This quest is a noble one. A small family less fortunate than ours has enlisted our aid in smiting a group of evildoers that plague their humble homestead.
Sounds of combat were now audibly clear—metal clanging against metal. Lyght could hear it plainly as he ascended what he assumed was the last set of stairs. Stepping foot onto the fourth floor, he saw Troy engaged in a fight with who he guessed was Barsh.
Troy’s clothes that had acted as his disguise were more tattered and torn than they originally were, and blood was smeared on his face from a gash on his right cheek. Lyght caught a glimpse of him glancing his direction, quickly enough so that Barsh hopefully didn’t notice. Troy parried a strike from Barsh’s scimitar with his dagger and retreated at an angle that would put Barsh’s back directly to Lyght if he were to give chase.
Lyght smiled inwardly as he unsheathed his twin swords. He was pleased to see Troy attempting to imitate a strategy similar to what he and Feros had used to kill Rogga the day prior. Geren did say that he had a good head on his shoulders.
Barsh followed Troy, continuing his onslaught of slashes. His back was squarely facing Lyght now. Lyght dipped down into a low crouch and began creeping forward. Two steps for every swing of Barsh’s sword. He didn’t want to move too recklessly and have any noise alert his target, but he also wanted to move in quickly before Troy’s defenses were broken. Troy was doing an admirable job deflecting each blow while keeping Barsh’s attention focused on him and away from Lyght, but Lyght wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up.
Ten feet away now. Figuring that should be close enough to leap forward and ambush the man before he could amply react, Lyght twitched his leg muscles in preparation to do so. Just before jumping, however, he felt a subtle shift in energy beneath his feet.
Sh—
He rolled to the side just as the floor beneath his previous position shattered in an explosive rumble of dust and stone. Planting his right foot down to stop his skid, he looked to Barsh and Troy just in time to see the bandit leader land a solid kick directly into Troy’s stomach that brought him to his knees. Barsh was laughing, his gaze now turned to face Lyght. He somehow knew Lyght was there and had activated a trace he’d set in waiting.
This guy uses the same magic as Rhey?! Explains the sounds earlier…
Barsh turned his attention back to Troy and raised his scimitar. Troy was still down on his knees, haggard and seemingly out of stamina after his bout with the bandit leader. Before Barsh could bring the weapon down to deal the killing blow, Lyght charged his circuits and focused his essence into his right hand. He pointed the sword in that hand towards the pair and channeled his essence through it, discharging a streak of lightning from the tip and directly at Barsh.
The bandit leader cursed and stepped back frantically from Troy just in time. The strike of lightning bolted past his head, fraying his cloak and the tips of his hair before crashing into the far wall in a shower of sparks.
Lyght grabbed his second sword and began walking towards Troy, ready to dodge any more traces Barsh could have waiting for him. He made sure to keep his gaze fixated on Barsh as he walked. Lyght couldn’t tell from the angle he was at earlier, but he could now see that Barsh’s left hand was bloody and hanging mostly useless at his side. The man stood there, half-smiling and returning the gaze, but Lyght could tell that he was more apprehensive than he had been just moments prior. Funny how a display of magical strength could change one’s demeanor in a quick second like that.
Lyght reached Troy and gave him a quick glance to make sure he was okay. Barsh’s last blow, combined with Troy’s exhaustion, seemed to have knocked him out. Bleeding, but no major injuries. Ragged breathing, but breathing nonetheless. Lyght guessed that Geren’s rune was largely responsible for his having survived thus far. Troy had fought well, but as he’d mentioned in the past, he wasn’t ideally suited for single combat. It was Lyght’s turn to take over the battle in his stead.
Standing in front of Troy and looking back towards Barsh, Lyght raised a sword and pointed again. He was pleased to see Barsh visibly flinch. “We’ve killed your crew, and you’re outnumbered. Surrender, and we’ll bring you back to Davied alive as a prisoner. Continue resisting, and you die.”
Barsh spat at the ground. “Bah! I ain’t no coward! All I hafta do is kill you lot, and I can get another crew ‘n get back to livin’ the good life in no time.”
Lyght smirked. “Good, I’d prefer you dead anyway. Let’s—”
He was interrupted by an eruption of a roar from the Irontail. The beast had completely slipped his mind, as he’d assumed Feros and Gargarel had taken care of it by now. How were things going out there anyway?
“Ye’d better hope to be tougher than your frie—” Barsh began to quip, but his words caught in his throat as the Irontail leapt through the large opening in the wall Barsh had created earlier and landed on the ledge.
It was bleeding profusely from the left side of its kite shield-shaped head, the carapace armor having been broken in multiple places. A large gash had been rent along its torso as well. The beast was likely trying to escape those—hopefully Feros and Gargarel—that had damaged it, but jumped into a new battlezone instead.
Barsh grinned wickedly. “Have fun!” He shouted as jumped down the hole in the floor that had been created with the traced blast from earlier.
“Ain’t no coward” huh?! Liar!
The Irontail charged forward in a frenzy towards Lyght and Troy in a roar of anger and fear. Lyght braced himself. He knew he likely wouldn’t be able to sustain a direct impact from the beast’s powerful tail or legs, but if he could locate the opportune time to strike... Waiting for an opening… There!
Just as the Irontail began to go airborne for a leaping attack, Lyght discharged a concentrated lightning strike to its already-weakened face. It roared in pain and fell to the ground, rolling past Lyght and Troy in a tumble. He prepared to run to it and deal a finishing blow while it was writhing, but the beast started spinning furiously in an attempt to flatten any approaching foes with its tail while it regained its senses.
Figuring that was as good of a win in the interim as any, Lyght lifted Troy onto his shoulders like a soldier would carry a civilian from a burning building. He ran over to the stairwell and set Troy down on the stairs leading down to the third floor. The Irontail wouldn’t be able to fit through the door here, and Barsh was busy escaping. This would be a safe place.
Feros appeared at the same opening in the wall that the Irontail had earlier just as Lyght re-entered the room. “Where’s their leader?!” He yelled with a growl.
Lyght pointed to the hole in the floor. “Went down there just a bit ago! This thing’s arrival gave him an opening!”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t expect it to jump all the way up here. Took me a bit to find the right anchors for climbing up after it, too… damned thing cleared the distance in one leap.” He took a deep breath and leveled his gaze at the beast that was now rising back to its feet.. “Gargarel’s out of the fight—alive, but wounded. We killed all of Barsh’s men out front so he should be safe.”
Lyght nodded over his shoulder to the stairwell. “Same for Troy. Set him down back there. I’ll chase after Barsh—”
The Irontail roared again, tossing its head like a horse with flies in its ears. It seemed to have regained its senses, staring directly at Feros and returning his gaze.
“—aaand you take care of that thing, then find me.”
Feros just growled and nodded. Lyght jumped down the hole after Barsh. He heard another roar from up above, though he couldn’t tell if it belonged to Feros or the Irontail. Both intermingled, maybe.
Landing in the open space on the third floor that he had stalked through before finding the archer women earlier, Lyght looked around. He hadn’t heard another blast after Barsh had jumped down, so he must have used the stairs. If Barsh were truly aiming to escape, then Lyght guessed there were only two possibilities for how he would do so. He would either exit the fort and escape into the mountains, or there was a secret passage of some sort below the ancient building. Given its age and its past usage before falling into disrepair, the idea of a secret passage wasn’t so far-fetched. But where would it be?
This whole thing is built into the mountain… of course.
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Scanning the back rooms that were up against the mountain, he found nothing on the third floor. Hurrying down to the second floor, he decided to pay a quick visit to Wheatloaf. He found the small man hiding behind some boxes on the opposite side of the room from the barrel he had been in earlier.
“Did you see Barsh—their leader—come by at all?!” He asked hurriedly.
“U-uh yeah. Th-that way!” Wheatloaf stammered as he pointed out the door to the back wall. “Saw ‘im come down the stairs and head straight there. Only saw ‘is b-back though.”
Lyght nodded in appreciation. “Good, that’s what I need. Your orders are the same as earlier. One of us will be back for you.”
“O-orders?” Wheatloaf seemed confused by the idea that he had been conscripted into Lyght’s service. He listened though, hunkering back down and hiding.
Lyght checked through the rooms along the back of the fort on the second floor. One… no. Second room… also no. Third room… yes. A stack of boxes had previously hidden an opening in the wall leading into the mountain itself that the fort was built into. The upper half of the stack had been knocked over, presumably by Barsh just moments earlier.
Climbing over, Lyght forged ahead into a dark tunnel about ten feet wide and seven feet high. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, illuminating the path and casting finger-like shadows on the walls from the stalactites. There was no telling where this path ended. Whether it had an exit or would be a dead end was a mystery, but Lyght had to follow it regardless. He walked briskly enough that he could hopefully get to the end at a good pace without being too hasty in case of traps.
It didn’t take long before the path opened up into a large cavern that was twice as high and about ten times as wide as the tunnel had been. Lyght could see the back wall thanks to the light provided by the same stretch of lanterns that continued along the ceiling. It was about as deep as it was wide. No exits in sight. Large shelves lined the walls, and several wooden tables were in rows across the middle of the spacious room. Three of the tables were turned on their sides—Barsh surely hiding behind one of them, as there were no other visible hiding places. It looked like a place that the ancient denizens of the fort may have used for storage, or as a hiding place during a siege.
Lyght stood where he was, swords at the ready. He didn’t need to make the first move. Barsh was the one that was cornered, after all. Still, there was a lingering frustration eating away at Lyght. He was confident the man was in here, but until he got hard confirmation, the anxiety would remain. What if there was another secret passage he hadn’t found, and Barsh was successfully making his escape?
“Come out and fight fair and square! Being a good-for-nothing predator of civilians, I know you don’t really have any honor left, but there may still be a sliver of it in there. Surely you would prefer to die fighting rather than dying a cornered rat!”
No response. Lyght decided to go ahead and make a move after all, in that case. Not anything risky, but something to maybe goad Barsh into leaving his hiding spot. Looking directly ahead to the middle table of the three that were overturned, he discharged a blast of lightning at it. It broke into multiple pieces, falling apart to reveal nothing but dirt and stone.
Well, next one is a fifty-fifty shot. Let’s see if that ramps up his timetable for making a move himself…
Lyght decided to change positions slightly. He took a few steps to his right, lining himself up with another table. A few seconds of silence passed with no action from either party. Then, just as Lyght was charging his circuits for another attack, the telltale sign of a rune being activated—small, dusty flakes of stone fading into nothingness—trailed up from behind the edge of the table furthest to the left. Barsh stood from behind the table and acted first, taking advantage of Lyght’s brief moment of surprise.
A brilliant purple light erupted from Barsh’s hand, painting the walls of the cavern so that the regular rocks appeared to transform into radiant amethysts for a brief moment. Lyght raised his swords just in time to block the beam of energy. It maintained a consistent push on him for several seconds, the tendrils of energy leaking around his blades and scarring the wall and floor behind him. He couldn’t see well enough with the purple glow directly in front of him to read Barsh’s face, but Lyght could sense with satisfaction that the bandit leader was frustrated. The fact he wasn’t laughing or bragging was evidence of that, contrary to his behavior earlier.
The purple energy faded, the cavern once again returning to its dull shade of brown and pale orange. Barsh stood behind the table, visible from the waist up, looking dumbfounded.
“That… That shoulda killed ya! That was the strongest rune I’ve ever stolen!”
Lyght had heard of runes like that before. They didn’t contain a specific spell inside of them. Instead, the magic within was unrefined—pure essence that hadn’t been manifested into the form of a spell. Such runes could be used to create blasts of raw energy that were oftentimes stronger than proper magic itself. But… those were just rumors. Or so he’d thought, at least. It was the first time he had seen one in action.
Pointing a sword at Barsh, Lyght spoke in a mocking tone. “Well, if that was your strongest then I guess I don’t have anything else to worry about, huh? Unlucky for you that my blades are forged from dragonscale. I’m sure you’ve heard the legends about how dragons are resistant to magical energy.”
He smirked. “Makes for not only a great weapon that can cut through most anything, but doubles up as a really nice shield against magic attacks. Now… I’m curious where you got a rune like that. As far as I knew, they were just rumors.”
“I-I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’! Eat my boots, kid!”
“I’ve already offered to bring you in as a prisoner if you cooperate! Tell me where you got that, and we can maybe—”
“No!” Barsh yelled, kicking the table over so it lay flat on its surface, legs up. “I’m the one in control here! Not you! Stop speakin’ to me like you’ve won this fight! You haven’t!”
Lyght lowered his sword with a puzzled look on his face. The bandit leader was acting almost like a petulant child.
Huh? Does he have one more trick up his sleeve…? Or is he just bluffing?
Barsh began cackling hysterically. “I’m the leader of Barsh’s Bandits! This is my fort! I can do damned well what I please!”
Lyght eyed Barsh warily, careful not to make a move too quickly. He couldn’t tell if Barsh was cracking under the pressure as he realized his reign as bandit leader was finished, or if he was somehow tricking him.
“Now! You listen here! I’ve traced the whole damned buildin’! Tons of ‘em! All I gotta do is activate ‘em all, and the whole place goes boom! Ya got me?! BOOM!” He pantomimed a motion with his arms spreading out wide as he spoke. “You ‘n me, trapped in here forever. Your friends crushed under rubble! Whaddaya say?! Still think you’re in a position to be tryin’ to negotiate with me?!”
Panic flared up in Lyght’s chest. Was Barsh lying? No, he seemed genuinely thrilled to be proclaiming his trump card. Did he really have enough power to destroy the whole fort? Probably not outright… but if the traces were well-placed throughout the structure, it could definitely trigger a collapse.
Gritting his teeth, Lyght did what he said he’d do earlier after the encounter with the archer women—trust his instincts and not hesitate. Whether Barsh was lying or not, the man was dangerous and he had to die. Lyght ran straight at him, blades drawn. Twirling his left blade back into backhand position, he slashed towards Barsh’s neck.
Barsh blocked the blow with the scimitar in his right hand. He attempted to reach for Lyght with his left, mangled though it was from the fight with Troy. Despite the sorry state it was in, he could still channel essence through it and cause some serious damage if he were to grab Lyght. Lyght disengaged his left sword, pushing against Barsh and sliding it along the length of his scimitar until it came free at the tip near his chest, and cleaved through the man’s left arm. The arm was not sliced completely off, but it did dangle uselessly to his side afterward from having most of the muscles severed from the nasty gash spilling crimson onto the floor.
Retreating to that same side a few steps, Lyght re-engaged Barsh with another slash of his left blade. Barsh deflected it deftly, swinging the scimitar back to his left to deflect a follow-up from Lyght’s other sword. His swordsmanship was impressive given he likely never received formal training. Years of experience out in the elements of brigand life was an acceptable teacher, it seemed.
Twirling his left sword back into a position matching his right, Lyght kicked Barsh in the stomach to try and knock him off balance. He was a sturdy fellow, barely budging. Lyght attempted a crossing slash with both weapons at Barsh’s neck, hoping the kick would distract him just long enough to not react in time. The man’s body was not in great condition after his duel with Troy, but his reaction time was seemingly unhindered. He ducked under the blades, brushing his left hand with a clumsy-looking motion across the floor between the two of them as he crouched down. Despite how mangled the arm was… his essence circuits were still operational.
An explosion of stone separated the two fighters. Lyght had reacted just in time to bring his swords back in from the missed attack, the flats of the blades positioned to bear the brunt of the blast. He was pushed back several feet, but kept his balance.
“Ya testin’ me?! I’ll blow the whole place up—I swear it!” Barsh’s voice threatened from the other side of the dust cloud where the pair had just been standing.
He’s bluffing… he’d have done it by now. Need to end this quick, though… just in case.
Following Barsh’s voice, he charged through the pall of dust. There—a shadow to his right. Swinging his right sword, a clangor of scale on metal with an audible grunt of surprise confirmed his target. He felt Barsh’s sword disengage his own, and the shadow dissipated as the man began to retreat.
Moving forward with another short burst of speed, he cleared the wall of the dust veil and was face to face with Barsh once more. They again exchanged blows, Barsh once more blocking Lyght’s left blade with his scimitar. This time, however, Lyght locked the blade into place on top of Barsh’s own, pushing it to the side and fully exposing his defenses so he couldn’t pull the same right-to-left maneuver as earlier to block the follow-up. He thrusted forward with his free sword, piercing deep into the man’s midsection, up through his stomach in the gap between breastplate and belt.
Barsh coughed, sputtering blood over Lyght’s shoulder as he let out a dry, dying laugh of breath. “Ha… I told ya…”
Lyght spun his head around as he heard the sounds from behind. The rumble of a number of simultaneous explosions like a multitude of small earthquakes, coming from the other end of the tunnel.
No…!
Barsh had seemingly gotten the last laugh.