Linoor’s boots clacked loudly on the exquisite marble floor as she led her group of Finders through Riverstop Keep’s Grand Hall toward a large staircase. She idly noticed to her right a damaged doorway, its wooden frame cracked from the explosion that had sent the splintered remains of a door scattered across the room. She shivered wondering what beast could have impacted the door with such force. A wall of windows at the end of the hall illuminated the stone pillars lining the room in graduated shades of pink and purple, reflecting the near-dusk hours outside. The beasts of the night would soon rise - though that seemed like the least of their worries at this time.

The image of the excisor’s pale face, his white skin pulled taut across his pointed bones like a sheet over a corpse, flashed in her mind and propelled her forward ever faster. Ioren was smart and experienced, but could he really handle an excisor? Linoor remembered the scene after her first attempt at infiltrating Riverstop Keep, and the pile of Finder bodies the excisor had amassed in an instant. Even she, a duelist trained since birth for single combat, could not stack up against such a monster.

Though, Finders were not typically ones to sacrifice themselves to save others, so perhaps he had a plan to trick the creature?

No, she had recognized the confidence in his eyes when he nodded to her. He was planning on fighting the excisor. Worry welled up like a cold stone in her stomach as she considered going back.

Footsteps trailing behind her reminded her of her duty. The best she could do now was honor his request and protect the others in the keep.

Please be safe, Ioren.

Linoor raced up the marble steps two at a time, rounding at the landing below the towering window up to the next flight. A toxic cocktail of fear, shock, and nerves fueled Linoor’s movements and pushed her muscles to the edge as she led the way up two more flights up stairs. Ioren had advised they search for a defensible position higher in the keep, so upward they climbed, higher into the sky above the spirit of death below them.

Each hall was lined with intricately detailed tapestries, paintings, and other embroidered artworks Linoor had never seen before. Spectacular battles, images of kings and queens, and a massive foreboding crab covered in orbs were common themes among the exquisite works.

After the fifth flight of stairs, Linoor came upon a forked hallway, the corridor to the right leading away from the central keep to one of the outside spires.

“This way!” She called to the others behind her, most struggling to keep up.

Linoor sprinted ahead to clear the way, drawing her belt knife to protect her in the close quarters of the thin corridor. Glass windows ran the length of the hall near head height, providing an incredible view of the golden Danet countryside beyond the walls of Riverstop. In the distance, the rocky cliffs of the Continental Divide shone brightly, their snowy peaks reflecting the sun like misshapen moons. Far below, just beyond the walls of the courtyard, a black mass shuffled like wind over a dark lake as the Greys attempted to batter down the wooden gate. The sheer number of Greys filling the square sent a wave of goosebumps up Linoor’s arms.

And somewhere, down below in that courtyard, she knew Ioren faced off against a nightmare.

Tearing her eyes from the window, Linoor flung open the wooden door at the end of the hall, revealing a tight spiral staircase leading higher up the spire. It was exactly what she’d hoped for; a tight space like this, especially if they could barricade it, would allow them to hole up for the night.

She turned to shout to the others down the hall when the sound of soft footsteps echoed down the spiral staircase from above. Linoor reflexively brought her belt knife up in an offensive position as she traced the sound from above.

“Did you find something?” Ysmena shouted from down the hall behind her, causing Linoor to start. She dared not turn to answer the call as the footsteps crept closer down the stairs.

Another Grey? Linoor hoped it was merely a Grey, but she knew anything that lived alongside an excisor would likely be a grave threat.

Linoor tightened her white-knuckle grip against her belt knife as a figure descended the spiral staircase into view.

It was an adolescent, probably around thirteen years old, wrapped in a ragged robe. He looked up at Linoor, but instead of surprise, his face seemed full of… disappointment?

The child sighed heavily and cast his gaze downward.

“I am sorry, children, but you’ve caught me on an especially poor day,” he said, his voice sounding eerily mature and refined for his small figure.

“Linoor, down!” Petra’s voice shouted from behind. Linoor ducked and turned her head just in time to catch the glint of a thrown knife sail over her with a whoosh. She snapped her head to the child in line with the blade and felt her breath catch in her throat.

Is the urchin girl insane? She is going to kill this child!

However, Linoor dropped her accusation at the same time as her stomach dropped. The robed child snatched the knife from the air with his thumb and forefinger inches in front of his face and inspected it carefully.

“This knife is from the royal armory, child. I assume this means you’ve dispatched my men in town?” He asked as he nonchalantly tossed the knife backwards into the stairwell. Looks of confusion were plastered on everyone’s face, aside from Petra.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“He took Ioren at the inn! Everyone be careful with this guy!” She shouted with a pointed finger.

Another excisor!?

The robed boy sighed and crossed his arms. Linoor slowly reached down for her gauntlet sword at her side. It was close quarters, but she wanted to keep her distance from the excisor. There was no telling what magicks he could unveil at any time.

An eerie laugh pierced the tension as the boy covered his face with his hand. The horrid, crazed laughter echoed through the hall as the group looked on, though he seemed oblivious to his audience. After a few tense moments, he dropped his hand and the laughter at once. Linoor drew her gauntlet sword, its blue sheen glittering in the light of the high windows.

“Perhaps this is just what I needed on this difficult day,” the boy said as he rolled up the sleeves on his robes. “Come now.”

He beckoned Linoor forward with his hand, though she was hesitant to advance. She struggled to comprehend how the child in front of her could also be a frightening nightmare that had kept her up at night. Instead, she pointed her sword forward and shifted her weight back in the Oriandel series defensive stance.

“Oh? I will take the initiative, then,” the boy said.

The robed boy rushed forward with an inhuman speed, covering the twenty feet between them in a split second. Linoor barely had time to lower her sword at the blur of his arm as it swept forward toward her. The boy spun, evading her sword and stepping behind her in one fluid motion. He slapped a hand into Linoor’s back, sending her reeling forward and gasping for breath on the fine rug that covered the stone floor. Footsteps from behind alerted her to the rest of the group coming to her aid.

“Is there no honor in Havan?” The boy asked whoever had come to help. Linoor spun toward the others, still gasping for air. She marveled at the power of the single open-handed slap that the boy had delivered.

Onep had stepped forward, extending his telescopic quarterstaff and preparing for battle. He had impressed her with his prowess in the previous fight. She had recognized his movements and training as that of the Ivan Royal Guard - though it was her first time seeing the arts outside of a book. Linoor was still confident she could best him in a duel, though.

“Onep, take the others and leave! I can handle this one,” Linoor shouted from the floor as she raised herself with one arm.

“You take the others and leave. You cannot handle normal men; this is one of the Dark Ones that Yasha spoke of in her Analects. I will dispose of him in the name of the Light,” Onep replied calmly.

Anger welled up inside Linoor. She remembered the disappointed smirk Onep had given her after their battle outside of the inn. How dare he regard her with such contempt!

Instead of replying, Linoor once again raised her sword, pointing outward in the Oriandel style. She would show him what a quarterstaff lacked.

“You argue as the infants you are. Very well. I am more than happy to take both of your bonds,” the robed boy responded.

Onep leapt forward at the same time as Linoor charged, both thrusting the points of their weapons at the robed adolescent. The boy sidestepped toward Onep and grabbed the staff with two hands, pulling him into the charging Linoor and sending both crashing to the floor.

“I told you, I do not need help, blasphemer!” Onep shouted as he shoved Linoor while rising to his feet. Linoor spit in his direction and raised her sword again. She noticed the others had disappeared from the corridor. At least they had the sense to listen.

The robed boy stood in the hall, tranquil as stone and just as immovable. Before Linoor could ready another stance, Onep charged the boy again. She noticed that he had shortened his telescopic quarterstaff down to the size of a club.

Onep brought his staff down on the boy, but again he easily sidestepped it. Apparently expecting this, Onep placed a hand on the ground and swept his leg toward the boy. With a short hop forward, the boy leapt over the sweep and landed in a straddle over Onep. He grabbed him with both hands, pulling him up into the air with the strength of a monster.

“So very disappointing. Yasha’s chosen ones are no better than those I faced on the fields of battle across your continent. Havan has become soft over these years, it seems,” the boy said, still easily holding Onep in the air.

Flexing his core with all his strength, Onep sent a powerful kick toward the boy’s head, though the robed child easily caught it with his hand.

“I believe it is time to end this,” he said dispiritedly. With a half-spin toward the hallway opposite the staircase, the boy moved both hands to Onep’s leg and, using the momentum of his spin, flung him like a doll the entire length of the corridor. Onep’s limbs flailed through the air as he desperately sought something solid to grab onto. With a loud grunt his back and head hit the ground, and he tumbled backward to lie limply against a red carpet.

Linoor swallowed to clear her rapidly drying throat. Her hands had never shaken like this during a fight before.

“Very sturdy body,” the boy seemed to muse absently as he watched Onep’s unmoving figure. “He is not yet dead.”

Flush with anger, Linoor swapped to a one-handed rapier stance and thrust forward at the robed child. Keeping his hands at his sides, the boy dodged each of her thrusts in quick succession, finally stepping toward her after the eighth dodge.

With a slight yelp, Linoor leapt backwards. The boy laughed outwardly.

“And to think I was afraid to face you that night on the rooftop! Alastair greatly overestimated your prowess, child. That is what I get for trusting an unbonded, it seems.” The boy pulled a small metal blade about the size of his palm from his robe. Linoor sat backwards again in her defensive stance and waited. She wanted to cry out with fear, but she pushed everything away that wasn’t focusing on the shining blade in his hand. Every fiber of her being tensed like a rabbit trap, set to fall at the slightest movement.

The robed boy sprinted forward and thrust his small blade outward. Linoor swept at his arm and finally connected, sending a ribbon of fabric and a small spray of blood toward the wall. She prepared to move to her next stance in the series, but to her surprise the boy wasn’t phased in the slightest by the attack. He barreled onward, pressing her blade further across his arm and enlarging the cut.

He stepped in close, one foot between her legs, and stabbed hard into her side. Linoor heard the tear of her gambeson as the blade pierced the padded cloth within. He twirled and pulled the blade out at the same time, taking her breath with it.

Pain wracked her chest as she struggled to breath. Each gasp sent a shock of agony through her as she writhed on the floor. Her gauntlet sword clanged to the stone as she reached for her side. Red blood filled her pale hands. She thought she heard a shout in the distance, but couldn’t place it. The corridor shook - or was she shaking? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her fingertips were ice cold against the ornate rug beneath her.

Oddly, for a second she worried about ruining the antique rug with her blood. It was so soft against her face as she lay there. Warm sunlight caressed her cheek as she felt someone grab her finger and put something on it before drifting into sleep.