An hour later, Clay was willing to admit to himself that he might have made a mistake.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the Guardian had not pursued him. He’d been able to run from the ruins without having that mad thing scrambling in his wake. It meant he would be able to evade it, for now, but it would also mean he couldn’t lure it out the way he had the other spiders when he was first confronting them. When it came time to fight the Guardians, it would be on their territory, on their terms. He didn’t have a lot of hope that he’d be able to find any real advantages there.
Also, unfortunately, even though the Guardian did not pursue, it did not mean that he was free. As he’d left the ruins behind, they’d come alive with other movement. By the time he reentered the forest, his boots still marked by the ashes of the woods he’d burned to make the path, an entire army of spiders and spiderlings had emerged to chase him.
What followed had been a game of cat and mouse as he hid from the spiders, running when he could, remaining concealed when he could not. They skittered along in his wake, the trolls coming through the trees and the mantraps carpeting the ground. He used every trick he could to stay out of their sight. Floating Step prevented him from leaving footprints as he ran; Soul Shadow, the reversal of Heart’s Light cloaked him in shadows to keep him from the trolls’ eyes. Drums of Earth sent them chasing invisible footsteps, and Ballad of Air taunted them to pounce on false prey. Clay led them on a merry chase, hoping they would tire of hunting him.
It seemed like he would have no such good fortune. They were determined to track him down and end him; the glances he managed when they drew close told him that there was an ethereal light dancing in their eyes. Had the Guardian somehow taken control of them? Based on what he had seen, they should have been feeding on one another by now. Yet they didn’t even take a single swipe as they mixed with one another. That fact alone was terrifying.
Finally, he managed to send them off on a false trail. They went screaming and squealing along that path, and he drew his first breath of relief since he’d seen that thing in the tower. All he had to do now was get back across Scout’s Hill without attracting any attention. Once there, he could put together a plan to kill the hunters, and then figure out a way to burn his way into the Lair. The thing had surprised him, but now he had the advantage of knowing how it would respond to an intrusion. It couldn’t have many of those hunters left. If he killed these and then did it a few more times…
His thoughts trailed off as he neared the top of Scout’s Hill. Something was off. He looked back towards the valley and felt a sudden bloom of hatred and desperation as he realized that the hunting spiders were making their way towards the hill as well. Clearly, he must have given away something when he made for home. Perhaps he would have a better time picking them off individually when he was farther away from the Guardian controlling them. Maybe they’d even start fighting each other when that control failed.
Then he turned and started down the hill, his mind whirling with plans. It had been some time since he had set a trap. Maybe he could spend a while getting into a good position, position some poisoned stakes, maybe even camp out near some of the spiderlings that weren’t under the Guardian’s control.
He made it a short distance down the slope when he heard the voices.
It was impossible not to recognize them. Leonard and his friends were here, now? Why? They’d headed for home hours ago. Clay gritted his teeth as he realized he wouldn’t be able to fight the hunters after all. He’d need to convince the adventurers to leave, get them out of the Tanglewood and then maybe he could…
“Calm yourself, Novice. We’ll be able to return home just as soon as we find your friend. We don’t want Goodman Evergreen to be wandering around here, after all.”
The sound of Sir Leonard’s voice brought a sudden rush of anger and outrage that he hadn’t expected. Clay gave up all pretense of hiding. He strode through the forest, close to shaking with rage. His grip on the boar spear was so tight that a calm, detached part of him wondered if the haft would snap.
He saw them coming through the forest a few moments later. The entire group of adventurers were there, along with one addition. Olivia, in her Novice robes and a worried expression. Clay couldn’t see the expressions on most of them behind their helmets, but Maribel seemed torn between uncertainty and an odd happiness at Olivia’s discomfort. Enessa was quietly enraged, though, and Lord Frensfeld was just as surprisingly unhappy.
Leonard saw him first, the [Outrider]’s skills picking him out from the surrounding forest. His eyes went straight to Clay’s spear, and then to his face. He smiled. “Goodman Evergreen. It’s good to see you. Can you explain for me—”
Clay didn’t even bother stopping. He brought the butt of his spear up and around with a speed that had to have surprised even Leonard. It took the [Outrider] right in the nose; Clay pulled the strength from the hit at the last moment, but he still heard Leonard’s nose break. The adventurer went over backwards, landing flat on his back.
Maribel reacted first. “Clay, what are you doing? He’s an—”
“He’s an idiot who dragged a young girl into a monster den to act as bait, and I would have expected better than that from the rest of you, whatever he said.” He stared around at them, seeing shoulders slump. Maribel looked no less shocked, but Enessa glanced at Olivia and winced.
Lord Frensfeld was the only one that didn’t back down. The [Noble] stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. “We would not have put her in any danger. We would not use her to lure spiders.”
“No. You were going to use her to lure me.” He looked at Olivia, who nodded slowly. “Get your people into formation. We can’t get clear of the Tanglewood in time, and they’ll be here soon.”
“It was you.” Leonard scrambled back to his feet, his face covered in blood and outrage. “How are you hiding your [Class]? What are you? A [Knave]? A [Burglar] or [Occultist]? What have you been—”
“I’m a [Commoner]. I always have been.” He looked at Lord Frensfeld. “There are fifty or sixty spiders coming over that hill in five minutes. If you want to live much longer than that, get, into, position!”
There was a single moment of shock, and then Charles stepped forward. “Lord Frensfeld and I will stand at the front. Ned, George, take the sides. Maribel, you’ll be in the middle with the Novice. Enessa, cover our rear.” The [Paladin] notably did not mention Sir Leonard, who was left staring as the others formed up without him. Even Lord Frensfeld didn’t hesitate for long. He only glanced at the [Outrider] and then turned away.
Leonard turned back to Clay, his disbelief now shading into rage. “Your lies will not help you. We will take you back to the capital and—”
Clay leaned in close. “You should be grateful that I am not staking you out here to slow them down. Now get ready to fight—for real, this time. It’s the least I can expect from you.”
The contempt in his voice made the adventurer flush with anger again, but Clay heard the telltale scrape of mantraps beneath the ground, the rustle of trolls in the branches. They were here early.
Enessa called out to him, her voice tinged with worry. “Clay, get back here with us! You can help me defend the rear.”
“I can’t. I need to distract the big ones.” He grinned, his expression just short of a snarl. “Besides, you know me. Can’t resist the urge to show off.”
Charles spoke up next, his fear just as obvious. “This is serious. I don’t know what you’re doing, but…”
“Just keep her safe, Charles. I trust you.” Clay glanced back once, seeing them standing in their arms and armor in the middle of the Tanglewood. They seemed like something out of the stories, their armor shining and their stances ready. Leonard was the only outlier, standing out to the side with anger in his eyes and his hands getting close to his knives.
Then Clay looked back again, and he started the first [Chant].
He’d decided that the elder troll spiders were probably the biggest threat at first. They could pull his friends out of formation and snare them. Their screams also had a bad effect on the unprepared. The elder mantraps were dangerous, but hopefully they would aim for the nearest target—for him.
So as the first spiderlings came out of the forest towards him, Clay focused on the Canticle of Ice, and waited for the first ugly giant to rear out of the branches above him.
He heard a muffled oath as the monsters swarmed forward; he thought it was Ned, but he wouldn’t have blamed any of them. There were dozens of them, moving in a chittering mass. Their bulbous eyes glowed with more than malicious intent.
Clay smiled. They seemed to move in slow motion. Time to remind them why they should fear the woods west of their home.
The first mantrap spiderling launched itself at him from the side. He didn’t even bother to swing the spear. Instead, he swatted it with the back of his hand, like an annoying fly. Its armored shell shattered, and the thing was sent flying back into the trees. A troll spiderling swept in for his legs; he stomped the life from it before it could reach him.
Six more spiderlings died in the space of three breaths, smashed, crushed, and sliced as he stepped forward into the swarm. It was the hardest thing he could do, but he needed to keep the bigger monsters away from the others. The further he could get, the better.
“What is he—”
“Pay attention, on the left—”
An adult mantrap leaped from the left. He smashed it away with the spear. It didn’t die immediately, but he was fine. Crippled was fine, as long as it was down. A troll spider spat web at him. Clay stepped back slightly, and the web hit the ground. Then he stomped down on it before it could pull back, and the thing was torn from the tree, where a swing broke its back. Another thrust gutted a second adult mantrap. His elbow crushed a spiderling as he turned, caught two webs on his spear haft, and pulled a pair of adult troll spiders to the ground.
His [Chant] built to the crescendo just as a familiar, horrifying scream rose above the chaos. Clay looked up as a massive, slender leg came down, nearly crushing a scuttling mantrap spiderling. He shouted the last syllables, feeling the magic flow through him and out in a single searing rush.
Three singing spears of ice formed in front of him, and then launched at stunning speed into the elder spider above him. They took the elder spider in the face and body, bursting through it with such power that even Clay was momentarily surprised. Ichor rained down as the scream cut off, and the leg went limp. It started to tremble and fall, crashing through the branches ahead.
Without pausing, Clay began the Flame-Tongued Song. He couldn’t afford to fight the small ones, not with the arrival of the worse threats. He cracked open the head of an adult troll with a single swing and then pinned the second one down with a thrust. Another adult mantrap sprang at him from the other side, and he drew his bush knife to cut a forelimb from it, and finished it with a chop that severed the head. He booted a troll spiderling away and stomped a mantrap spiderling to paste.
“Magic? What kind of—”
“I can’t—I can’t—”
The panic in George’s voice made Clay turn. He ripped the spear free and spun, even as he felt the ground suddenly start to give way beneath him. A burst of fear ran through him as well, and he leapt, coming around as he did.
An adult troll spider was in the process of leaping at George. The others were occupied; he had one chance. Clay hurled the spear, even as the elder mantrap erupted from the ground beneath him. Then he brought the bush knife down in a brutal slash that caught the elder spider in the face.
The blade drove down through the thing’s facial armor, cracking the rough exterior apart. He saw the malign light in its eyes flicker as he wrenched the weapon free. It came for him again, fangs snapping, and he chopped down again twice more, severing legs. Ichor sprayed, and he kicked the spider over onto its back.
More spiders came in at him, their eyes still aglow. Swing after swing cleared the space around him, even as the elders kept flooding in overhead and below. Clay backed against a nearby tree trunk, still frantically trying to keep the fangs and nets from catching him. He heard shrieks above and felt trembles below.
Then he finished the second [Chant] and he sprayed fire across half the forest in front of him. Spiders turned into burning bundles of monstrous flesh. Screams cut off and smoke filled the air.
“By the gods above!”
As the [Chant] finished, he began the Cycle of Return. The words for it flowed faster than the others, as [Smallmage] took effect. It still wasn’t instant, however, so he would need to make do with his bush knife for the time being.
Clay jumped and kicked off the tree behind him. He flew over smoldering, thrashing corpses, feeling the webs shoot past as he went. In response, he hurled the bush knife up at the nearest elder spider.
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He grabbed for the shortbow, pulling it from his holder with an arrow ready to nock. Clay hit and rolled, coming up into a crouch as the elder mantraps smashed into the tree he’d left. The trunk splintered and then crashed down in the opposite direction. Above him, there was an outraged screech as the bush knife hit, and one of the elder troll spiders reeled back, leaking ichor.
Clay put his first arrow into the other troll spider, which was stooping in to strike at him. He backed away and drew the second arrow and put it into the same shoulder as the first. It staggered too, bumping into the other one. The elder mantraps vanished again, withdrawing into the ground. Time was running out as he backpedaled, putting a third arrow into the spider’s middle forelimb, and then a fourth in the same spot.
He felt the ground shake and knew he was out of time. With the same motion, he stowed the shortbow again and leapt.
The [Chant] finished, and he felt the spell call the boar spear back to his hand. There was some resistance as it pulled free of the spider he’d impaled with it. He didn’t wait for it to arrive before starting the reversed Cycle of Return. When the first mantrap exploded from the ground beneath him, he punched the butt of the spear down and into its face. It hit the thing right in the middle of its eight hateful little eyes, with all the force of a battering ram.
He heard the thing’s skull crack, and he was sent flying up and back. As it writhed on the ground in agony, Clay hit the dirt and rolled. There was a flash of pain as he hit a rock, but he just grunted and kept moving. The second one was already crackling towards him under the ground. There was no time.
Clay came up with his spear ready. An adult troll spider jumped at him and he stabbed it, tossing it back over his shoulder like he was pitching hay. Then he swung it down and forward, smashing another adult mantrap as it tried its luck. He waited until the elder mantrap was nearly on him, and then he threw himself to the side.
It nearly caught him as it sprang from the earth. The fangs clashed just shy of his boot, and for just a heartbeat, he thought he had escaped clean.
Then one of the slashing limbs came down on his leg, and a burning line of pain cut across his thigh. Blood sprayed, and he came down awkwardly, nearly falling as he tried to keep his balance. The mantrap, obviously tasting blood, whirled and reared back, its bladed forelimbs ready to catch and rend. He saw victory in its eyes.
Then he finished Pursuing Leap, and the spell yanked him skyward, hurtling towards the bush knife buried in the elder troll spider above. Fighting the pain, he twisted to extend the boar spear ahead of himself. The elder spider had just enough time to begin an alerted screech before he hit, burying the spear so deep that the crossguards didn’t stop it.
He felt the troll spider stagger with the impact, and he ripped the bush knife free. As he started Floating Step, Clay wrenched the spear back and forth, feeling the creature stagger and weaken. Ichor poured from the wound. Then he sheathed the bush knife and grimly held on, trying to buy enough time to finish the [Chant].
Below him was a scene from a nightmare. The burning corpses and putrid smoke filled the forest, and he could barely see the circle of his friends still fighting just beyond it. They were bloodied and surrounded, but they were still fighting hard, cutting down spiders as they leapt and snapped at them. Olivia was still in the center, her terrified expression somehow clear despite the distance.
Then he saw the elder mantraps tunneling towards them, and he knew that time had run out.
He braced both of his feet against the belly of the elder troll spider. Still wrenching it back and forth, he heaved back on the spear with all his strength. The pain in his thigh nearly made him give out, but he forced himself to ignore it and pull harder. Above him, the troll spider’s scream grew thin and warbled, and suddenly the strength in its limbs seemed to give out.
The spear came free with a sickening sound, and he was suddenly dropping back towards the ground. Clay sped through the remainder of the [Chant] through gritted teeth, knowing that he had no chance to survive without it.
He had cut it close; the power of the spell settled over him just as he reached the dirt. His feet very nearly touched soil despite the [Chant] lifting him. The speed of the fall, combined with the angle of the hill, had him suddenly skidding down the slope towards his friends. Behind him, the second elder troll spider continued to collapse, nearly knocking over its companion as it crashed through the treetops.
The trees blurred around him as he sped towards Charles and Lord Frensfeld. He held the spell, trying to ignore the way his left leg was shaking. His friends were in danger, Olivia was in danger. Collapse could wait until later.
His eyes caught sight of the soil stirring, churning as the spider beneath it dug towards the [Noble]. He pushed to alter his trajectory and then leveled his spear at the dirt. Clay thought he saw alarm in [Noble]’s face as Lord Frensfeld saw him coming; the adventurer leaped back, dragging Charles with him. It was the perfect move, though he doubted the man knew why.
Clay released the spell just as the first elder mantrap broke through the ground, fangs seeking Frensfeld’s legs. He hit the monster before it had completely left the ground, his entire body braced to keep the spearpoint on target despite the speed he was traveling.
The impact still robbed him of his weapon again. He fell, his slide becoming a tumble as he left the spear behind. Clay heard Charles shout, and he rammed into the two adventurers hard. Neither of them fell, but it didn’t do his ribs any good.
He felt hands under his armpits, and he struggled upright again, his bush knife in his hand. His stunned mind struggled to focus, but he still started the [Chant] for the Ballad of Air. If he could down the last elder troll spider, then maybe that would be everything the hunters had left. Clay couldn’t tell how many of the smaller ones were left, but surely there couldn’t be that many still alive.
Charles was to his right, Frensfeld to his left. They were shouting something, but the ringing in his head denied him the chance to understand them. Then he saw the dirt being plowed up in front of him and dully realized that he’d lost track of at least one elder mantrap. He froze, still dazed. The Ballad wouldn’t help against a mantrap, and his spear was still out of reach, buried in the other elder mantrap’s body. His leg wound meant he couldn’t jump anymore. It would burst from the ground and have him before he could hack at it.
It was over.
Then the sounds seemed to return to his ears in a rush, just as a shadow passed over him.
“For Pellsglade!”
Enessa slammed down in front of him, her armored gauntlets hitting the ground so hard he saw the ground ripple. She stopped the tunneling mantrap short; it staggered free of the soil, its head bleeding, and Clay brought the knife down on it before it could recover. His weapon caught its fractured armor and drove deep, the blade snapping off before it cut all the way through. He continued to mumble his [Chant] as the thing began to thrash in its death throes.
An adult mantrap tried to leap on Enessa, but a shining arrow of light caught it mid-jump and hurled it aside; had that been Maribel? Another came from the side, but George caught it on his lance to drive it away. An adult troll nearly had her with a web spray, but Lord Frensfeld caught it on his chestplate, and yanked the thing off balance by sheer stubborn solidity. It died a moment later as Ned cut it down.
All around him, the adventurers were charging, the fools shouting warcries as if that would cover their desperation. To his numb shock, the spiders were falling back now, the light beginning to fade from their many, many eyes. Had they finally broken the hunters? Would the rest of them run?
Yet he knew it wasn’t over. The final elder troll spider was standing high again, its wounded limbs regaining purchase on the ground, braced by the other wholly untouched legs. It stared down at him, its gaze filled with hate, and its scream seemed to make the entire forest shake. The troll spider’s body started to curl over, its spinner prepared to snatch either him or one of his friends to kill them.
It was at that point that he finally finished the Ballad, and he reached out with the power the spell granted him. Clay swept both of his hands forward, grasping the two forelimbs on the left and the two rear limbs on the right. With a final burst of power, he jerked his hands apart, willing the air to yank all four limbs in opposite directions—forcing the giant monster to balance at least half its weight on two limbs that had no chance of supporting it. He knew it wouldn’t last for long, but it didn’t need to; it just had to last enough.
The spider shrieked, a sound that made it through the fog in his mind again. Its wounded legs snapped, spraying ichor, and its stumble became a headlong fall into the flaming ground below it. He heard alarmed shouts from his friends as it came down, but he ignored them as they fell back, wanting to see it finally be done.
Dirt and smoke sprayed into the air as the troll spider hit. It flooded past him, forcing him to throw up his hands in defense. The world around him was reduced to a haze of brown, black, and grey. Clay breathed in the foul air and coughed. Pain shot through him, and he coughed again. He fell to his knees, his body finally starting to give out. Despite the pain, despite the taste of blood in his mouth, he smiled. Olivia and the others would be fine now. They’d be safe.
With that final thought, Clay the [Commoner] slumped forward and hit the ground, allowing himself to fall into the darkness beyond. He could rest now. The job was done. For a while, at least.
Clay woke and immediately frowned.
In the stories, when a hero woke up after a dramatic fight, he was surrounded by soft things and light. It would be a beautiful day and grateful people would be waiting nearby. Above all, it was supposed to be quiet. The hero wasn’t usually laying on what felt like a sharp rock and some twigs, while a sour, burnt smell filled the air. There was light, at least, but it was too bright and hurt his eyes.
There also were far too many people shouting and running around everywhere. Even Maribel, leaning over him, looked mad enough to chew through leather. She looked at him, her eyes widened, and she yelled. “He’s up!”
“Let’s move!” Someone yanked him off the ground, which was rather rude. It was uncomfortable, true, but at least he was resting. To his surprise, it was Lord Frensfeld who was half-carrying him. Charles was standing nearby, looking around the Tanglewood with a dazed, determined expression on his face. The [Noble] drew his attention again. “Sir Evergreen, we need to go. You need to walk.”
“O-Olivia?” His tongue felt like it was too thick to move. She was still here, right? If she had vanished somewhere, it would have been so unfair.
“I am here, Clay. Just keep moving.” He looked at her, with her face covered in soot and desperate worry.
Clay tried to smile. “Did you get more [Valor]?”
Surprise replaced her concern, and Olivia actually smiled. In front of people. “Yes, I did.” Then she looked around. “But for now, we need to go. Please focus.”
“All right.” He started lurching down the hill with the [Noble]’s support. Something about that was funny, but he was too tired to figure out what. Another thought managed to force its way through the fog behind his eyes. “M-my spear?”
“We have it, Clay.” George was walking beside him, two spears over his shoulders. Well, one spear and a lance. He kept pivoting to look around the woods, like he was worried about something. “Anyone see anything?”
“Nothing here. Just a small battlefield.” Ned’s voice turned ironic. “At least this time I’m not the one causing trouble.”
“I’m sure you’ll catch up, Ned.” Charles glanced at him. “Clay, are there any more out there?”
Clay managed a painful chuckle. “Always more, but not like that. I got too close to the Lair. Guardian spotted me, sent them. Couldn’t get—”
He broke off as a cough worked its way out of his lungs. Lord Frensfeld steadied him as he fought to stay upright. “Steady, Sir Evergreen. You can tell us more later.”
“You better.” Enessa’s voice was rough. There was anger there, but something else, too. Stale fear? “If you don’t explain exactly what’s been going on here, I’m going to make you wish those things killed you. Do you hear me, Clay?”
“I hear you.” It seemed like a wonderful thing, honestly. “I hear all of you.”
By the time they made it to the edge of the forest, Clay had recovered enough that he could try to check his [Gift].
The number of notifications for spider deaths was impressive, but he’d also managed to gain both a [Fortitude] and [Will] out of the conflict. Not as nice as gaining actual Soul from all those kills, but it was better than nothing at all.
Of course, all that might have cost him was his freedom. A small price to pay, next to the safety of his friends.
Clay kept telling himself that as they limped down the road, headed for Pellsglade. None of them had suggested stopping at the farmhouse, for good reason. While he was fairly sure there wouldn’t be another hunting party, it wasn’t a certainty, and they were in no shape to fight. Not yet.
Besides, Leonard had run, apparently disappearing sometime during the fighting. A part of Clay wondered if the spiders had done him a favor and dragged the [Outrider] off, but he immediately felt guilty for the thought. Whatever else he was, the man was human. He deserved better than to end in some monster’s gullet.
His opinion shifted a little when he looked up the road and saw the [Outrider] riding up to them, surrounded by the baron’s men. The baron himself was there as well, along with the Rector and a slightly worried looking Herbert among the crowd.
Ned grumbled something under his breath, only to be hushed by Charles. Lord Frensfeld seemed ready to spit on the road, and the rest of the adventurers didn’t seem any happier. Clay felt a feeling of dread settle in his gut as the [Guards] fanned out on the road in front of them. Leonard looked smug as he reined in his horse and stared at him.
“Sir Leonard, it appears that you have good fortune today.” The smirk on Leonard’s face grew wider as Lord Pellsglade spoke. “My son and his companions are still alive, as are the [Commoners] you put under unnecessary risk. I won’t be required to execute you.”
Leonard’s smirk vanished, and Clay felt his own surprise bloom alongside the [Outrider]’s. “Lord Pellsglade, what do you—”
The baron’s expression was more severe than anything Clay had ever seen before. "By your own account, you abandoned your comrades in order to ‘find help’, an action that could have led to their deaths. You also brought Novice Shrinekept into an area you knew was risky and abandoned her as well. Did you expect me to thank you, Leonard?”
Astonishment had turned to outrage on Leonard’s face now. Omitting the ‘sir’ seemed to be the final straw. “Lord Pellsglade, with all due respect, this is Guild business. I do not expect you to recognize the official concerns of the Guild, but I do require your assistance in taking that man—” He pointed a finger at Clay, as if he was casting a javelin. “Into custody, for his violations of the Guild’s laws and the fact that he endangered this entire area.”
Lord Pellsglade raised his eyebrow. “Oh?”
“He’s a Rogue who has somehow hidden his [Class]. His actions were what put your son and the others at risk, and I have been charged with bringing him back to the capital to face justice before the Guild’s Council.”
“Is that your mission, Leonard? I somehow believed that you had been assigned a different responsibility—to contain and purge the Lair in the Tanglewood. It was entrusted to you as part of your oath to the King, whose authority I wield here. Am I mistaken?”
The cold in Lord Pellsglade’s voice brought Leonard up short. Outrage drained from the adventurer’s face, quickly replaced by a sudden uncertainty. “Y-you are not, Lord Pellsglade—”
“Then I’m afraid that I find you in breach of that responsibility. As such, you are no longer welcome in my realm, and I will be sending a message to the Council explaining why.” Lord Pellsglade glanced briefly at Clay, before returning his attention to the [Outrider]. “Surrender your horse; it appears there are others who might need it more. Some of my men will accompany you to the borders of my land to ensure that there are no further misunderstandings. You are dismissed.”
The [Outrider] swayed slightly in his saddle, as if stunned. He looked around, as if realizing how many [Guards] faced him, and when he glanced at the rest of the adventurers, he found even less sympathy there. Lord Frensfeld made a dismissive gesture, and Enessa started to chuckle openly.
Then he clenched his teeth and shook his head. He dismounted and strode over to Clay. Lasting anger was stamped on his features. “This is not over. The Council will find you, and you will be stopped.” The adventurer glanced around at the others. “I would have hoped for more loyalty from you, even as ignorant as you are. Your betrayal will be remembered.”
Frensfeld merely smiled. Charles, however, stepped forward, his hand on his sword hilt. “So will yours. Be gone.”
Leonard bared his teeth at him, and then strode off down the road, a handful of dismounted [Guards] falling into place around him. None of them looked happy, but Clay didn’t think the adventurer would cause any more trouble. At least, not on his own. Even a level seven would have trouble facing six armed men at once. Right?
“Goodman Evergreen?” Clay jumped slightly and then turned back to the baron. Lord Pellsglade was looking at him intently. “If you would accompany me to my manor, I would appreciate an explanation about what has happened here.”
Clay did his best to bow, unstable as he was. “Yes, my lord.” It looked like the time for hiding was over. Oh well, it had been good while it lasted.