When Kesla outlined the opening move in the plan, I thought she was making a somewhat off-colour joke, because it was just too ridiculous to be a real idea. I laughed out loud, I couldn’t help it, it was actually funny, and I wasn’t the only one. Art chuckled along with me, and even Tulen managed something like an amused smile, which I’ll admit was nice to see. Others just looked surprised, even dubious, especially Krakka. She just looked right back at me, completely serious.

No. She genuinely meant it. It left the rest of us kind of stumped for a minute or so, genuinely going over whether or not it would actually work. I mean sure, it had the benefit of being unexpected, and it would certainly cause the right kind of chaos, but it’s also ridiculously dangerous. I mean, the Late Bone is built on a dock. There’s water under the boards and foundations. Deep water. Well, sort of deep, anyway. Enough for ships to moor, at least.

But she meant it, and once we went over it a few times, it became clear that, risky move as it might be, there are benefits enough to just about balance the big risk. If it works. Even now, as we’re actually doing it, I’m very much hedging my bets …

Driver 8 hits the front of the building at full speed after charging from the very edge of the dock, just short of the water itself, on all fours. He turns around at the last moment, so he can plough through backwards, skidding on his heels with his head down and shoulders hunched, and I swear, it’s like the ground floor took a direct hit from a trebuchet. The whole dock shakes like an earthquake just hit, or maybe a ship’s run aground, and the entire tavern is instantly lost from view in a great cloud of dust and raining, shattered wood and masonry as the entrance implodes. It’s a spectacular sight, and I skid to a stop seeing it happen, I’m too awed by what I just witnessed to keep charging after him.

“Hey!” Art skids to a halt too, turning to face me as he regains his balance, arms out with sword and knife held wide and tail curled out high to maintain it. “Shay! You good?”

“Oh!” I feel my face warming a little as I snap back to my senses, but given the exertion and excitement of the moment I doubt it shows. “Yes, of course. That was just … I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this. Not like that, anyway.”

“Well we are, clearly.” Dumoli comes thumping past with his hammer gripped in both hands in front of him, barely slowing enough to communicate. “We’re committed now! Best just to go with it!”

“He’s right, o’ course.” Art starts to back up in the same direction, arms still held wide with weapons pointing in either direction. “C’mon, fight won’t wait for you.”

He’s turned and gone before I can respond, and I just start running again, gripping my still sheathed sword at my side as I go, wanting to wait to draw until I really am committed. The golem might just have ended the fight before it even started with that display.

Art and Dumoli are already in ahead of me as I arrive, disappearing into the cloying haze of dust, and I almost hesitate again before entering that, wary given how likely it is to deaden visibility for both friend and foe. But then Zuldrad whips past me without stopping and I quit thinking about it, taking a breath before powering right into it, and now I draw.

The place is alive with noise and blurred movement, bodies shifting around me as anyone who wasn’t knocked down or even, probably, just turned into a wet smear by Driver 8’s entrance starts bolting in obvious fear and confusion. I keep my eyes narrowed as I go, slowing down now as I become mindful that the floor under me is suddenly a good deal more uneven, and finally just stop on the spot, taking a moment to evaluate my surroundings, at least as much as I can. Crap … maybe going in like this wasn’t such a good idea.

Then a shape blunders out of the gloomy haze right in front of me, and I almost attack before I even see what it is. But I check myself at the last, at least enough to get the best look I can as I tense, tightening low as I bring my blade back and ready … and when I see a young half-orc male with a bruised face and broken nose stumbling, coughing towards me with empty hands I almost feel bad about how vulnerable he is. So I don’t run him through like I initially planned, and instead turn my arm at the last on the stroke as he essentially just jogs right into it. The pommel of Ashsong’s sword catches him hard in his jaw and his feet skid out from under him as he spits blood and broken teeth, flipping backward in mid-air as I follow through so he crashes down on his upper back with a great winded grunt, and doesn’t move again after. I’m already moving on.

Then I hear a great crack behind me that has far too much force in it to simply be Lady Naru bringing her staff down to strike the boards under her feet, so when a great blast of air whips past me I just tense up, brining my arm up across my face at the last. At least it keeps me from getting blinded as all the dust in the air is instantly blasted out in all directions, but then suddenly it’s clear again and as I bring my arm down again suddenly I can see the chaos perfectly.

Fuck … Big Man didn’t even slow down coming through, he just slid right on through and ended up right in the bar. He’s on his arse now, or whatever he actually has that passes for one, he might even be wedged in the back wall now, while he’s partially buried in the debris of smashed stone and shattered wood from his passage. That’s not stopping him from laying about with his hands though, and I suspect he started doing damage the moment he finally came to a rest, obviously not having to actually worry about being able to see in the dust. As I take stock I see him reach out with one of his massive hands and plough a burly, balding middle-aged sailor-type into the floor with an unpleasantly wet crunch. I look away as my stomach turns, again a little startled by just how fucking dangerous he actually is.

But there are others in here beside that unlucky bastard, living ones who weren’t unlucky enough to get run down by however many tons of careening golem. I see Dumoli take the legs out from under one with a wild swing of his hammer, and the poor bugger drops face-first to the floor without even getting a chance to bring his arms up to cushion his fall. Art, meanwhile, deftly sidesteps the desperate sword-stroke of one of the more alert thugs, dealing a particularly cruel underhand slash with my former sword while deflecting his friend’s awkward jab with his offhand knife. Skipping aside, he throws his new opponent off-balance as he entirely fails to react in time and follows through with three alarmingly quick and precise jabs to his chest, dancing away before he’s even started to drop.

Seeing Zuldrad’s already making his own presence felt in here too, I instead move on through the open doorway in the middle of the wall into the other room, where Lady Naru’s already gone ahead. I hear more sounds of surprise and shock, as well as the whoosh of metal and hefty hits landing, knowing even before I see her fighting that she’s lashing about with her staff, and as I watch she mutters something under her breath and one swing lands particularly hard. Much harder than her more willowy frame has any right to as it lends strength to the strike, the very air seeming to flash under the impact as she takes three of her would-be attackers down in one go. But there are plenty more in here besides, and while some are too startled to react just yet, still reeling from the surprise of our initial overwhelming entrance, others are already shaking off their shock. So I go to work with more earnestness.

When the first one comes with his sword already drawn, I give up trying to play nice, stepping into a ready stance and taking a low, two-handed grip on my sword as I set my jaw. This one looks like one of the younger ones, another half-orc, but I get the impression he’s one of the place’s resident security, a good deal steadier on his feet than some of the others around us, even so early in the day. He barely bothers to read me as he comes, instead just rushing me hard with his sword brandished high, letting out a throaty war cry that I’m sure is intended to be intimidating, but having grown up in much fiercer company the effect’s lost on me.

So as he brings his sword down, intended to cut me down with a heavy sweeping chop, I simply sidestep and bring Ashsong’s sword up and around as I move, fully extending through the stroke as I complete my motion so it ends up held straight out in front of me. Barely any blood on it at all, I see, but he’s already collapsing as it takes a moment to really start to gush, already limp as he doesn’t quite come apart since I didn’t fully cleave him in two but just powered hard through the centre of his chest and out the other side. He hits with a heavy, wet thud and doesn’t move, and the two who were coming fast behind him are already faltering seeing how deftly I just annihilated their friend.

Taking a slow step back to straighten up, I cock my head in a quizzical way at them both as they start to rethink their strategy, keeping my face cool and calm, and this seems to shake them both a little more as they give each other a wary look. Then one just frowns and rolls his eyes my way, the other scowling in response, before finally giving an angry nod as he lets out a frustrated sigh … and after turning back they wait a beat before both attacking at once.

Well, I have to admire their guts, and it’s smart enough thinking given they’ve both clearly worked out they’re facing a skilled opponent. So I tighten up and let go with my left hand as I take two big steps back as they advance, already slipping one of my longest knives free while preparing to meet them both … and then feint hard to the right before ducking low left and, instead of attacking I just throw myself forward into a low roll right under the feet of the one coming in on that side.

He doesn’t even have a chance to stop himself as I take his legs right out from under him, and as I find my feet on the other side I’m already spinning round before I even think about springing up again. The other one’s only now recovering from stumbling badly from his own overextension after falling for my feint, barely sidestepping in time to keep from getting barrelled down too as his friend goes tumbling, and I’m already bolting in low towards him.

At least he still has enough wit to back-peddle until he can get his shit together, but even then he barely gets his shortsword up in time to just knock aside the quick lunge I make with my sword for his gut. Except I’m already twisting in response, and before he can bring the handaxe in his other hand round to chop into me I’m already shoving my knife in where I’d originally aimed my sword. He’s a little shorter than me and no larger either, so he folds over the stab, my blade puncturing the wind right out of his diaphragm as I jam it in up to the hilt before giving a little twist, not intended to be cruel but just so I can yank it free without fuss. Then I let him drop as I sidestep, already seeing his friend’s starting to recover now.

This one’s bigger, heavier but still built agile enough to give me pause, and as he turns round he spots me coming fast and springs back accordingly, similarly quick on the uptake as he realises my imminent threat. I stop where I am, tightening up into a close defensive crouch, keeping my knife close to me while I hold the sword low but ready, idly weaving it back and forth between us with the ponderous steadiness of one of those fancy ticking clocks rich folk love so much. He looks down at it now, brows furrowing deep as he watches my blade, and when he looks up again he’s even more wary. Rethinking, and I wouldn’t blame him if he just decided to run this time.

He's an older one, too, human I realise now as I finally start to properly take him in, and while he’s a bit soft in the gut the way he holds himself is telling enough that he knows how to handle himself. The longsword in his hand’s clearly seen a lot of use, but it’s been well looked after, and I see him he cautiously tilt enough to reach into his left boot, slipping a knife free for his offhand. Yeah, this one’s a seasoned fighter all right.

All right, so I’ll play it smart. As the chaos spreads around me and Lady Naru’s swinging her staff while the rest of them are either scattering or getting mown down with either magic or just pure violence, I take a few cautious steps to the side and start to circle him, and he shifts carefully in answer. Still wary of my sword as I continue to play it back and forth, keeping my expression closed while I keep my eyes locked on his, watching for that early clue to any intention he might have.

Then the whole place shakes again as there’s another crunch from the other room before the sound of more scattering, smashing debris, and solid footfalls now to tell me that Big Man’s on his feet again and swinging with greater efficiency. My opponent twitches, a little startled by the sound, and there’s that single beat where he’s momentarily distracted enough for me to see an opening, which I take. I duck in fast and pull another feint to the left, intended to bait him as he catches the movement and realises his mistake, hopefully catching him out with another ruse as I then snap suddenly to the right again …

But he’s more on the ball than I thought he’d be, recovering before I can catch him in the side and instead twisting his offhand quick enough to hook my sword aside, and I draw back fast, not willing to give him a fresh opening to respond in kind. Instead I whip a striking cut under with my knife aiming square for that wrist and he barely pulls back in time himself that I just graze him instead of laying his arm right open, so he keeps his blade, but as he pulls back his eyes are wide. Lesson learned, clearly.

Giving my knife a little shake now to flick away the excess of blood it’s already wearing from the previous kill, I start to crab back the other way, no longer weaving my sword as I shift my stance to bring my own offhand down between us instead. Shifting the sword behind me now, I take one more sidelong step and then dance back the other way with sudden, intentionally startling speed, and he has to scramble to respond as I spin quick on my heels and twirl in close on his side. Swinging the sword as I come, I come close to catching him in the shoulder as he clumsily wheels away from the strike, barely bringing his sword up in time to batter it away, and now he’s unbalanced again and I plant my own feet firmly as I prepare my own responding spring.

He tries to ward me away with a wild haymaker as he fights to find his feet again, but I’m already tumbling past the stroke in a controlled roll, bringing my sword round as I come up on the other side to drive it hard up from right under his defences now. He doesn’t have a chance to defend himself and, like the rest of these poor bastards, he’s not wearing a scrap of armour, so I lay him right open from his hip to the corresponding shoulder. For a long moment he just sways in front of me as I finish the stroke and then draw back fast, giving the sword a hard flourish out to the side to whip the blade clean, then he finally realises I just killed him and starts to collapse. I take one last step back as he topples forward, and he just lands hard face first, blades clattering across the floorboards as they slip from his slack fingers, and he doesn’t stir again after.

The other one’s still twitching on the floor nearby, I notice, but there’s an unnervingly large pool of blood spreading out from under him and his spasms are growing visibly weaker, clearly he’s not got much time left as he wheezes his life away. Honestly, I’m not feeling that good about any of the kills I’ve made here, but now I’ve actually got a moment to think about it I realise this one in particular is going to stay with me …

Glass smashes behind me and I snap out of my grim reverie, turning to see some of the remaining clientele are trying to circumnavigate the main exit by smashing open the windows. It’s proving trickier than they’d like, it looks like, since they’re small panes laid between wood and lead and all they have is chairs to try and batter their way through, but two of the bigger ones are still giving it a go while others are clustering around them. Desperate for their own escape in the face of what’s going on around them. Honestly, I don’t blame them, I’ve seen what the golem’s capable of and that entrance was probably the most terrifying thing any of these people have seen in their lives.

Taking a few steps that way, I hold my arms out wide with my blades cocked and stomp my foot hard down twice to get a little attention. “Hey! Are you trying to get away? We’ve got business here, still.”

From the look of it, only a few of them are actually security like the others, so I’m mindful to just let the rest go, but we’re not about that here, anyone who doesn’t actively try to kill me could still be sympathetic to Jammund and his friends. We need live captives to question, in case we come up empty on leads here. So I take another step their way and whip my sword up at a scared woman in battered overalls, pointing it right at her face as I draw closer still, and she scrambles back, finally tripping and tumbling back into a chair that leaves her leaning back against the wall. If she even tries to move now she’ll just end up flat on her back still in the chair.

“Thank you!” I whip the sword aside now and two more of them jump back, similarly alarmed, one already following the woman’s example to plant herself, while the other does the same as soon as I motion for him to do it too. Then I turn to the only two still trying to batter their way through the windows and plant my sword blade against the cheek of the one on my right while waving my knife in front of his companion when he wheels about in response.

“Ah … ah-ah-ah … that’ll do, lads. None of that, please. Just sit down, if you would.”

The second one just does as directed, lowering the chair in his hands to the floor and planting himself in it with exaggerated slowness, but the one I’m holding in place with my sword is wisely staying very still right now. He’s watching me closely through the corner of his wide eyes, and there’s a lot of sweat dripping down his face now, so I give him a sharp glare for a few beats before carefully removing the point from his cheek and then waving the sword aside again. I take a slow step back but swing the blade right back between us after as he starts to turn towards me, holding the chair close in front of him now like he’s planning on using it like a shield. So I give it a little tap with the sword and then nod at the floor, and after a particularly pregnant beat he seems to get the message, setting it down with particularly exaggerated care before planting himself in it next to his companion.

“That’s better.” I turn enough to take in the rest. “All right, who’s armed?”

After a long pause, the two big ones raise their hands, the one I chastised particularly slow about it, and I give him a sharp look seeing it. He’s scowling now, and I’ll admit I’ve a mind to give him a few shallow jabs in his thigh just to make him more compliant, but I stop myself. Not now, Shay. You don’t do that kind of thing anymore. Instead I just wave the sword at him again. “Take everything out, then. Both of you. Very slowly.”

For a moment they just look at each other, and I suspect they might be thinking about making a move after all, so I take a step forward again, lightly tapping each on the knee with the sword to regain their attention. “Yeah, no. I wouldn’t recommend that at all. That would be really foolish. Just do as you’re told, please.”

The more troublesome one just glares at me again, but the other one starts to comply, being really careful about it as he slowly draws his sword and plucks his knife out after. So I turn to his friend and give him another very pointed look, waving my blade at the shortsword on his hip and the axe hooked into his belt on the other side.

“Please.” I cock my head as emphasis, really drilling my hard stare into him now.

For another beat he continues to frown up at me, making me think he’s just going to ignore the request out of pure spite now, but finally he reaches across and, a little more aggressively than I’d really like, reaches down for both weapons at once and plucks them free. I tense now as he starts to raise both, and make a point of letting him see me do it, and perhaps this is what finally checks him as he just holds them in front of him like his friend, giving me that hot, petulant glare. “Now what?”

“Toss them all, please.”

“Where?” the other one wonders, sounding more confused than anything else now. He starts to look about.

“Well, you both got the ball rolling, so …” I point with my sword again, this time at the hole they’ve managed to smash through the panes and mouldings. “Out the window, if you would. Just so you’re not tempted to try anything after.”

This just earns another hot glare from the uncooperative one, but his friend just sighs and turns in his seat, throwing both blades over his shoulder and through the hole. After another protracted pause the other one does the same, first with the shortsword and then the axe, before finally turning back to glare up at me once again. “Happy now?”

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“Oh yes. Ecstatic.” I take a step toward him now and kick him hard in the face, smashing him hard with my heel as he’s barged clean backwards in the chair to thump down in it with his feet up in the air. He starts howling almost immediately, both hands going to his now shattered nose as it starts gushing, and I let him just get it out for a few moments before leaning forward and prodding him in the crotch with the tip of Ashsong’s sword. Not hard enough to cut him, but easily enough to get his attention. Needless to say he shuts up instantly, bringing his hands away just enough that he can look up at me with wide, teary eyes. Ooh … looks like I knocked a few teeth out too.

“All right. Are we paying attention now?”

He doesn’t answer me, but the way he holds his hands a little higher in clear supplication is enough to keep me from jabbing his balls a little harder after all.

“Fantastic. Stay right there, please. Your long overdue cooperation is most appreciated.”

Stepping back, I look over the rest, pleased enough to see that, particularly after this last disciplinary measure, they’re all being similarly compliant. As I look her way, the one in the overalls even leans forward enough to bring her leg up and pluck a knife from inside one of her boots, then very conspicuously tosses it through the hole in the window after the rest of the weapons. The look on her face tells me she thinks I’m a fucking demon right now.

Satisfied that at least this handful won’t be any further trouble, I finally feel comfortable enough to turn my back on them so I can take the rest of the room in again, now a whole lot more aware how much quieter it’s gotten since we came in. When I look now I find that Lady Naru’s stood in the middle of the room with her staff planted on the floor in her relaxed hand, the other laid casually on the hilt of the sword she still hasn’t had cause to draw yet, looking around at her own handiwork. There are several battered bodies lying around her, most of them still twitching or rocking back and forth enough to let me know they’re still alive even if some of them weren’t groaning in obvious dazed discomfort, but one or two look like they might be dead too. She clearly wasn’t holding back.

There are another half dozen patrons sitting in similar cowed silence against the walls, some watching her very carefully with similar startled wariness to my own prisoners, while others are just nursing more modest bruises of their own. She turns my way now, almost like she’s just sensed my attention, and gives me a little half smile that seems more than a little self-satisfied as she notes my admiration of her prowess. “Is that it, do you suppose?” she wonders after a moment.

“Thorin, I hope so.” I mostly just breathe it, stepping forward now so I can take a more purposeful look around the room. I see the hearth stood at the back, unlit for now, and there’s another particularly battered looking half-orc lying stunned with his head right in the middle of it, who likely would’ve woken right up again once he started burning if it had been lit. There’s a passage just to the left of it, I see, wide enough to let three people step through abreast, and there are stairs turning up to the side to climb up beyond. The second floor. Where Yeslee and Brung should have gone, according to the plan. Jumping in through one of the upstairs windows from their position on the roof when Driver 8 made his big loud entrance.

“You two all right in here, then?” I hear Art call out before I turn back, seeing him stepping into the room from the main one now, Dumoli already following him with his hammer laid across his shoulder, looking almost jovial now. As if he’s pleased to have finally been involved in an actual fight again instead of just getting battered or worse.

“Well enough, all things considered.” I respond, taking a moment to stick Ashsong’s sword into the floor before giving my knife a last little shake, then crouch down next to one of the bodies at my feet. The last one I cut down, I realise. Damn it … taking a rather regretful breath, I reach out and grab a bit of the back of his jerkin, using it to wipe the blade clean before slipping the knife back into its sheath. Then I pluck the sword free and, after a moment to decide if I really want to, check the strangely crystalline blade over.

Just as I expected, the blood that did catch on it in the sheer speed of my blows is already disappearing, the enchantment in the steel again hungrily drinking it in to strengthen itself. I can’t keep from shuddering seeing it, letting a low hiss out through my clenched teeth as I step towards the bakaneko now and muttering: “Fucking vampire sword.” under my breath.

Art looks up as I take care sheathing the sword again, which still feels a little counter-intuitive given how hard da always drummed it into me to never put a bloody sword back in its scabbard for fear of it sticking. “You all right?”

I’m a moment answering him, mindful he must be picking up on my grim mood, and I’m really not sure how to respond, really. I’ll admit when this all started I was itching for a real, stand-up fight again, against living, normal adversaries, instead of that nightmare we faced last night, but … now it’s done it doesn’t sit well with me. As I turn to take a quick look over the handful I managed to take prisoner, I feel something like shame stirring in me. It’s … honestly, I don’t like how easy it felt to slip back into old habits when I had to harangue and intimidate them into obedience. It felt a little too much like the old days, working the bandit trade with my mother.

“This better be worth our time.” I finally growl, looking down at the poor bastard I left bleeding out on the floor. Conspicuously still now, I notice.

“I couldn’t say.” he sighs, what good humour he had when he came in fading fast in the face of my much darker mood. “Just gotta hope, right? Remember who we’re doing this for.”

Nodding, I let out a weary sigh. He’s right, of course. Remember Gael, just help our friend. That’s all that matters here, right now.

Krakka steps in with Zuldrad close behind, almost seeming like he’s shadowing our cleric right now, which is an interesting idea. It’s almost like he’s taking what I said to him earlier especially to heart, when I asked him to keep an eye on the tengu while we were at this. He’s steady enough on his feet now, but … honestly, he still seems to look uncomfortable all the time now, like moving’s still difficult, as if his joints are stiff and his head’s sore. Like he’s feeling his age even more now.

I mean it’s not hard to pick up on as he enters, glaring all around with a particularly dark frown on his face, and he hasn’t shouldered his hammer like usual, instead just lugging it about one-handed like a piece of particularly cumbersome luggage. Like it’s an actual burden, which I’m starting to learn is never a good sign. Bloodmoon is his most personal symbol of his connection to his goddess, and despite its obvious substantial heft he’s normally able to wield it as if it was no heavier than a weapon far smaller and more wieldy. I worry he’s still feeling the after-effects of his overexertion from last night, which would mean he’s having a much tougher time recovering.

Our eyes meet after a moment, and at least he manages to hold my gaze, but I think he can tell what I’m thinking, how worried I am about him. So he looks away first, instead hefting Bloodmoon so he can let it settle beside him, head down with the shaft sticking up like he prefers, and he does it with a noticeably winded grunt he really can’t hide.

When I back turn to Art I realise he’s been watching me, like he’s picked up on my regard too, and he winces a little, letting me know he’s worried too. Great …

“So how about upstairs?” Zuldrad wonders after a moment, sounding a bit like he just wants to get us thinking about something else. “D’you reckon they’re good?”

“Well it’s a good deal quieter up there than I’d imagine if there was trouble.” Art ventures, looking up at the ceiling now, and I follow his gaze. “Besides, Yeslee’s tough as Kesla, she could prob’ly take a roomful all on her own. Brung’s almost overkill for this.”

“I hope so.” I mutter, more to myself, as I notice all the light coming through the arched doorway between these two rooms is almost immediately blotted out as Driver 8 crouches down just on the other side so he can look through at us. Likely judging whether or not he can actually fit through. Probably sideways, it seems about wide enough.

He shifts subtly now, and I wonder if he might be looking up too, I really can’t tell given the fact that he can’t actually turn his head, it seems more like a careful shift of his shoulders. Then there’s a great heavy thump from above, followed by a lot of similarly loud crashing, and suddenly I hear several people starting to shout out at once, some genuinely screaming in very obvious fear and alarm. Oh, that can’t be god …

“What the fuck is that?” Art’s already starting to shift warily towards the stairs, looking up like everyone else in this room, and he’s gripping his blades tight.

“There is an orc upstairs.” Big Man rumbles now, matter-of-fact as always, but even so he’s starling to work his way as carefully as he can through the doorway. “An extremely large one. He is being very aggressive indeed.”

“Shit …” Art’s eyes instantly snap to mine, and I feel a cold chill run right through me. Damn it, I’d all but forgotten about that not-so-little snag. “Of course he is.”

“Fuck!” the bakaneko doesn’t wait for permission as he just rushes straight for the stairs and starts climbing at speed. I’m already starting that way myself when I see someone else topple into view down the stairs behind him, and it takes me a moment to realise they must’ve been shoved aside in his hurry to get up there. Two more emerge quickly after as this one picks himself up and staggers for a few feet before collapsing by the hearth with his chest heaving heavily, and one of them takes a tumble before she reaches the bottom step too, almost bringing the other one down with her. They’re clearly panicked, their faces pale and eyes wide, like they’ve seen some terrifying monster on the rampage, and I suspect that’s not far from the truth.

Stopping where I am, I look back to see the others are coming after me too, and then I remember the prisoners. “No! Not now. I need some of you to stay here, guard them.”

Considering for a beat, I can hear the chaos still unfolding above, and there are more spilling down the stairs now, only stopping when they come face to face with the golem as he now crouches right in front of the doorway. Finally I nod to Zuldrad, then Lady Naru. “Come on. I need you two. Du, Krakka, you watch them.” I point right at Krakka as he starts to open his beak, knowing he’s about to protest, and I don’t have time. “No. I mean it. Stay with Big Man. If we do need you you’ll know soon enough.”

Before he can respond to that I’m already turning and heading for the stairs. The trickle of escapees seems to have stopped now, at least, but I’m really not sure if that’s a good sign or bad right now. I hear a great crunch close by as I start pounding up the rickety stairs, which shift and warp alarmingly under my feet as I go but at least stay intact enough for me to climb, and there’s still some shouting coming from up there too. Not so much as before, though. I take that as a bad sign.

There’s another floor above this one but it’s clear to me even before I reach the landing that this is the level I want as I see a body essentially crumble into the doorway directly across from me as I reach the top of this flight of stairs. Honestly, I really can’t identify who that used to be, they’re just a broken, bloody mangle, but … no, I don’t think it’s one of my friends. Or maybe I just hope not as I rush inside, heart in my mouth, sending up a prayer to Thorin as I clear the door that I’m not about to just run right into a hit …

… I come damn close as I enter the room, but I see the swing coming just in time to duck, throwing myself forward and not so much rolling underneath the big spiked mace as just tumbling onto my back against the wall to the side. The big metal head crunches hard into the doorframe right where I would have been and lodges there, but as I look up I realise I wasn’t the actual target, instead I just got damn near caught out by a missed backswing. I’m not even given a moment to take in the room and what’s actually going on in here before I have to throw myself aside, almost going sprawling all over again as I duck behind what’s left of a long couch.

Just as three javelin-long black arrows lodge themselves hard in the wall right by where I was. I hear a fretful hiss of: “Shit!” right after, and when I look up I can just see Yeslee ducking aside as she just casts her bow down and leaps aside herself on the other side of the room, barely missing a far more focused swing from a massive battleaxe. I’m not sure if that oath was in response to seeing how close she came to killing me or just in anticipation of nearly getting cut down herself.

Scrambling along the wall on hands and knees with my backside tucked as low as I can, I move as deep as I can into what cover there is, although really it’s little more than kindling and torn upholstery now, it’s like every piece of furniture here has been destroyed. Pretty thoroughly too, crushed, torn or carved apart by wild swings of large blades wielded by huge thick fists. And when I’m finally comfortable enough in my cover to actually look up I see whose.

My suspicion over Big Man’s earlier prediction seems to have been accurate, Granzun’s up here and he is pissed. Art and Zuldrad’s former friend is laying about with wild abandon, one hand now empty having abandoned his mace but as I watch he finally reaches up with his dominant hand and drags an axe off his back to supplement the one he’s already got. And from the look of it he’s still got plenty more steel still on him, too, hanging at his waist or on his back, or strapped to either thigh, all within easy reach of his uncannily quick hands.

I remember all too well what he was capable of when we last faced him, in the rain in that abandoned livery stable. He’s even more terrifying in the cold light of day, pouring now through the badly broken windows facing out across the docks, especially clad in his thick black leather armour, more substantially upgraded with extra pieces of substantial steel plate now, I notice. Shit … he seemed worryingly hard to kill before, now it looks like an even tougher prospect with all that.

Whoever was left up here that didn’t make it downstairs when this all kicked off is dead now, I can see there are no more survivors up here aside from Yeslee and Brung, and now Art too, each doing their best to just keep out of his way as he keeps swinging. The rest are little more than broken, cleaved chum, scattered about the room much like the furniture, no corpses left in one piece in the gigantic orc’s rage.

Now I’m looking, though … no, I don’t think rage is the right word for it. He’s angry, sure, but once I start examining his tactics I realise this is a good deal less wild and haphazard than I first thought. He’s swinging wide with these great haymakers, but they’re a good deal more precise than they might seem to a casual eye, intended to keep us at very long arm’s length and on our back feet as he opens as much space as he can around himself. And the fact that he isn’t bleeding yet, and doesn’t have any of Yeslee’s long arrows buried in him, tells me he’s moving with impressive enough speed to keep from getting hit while his three similarly swift opponents have been going at him.

As I look now I see Zuldrad finally clear the door and he immediately ducks as he throws himself to the floor, turning over what’s left of a table as he barely dodges a reactive swing from the right-hand axe. They’re typically scary blades, clearly as well made as the rest of the orc’s weaponry, obviously forged by the same Thieves Guild weaponsmiths that armed Art in the same dark, smoky steel that I’m really coming to admire. But I’m having trouble in this case, being on the wrong end of it right now. As I watch Zuldrad throws himself under Granzun’s feet as he shifts them, and as he tumbles through he’s got two knives out, intent on slashing at the orc’s ankles and maybe hamstringing him, potentially bringing him right down for the rest of us …

Except that instead his former friend’s already sidestepping, so his blades miss one leg while the other swings round with such perfect precision that it drives a hard kick into his back and sends him tumbling across the rest of the room. He hits the wall just under the broken windows with a hefty thump and I’m sure I hear something crack too, but the orc’s next move grabs my attention too well for me to check on our hobgoblin friend. Because Granzun turns his sudden turn into another swing, this one coming in much closer to the wall where Yeslee is, so when he follows through on the back of his spin he just carves his offhand axe about hard and with uncanny speed. Right for her back as she hurls herself forward too.

Fuck … a hair’s breadth quicker and he might have ended her right there, but she’s just too swift, instead tumbling out from under his axe as it tears a deep, dusty groove into the plaster and stone of the wall instead with a great shower of sparks raining down. Finally managing to unhook her hatchet as she recovers, she backs up fast towards the further wall to open some space to regroup as she breathes heavy. Not winded, just a little shook, I can tell from her unusually wide eyes.

Then something ripples through the air from the doorway and I see a great streaking glob of bright blue energy smash into the wall too, hitting hard enough the shake the place, I feel … but Granzun’s already wheeled out of the way, dancing on unbelievably deft feet as he sidesteps towards me now. As though he already knew he was being shot at and ducked out of the way of Lady Naru’s magical bolt without ever being in any danger at all. Certainly the way he still seems so calm … no, he’s still very much in control of this situation …

Damn it … I draw Ashsong’s sword now, remembering the enchantment Stormshield said had been placed in this uncanny steel, specifically designed to cleave through plate steel armour as if it was cloth. I can hurt him, I know I can. If I can just hit him.

Lady Naru’s frowning deep as she sidesteps from the doorway towards Yeslee, muttering something in clear frustration under her breath as she starts fishing in her components bag. Looking for something more effective, of course. I called her up here entirely because I knew we’d have a better chance of taking him out with a mage’s help, I just hope she finds something that’ll actually do the trick. He looks … honestly, this looks like one hard job.

Then Art steps forward, holding his blades out wide, like he wants to parley instead of fight, and plants himself conspicuously between the orc and the sorcerer. “Gran! C’mon mate! Please, just give it a rest, this is stupid. You don’t wanna fight us, you won’t win. I promise you, this won’t end well for you. Just drop the axes and quit. Please.”

For a charged moment, nobody moves or says a word, just waiting as the huge orc stays as he is, cautiously regarding the comparatively diminutive bakaneko he once called a friend. I’m just hoping it might actually work, that maybe he’s actually got through to him this time, although given our past experiences it seems unlikely.

Then Granzun flings the axe in his right hand at him, underhand so it spins at him almost entirely horizontal, aiming to cut him in half. He does it almost casually, but so suddenly that it’s entirely unexpected, so I don’t even move when it happens, it takes me so much by surprise. I’d almost expect it to kill Art on the spot, but somehow he barely catches it in time and doesn’t bother trying anything fancy, just dropping into a tight crouch with his head tucked right down at the last instant. The axe goes spinning right over the top of him, still moving so fast I’m kind of amazed I even pick up on it in the first place. And Lady Naru is right in its path now …

Now I start to move, I can’t help it. I’m not really sure what spurs me into motion, gods know I couldn’t hope to get to her in time given how far I am from her, but my body’s moving before I even start thinking about it. But it looks like Yeslee’s doing the same.

Yeah, she just reaches out and grabs hold of the sorcerer’s shoulder, digging her fingers right in as she yanks her towards her without any ceremony at all, and she must not have thought about it either because they both just go down together in a tangle. Meanwhile the axe keeps tumbling right through the space where she would’ve been before and imbeds itself deep into the wall in a great spray of shattering plaster and brick shards, finally lodging fast at a quivering angle. Then time finally seems to snap back to normal speed again, or I suppose it just does that for me, I can’t really be sure … and a whole mess of things all happen at once.

Granzun’s already turning, swinging his remaining axe over and aside so he can try to chop down into Brung as the goblin scrambles at him at an oblique angle, his shortsword cocked and ready with a particularly feral snarl baring his fangs and flaring his nostrils. Meanwhile Yeslee barely manages to arrest both her own and Lady Naru’s fall enough that they instead just flounder into the wall, managing to tangle up in each other’s arms while they both drop their weapons. Zuldrad’s managing to find his feet again, but he looks pretty shaky, almost doubled over with a clear lean to his left, and I doubt he’ll be good for much right now. Even if he wasn’t bleeding heavily from the back of his head …

And as I look towards our mutual foe I remember his other, now empty hand and see he’s plucked something from his belt … and I realise it’s not a weapon. Or at least not one I immediately recognise.

While his axe-swing misses Brung by bare inches, he’s already crushing whatever it is in his huge right hand, and it cracks before he winds up his arm and pitches the object towards Yeslee and Lady Naru. I barely get a glance at it as it arcs their way, but it looks like one of those strange, oddly glittering warlock stones, like the ones Ashsong gave to my friend Garnon and some of the others back in the mountains. Back in the time before all this … oh shit, I’m too late recognising it and making the connection, but seeing it starting to subtly glow as it hurtles towards my newer friends lends speed to my movements as I change course.

There’s nothing I can do about that, or about what it might do to my friends, so I just shout: “Watch out!” good and loud and instead head right for Granzun instead, cocking my sword as I rush him. Not looking to do anything fancy, I just want to finish this as quickly as I can.

Yeslee barely picks up on my warning in time, but she reacts as quick as I would have expected, giving Lady Naru a good hard shove to toss her away from her while she just braces where she is, still fallen back against the wall. So when this thing, whatever it is, hits the floor right in front of her all she can do is just raise her hands in front of her and wince …

It pops about the same instant I try to drive the whole length of Ashsong’s sword into his exposed side, so I almost don’t actually see what it does because I’m so intent on hitting my target. I barely manage to catch a flash and a crackling whoosh as something wild and crazy bright seems to lance out from it, haphazard enough to leave afterimages dancing in my eyes even though I’m not really looking. I’m just concentrating on my attack.

Except I shouted out to try and warn my friend like an idiot, I realise now, so he already knew I was coming and instead manages to bring his arm round in time … so I just impale that instead. The blade slips through the hard steel of his bracer like it was made of butter, slipping right out the other side of his wrist, and he pulls it back instantly as his blood spurts in my face, which is understandable, I don’t doubt it fucking hurts. The problem is I’m still holding onto my sword as it’s jammed right through his arm, and he must have close to two hundred pounds on me, so he yanks me right off my feet in the process.

For the next few moments I’m not really sure what the fuck is going on as I’m flailed about like a ragdoll while I cling to my sword with both hands as he tries to shake me off. I can hear him roaring too, though: “Bitch … oh you FUCKING CUNT!!! AAAAAARGH!!!” Then I feel my feet make contact with the floor, just for an instant, and it’s barely enough to give me some leverage so I just twist the blade and suddenly I’m free. But also entirely off balance as the momentum I’m still carrying pitches me headlong over the same bloody couch I was just hiding behind a few moments before. I just have enough presence of mind to let go of my sword so I don’t impale myself before the floor rushes up to meet me and my face smashes into it at a very high speed indeed …