed her blade and said, "The armor's thick and well
made but even a dragon can't repair his scales." the attacker's
breastplate fell. The snaps where broke by the sound of her voice.
The tree girl quickly took advantage of it. He never stood a chance.
Novalee panted. She could feel the arcane musical forces taking their
toll, but she was doing something she wasn't helpless. Suddenly
someone was up on the booth with her. He had a sword. He swung at
her. She dodged but fell. "let's see you sing your way out of
this one."
Next: The Adventurers
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