The Cursed Moon

“Val kan-tesh el vis’nu vash ken tisu,” the vulpine mage with the burning blue eyes intoned from the pier above the team.

It was Draknor who was startled the most by this.

“What did he just yammer about?” Farah asked.

Draknor snarled, holding his recovered sword in his claws.

A mammal that knew Draconian?

A mammal that knew an ancient Draconian curse, no less?

Skreet grit his teeth as he ran. “Weren’t you just knocked out?” He yelled backward to the strange mage.

“I told you, I recover quite quickly,” the wizard with the burning blue eyes said in a deep, highborn voice as more figures emerged from above.

“Follow me, boys!” Farah said to Skreet and Drakor as more silhouettes began to appear from above. “There’s a sanctuary down here!”

“I can hold them off!” Draknor said, shouldering his huge sword and preparing for the onslaught. 

“Now’s not the time for a glorious last stand!” Skreet shouted, tugging his reptiloid companion along with him. Reluctantly Draknor followed. Farah was ahead of them as they ran across the old docks, spells were flung their way and Draknor growled as he twirled his sword in response, the spells hitting the blade in a shower of sparks and the gem within the pommel glimmering with every spell it absorbed.

“No wonder you wanted that back so badly,” Skreet observed. 

“Hurr,” Draknor grunted as they ran.

The trio had reached the cobblestones of the street as shadowy figures dogged their flight with whispered words of an arcane nature. The brain addled silvermasks were running towards the group as well silently charging with their weapons in hand. 

“Ahh, just like an ant mound!” Farah grumbled. “Just as humorless as ants too!” 

The ferret ducked and axe meant for her head a retaliated with a thrust of her shortsword, the blade slipped between the ribs of the doberman wearing the mask and the silvermask fell to the ground in silence. Her victory was short lived as one of the mages that had been pursuing them hurled a multicolor ball of magical energies at the ferret. 

“Ahhh, grubs!” Farah grunted as she saw the spell.

The light smacked into her and then dissipated. 

“Yeah that’s right! I’ve got a protective talisman!” Farah taunted as she stuck her tongue out and resumed her flight. The mages had a solution though as they used their magic to send loose rocks her way and threw fireballs in her path to have shrapnel fly at her. 

The nimble ferret dodged and weaved about as she giggled. Skreet shook his head. 

“She’s completely out of her mind!” the rat groaned as he beat back a dagger-wielding mask with his sticks. He heard the tendons pop and the dagger fell from the grasp of the hare, but he made not a sound. Skreet ducked past his grasping hands as Draknor sent the brain-addled creature sliding across the cobblestones. 

The reptiloid deflected a spell with his sword as Skreet charged the stoat caster and hit him with a knee-head combo.

“We can’t fight them all,” Skreet grunted as the mage collapsed onto the cobblestone path. “They just keep coming.”

“Over here boys!” Farah called from where she stood on a rooftop of a house. None of the mages seemed to be throwing spells at her despite her being an obvious target. Surely they could just jerk the shingles out from under her, Skreet thought.

Draknor and Skreet weaved and fought their way through the Silvermasks and mages until they were near the same roof as Farah. The various foes merely stood where they were in silence. 

“Farah, why aren’t they following us in?” Skreet asked. 

“They can’t,” the ferret said, catching her breath. “Even they have to honor certain pacts.”

“What is this place?” Draknor rumbled. 

The building resembled an old temple - very old. Candles hovered near the columns, winding their way up and down creating a dancing effect.

“This is a particular section of the College of Elements. I’m not well-versed on magic laws or whatever it is those magic weirdos study, but they seem to avoid causing disturbances here.” 

“You cannot stay there forever!” A cold voice called to them out in the shadows outside.

“Nor can we enter my lord,” replied another voice.

“...Then we shall wait. As long as it takes.” 

“Ooooh, I am so scared!” Farah blew a raspberry at the assembled group beyond the enchanted threshold. 

“...Or until I convince the dean to allow me in. Come with me,” the voice said to another supposed assistant.

The trio couldn’t see what was going on, but they saw some shuffling amongst the crowd. 

Skreet sighed. “Well, seems this is but a temporary reprieve - oh, and we’re locked out as well.” 

“Don’t worry about it Mr. rat,”  Farah chuckled, “I’ll think of something.” 

Skreet was thinking of ideas himself, the investigator was thinking of ideas himself. 

“Well glad you got your sword back Draknor?” Skreet asked, “Draknor? Hey!” 

“Hurr?” Draknor shook his head. 

“You alright there big guy?” Skreet asked. 

“Fine,” he replied.

But Draknor wasn’t fine. He was thinking about the words that fox mage had spoken in draconian. How did he know draconian? Roughly translated the curse meant: 

"Cursed be the moon that lights your path." 

It was something Draknor had heard in his youth: a curse his people would say to their enemies. He never was sure just how effective that phrase was, but hearing it again after so many years in the ancient tongue - and out of the maw of a mammal - made his joints feel as if they were locking up from a chill wind. 

A new feminine voice shook the group from their thoughts. “Hey! Skreet? Is that really you?” 

Skreet turned towards the new voice that he vaguely recognized. Peering out the barred window was a familiar meerkat. 

“Amber!” Skreet grunted. 

The meerkat sighed. “So you did get my message. I thought I heard some commotion on the docks. Leave it to you to liven things up even more around here.”

Farah and Draknor simply stared at the meerkat before Farah spoke. 

“No one gets to be sassy around here but me.” 

Amber scowled at the ferret. “Well bless your heart, sugar, who made you the queen of sass?”

“Yeah, I can see why they locked you in there. How did you not know to leave before closing time?”

The two ladies glared at each other intensely.

“I don’t like you one bit!” they both said simultaneously.

“Silence!” Draknor roared. 

Both stopped their snide remarks towards each other. Skreet took the initiative while there was still silence. 

“Look Amber, we’re in a tight spot. I know you and I have had our differences in the past. Especially with what you put in print. But we’re in a bind and it seems you are too. Maybe we can help each other out.” 

Amber twitched an ear, “Well, I have till sunrise before they let me out of here. But you three may not have that long from what I heard.”       

“The situation is not that dire,” a female otter in robes said, emerging - as it were - seemingly from the very air of the old temple. Amber recognized her immediately.

“You! Aren’t you the one that locked me in here?”

“It was for your own good, miss Zazuetta,” the otter replied, her tail thumping against the ground. “As for the others, welcome to my little alcove here.”

“Hurm?” Draknor rumbled. “Who exactly are you?” 

“Yeah - pray tell, cousin mustelid,” Farah added. 

“Don’t let her rile you up,” Skreet advised. 

The mysterious otteress chuckled and bowed. “I have been known by many names, but my students refer to me as Thallara the Wise, dean of divination and arch-cleric of Statera here at the College of Elements. I knew someone was coming to stop Szal, but I could not imagine it would be a group so... diverse.”

“They always say they foresaw something,” Farah whispered in Skreet’s ear. “And Szal’s that fox we ran into. Bigshot around here.” 

Skreet ignored her. 

“Well, I don’t put much stock in prophecies but we’re here.”

“It is not one of the exact magicks,” Thallara said. “But yes you are - and to allow you to escape I will have to call in a favor from another dean, I believe.”

“Oh, here we go,” Farah sighed. 

“This night just keeps getting more interesting,” Amber piped up.