I met a very strange man. A Gmaas who was also traveling, away from home. He practically begged to become my sidekick. I allowed him the honor of accompanying me.
Lyght could hear screams. He wasn't sure who the screams belonged to. The voices were numerous and it was impossible to make sense of anything specific amongst the cacophony of chaos. They somehow sounded both distant and suffocatingly close at the same time. It felt like his head was going to explode with pain, each scream that echoed in the cavern of his mind increasing the pressure little by little. A smell pervaded his senses, but he couldn’t quite identify it. Copper, maybe? No, it was iron. He was sure of it. Now… where was it coming from?
Everywhere. It was all around him—same as the screams. Though he did not have a physical body to turn with, he could feel his consciousness turning and looking in every direction like a mother trying to find her lost child on a busy street, frantically trying to figure out what was going on. Regardless of which direction he faced, the screams and the iron-like smell still surrounded him. The blackness did, as well. He could hear and he could smell, but he could not see anything.
Focusing his consciousness in a single direction, he imagined himself moving with his incorporeal body in a straight line towards an invisible goal. After what seemed like equally just a couple of seconds as well as an eternity, a light appeared far in the distance of the previously never-ending blackness. Suddenly, he found himself standing before the mysterious light as if teleported directly to it. Though unsure of what it meant or where it may lead, Lyght didn’t really care at the moment—anything was better than whatever hell he currently found himself in. He imagined himself reaching towards the light with an unseen hand…
Lyght’s eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright from his sleeping position, panting and drenched in sweat. There was still a faint pounding in his head—a remnant of what he could only assume was another of his mysterious headaches.
I feel like I just woke up from a horrible nightmare… Only… It was just another of those headache visions. Not an actual nightmare. Damn.
If it had been a typical nightmare one had when sleeping, he would surely be able to recall at least some small part of it. No such luck with this. The telltale signs his body was giving off in reaction to the occurrence were his only clue that it had even happened.
This one was worse than the others he’d had the last few weeks. He held his head in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee for a couple of minutes to gather himself. Looking thoughtfully up at the dark sky, he wondered whether the fact it happened in his sleep this time could be the cause for it being worse than usual. Or maybe they were just getting worse on their own naturally.
Lyght turned his attention away from the sky and back to the area around him. He and the others had made camp earlier in the evening after pushing hard to get to the Ulrorr Mountains as quickly as they could. They had arrived at their destination, but were exhausted as a result of the speedy trek that saw them only briefly take a reprieve in the small village of Fredsroot. A late evening nap to get recharged and ready for the attack on Barsh’s base was welcomed by each of them, save for Feros who had offered to stand guard while they rested.
Troy and Gargarel were not awake yet, and Feros was likely patrolling, leaving Lyght alone with his sweat and his troubled thoughts. Darkness engulfed him as the moon was hiding behind a blanket of clouds tonight, and the camp was bereft of light sources of any kind to avoid being spotted.
Though the sun had set, the night was still young, and the group was still on schedule to complete their job. Feros had scouted ahead and located the old fortress that the bandit they’d interrogated in the barn spoke of. The man had spoken true in his final moments of panic and desperation. Once everyone was roused and ready, they would make their move to assault the base of Barsh’s Bandits.
“Seemed like you were having a tough time sleeping.” Feros’s voice suddenly sounded from somewhere nearby.
Lyght turned, and thought he saw something that looked like a faint shape in the darkness that resembled the Feroxi. Though the shape was unclear, the red eyes that seemed to hover in a void of nothingness were unmistakable. After stretching his tired limbs, Lyght ambled over to join his friend on the boulder he was perched on that overlooked the rocky mountain path leading to the fortress.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Lyght replied, leaning his elbows against the boulder and staring down at the path below.
Feros didn’t respond, so Lyght took the hint and continued.
“Really, I don’t know what’s going on—to follow back up on my answer to your question from the other day. There’s just these headaches that’ve been happening the last few months… I’m not sure exactly when or why they started.”
Feros continued to stare wordlessly. Letting out a defeated sigh, Lyght relented and told him the full details, sparse as they were. Feros’s eyes disappeared for a moment as he seemed to be concentrating, pondering the information. When they again opened, his voice was softer than Lyght had expected, though still characteristically gruff.
“Any reason you haven’t told Geren?”
Lyght paused, not sure how to respond. Why hadn’t he told Geren? He trusted the man more than anybody, and though they didn’t refer to each other in such a manner, their relationship resembled that of a father and son. Thinking about it, he realized that it was because of that relationship he had refrained from mentioning anything to Geren.
“He claims differently, but… we both know he doesn’t treat me the same as the other Last Stand members. There’s a weak spot in his judgment when it comes to me.”
“Can you blame him though?” Feros asked. “I obviously wasn’t here yet, but from what I’ve heard, the circumstances he found you in—”
“I know. That’s exactly it, I think. He’s always going to have that image of me in the back of his mind—alone, small, and needing protected—clouding his thoughts even if he doesn’t consciously acknowledge it.”
He let out a dry laugh and shook his head. “And if I don’t know what’s going on in my own head, what good would it do anyway? He couldn’t help and wouldn’t have any answers. It would just be another thing for him to worry about.”
And he’s burdened with way more on his mind already than he lets people realize…
“Well, it’s your choice.” Feros said, beginning to walk towards Gargarel and Troy to wake them. He stopped and turned. “Thanks for telling me at least.”
“You didn’t give me much of a choice.” Lyght replied with an amused scoff. “Let’s wake those two and get this plan in action. That’ll be a better use of time than sitting in the dark discussing my messed-up mind.”
The quartet moved through the rocky mountain terrain alongside the walking path that led to the base. It was rough going compared to the worn-down footpath, but manageable. There was less of a chance of their approach being sighted this way. Feros led the way, the others following. His kind could see at night easier than other races, save for Hylennials, and he’d already scouted earlier that evening so he was more familiar with the terrain.
Feros raised a clawed hand in a signal for the others to halt. Gargarel apparently didn’t catch what it meant at first—not unlike a rookie who wasn’t yet fully accustomed to working in a team—and nearly stumbled over Troy who was in a low crouch. The pair caught themselves before falling down and making too much noise, but the blunder still earned the sheepishly half-smiling Gargarel a glare from Feros.
Down below on the footpath, there were two men approaching from the direction of the base. Their voices were initially inaudible but became clearer as they walked by.
“Wonder if we’ll run into Mundt ‘n Liam on our way out, eh? Maybes we can get some of them spoils they’re bringin’ back to fill us up for the road.”
“Huh, maybe. Not a fan of veggies ‘n that kinda stuff m’self, but it’d be better than the stale rocks some fools call bread we got back at base. We’s been needin’ a resupply for a while now.”
Lyght gave a silent nod to the others. These were dead men once they got within range. It would be a safe assumption given their attire and the direction they had come from, but their mention of Liam and Mundt was confirmation of who they were. The decision was clear-cut.
“Liam said they’d be bringin’ some chickens back this time. I know’s that Boss’s wantin’ to keep ‘em alive so we can start bein’ a bit more self-efficient or whatever it’s called, but some good meat would hit the spot.”
“Aye, that it would. Hol’ up a sec, I gotsa take a piss.”
The last man who spoke split up from his traveling partner, moving off to the side of the path and undoing his belt.
“Troy. Do you have enough from these two to copy one of their voices?” Lyght whispered.
Troy gave a nod of confirmation. Lyght did a pantomime motion of firing an arrow from a bow, and pointed towards the bandit still standing on the path. He then withdrew his twin blades and moved over to the edge of the outcropping that was above the urinating bandit.
When he saw the man on the path drop with a clean shot to the side of the head—Troy’s talent with a bow was evident so far on this mission—Lyght leapt down and pounced on the other one. Landing behind his target, he swiftly brought one blade up and cleaved the man’s throat open before he even had a chance to re-zip his trousers. He jogged over to the one Troy had shot to check and make sure he was dead. He was.
Feros hopped down to join him, and together they threw the bodies up to Gargarel so that they would not be lying in the path if any others came by. Hopping back up themselves, they regrouped and began planning for what to do next.
Gargarel was examining one of the bodies intently, like a coroner performing an autopsy. He lifted up an arm and looked it over before dropping it and stepping back a few paces. He brought his hands up in a strange position Lyght hadn’t seen before, making a rectangle with the thumbs and index fingers on each hand. Gargarel then moved his finger-rectangle to point towards Troy and gave a wide toothy grin.
“I’m a genius! Lyght, lemme know what you think of this awesome brain-think I just had.”
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Troy hated this. He hated Gargarel for suggesting it. He also hated Lyght and Feros for agreeing to and making him do it. How had he found himself in this situation?
The previously-abandoned fort in the Ulrorr Mountains that Barsh’s Bandits were using as their base of operations loomed before him. Those three jerks were trailing him from further behind just in case things went badly. The execution of this great idea Gargarel had was solely on his shoulders. Shoulders that were being weighed down with leather pauldrons he was not accustomed to.
Yes, the situation he—one of noble birth and proud heritage with a rich upbringing—was currently in saw him wearing the ragged clothes and leathers that just recently belonged to a dead ruffian. This was beneath him in more ways than he had time to list. However, it is what the plan demanded. He would do a fine job, regardless of how disgraceful his appearance.
The plan was for Troy to imitate one of the bandits that he and Lyght had killed—the short, thinner one with no facial hair, specifically. The other man was too tall and muscular with a patchy beard. Troy couldn’t grow taller or create muscles and hair. He was on his way back from patrol and would hopefully be able to get into the base easily. From there, he really wasn’t sure what to expect.
He had his blonde hair tied up underneath a black bandana and his earring was tucked safely away in a pocket within the woolen vest he still wore underneath the bandit’s attire. There was little doubt in his mind that, between his appearance and his voice-copying, he would be able to effectively get past whatever guards there were. Lyght assured him that he “would figure the rest out” once he was in.
The fort was nearly upon him. Set into the side of one of the mountains, it appeared to be several stories tall. The impressive stonework could be seen in small sections scattered along the wall that were illuminated by several sconces burning near small gaps in the walls that acted as windows. A tall tower a couple of stories taller than the rest of the building loomed over the left side, while the right seemed as though it was supposed to have a matching partner but instead had a tower that stood only half as tall. The remnants of what was likely the other half of this tower decorated the ground in pieces of varying sizes. A large pile of rubble graced the front of the fort’s center where a grand gate likely once stood but had collapsed to time. Though it was obvious the structure was extremely old, there was enough still intact to allow Barsh’s Bandits a functional home.
He glanced over his shoulder. The moon had not yet revealed itself from its hiding place behind the clouds, shrouding his companions as they crept along amongst the sparse shrubbery and shadows. They were not completely hidden to him, however. The Hylennial part of his heritage gave him such an advantage, though he still had to pretend his vision was hindered in the same manner as Lyght and Gargarel’s when they were following Feros. Surveying the fort’s design, he could see two standard doorways that seemed to be the only ways in, each on the far sides of the base near the ends.
Approaching the one on his right, Troy saw a lone man lounging in a chair, feet propped up on a barrel and arms crossed. The guard—Troy assumed that’s what he was doing, though obviously not well—didn’t seem to notice Troy until he was nearly upon him, joining in the illumination of the nearby torchlight.
“Eh? Troy, that you?” The man asked, taking one of the torches from its sconce and holding it in front of him, squinting.
Troy felt a moment of panic and reached for his rapier. Not there. He had left it with Gargarel as neither of the men they’d killed carried such a weapon. How did the man know who he was? He’d have to kill him swiftly with one his knives—
Just as he was about to draw one of the small blades, Troy had an epiphany. It was possible that Troy was the name of one of the men that was on patrol. Not a terribly uncommon name, so just because he was Troy—well, he wasn’t really, but that’s what he had chosen to go by in any case—didn’t mean that a bandit couldn’t be also.
He quickly began scratching his thigh with the hand that had gone for the absent rapier in an attempt to justify the sudden motion.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Aye, it’s me. Ya expectin’ someone else?” Troy replied using the voice of the man he had shot earlier.
“Well… yes ‘n no. I’s just expectin’ two of ya. Where’s Roose?”
Troy was pleased that the guard had spoken the name of Troy’s companion first. That made things easier. He lifted his chin, jerking his head in a motion to point behind him.
“Roose’s back thattaway takin’ a piss. A damned long one too.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Roose could be still takin’ a piss in the afterlife for all Troy knew. He resisted smiling as an amusing thought crossed his mind. While he could do the voices with no trouble, he realized that traveling with a companion like Gargarel made it easier to talk with rougher, less refined language.
The quip drew hearty, rasping laughter from the guard. “He better be careful. He’ll be easy pickins for that Irontail that Kaygan spotted roamin’ about d’other night. Don’t wanna get caught with ‘is pants litraly down!”
An Irontail? A creature from the Outlands is near here…?
The man continued laughing for several seconds at his own joke before composing himself. “Well anyhows, Barsh sent Milton, Kaygan, ‘n three others to hunt it down, but they ain’t back yet neither. Head on inside ‘n let Brax ‘n Tram know to start gettin’ ready to head out on the next patrol once Roose is back.”
Troy felt a pang of anxiousness tugging at the dead man’s bandana he wore. Names were good—they would help. But putting faces to names, navigating the interior of the base, people able to get a closer look at him to realize he wasn’t that Troy… he was starting to doubt he’d be able to pull this off.
“So,” he began, the bandit’s voice he was using thankfully helping to mask his apprehension, “Where’ll I find those two louts loungin’ around?”
The guard shrugged. “I been out here for the last two hours or so. They could be lyin’ in there dead for alls I know. Probly playin’ cards or somethin’ at one of the tables though.”
Troy gave a quick grunt of acknowledgement and headed inside. He rubbed his forehead as if he were tired, blocking the man from having a clear view of his face as he passed by the torchlight.
Once through the doorway and into the confines of the stone walls, Troy took a brief pause to assess his current situation before continuing. He wanted to make sure he had a plan for what to say to Brax and Tram so that he didn’t stumble over his words, as well as a plan for what to say in passing small-talk to anybody else he encountered. The part that made him the most nervous was the uncertainty of how long the man at the door would wait for Roose to return before growing suspicious and coming inside, potentially accosting him for answers. He had to work quickly.
The plan was for him to infiltrate the base and get information on what the layout was, the numbers inside, and hopefully find a way for the others to enter. He wasn’t sure what to do about that last part—he had expected some kind of gated or locked entry that he would have to open from the inside. This relic was beyond that, however, and his allies could theoretically enter the same way he did with little difficulty. He decided, instead, to focus on discovering what kinds of fortifications the interior held, where Barsh himself was located, and then slip out.
The design of the building was very close-quarters as he expected. It was a web of hallways with a room set off to the side here or there, but none of the rooms he passed by seemed to connect to any others. Escape would be difficult if he found himself trapped. Getting lost in the stonework that looked the same in each hall, he wasn’t exactly sure which direction he was heading, but he thought it was to the left side of the base opposite where he had entered. This was soon confirmed as he passed by a stack of rubble to his left where a section of wall had collapsed along with the front gate remnants he had seen earlier.
Shortly after, he came across the first room that had anybody inside of it—the others had been empty except for the occasional stray crate. This room had several small tables scattered about, each big enough for four or five seats, though all were empty save for one on the right where three members of the crew sat playing cards. Another pair of bandits stood in the back of the room, throwing handaxes at a crudely-constructed target that was pinned to the wall by knives set into the cracks of the aged stone.
Troy steeled himself and focused on the voice he would need to use. This situation was his best shot at doing what he needed without blowing his cover. He didn’t need to play at any guesswork on who Brax or Tram was.
“Brax, Tram! You’re up next on patrol once Roose gets done pissin’!”
Ten sets of eyes turned towards him. Four of those eyes quickly diverted their gaze back to the game of axe-throwing. Four more soon followed suit, returning their attention to the cards on the table. That left just one set still looking his way. The person those eyes belonged to stood up, grumbling goodbyes to the other two at the table.
As they rose, Troy could see they were a woman—something he hadn’t expected to find amongst this ruffian rabble. He had known women in the past who had done rough work, but he always associated brigandry with men. Seeing her strolling towards him, he realized that was a silly assumption, as she was taller than he and wore a variety of scars on both her face and the shoulders her vest exposed.
Then Troy realized that this was just one person. Where was the other? Was this lady Brax… or was she Tram? Turning quickly away before she got too close to see his face clearly, Troy started to walk the same direction he had been going before stopping to yell into the room.
“I’ll go round up yer pal ‘n have ‘im join ya.” He said as he began walking.
“Brax headed upstairs a few minutes ago. Tell ‘im to hurry it up.” The lady called after him as she headed the other direction.
So, that was Tram. It made sense, being the more feminine name of the two. Now he just needed to find the stairs and Brax. He pressed onward through the hall and rounded a corner to his right. Not far down this new corridor, there was a gap that was visible in the wall to the left. Approaching the gap and peeking in, he saw the stairs at the end of another small passageway. Pulling his bandana down so the cloth shadowed his eyes, he headed up.
The steps curved so that he walked in a semicircle as he ascended. Clearing the last of the steps, the second floor revealed itself to be much more open than the bottom and lacked the abundance of corridors. Before him was a large, empty room with multiple exits to other, smaller rooms. He began walking through the large space, stealing glances into each of the other doorways and listening for any sounds that would betray someone else’s presence. Nothing so far.
Deciding that this floor must be empty, he turned around to try his luck on the next one. He was greeted with the sight of a lone man with tangly brown hair watching him from the bottom of the steps leading up to the third floor. Damn, how had he not noticed? And how long had this man been watching him peer into the rooms?
“Lookin’ for somethin’, mate?” the man asked warily.
Troy decided to take a chance. “Y-yeah, actually. Ya seen Brax? It’s ‘is turn to walk around in the dark for a while.”
The man’s eyes widened, then he started grinning devilishly. “Aye, I’ve seen ‘im…”
Before the man could make a move, Troy whipped one of the daggers from his belt and flung it forward. His aim was true as it found purchase in the man’s throat, halting him from reaching for the club at his waist. He fell to the floor, clutching at his neck. Troy ran up and stomped on him, pushing the blade further in and hastening his passing so that he didn’t make any more noise. He was astounded at his own brutality—that was a move more fitting for Gargarel than it was for him. It got the job done, regardless.
He began to move the body of who he assumed had been Brax himself, based on the bandit’s reaction earlier. There were no footsteps coming that he could hear. Thankfully, a solid structure like this fort didn’t quite carry the sound of a body hitting the floor like a smaller building made of wood did. Hoisting the corpse underneath the arms and dragging it from behind, Troy made his way into the nearest room—the one to his left that was along the front wall of the fort.
Entering the room, he looked around to find a suitable hiding place for the corpse. Perhaps he could stuff it inside one of those barrels? As he moved to do so, he paused. His eyes rested upon something else he had not expected to find, sitting in the far corner of the room. He’d somehow not noticed it earlier when he peered in from outside the doorway.
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It had only been a couple of minutes since his friend had separated from them to carry out his amazing plan, but Gargarel already found himself growing impatient. Yes, it had been his brilliant idea to have Troy dress up like the smaller of the two dead bandits and use his cool voice-changing magic to be that bandit, but now that the plan was in motion, Gargarel found himself wishing he hadn’t come up with it.
That was the thing about the really powerful brain thinks—they were not all created equally. Some were truly awesome feats of genius while others were less so. It was like the differences in acting on an urge to jump off of a cliff. If that cliff was several hundred feet above a bed of spikes, it would be a really bad idea to jump regardless of how powerful the urge.. A cliff that was a couple dozen feet above a nice lake to cannonball into, however, was a much better way of acting on that urge. Currently, he was feeling like this plan was more of the former.
He wanted to burst right into the base and start busting heads, but doing so would show the others that he didn’t have faith in his own plan. Couldn’t have that. There was also that whole following the squad leader’s orders thing, as Lyght had instructed him to remain with him and Feros while Troy did his job, but that was secondary to avoiding the embarrassment of admitting he didn’t like his own plan.
The three of them laid low in the shadows along the edges of the mountainside. It seemed from a distance that Troy had gotten by the guard easily enough. Now they just had to wait. Troy would either slip back out and bring intel on the fort’s interior—and hopefully kill a few in his own sneaky way that he was good at—or he would give a signal that he was compromised.
A figure was visible past the doorway behind the guard. Gargarel was hopeful for a moment that it may have been Troy, but as they stopped into the torchlight it became obvious that it wasn’t. Troy wasn’t a tall, fairly attractive woman. With the help of the torchlight she stood near, Gargarel could see that her body bore some impressive scars that surely held stories. It was a shame she’d have to die.
The woman talked with the guard for a bit. Just as they were about to both head inside—which Gargarel figured couldn’t be a good sign—strange growling noises that were intermingled with the low hum of human voices could be heard. The three of them that were hiding in the shadows, along with the guard and woman at the door, turned towards the source of the sounds.
Approaching in the darkness with torches providing a bubble of light around them were three men dragging something. The something was moving, squirming around as it was dragged along by the ropes that bound it. Garagarel realized it was the sound of the strange growling noises. It was some kind of beast he had never seen before.
“Why the hells do these guys have an Irontail tied up?!” Lyght whispered harshly.
“Not to mention how.” Feros replied in a low growl. “Capturing that thing alive couldn’t have been easy. They must be more well-equipped than we thought.”
It was hard to get a good view of the beast, but Gargarel had heard about them, and he could see that this one was probably about 7 or 8 feet from head to tail—slightly above average. Irontails were one of the more common types of Outland Beasts that travelers encountered when they journeyed across the border. They posed a fairly low threat level to a trained fighter but could prove deadly to someone unprepared.
Irontails got their name from their destructive, beaver-like tails that were as hard as iron. Standing on two powerful legs and lacking arms with a body like an oversized rabbit, they typically fought by using their impressive leg strength to perform acrobatic flips and spins that allowed them to use the tail like a high-powered paddle to bludgeon their foes. Their heads were shaped like and just as hard as a kiteshield, and housed rows of fangs that were mostly used for eating purposes since they rarely needed them for fighting.
The trio dragging the Irontail plodded up from a sidepath different from the one that Gargarel and his group had taken until they were squarely in the open area in front of the fort. One of them split from the others to go talk with the man and woman by the door. The Irontail was still moving, trying to break free from its restraints, but seemed to be worn down and lacking energy.
“Come on, let’s move closer so we can hear the details.” Lyght whispered, creeping through the shadows expecting Feros and Gargarel to follow.
There was not a ton of cover, but there was enough. Low shrubs, boulder rubble, and dark shadows worked together in unison to give the group ample hiding capability. Gargarel did still need to be deliberate with his movements due to the extra armor and heftier weapon he wielded. Not his strong suit, but he wouldn’t let himself be the reason they got spotted.
They found a nice spot against a piece of the mountain that jutted out towards the end of the fortress, near the door. This was much closer than they should be, probably, but Gargarel was happy. The closer they were when the action started, the better.
“Used all the runes we took with us. Wasn’t much, but still.” The man who had split from the other two said.
The tall female bandit grunted. “And you lost two men?”
“Aye, left their bodies there. Wanted to make sure we got this big nasty back here as priority ya see.”
“And... what do ya think Barsh’ll do with it? We don’t got any ways of gettin’ it inside and cagin’ it.” The woman remarked, nodding towards where the front of the fort’s wall had collapsed.
“Dunno.” He replied with a shrug. “But I reckoned he’d be happy to ‘ave it. Could be a pet. Or a guard dog.”
“Ha, we’ll let you be the one to tell ‘im then.” She said with a smirk.
“Say,” the one who had been on guard began speaking for the first time, “you ain’t seen Roose on your way back, ‘ave ya? Troy got back a bit ago but Roose ‘as been takin’ a mighty long piss.”
Troy? Did he get so used to using that name that he accidentally used it with these guys?
Wait, no. That didn’t make sense. Gargarel surmised something else must be going on. Whatever the case, Troy was talented enough at the verbal arts that he wouldn’t have made such a simple mistake. It did seem like they were about to catch on to the fact they’d been tricked, though.
He looked to Lyght and was surprised to see Lyght staring back at him. Was he thinking the same thing?
Lyght nodded with his head towards the Irontail. “That thing. It should be able to break simple bindings like that, but it seems pretty weak and subdued. I want you to give it that extra push it needs to get itself loose. Whatever you think will work to get the job done. Do that, and it’ll be a great distraction for us to get inside.”
Gargarel grinned. He liked this plan.
“Right! I, uhh...” He looked towards the Irontail. “This distance, and it being a creature I’m not familiar with… I’ll probably need to use my axe to help the spell take effect. If it was closer, or if it was one of you guys, I could do it with basic channeling, but I think I’ll need to enhance it.”
Lyght shrugged. “Go for it. The extra sound will give away your position but hey, it may add to the chaos.” He nodded to Feros. “Let’s split up and get some distance so that we aren’t spotted if someone looks this way.”
They stalked off, leaving Gargarel by himself. The three bandits talking near the entrance sounded like they were about to split up as well. He’d need to act fast before they went inside and possibly made Troy’s job harder. It was at that moment, as if Troy had read his mind from wherever he was in the stone structure, that Gargarel saw a glint. Something metal was reflecting the light from the wall sconces as it fell to the earth, having been tossed out a second-story window. That was Troy’s signal.
Perfect timing! Or… bad timing? I dunno which, but here goes!
Crouching into a kneel, he grabbed the axe from his back and flipped it around into the spellcasting stance he used, propping up the handle on his knee. He focused on the Irontail, boring his gaze into it as if he was trying to see through its soul. Anger… Yeah, anger would be good. He’d make this thing so pissed off that it would get its fighting vigor back and break its bonds.
With a strum of the strings on the axe, he channeled his essence and focused the spell into the Irontail. The bandits all turned and looked around, unsure of where the strange sound that was echoing around from the mountainside and walls of the fort was coming from. Then, one of them spotted him.
They pointed. “Hey, over th—”
The Irontail’s low growl it had been maintaining as it struggled with its bonds erupted into a menacing roar. It wrenched open its jaw that had been bound as it let out the fearsome sound, freeing its fangs to tear away at the restraints that kept its legs and tail tied together. The two men standing near it didn’t have time to react. As soon as it had removed the last of its bounds, it rolled onto its feet and spun in a quick circle, catching one of the men square in the chest with the flat of its tail. He soared through the air and crashed into the side of the fortress, dropping limply to the ground.
The remaining man called to the others by the door for help. The guard ran inside while the other two answered the man’s call for assistance. Gargarel caught a glimpse of Lyght and Feros slipping inside after the guard. At almost the exact instant he saw his two allies head inside the entrance closer to him, he saw two more members of the bandit enter the fracas with the Irontail from the opposite end of the fort.
He’d leave the inside of the fort to Troy and the other two. He needed to stay out here to clean up what bandits were left when the Irontail was through with them, if they managed to slay the beast. That was part of working in a team. Trusting that others were as strong as he was. They weren’t, of course, but Gargarel had to tell himself they were or the whole trusting thing just didn’t work the same.
Then an explosion happened, drawing everyone’s attention upward. A rain of rubble poured down from higher up on the fort’s wall—a story or two above where Troy’s signal had come from—and showered the battlefield where the bandits were fighting the Irontail.
Gargarel gritted his teeth. To hells with standing by and waiting to do clean-up duty. Everyone else was getting to fight, and it wasn’t fair for him to be left out. Hoisting the axe up over his shoulder and letting out a roar to match that of the Irontail, he charged forward. Whether he was going to fight the bandits or the Irontail—that he himself had enraged, no less—he didn’t know. He’d figure that part out after he got there.