Free The Inquisitives [2] Night of Long Shadows by Paul Crilley Page B

the litter-strewn streets, seemingly at ease in the dilapidated district. Wren kept his wands close at hand, and he saw Torin gripping his sword hilt tightly.
    “Is it far?” asked Wren.
    “Just a couple of streets,” said Renaia.
    “Aren’t you worried about walking around here at night?” asked Torin.
    “No. It might look bad, but it’s still a close neighborhood. Slums usually are, you know. We look after our own.”
    Renaia turned into a wide concourse where ramshackle, sprawling mansions lined the sides of the road. They were practically falling apart, but Wren could see that they had once been opulent.
    At the end of the street was another wide boulevard that ran across their path. Instead of following it, Renaia took them straight across the road to a smaller street that led into darkness.
    Wren stopped. He didn’t like this. Too many places for an ambush here, and he was getting that uneasy feeling.
    “Torin?”
    “What?”
    “Just go on ahead and check that our path’s clear.”
    Torin snorted. “You’re funny.”
    “Fine.”
    Wren closed his eyes and concentrated, muttering words under his breath. He heard Renaia let out a gasp, and he opened his eyes. A small, smokelike being stood before him, almost indistinguishable from the shadows surrounding them. Tendrils of darkness drifted from its body like long hair in water.
    “Be calm, Renaia. It’s only my homunculus. Off you go, then,” he said to the creature.
    It turned and walked into the darkness. Within three steps it was invisible. Wren closed his eyes and watched through the creature’s senses. It walked down the street, searching all around for signs of ambush. But nothing stood out as unusual. Wren called it back.
    “It seems to be clear,” he said, turning to face Torin.
    Four goblins stood behind them, waiting patiently to be noticed. They were typical of their kind, squat and ugly, their flat faces making Wren think that whatever god created them had pressed them up against a wall and pushed until all their features flattened out.
    “Uh, Torin. Could you take three large steps forward and turn around please?”
    Torin did as Wren asked. When he saw the goblins, he cursed and drew his sword. “Where did they come from?”
    “I have no idea. And why are they just standing there?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Renaia, please keep well back. Unless you have a weapon?”
    Renaia shook her head.
    “Fine. Just keep out the way, if you please.”
    Wren turned from her and muttered some words beneath his breath.
    “They don’t usually attack like this,” whispered Torin. “They usually have a leader or something.”
    That was worrying Wren. He finished activating the infusion he had cast into his belt and felt a rush of strength surge through his body. And not a moment too soon. The goblins glanced to their left, speaking to each other in their guttural tongue. Wren thought he heard the word
chib
, which he knew to mean “big boss” in their language. He took a wand from his belt and held it ready.
    “Torin, you deal with the goblins. I’ll deal with whatever else is coming.”
    Wren instantly regretted his words as an eight-foot-tall creature lumbered around the corner, swinging a mace that was the same size as Torin. A bugbear. Thick, bristly red hair covered its body, and it had lost both ears in some past encounter. It raised a salute with the mace.
    Wren didn’t hesitate. He pointed his wand and a ball of flame roared into the creature.
    The bugbear lifted a shield that looked as if it might have once been someone’s front door. The fireball exploded into the wood, blackening it and sending the bugbear staggering backward.
    Well, that hadn’t done much good. And Wren had only a few more charges in the wand. He knew he shouldn’t have left the house without his full arsenal, but he hadn’t expected to need any major defenses. He was supposed to be at a party, for Flame’s sake!
    He could hear Torin shouting at the