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.
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