Once again I’m reminded just how fucking scary sharp Shay’s sword actually is, the way she manages to cut Granzun’s wrist clean in two even though the blade was jammed right through the steel of his bracer. She gives it a particularly rough twist as he keeps whipping her about while screaming in very clear pain, and I guess between this and her pure momentum it’s enough to cleave right through armour, bone and mahogany-tough muscle altogether. Suddenly he’s reeling back, mostly unbalanced, and she goes flying. I can’t tell if she pitches her sword on purpose as she tumbles to keep from stabbing herself or just loses her grip, but then she lands, and she does it hard. Coming down face-first.
Fuck … that had to hurt. I don’t even think about what I’m doing, I just break off the attack I was preparing to make and instead rush to her, tossing aside the sword and knife she gifted to me before we left the mountains as I land on my knees and skid to her side. I reach out quick, already worryingly aware that she’s just sprawled facedown, limp now with her limbs just thrown out haphazard, and I’m scared to death he’s just fucking killed her on the spot. So I take hold of her arm and shoulder and almost gingerly try turning her over, almost dreading what I’m gonna see.
Her face is a mess, her nose visibly broken with blood gushing from her nostrils while there’s an ugly gash torn deep in the now twisted bridge, but at least her jaw looks intact, and she ain’t bleeding from anywhere else. She’s right out, though, looks like it. I shuffle closer as I flip her over onto her back, tangentially mindful I can hear chaos erupting right behind me and knowing I’m being supremely dumb not keeping an eye on my back right now …
Still being extremely wary in case I hurt her even more, I give her face a gentle tap, vaguely hoping maybe she’s really just stunned, but it don’t illicit a response beyond a slight puff from her lips as she lets a vague gasp of air out. But she also breathes in again too, which is a fucking relief. She’s still alive, just knocked fucking cold. Great …
“Is she all right?” The voice makes me jump, I actually cock my right paw ready for an unarmed strike with my claws extending as instinct takes over, but barely manage to hold back at the last when I realise it’s just Lady Naru dropping to her knees right next to me, one arm up high as she holds onto her propped staff. “Gods, that hit –”
“She’s alive.” I manage to growl, my voice raspier than I’d like as my throat catches, feeling uncomfortably thick right now. Fuck, I was even more worried than I thought I was … “It’s fucking bad, though. What about … shit, is Yeslee –”
“Also alive, but she won’t be helping out much either, I’m afraid. Whatever he threw at us managed to shock her with something very much like a lightning bolt, she’s lucky it didn’t burn her to a crisp. It might have done if it had been a little more powerful. As it is she’s entirely incapacitated.” She looks fretful over Shay, clearly, but there’s an edge to her all the same, like a cold anger too. “Something tells me that nasty little gift from Tavarrat was intended for me.”
“Get Krakka. Right now. Quick as you can, get him up here, he needs to fix Shay, and Yes too.” I get a foot under me now, preparing to push up again. “If you can, I need you to back me up right after. I really don’t know if I can beat him.”
Her eyes widen as she seems to realise what I mean, but I’m already turning away as I push myself up into a crouch. For a moment I regard my sword and long knife, still lying where I tossed them, but then I realise if I am gonna try and kill my one-time friend, I’m gonna need something a whole lot more serious than them. So I turn back round and cast about for a moment before I spot Shay’s sword. The one she earned when she helped us kill Ashsong, the one he killed Gael with, back in the mountains. The one that can cut right through plate steel armour …
I find it lying several feet away … and Granzun’s between me and it. As he wheels about again, seeming to struggle now with Brung scrambling all over him and trying to inflict as much damage as he can while his target tries his damnedest to cast him off, he comes perilously close to me now. I have to duck aside as the axe in his remaining fist comes withing a hair of taking my head off, and in the end I just dive forward, turning the landing into a clumsy roll that brings me close to the sword, but in the end I’m carrying too much momentum. Smacking into the wall gives my shoulder a big jog, and it’s the one I got shot in the other night, so I feel an extra deep jab of hot pain that leaves me curled up where I am, sucking in a hard breath through my gritted teeth as I wince. Fuck …
Then I sense someone ducking close by me and I react, starting to pull a knife before I realise it’s just Zul. He drops heavily to his knees beside me, and he still looks uncomfortably shaky now I’m able to focus on him. His eyes are glassier than I’d like, a lot of blood streaking his face from the wounds he took when he got slammed, while his hands are shaky as he reaches one out towards me. But he don’t slur his words when he speaks, which is a good enough sign for me. “You with me there, mate?”
“Oof …” I sit forward , giving my shoulder a good rub while I work it a little, and while it’s sore and tetchy again it don’t feel like the hit did any fresh damage. It was pretty much healed after last time, Krakka made sure of that before we went to the Hardway, but I guess my body’s got too good a memory to just forget about the wound. “Yeah, that just hurt is all. Not my finest moment.”
“Well you’re still upright, at least.” He takes a deep breath and blinks at me now. “Where d’you want me?”
“No, c’mon … Zul, please, just sit this one out. You’re a mess. You can’t do this right now.” I chance a look past Granzun, and I see that Lady Naru’s disappeared now, which must mean she’s gone to fetch Krakka. He might be here in seconds if she ports him, although I suspect she might be wary of doing that on the return with all this shit going on. But either way … “Look, there’s help coming. Just wait, I’m gonna deal with Gran myself. Once and for all.”
“You’re sure? I mean … Art, it’s him. He was one of us … are you really sure you can even do it?”
Biting my lip a little, I shift my weight around a bit as I start to pick myself up again, getting my feet back under me. “Don’t look like we got much choice, does it? He ain’t coming quiet, and we won’t be able to take him alive. He’s too much to handle for that. I have to put him down. But I don’t have to like it.”
Zul’s frown tightens as he lets a heavy, somewhat shaky sigh go, and grabs hold of my wrist with surprising strength. “Well just fucking well watch yourself, you daft bastard. Ain’t just you you gotta think about anymore, remember?”
Honestly, I dunno what to say to that, so I just lay my paw over his hand and give it a squeeze before pulling free and pushing away from my spot under the window, stopping to scrape the sword up in my right hand as I duck in a loose circle towards Granzun. Just as he finally manages to chuck Brung off … and he sends him flying straight out the fucking busted window.
Seeing that almost brings me up short, but I adjust instead and change my direction as he turns and starts to approach Shay’s prone form. Yeah, no way I’m letting that happen, so I just leap at him, bringing the sword round overhead as I grip it with both hands now, intent on just cutting right down into him with it.
I almost make it, but while my run was silent enough and he’s clearly losing a lot of blood from the spewing stump of what’s left of his severed right wrist, he’s still got his wits about him enough to spot me through the corner of his eye. So he turns at the last and brings his arm up, intent on swatting me aside … except he must’ve forgot he’s missing a hand now, so instead the wet end only just catches me on the backswing and instead of getting belted into the wall hard enough to break my back I just get knocked to the floor instead. I twist as I land and roll up into a tight crouch with one splayed paw out to support me, while I’ve still got hold of Ashsong’s sword.
It's a longer, heavier weapon than I’m really used to, I’ve always trained with shorter and lighter blades, so I’m not really too used to this kind of heft, but it’s not too much of a difference for me to adjust to. So I take a moment to shift my fingers around the hilt to find a better grip as Granzun turns to bring his full attention to bear on me, and take a few low, crabbing steps to the side, putting the wall at my back now as I work on opening a little more space between us. Not that there’s that much to work with in here to begin with.
For a long moment he just watches me, his eyes taking in the blade I’m slowly getting a feel for, already wet with his blood, then returning to my face, my eyes. Watching for the change in ‘em he’s been trained to look for much as I been. Any indicator of my intent. Suddenly I got old bouts from our days in training flashing through my head, and I’m sure he’s thinking the same, remembering how hard we both found it to try and beat each other once we both got real good.
Yeah … he’s a whole lot bigger’n me, and a lot faster and more agile than he looks, but while I’m way smaller I’m also a whole lot more nimble too, and even he has trouble hitting what he can’t see. He’s bleeding bad, maybe even bleeding to death, I could just try an’ just wear him down until he just drops, but … no, that ain’t gonna work, it’s a moron’s plan. He’s fucking huge. The sheer amount o’ blood in him, it’s gonna take him too long to bleed out for that to work. I gotta beat him now, which means I still gotta outfight him.
Grunting, he takes a quick step towards me, and I shift quick to the side to dodge the attack I’m sure is coming … but instead of rushing me he just chucks the axe right at me. Shit … It’s pitched low, too, I can’t duck under this without just dropping flat on my face, and then I’d be bait for him to just stomp me before I could spring up again. So I Just leap up instead, springing over the spinning blade as it shrieks by under my tucking feet and then I whip them out to land in a wide horse-stance. Only to find he really is coming right at me after all, and now he’s got his remaining hand free he’s drawing the sword on his right hip.
Fuck … like the rest of his main weapons, it’s a big bastard, to him it’s more of a shortsword but it’s easily long, wide and heavy enough to be the typical lengthy orcish cleaver that they seem to favour. I don’t have time to try and spring away or duck past him as he comes this time, so instead I got no choice but to duel him like he clearly intends, which means when he swings at me in a big haymaker I have to stand my ground and parry. I bring the sword round in both hands, turn and tuck quick as I can in order to catch the swing, and when our blades connect it’s as brutally devastating a hit as I expected. It don’t quite knock me off my feet but they still skid a few feet before I can force a stop, and as he drags his sword away to recover I take a careful step back to plant my feet more comfortably, waiting for the next move while I weather the angry buzz in the steel.
He don’t make me wait long, adjusting his own footing too before jogging two big, fast steps to the left before feinting right again, and as he switches the stroke first one way and then the other he adjusts as I start to wheel aside to avoid the stroke. Instead he comes in low from the other side, and once again I’m reminded just how uncanny his speed really is for someone so unusually huge as I have to leap aside to avoid getting cut in two by another heavy slash for my midsection. As it is I feel the blade come close enough to pass within a bare inch of my stomach, and I’m off-balance for a blink before I’m able to right myself as he recovers from the miss.
So I just commit to the forward momentum and spring into a charge, catching myself quickly enough to avoid just spilling onto my face in the first few steps as I weave round to his left and then spring into a high leap towards his disarmed shoulder. And he ain’t quite so quick to react in time to this one. Ashsong’s sword bites deep into his exposed pauldron and sinks far into the side of his chest before it finally wedges, and as he reels back I hold on, letting him pull me as I kick my feet off the floor and flip them up under me, coiling my legs now. As he reels back into the wall with a wounded grunt I bring my feet up and plant them hard into his stomach, then pull with my legs as much as my arms and back. The blade only sticks for a second …
With a messy, wet pop, I go flying back with the now much bloodier sword still clutched tightly in both hands as a powerful spray hits me in my face and chest. I can’t do anything but just go with my momentum as I land hard on my back, and it’s a miracle I maintain my grip as I feel the wind thoroughly battered out of me. I have to blink to see anything with my eyes suddenly painted with arterial blood, and when I’m able to focus I see him staggering drunkenly for a few beats, his cloven shoulder gaping wide and grisly as his pulse sends another jet spraying from the open wound. Damn, that wound’s gonna fuck him up a good deal more’n the last one … and yet he’s still coming, already fighting to focus enough to come for me again.
Flat on my back like this, all I can do as he brings a big, heavy chopping swing down on me is roll to the side, and he’s unsteady enough on his feet now that I’m already scrambling up onto my feet round his side while he works to drag the blade free from the boards. I take a beat to swipe the back of my wrist across my face, trying the best I can to get some o’ this blood outta my face, but it’s so greasy it don’t seem to do much beside making my arm messy too. Gritting my teeth I just take a few steps back the other way, leading him in a dance as I work on finding an opening as he starts to half-prowl, half-stagger towards me once again.
A big glob of crackling blue energy smacks hard into his good shoulder and he spins on he feet as he stumbles back, not going down but trotting about in a mad, wheeling dance. In the end he turns full circle on particularly unsteady feet before finally coming to rest with his back making another spiderweb of the wall as he turns to me, his dimming attention shifting from me to my side, and I chance my own sidelong glance that way too.
Lady Naru’s cautiously closing in, sidestepping some herself to flank him, and she’s abandoned her staff now for her sword, held high in both hands with the tip pointing towards him. There’s something strange about the blade, I notice, a subtle glinting shine in the steel, not like the strange flowing heat when Krakka blessed it but more a sparkling pulse. And there’s a sound coming from it too, an eerie ringing note, subtle but just high enough to be uncomfortable in my ears. A pregnant spell, charged and waiting for her to set it loose. Crafty, my Lady. Damn crafty.
Gran’s holding his sword low between us, but I know it still ain’t fatigue from the blood loss, not yet, even though he must be feeling it now. His eyes still have some brightness as they flicker between us, blood red in their irises. He’s ready for us to come, I’m sure. So I hold for now, and the sorcerer’s cautious enough to do the same.
I can hear Krakka muttering behind me now, so I don’t need to look to know he’s tending to Shay, praying to his goddess to get her up again. Thank you, Lady Naru. You’re a fucking saint, I swear.
Gran shoves himself away from the wall, but he’s swaying badly now. The wounds are starting to take their toll like I thought, the way that deep gouge I landed keeps pumping angry jets with each beat of his heart I know he’ll be fading now, so he just wants to end it on his terms. I turn just enough so I can look at Lady Naru and raise my free hand enough to hold it out to her over my sword-arm. Signalling for her to stand down. Through the corner of my eye I see her frown, but after a pregnant pause she finally nods, taking a big step back as she lowers her sword and lets go with her offhand, and the spell seems to die as she does it. When I look up I see Gran’s watching her close, eyes narrowed, but he finally nods too, acknowledging her compliance with a warrior’s respect. Then he turns back to me, and nods again. He's ready.
Taking a deep breath, I give the sword a little flourish off to the side, turning it over in my hand as I whip it to shake off as much of the excess blood as I can, but given what I’ve learned from Shay I know it’s already drinking what’s on there. Trying not to think about that unpleasant little detail, I just take a slow, wary step forward and to the right, moving more into the space the sorcerer’s now vacating, and Gran takes a very deliberate, careful step the other way in response. Adjusting his own grip on his much larger sword, a gesture I mirror as I tense up, ready for whatever he plans next.
Breathing out in a great hot snort through his nostrils, Gran charges me with his face tight and shoulders squared, keeping his weapon low and idle until the last moment as I bounce on the balls of my own feet and just let him come. Then I leap aside at the last, letting him respond however he chooses, and he don’t disappoint, spinning his sword round in a blinding quick flourish that’s good enough to damn near catch me out as I duck aside the other way. I bring the sword up with both hands and put some weight into the counter in order to swat the blow aside, and it still clangs loud with a subtly off crystalline ping as I parry the stroke. Then I duck and weave back the way I went first, just managing to come in under his defences as he tries to wheel aside and cutting another deep upward slash right through his centre of mass.
I feel another splash hit me as I power out through his side, but this one’s weaker, and he’s already starting to falter, staggering in a wide drunken circle before his legs start to give out while I turn, giving the blade another flick to clean it again. Then his left just buckles and he spills onto his knee, letting go of his sword so he can catch himself before he smashes down on his face. He grunts as he lands, a thin string of bloody drool dropping from his slackening mouth as his head lolls, and there’s a more blood and … some much more unpleasant stuff starting to pour from the big, ugly fissure I just carved right through him. He manages to hold himself for a few more moments as the rest of his guts spill through the hole, and while my gorge starts to rise hearing that wet, heavy splatter I mostly just feel … shame now. Sorrow and burgeoning grief and more than a little guilt as I realise what I just did.
Fuck … I let the sword slip from my paw and stumble forward, dropping to my knees beside him despite the fact his blood’s starting to pool under him now. Feeling the lump in my throat thicken, tears starting to prick the corners of my eyes, my breathing coming quicker now.
His own breathing’s a lot more ragged now, rasping and cracking as he desperately tries to drag in fresh air while his lungs sound like they’re starting to seize … then his other knee gives out and he slumps onto his side, letting out a great winded wheeze as he settles. His hand twitches weakly on the floor beside him, and I know it’s questing for his sword. Of course …
Leaning to the side, I take hold of the great dark cleaver’s pommel and drag it to his hand until his fingers can touch the well-worn leather of the grip and curl round it again. The fist tightens into something much like the approaching death-grip, and he lets a more relieved grunt go as he just settles now, his head dropping to meet the boards. He lets it loll back a little now and his eyes search for a moment before finally finding my face. “Oh … hey there, Art … how are you … that was … one sweet move, there …”
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“I know … I know it was … I’m so sorry, Gran.” I have to cough hard to clear my throat, my voice is already failing me. I let the tears come, seeing that there’s no malice in his gaze now as he’s slipping away, he’s at peace now. “I wish … fuck, I really wish I hadn’t done that. That I …”
“Shut up, you daft bastard …” he rumbles, managing a weak but rueful smile. “I don’t care … you understood in the end … I just wanna go out right …”
“Thorin’ll have a flagon waiting for you in Valhalla, I’m sure of it.” I catch movement close by now, looking up through the corner of my eye so I can see that it’s Zul, picking his way round the best he can to join me. Still unsteady on his feet, but good enough to stumble over, at least. “Don’t worry, we’re here. It’s just a shame …” My voice cracks and I gotta take a hitching breath to regain my composure enough to try again. “I wish Darwyn could’ve come too, so she could be here for this …”
“Tell her I’m sorry … none o’ this worked out how I wanted it to …”
“You can make up for it now, if you wanted to …” I wince, I can’t help it, I hate myself for asking in the first place, but I got to. I owe it to Gael. “You can tell me what they’re doing, where they are. Jammund ain’t here, that’s clear enough. Where is he? Where’s my friend?”
His smile fades as he looks up at me, but there’s none of the reproach I might’ve expected, or a return of the anger, or even bitter disappointment. He just sighs, seeming to deflate again. “Yeah … y’know that ain’t gonna happen … I’m sorry, Art … your’re gonna have to … oh …” He winces too now, tensing a little, although no more than his weakened state can manage now. His eyes are glazing now, his skin paling under the green. “Fuck … no, you ended me all right … and I can’t give up my mates … no more’n you can yours …”
“Gran …” I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to start screaming, wanting to shake him but holding back, clenching my paws in tight fists in my lap. “Fuck … c’mon man, please …”
“Take care of her, you daft bastard …” he manages to wheeze out, his breathing coming shallow as hell now, his voice fading to a husky whisper. “I saw … I saw how she looked at you … last time … she still loves you …” His eyes slide off me now, having to search again for another moment before he manages to find Zul now. “And you … fuck, Zul … I’m sorry about running out … on you … too … oh …”
“You got nothing to apologise for there, mate.” Zul breathes gentle as he reaches out now, laying his hand on Gran’z big fist. Their size difference is so significant I can easily also put mine right next to his with room to spare. “I just missed you.”
“Yeah …” His voice is barely more’n a rattling whisper, each breath he takes shallower than the last. “I missed … you two’n all … listen … you see Luthen … tell her I didn’t … blame her for … well … she’ll know …” His last word trails off into a wheezing breath that finally just dies, nothing following it. A beat later his body sags more completely, until his cheek comes to rest on the floor entirely, and that seems to be it.
For a long moment I stay where I am, down on me knees, still resting my paw on half of Granzun’s hand, watching him as I just take it in, what’s happened. When I finally look up I see Zul doing the same, his own cheeks are similarly wet. Our friend is dead, and it’s by my hands. Fuck …
Then I just kick away fast, scrabbling back on my arse as I try to get as far away from the body as possible, but I can only go so far before my back meets the remains of one o’ the couches and I can’t go any further. I’ve landed surprisingly close to the sword, I see, still slick with his blood, but much less of it than I would’ve expected, I realise … gods, that is horrible, the way that works. Finally I look down at my paws, seeing the speckled, splattered blood soaking into the fur on my fingers and dashing the leather of my gloves and bracers. I almost throw up on the spot seeing that.
Instead I grit my teeth tight and brush my paws forcefully across my thighs, trying to get them clean enough to carry on at least, then just give up as I push myself up onto my feet and take a few big steps away, turning my back on the scene itself now. Heading straight for Krakka as he tends to Shay.
He’s still got her head laid in his lap as he holds his hands to either side of her head, but her eyes are open now, and as I approach they turn to track me, seeming clear enough. Fuck … after what just happened that’s a big relief. Her face is still a gory mess from all the blood, and her nose is already swelling, but straight enough despite it, telling me Krakka must’ve snapped the bridge back into shape before he tried doing anything else. The nasty gash across it seems to be mostly closed up now, too, which is another good sign. As I draw close she tries a smile, but it looks shaky, still a certain wooziness in her eyes I don’t like.
“Hey.” I drop into a crouch beside her, keeping my voice soft and gentle. “Nice to see you back with us. How you feeling?”
“Oh …” she sighs as she seems to consider for a moment, and her voice is pretty weak too, her words a little slurred. “I feel like shit, Art. What did you expect?” Her eyes narrow and her brows start to knit a little as she looks me over, trying to focus now. “What about you? You seem … oh … what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I lie through my teeth, unable to stop myself from looking away now so I doubt she believes me for a second. “I’m just … coming down. Adrenaline and all that shit.” I look at Krakka. “How is she? Really?”
“Beaten up, but mending. She took a very nasty hit there, though, I won’t be comfortable about it until we get her back to the temple so Shul and the healers can give her a more expert check-up. Just in case I missed anything.”
“I’ll be all right.” she waves her hand about a bit, not able to lift it more’n an inch or two off her chest right now so the gesture is very vague. “M’fighting fit, me. Daughter of Min the Reckless, toughest fighter in all the Northern Reaches. This is nothing.”
“Of course it is.” Krakka answers her very gently, but gives me a knowing look while he says it. I can’t help grinning a rueful little half-smile seeing it, and it manages to fight off a little of the melancholy.
“Yeah, well just listen to Krakka. He knows what he’s talking about.” I take a step away now, pointing down at her. “I mean it, that’s it for you for now. I’m taking the lead from here on. Do as you’re told.”
That has her frowning deeper, but she don’t say anything, so I guess she’s relenting. Not that she’s got much choice right now, given she’s pretty out of it. So I turn away and cast about for a moment, a little lost for what to do now. Then I see Lady Naru crouching down beside Yeslee on the other side of the rom, and remember what happened in the middle of the fight. Shit …
Taking a deep breath, I walk over, moving slower and more wary now, as if scared I might not be entirely welcome right now. I got no reason to think that, no matter how she might act around me a lot o’ the time Yeslee’s my friend, I know she cares about me as much as I do her, and I’m worried about her right now. But that was my old friend who damn near killed her, or whatever it was he did, so I wouldn’t really blame her if she did give me a little projected grief for it too.
I don’t really get a good look at how bad she got hurt until I’m close, stepping round behind Lady Naru to find the Fir Bolg sat up with her back propped against the wall, her legs splayed while her hands are limp in her lap. There’s a whole lot of blood on her chest, but after a moment looking I see there’s no actual wounds there at least, finally working out it must’ve just come from an even worse nosebleed than the one Shay’s just now getting over. Ain’t just her nose, either, there’s plenty more caked and crusting on her lips and chin like she just coughed it up, and even thinner tracks running down from the corners of her eyes, and her ears. Her head’s lolling a bit, but as I approach she at least makes an effort to raise it enough to watch me, and I can see now just how badly bloodshot her eyes are. She’s paler than I ever seen her before, and there’s a waxiness to her skin I really don’t like. Fuck, she’s hurt real bad. If he wasn’t so busy already I’d be tempted to tell Krakka to break off from what he’s doing to give her a boost.
“Shit …” I barely breathe as I stop a little short of ‘em, reaching up to anxiously brush my paws up and back through my mane, too late remembering how filthy they still are right now with my dead friend’s blood.
“That bad … is it?” Yeslee manages to grunt out, almost more of a coughing splutter than any real speech.
Honestly, I’m sorely tempted to lie, but I can’t find the words to do it. In the end I just nibble on my lip for a beat, looking to Lady Naru, who’s looking a deal more anxious than I’m used to with her, and have to sigh deep before finally just answering honestly. “It ain’t good. Between you, an’ Shay, and …”
Oh … shit … now I remember. Fuck … I get real cold now. In the heat o’ the moment, and then everything after, I completely forgot about what happened to Brung. I immediately take a step back, unable to help the grimace crossing my face now as I start heading for the doorway and the stairs. “Shit … I’m sorry.” I turn to Lady Naru. “Can you … um … just keep an eye on her, and Shay, and … I dunno, maybe they need to go back to the temple?”
She’s just frowning deeper than ever as she watches me back up now. “Well yes, of course, that would surely be best, but I don’t understand. What –”
“That’s great. Please, do that. I gotta go, deal with the rest o’ this mess …” I turn away in a rush and almost trip over my feet in my haste to start hustling my way back downstairs. I’m already hating myself for completely blanking on that little detail, I was so caught up in feeling sorry for myself, and then worrying about my friends …
I’m most o’ the way down when I hear someone calling out behind me, asking me to wait up, and I almost just ignore them, I’m committed to my path now. But when I recognise the voice it slows me, so I stop a step or two short of the bottom, just before the turn, looking back up even though I’m still tense and worked up.
Zuldrad’s following me down, but while he’s usually as agile as me he’s descending at a much more careful, sedate pace this time, clearly mindful of his still fuzzy head. “Thanks.” he breathes when he sees me waiting, but it’s through somewhat gritted teeth.
“For Thorin’s sake … Zul, what are you doing? Just … sit down or something. Go back up, I dunno … go see Krakka. Get your head seen to.”
“Bugger that. I had worse’n this before an’ just shook it off.” He still grunts as he quickens his pace a little, but keeps stepping with care to join me. “You need help. Your friend needs help. So I’m sticking with you.”
“After what … what just happened, I don’t …” I falter, and he frowns a little deeper as he looks me over. He’s a step up from me so we’re essentially the same height right now, so he can look me direct in the face.
Reaching out, he lays his hand on my shoulder and gives it a fond squeeze. “Gran’s dead, sure, but you didn’t have a choice. Soon as we found out it was him we knew it was prob’ly gonna end like this. I’m just sorry it had to be you. But it means I gotta watch your back a little closer. Rattled or not.”
Not quite sure what to say to that, I just look him over instead, taking a deep breath as I do. He may still seem a little shaky, but his eyes are clear enough now I’m looking, and his grip feels firm enough. So I let the breath out in a low sigh and nod. “Shit … okay. Sure. Glad to have you, mate. Just like old times.”
Grinning a little rueful, he just reaches out with the other hand now and pulls me into a hug. I don’t resist him for a second, likely I need it right now. So I just give in for a few moments, letting my cheek settling into his shoulder, and maybe I purr a little as he gives my back a gentle rub. Then when I finally start to push him off again he lets me go quick enough.
“So what are we doing, then?” he asks as he steps down after me while I turn and start round the corner to take the last few steps onto the ground floor.
“Gotta find Brung. After Gran chucked him out the window –”
“Alive.” comes the low, raspy little growl alarmingly close by and I almost stumble on the spot when I look down to find the goblin in question stood right in front o’ me, staring up with that same unflinchingly baleful yellow glare. He’s dusty but, from the look of it, otherwise largely unscathed, I don’t even see any more blood on him that I would’ve expected from before while he was still in the fight, drawn from others. “Not happy about treatment, mind. Fucking orc. Want him dead.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Zul sighs behind me as he starts to step round. “Wish granted, I guess. Art finished the job for you started.”
Brung’s bright eyes flicker back to me in an instant, and once again his unblinking attention is almost enough to make my skin crawl. I like the goblin, I can’t help it, his unerring loyalty is one o’ the most admirable virtues I ever seen, but he still creeps me out sometimes. “Killed him? You?”
“Uh … yeah.” I have to fight the urge to grimace as I start to get uncomfortable with the reminder. “Shay already got the ball rolling cutting his hand off, but … yeah. I finished him off.”
“She all right?” he asks, matter-of-fact as everything else. If he’s genuinely concerned it don’t look any different. He’s a lot like Big Man in that.
“Took a hit, but she’s shaking it off. Krakka’s helping. Yes got hurt too, but he’ll get to her soon as. They’re both headed back to the temple, anyway.”
“Smart.” He doesn’t elaborate, and it don’t surprise me any.
Nodding, I take a breath and look round the room, taking in the fifteen or so survivors who are all conspicuously staying in their seats. Some of ‘em are watching us now, but others are taking great care to keep their heads down and watch the floor instead. Not wanting to catch any undue attention. Dumoli’s planted himself on a chair too, sitting forward as he leans into the shaft of his downturned hammer, but he’s watching me, wary, but in a different way. Likely he just overheard what I had to do and is processing what that actually means.
Driver 8 ain’t moved since we went up, still crouched low just inside the archway into the other room, but I’m sure he’s looking my way too now, in his own unique way. Meanwhile he’s undoubtedly the main reason none o’ this lot have dared move since.
Well, now that shit’s done with … I take another breath and hold it as I drop off the last step and step past Brung, looking these folk over with a more critical eye now. Mindful that while some of ‘em likely do work for Jammund, there’ll be others who were just patrons, and therefore mere bystanders in this. Innocent or not, I don’t feel great about keeping them here, but until we know who’s who …
Thing is, we only really need one or two, three at most. Preferably those who actually know what’s going on in Jammund’s operation, beyond just the usual muscle shit. So as I move across the floor I look each one over closely, taking in not only their general appearance, but also their demeanour, their mood. Most of all, their eye-contact, or conspicuous lack of it.
Finally I turn to look at Driver 8 for a moment, knowing he’ll be regarding me directly too. This time I take a moment to give my paws a little wipe across the front of my leathers before reaching up to brush ‘em back through my mane, taking another breath as I turn away again and scan the room one more time. “Okay … Big Man, you with me?”
“Of course, Art. What do you require?”
“Any o’ this lot still armed?” I take note of the handful I’m actually watching while I say this, and I see one in particular look up at this, frowning a little. An older woman, human, a little portly but looking like it’s as much muscle as fat, and there’s a particularly weathered edge to her features, like she’s spent significant time at sea. Sat down like she is, I can’t tell how tall she is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s close to Kesla’s size. Her features are strong, not exactly conventionally attractive but striking still, her jaw heavy and her nose hooked, while her eyes are deep set. There’s a fierce intelligence to ‘em as she looks me over, a particularly striking blue-green, like the sea itself. She’s got her greying sandy-coloured hair bound into a short plait hanging over her shoulder, and she’s dressed as much like an old sailor as any o’ the others I marked as most likely Jammund’s folk.
“Three. Two of them have a knife each still hidden in their boots. The one you are regarding now, however, seems to have two stilettos secreted in her bracers. I believe it is of a fashion with a prowler like yourself.”
Looking a little closer now, I take note of the now empty scabbard hanging from her belt, most likely for the somewhat worn but well-made longsword close to my feet. Another for a substantial knife I can’t find in the mix of discarded weapons lying on the floor amongst the bodies. Now I’m looking I can see most o’ the scars she wears on her face and neck are clearly from fighting rather’n just a perilous seafaring life. Oh yeah, this one’s definitely a merc rather’n just a regular merchantman like some o’ this lot must be.
Letting a thin hunter’s smile touch my lips, I keep my eyes on her as I take a step back. “Point the other two out for me, would you?”
Very slowly, likely because he’s as much mindful of the amount of room he’s actually got to work with as all the people still in here with him, I hear Driver 8 start to move forward behind me, taking great care as he approaches. I hold my ground as I feel him getting real close to my back, likely moving almost entirely on all-fours like the ogre he’s modelled after, and when I just see his right hand thump down on the floor right beside me through the corner of my eye I have to fight the urge to jump. Then I see his other arm hover right over my head, swinging quickly to the left as he extends his finger to point towards the cluster closest to Dumoli. “That one.”
The first one he indicates is a skinny, weaselly human male who’s already turning to regard me with a sharp, narrowed eye. Just the one, I quickly notice, since the other one’s almost carved right out of his head by a particularly nasty puckered scar that’s mars almost half of his face, nothing but an empty socket left behind. His hair’s greasy and lanky where it falls down the back of his neck, while it’s real thin on top, and the rest of his narrow, sallow face is scruffy with salt-and-pepper stubble. He’s dressed in casual leathers and a shabby, stained old shirt like the other one, but aside from the empty scabbard at his hip I don’t see anything else that might indicate he’s armed. Except maybe his twitchy hands, working restlessly in his lap as he eyes me with open hostility.
“And that one.” Now Big Man points out one o’ the ones in front of the broken windows, definitely the youngest of the group, a half-orc male who’s nursing his shoulder while there’s a big gash just starting to scab over on his forehead. He’s sat back in the corner on one o’ the benches, looking like he’s propped up mostly cuz he’s having trouble staying awake now, and he don’t look very dangerous now I’m checking him over. But I could be mistaken …
“Right …” I mutter under my breath, stepping forward again as I cast one more glance about the room, taking in the rest. Honestly, three prisoners are probably enough to work with, and the two older ones definitely look promising. “Yeah, all right … the rest o’ you can clear out, then. Just get lost. We don’t need to detain you anymore.”
Some of ‘em just look at each other, muttering amongst themselves as they consider what I’m saying, like they’re unconvinced I really mean it, but others are already scrambling up and heading my way, making for the exit now Driver 8’s made a little space. “Not you three, though.” I add as the woman sits forward now like she intends to get up too, and she settles back while giving me a harsh glare.
Then the ratty man plants his hands on the tabletop in front of him and starts to push himself up too as he mutters: “Fuck this. I’m off too. You got no right to –”
Making sure I make it seem as casually offhanded as possible, I flick one of my special knives from its sheath and toss it at him, and he freezes on the spot, his words choking off with a shocked squeak as it thumps home. Digging itself a good two inches into the wood of the table, barely a hair’s breadth short of cutting the webbing between two of his fingers. Then, to make my point more final, I concentrate on the knife and think about pulling it back, and it don’t stick for a second as it plucks itself free and whistles back into my hand smarter’n a cracking whip. I catch it and have it sheathed again in a single, fluid gesture, and after another beat I’ve folded my arms again as I give him a sharp look.
He don’t say a word, just sits down again and slumps back against the wall on his bench, now very much avoiding further eye contact. Looking pale as a dead fish.
I turn back to the woman now as the rest o’ the room empties out, leaving just the three of ‘em in here with the rest of us. Finally Big Man moves away from behind me, instead shunting one o’ the tables aside so he can settle down into another crouch right by the windows, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he bends forward. Now I see Krakka starting to emerge from the bottom of the stairs, moving like he’s plodding on heavy feet now, I notice, lugging his hammer like it’s a burden again, which makes me uncomfortable to see. I guess they’re all done up there with whatever’s left, likely Lady Naru’s already whisked Shay and Yes back to the temple for help. I’m a moment longer realising he’s also toting my sword and knife too, gripped together in his other hand.
“She coming back?” I ask him now as he approaches, looking over the three who’ve remained, seeming to pay particular attention to the wounded half-orc. Much like I would’ve expected him to.
“Momentarily, yes.” he nods back now, seeming to catch my drift quick enough, then he hands my weapons back. “I thought you might want these back. I take it these are … Jammund’s people?”
“Reckon it’s a safe guess, yeah.” I turn back to the woman again as I give the knife two quick swipes across my thigh to clean the blade enough I can sheathe it again, then start fishing about in the pouch for one of my spare rags. “I’d be much obliged if you could just confirm that little fact for me.”
She looks right back at me for a long beat, licking her lips with a deep frown before turning to inspect the rest of our group. Her attention particularly lingers on Dumoli, I notice. “Ain’t much point in denying it now, is there?” she rasps in a voice like grinding glass “Be all you get outta me, mind.”
“Oh, I dunno about that.” I start wiping my sword’s blade with the rag, being mindful that I keep my steel real sharp, but keeping my eyes fixed on hers while I do it, and I make my smile as menacing as possible. “There’s plenty o’ ways that can change, I’m sure.”
With a puff o’ displaced air, Lady Naru’s suddenly right there in the middle of the room, just three feet to my left. I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d been expecting it, sometimes life just hands you these little gems. Certainly the woman’s eyes shoot to her before returning to me, and she looks more uneasy now. The implication of both my drawn sword and the return of one of our remaining mages clearly sinking in now to add weight to my words. This time when she licks her lips it’s a much more nervous gesture.
“Shit …” she hisses under her breath, sagging the rest o’ the way into her own chair, and I start to feel a little better about this whole mess. Might be we finally got a chance at getting Gael back again ...