Taking one last moment to check my gear over for what’s probably the fifth time, I set my jaw and take a few deep breaths. It’s been a little while since I’ve worn my half-plate, my last major fight in armour was in my da’s newly-repaired armour and I’ll admit I’m kinda missing it right now, but it would’ve just taken me too long to get into. At least this is pretty quick. I just have to slip into the simple cuirass and pauldrons and strap it all up snug, Yeslee’s helped me into this gear enough times now we got it down to less’n five minutes including the prep. Like greasing my hair again and painting the stripe over my eyes, which I reckon I’m doing more outta pure psychological need right now than anything else …

I give my fists a couple o’ test clenches, checking on my new bracers. I got these from Gael’s old mentor, Hurrig Stormshield, when we were at the Academy, he insisted I get something new for myself so I settled for these among other things. There’s nothing inherently magical about ‘em, they’re just extremely well-made, and I figured going into whatever we are it’d probably be smart. So I strapped ‘em on while Yes was adjusting the rest o’ my armour, and now, for the first time, I can see just what a fine choice they were.

The bands themselves are simple boiled leather, cinched with rawhide thongs for adjustment, but the plates now armouring the backs of my wrists and hands are proper dwarven forged steel like my sword. I can trust these as well as a shield against a sword strike, if it comes to it, although I ain’t gonna let it get that stupid if I can help it. They look the business, sure, but now I gotta admit they’re a bit over fancy compared to my battered old half-plate.

“Sure the handaxes aren’t better for this?” Yes ponders now, likely picking up on my own thoughtfulness. “We might have to move pretty fast if it’s all kicked off while we’ve been prepping.”

“Oh no.” I reach for my shoulder almost on reflex just thinking about the two larger, heavier axes I’ve now got strapped across my back, which I picked up last time we were in Merphins’ in Hocknar. They sure served me well in the Reaches when we went up against Ashsong, reckon they’ll do the same here. “Ain’t gonna fuck around this time, not like what went down the other night.”

That makes Yeslee frown, and I don’t blame her. The spectre of our last major confrontation’s still hanging heavy over all of us, I know it’s been weighing on the others as we made our various rushed preps for this fight. It wasn’t just Shay who got messed up, and even then we got off lighter’n we could’ve done. I got a bad feeling about this time, and I reckon Yes feels the same. Finally she just sighs, heavier than she usually does, and this confirms her feelings to me. “Yeah. Sure.”

Looks like that’s all I’m getting. I ponder as I watch her check her own gear one last time, as mindful of what we might be stepping into as me. I know that, being a hunter rather’n a soldier at her core, she’s got a different set of disciplines, but she’s beat some proper fierce foes in her time, and she’s seen a lot more years of it than I have, from what I been able to glean from what little she ever says about it. Gods know I seen what she’s capable of. Seeing her actually nervous is always sobering.

At my insistence she’s put on what little actual armour she’s ever actually bothered with. It’s really little more’n a simple hauberk o’ thick boiled leather laminar plates that it took me less’n two minutes to help her lace into after she’d spent longer just shrugging out of her own harnesses, but it’s tough enough to suit her for serious work. It’s scored and battered like my own half-plate, but also light and flexible too, as well as blessedly quiet, which is exactly how she likes it. Compared to my own heavier, overlapping steel plates she can move as silent as ever while being fairly confident she can shrug off anything up to a glancing hit without much trouble, and she’s always been quick enough to just avoid worse damage.

This time she’s leaving her axe and long knives behind, instead strapping on a belt with two shortswords hung from it, for just in case she finds herself facing anything up close. That being said she didn’t need to be reminded to fill up her quiver, fully replenished from the fresh stocks that Stormshield conjured up for her while we were in Bavat. I remember her being a little wary about that, him just weaving three full sheaves out of thin air using one of her own long black arrows to draw from, but after trying a couple out for herself she seemed impressed enough with the results. Certainly they served her well enough the other night.

Giving her bowstring a final testing pluck that produces a slightly musical twang, she turns to me again and, after a charged pause, simply nods. Yeah, that’s about it all right. Taking a breath for myself, I turn to regard the others.

In the end I had to downright insist Tulen’s friend Sessa ain’t coming. It ain’t that I doubt her when she says she can fight, she’s a half-orc so it’s essentially in her blood, but the look that the dragonhalf wizard’s been giving me the whole time about that has been warning enough. It’s been subtle, but it’d be clear to a blind man how much Sessa means to Tulen, I couldn’t risk her right now even if she was appropriately kitted out for this. Instead she’s been helping Tulen make her own preparations, although since she doesn’t have armour of her own it’s clearly been down to making her own wizardly preparations instead.

“You’re sure you don’t want my staff?” she presses again as she stands by, awkward again but now out of clear concern than bashfulness. Tulen shoots a quick look my way before turning back to her, stepping forward and giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I’d better not. After the other night …” Tulen sighs. “Um … honestly, it was hard. I had to think fast and move even faster, I can’t have anything potentially janky throwing me off. This is your staff, you’ve spent the last few years attuning to it specifically. I just don’t have time to earn its trust as well.”

“But you … I mean … are you just going to use your wand? What if you run into that woman again? What was her name?”

“Tavarrat.” Lady Naru says, looking up from checking through her own surprisingly substantial components satchel. “Luthan Tavarat.”

Sessa blinks at her for a beat, then nods, looking back to her lover. “Yes, that was it wasn’t it? I heard that she’s bona fide, properly Order trained like we are. Better even, in fact. More like Gael. Do you really want to go up against someone like that again without a staff?”

“But that’s just it, Gael will be there too, won’t they? For all we know they might’ve taken care of that particular problem already.” She grips the hilt of the sword strapped at her hip now. “Besides, I still have this. You remember how good I got at focusing through one of these back in combat training, right?”

Going from Sessa’s look, she still doesn’t seem all that convinced. “Well … yes.”

Tulen smiles at that, a big toothy grin. “There you go then. I put it to good use once already, I can do it again.”

Pouting now, Sessa’s worried eyes grow more searching now as she looks to me again, Yeslee too. Looking for help in convincing her otherwise, I reckon. “Maybe, but … but …” Finally she gives up, sighing deep and incredibly sad now. “Oh shit … please just promise me you’ll be careful out there.”

That seems to be enough to wipe the smile from Tulen’s face, replaced by a far more sombre, serious expression now as she nods. “I will. Of course.” She looks at her for a few moments before finally sighing again. “Yes, all right. I promise.” And then before Sessa can say a single word she just takes the final step to close the gap between them and kisses her full on the mouth. It goes on for a while, the half-orc surprised at first but responding quickly.

“All right, are we done already?” Darwyn fractures the mood after a little while, standing by with a heavy frown while Zuldrad finishes his own checks behind her. “I been good to go for a while now.”

Holding my tongue from the retort I want to throw her way, I simply take a breath and count. I’m still not entirely convinced we should be bringing her along in the first place, I ain’t sold that we can really even trust her right now. If we ever could before. This whole mess is as much on her as it is on Thel right now.

Instead I turn back to Lady Naru, who’s already watching me, I find. It’s enough of a surprise I’m a little lost for a moment, especially looking into those striking blue eyes, more like Gael’s every time I see ‘em actually. I stop short of biting my lip to get my own attention back, but I doubt she really misses that flustered moment in me. She’s too sharp, and she must be aware how ridiculously beautiful she is. “Yeah … um … my Lady, you’re clear on the plan, right?”

“Of course.” She lays her hand on the flap of her satchel, the other casually resting on the belt at her waist, from which now hangs an impressive looking longsword. To be honest I would’ve expected her to produce a staff from somewhere during her preparation but I guess she’d rather follow Tulen’s example right now. “You jump in ahead while I wait back here with Driver 8 and keep my ears open, as you put it. If Tulen or Gael calls for help I grab his arm and home in on you.”

Nodding, I turn to Big Man, who hasn’t moved the whole time since taking up his position behind her, but then he don’t really need to. He can’t go in with his weapons right now anyway, they’re still back at the hotel. “You good with that?”

“Of course.” the golem rumbles “Given the circumstances I shall come out swinging.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” I have to grin now, giving him a fond look, but it don’t last as I turn back to the others. They’re all too serious now, much as I’m still feeling. The anticipation’s getting to ‘em same as me. “All right then, better get on with it.”

Before Tulen can step away Sessa reaches up and grips her face with both her hands, pulling her in for one last quick kiss, and when she lets go again she looks almost stricken now. Tulen gives her a smile which I imagine is intended to look reassuring, but it don’t convince me any more’n it must her lover as she turns back to join us as we start to cluster in the middle of the room.

“Okay, everyone hold on to each other.” Tulen reaches out and takes hold of my offered left hand, my right already laid on Hefdred’s hilt just in case we drop right into the shit. After a beat she turns to regard the two diminutive prowlers, who pause for a moment, thoughtful, before taking each other’s hands. “Um … yes, that’s right, this is your first time, isn’t it?”

“I understand the concept, but yeah.” Darwyn breathes, looking a good deal more nervous now. Zuldrad simply nods, frowning deep, but then I wouldn’t expect any less from a hob. “I heard it’s rough.”

“It can be, yes. Certainly the first time.” Tulen looks to me now, then shoots a wary look at Yeslee, who’s frowning as well. I imagine she’s remembering her own limited experience of teleportation back in the Reaches. “Um … just take a deep breath, and hold it. Close your eyes as well, perhaps. Gael mentioned that seems to help somewhat.”

His frown deepening, Zuldrad sucks in a big gulp of air and screws his eyes tight shut, then offers up his free hand, which the young wizard immediately fastens in a firm grip. Finally Yeslee settles her hand on my shoulder and takes her own breath, but simply fixes me with a cool glare.

“I’m going straight to Thel, right?” Tulen asks after taking her own breath.

Not wanting to let my own out now, I simply nod, then close my eyes. Dread anticipation wracking my nerves. Gods, I hate this part.

Tulen speaks that strange unheard, physical word and everything goes all strange again, I feel that unpleasant, disorienting pull both around me and deep within as my insides seem to get churned up, making me want to vomit almost immediately. Then we touch down and suddenly the air around me feels different, the sounds are all different too, it’s like now we’re out in the open somewhere, and there’s a strange crackling, rushing sound close by and a feeling of intense heat and –

“Get down!” Someone tackles me, I have no idea who it is, I’m just grabbed by powerful limbs and even before I can open my eyes I’m powered down into rough, broken ground. The first thing I see is the world spinning around me, throwing me off instantly, and I roll flipping over onto my front and splaying my arms to catch myself before I go any further. The ground rushes up to meet me and I get a mouthful of dirt, but thankfully I don’t hit quite hard enough to actually batter my face too. Spitting profusely, I crane my neck and blink, trying to make sense of what I’ve dropped into.

Something explodes close by, lighting everything up with a bright, raging hot orange light while a billowing, smoky fireball rolls into the sky. Fuck … somebody’s chucking fire-based magic about without any concern for their surroundings. We’ve landed in something like scrubland, which I don’t understand at all, I thought we couldn’t port all that far, and we’re s’posed to still be in Untermer. But there’s cracked, dry, broken dirt underneath us, uneven ground that rises in mounds close by but drops away in a rough, clumsy slope behind us, and there are bushes and stumpy, sparse short trees scattered around us too. Then I notice there’s a lot of garbage too, scattered remnants of boxes and broken wares and other things spread all around too, and it starts to make more sense, this is some kind of derelict common ground, somewhere inside the city.

Another thunderous crack splits the air much closer and a bush just ten feet aware bursts into flames, so I drop my head and throw my arms over it as pieces of shattered wood and burning leaves rain around me. “Shit! What the fuck is –”

“We gotta move!” A strong, thick-fingered hand grabs my arm, just under the plates of my pauldron, and starts dragging me to the side. Not up though – clearly they’ve taken the literal fire we’re taking into account.

No need to tell me twice – I scramble up on hands and knees, my toecaps scuffing a great cloud of dust up behind me as I throw myself bodily after … whoever. Another fireball rolls past us, right where we were, and a tree bursts, a hot, heavy wave buffeting me and causing me to tumble. I just go with it, letting my body go limp so I bounce and flail like a ragdoll, and while it hurts it doesn’t do any real damage. I wind up on my side and find it's Zuldrad who’s been helping me, dirty and frazzled from his own path of evasion and battery, blinking somewhat as he looks out to gauge if we need to take cover again. We’re in the shelter of a low rise of broken stone and dirt, enough at least to hide us if we stay down.

”Ow.” he growls after a moment, reaching up to start dusting himself off.

“Amen.” I agree, sitting up as much as I think is safe. “As the clerics say.”

He gives me a sharp-toothed grin at that. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“We still in danger?”

“Ain’t got a fucking clue. Reckon whoever it is they’re just chucking fire at anything that moves. Whatever that means we picked a bloody bad spot to just jump into.”

“Where are the others?”

“That shit went off and we just scattered. Reckon they went the other way.” He shrugs. “Probably. I don’t even know where this mage is. Whoever the fuck they are. Reckon it’s what’s-her-name?”

“Honestly? I doubt it. Don’t seem like something an Order-trained wizard would do.” I lift my head a little higher, risking a cautious glance out of what little cover we have here. “This is somebody else, somebody ain’t really got that good an idea what they’re really doin’.”

“Some kinda hedge?” Zuldrad lifts himself up a little too so he can join me in looking out.

“Like you said, I ain’t got a fucking clue. Makes sense, though.”

I don’t see anything out there, but then in the relative dark most all I can see is what’s lit up by the fire. Turning back, I notice there’s something brighter down the slope, some strange off-white radiance, and I wonder if that could have anything to do with where the others came out. It seems an awful lot like something Krakka might cause with his god magic.

“Psst!” I hear someone hiss from somewhere off to the right, and I drop instantly, Zuldrad following my lead. Could be anything, and given what we jumped into I ain’t inclined to take any chances. I tense up, my hand again shooting to my sword hilt, and look that way the best I can while keeping my head down.

Tulen waves at me from just under a line of bushes, Darwyn flat on the ground beside her. They’re both as dirty as we’ve just become, and the young wizard looks pretty rattled now. I point past her to where one of the bushes is burning, sparks floating around the pair of them, and she winces back, shrugging. Then she waves vaguely towards the other side of the low rise. Reckon that means whoever it is who’s trying to kill us is that way.

I can’t see Yeslee anywhere, but then I don’t expect to. The moment this all kicked off I imagine she took the best cover she could find, and now she’s trying to sneak up on whoever it is. So long as she didn’t catch one of those fireballs full in the face and is now burning to a crisp a ways down the slope …

No. I can’t picture that at all. No way Yes would go out that cheap.

“You got anything that works at range?” I ask as I roll over onto my back, starting to check through my own gear now.

“I got some darts, but I need a target, and I ain’t convinced they’re gonna make it easy for me to find one.” Zuldrad gives me a pointed look. “Why?”

“Cuz I’m about to do something really stupid, and I need you on the ball when I do.” I growl the words through my teeth, already hating myself for having the idea in the first place.

His eyes go surprisingly wide once he works it out, cocking his head as he looks at me like I’ve gone completely nuts. “Seriously? You seen what’s been goin’ on out here, right?”

“Oh yeah.” I growl, picking one of my smallest knives, one I can just about live with losing if it comes to it. I draw my legs up and roll onto my side, raising one knee while I prop myself up on my elbow, tensing now. “I am keenly fuckin’ aware. You ready?”

Frowning now, Zuldrad sucks a breath through clenched teeth, propping himself up a little now as he reaches for one of his belts and palms a pair of small, wicked looking steel barbs out of their loops. “No. Not even remotely.”

“Me neither.” I sigh, shifting one last time so I’m ready to spring up. I count down in my head, my breath coming hard and fast now with the anticipation while my heart starts pounding. Oh fuck … this is such a shit idea. “Go.”

Zuldrad brings his knees up ready to pop up the same moment I shove myself forward over the rise, springing before I’m even up as my legs uncoil like tight springs. I don’t so much leap as just fall over it, hitting the ground and rolling before I hurl myself to the right and start sprinting as well as my stooped posture will allow, knife clutched close to my chest like grim death. I hear a sharp, scratchy catching sound as I glimpse something flare bright through the corner of my eye, and this sets my nerves alight just as much as I start praying in my head to Thorin for a little luck.

I throw myself forward again just as I notice the flaring fireball shifting in the air, surmising the mage is about to hurl it right at me, and pray his aim’s no better than it’s proven so far. Except I hear the a subtle, fluting whip of whistling air round sharpened steel followed by a cry of pain as I land, and while I roll it’s repeated almost immediately, albeit this time followed by a pained exclamation of: “Ah fuck!”

The moment I’ve found my feet again on the other side of the roll I twist round, searching for the mage, and I catch a glimpse of someone staggering close by one of the taller, more cluttered trees, which they’ve clearly been using for screening cover. Except they’ve set it alight now, the foliage going up fast since they likely fumbled their fireball when Zuldrad tagged ‘em. I whip the knife the best I can but the angle ain’t great and I’m still moving, so when I hurl it towards ‘em I ain’t banking too much on my chances. Even so, looks like it might be on target after all …

Seems I forgot a fundamental thing about fighting mages, though – even the relative amateurs can be sneaky bastards sometimes. They must catch sight of it before it hits because it pings off one o’ those invisible barriers in the air just before hitting home, then they’re dropping outta sight. Shit … I start running immediately, reaching up over my right shoulder now so I can tug one of my axes loose, intent on cleaving this arsehole’s head open when I find ‘em.

I have to jump over a low mound of earth and jumbled rocks before I get there, and when I land I’m moving too fast, almost running right over ‘em before I can stop myself. The burning tree’s too close, I gotta angle myself away from it, and this ends up putting another directly into my path, so I just stop my feet the best I can and turn my shoulder into it as sheer momentum takes over. ‘Least this one ain’t burning too, so when I catch the trunk at a slightly awkward angle I just bounce off and flail for a moment, peddling some before I can find my balance again. By which point the mage is working on getting up again.

It's a young man, human, skinny as a whippet and about as attractive. His thin, sallow face is pinched, decidedly foxy in features but a little too angular really, pale grey eyes narrowed in pain as he grasps at the two darts stuck deep in his left arm. He hisses through clenched teeth, loose locks of his sandy-coloured hair flopping into his face as he struggles to right himself. He’s dressed like a bad parody of a wizard, tight leather britches worn under a loose linen shirt and three layers of bawdy coloured woollen robes, while his boots are much more fancy than I ever seen any other mage wear. There’s a thick, somewhat gnarled wooden stave on the ground beside him where he clearly dropped it, obviously the best he could do for a staff of his own, while he’s got a couple o’ satchels hung amongst his gear that I’m sure are for his components.

Not a single detail that even remotely suggests Order training, any more’n I would’ve expected. He’s a hedge wizard, just like I thought.

Taking a steadying breath, I push myself away from the tree, giving my shoulder a little rub under the pauldron even though the armour ultimately wound up taking most of the hit anyway. Mostly I’m just pissed at him for the trouble. I give the axe a little flourish, adjusting my grip after the spin, and take my first step towards him.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

The voice takes me enough by surprise I almost stumble as I wheel about in search of the source, tightening into a defensive stance the moment I locate the new threat and raising the axe, ready for an attack. The dragonhalf is startlingly close, bringing a genuinely shiver of alarm as I take her in, already squaring up with a very impressive looking bastard sword in her hands. It’s broadly similar in style to Hefdred, but instead of the understated cool dark steel of my own dwarven weapon hers is brighter, the hilt fashioned in brass while the blade has a cool, polished sheen that belies its lethal edges. It looks expensive, in fact.

I’ve never found the more genuinely reptilian female dragonhalves to be all that attractive, but there’s something deeply, profoundly sexy about this one, despite her fierce features and gleaming leathern red scales. She’s tall and physically imposing, much as I would’ve expected, a clear, palpable muscular strength to her, while her dark hair’s been bound back into a tight bun, albeit with a few arrant locks hanging down to frame her face. Her bright golden eyes are by far her most striking feature, although her wide, forward curling horns, arcing around either cheek from behind her pointed ears, are extremely impressive too.

Her manner of dress immediately marks her as a fellow sellsword, although her gear is clearly of better, richer quality than mine. She has a subtly flamboyant sense of flare that I’ve always tried to avoid, her own black leather britches worn tight under a close-fitting buckskin tunic reinforced with overlapping pieces of leather armour. She favours similarly rugged, well-made boots and armoured bracers like mine, though, and she clearly doesn’t like fingers on her own gloves either. That being said, if I had impressively sharp, shiny black talons like hers I’d use that as an excuse too.

It's her manner which grabs my attention most directly, though. She’s clearly in charge here, I can tell that at a glance, her presence alone is enough to convince me. She’s clearly got fierce control, and she’s a cold professional, likely she’s had the same kind of training I have, and likely to a similarly intense degree. Just looking at the way she’s handling her sword already tells me she knows full well how to handle herself.

Seeing that naked blade’s enough to put me on my own guard, stopping me in my tracks before I take a big step back into open ground between us. I lower the axe, but not so much that it’s not still ready in case I need it. I’m uncomfortable about my chances trying to take on that sword with it …

“You all right there, Riv?” she asks now, obviously talking to the wizard without taking her eyes off me.

“What kind of stupid fucking question is that?” he snaps back, grunting in deep pain as he tries to cradle his arm without jogging the wounds in the process.

“I’m sorry for asking then.” she growls, and while she seems cool I get the feeling she’s working on holding onto her temper with that reply.

“I’d be inclined to let you take ‘im if you left right now. Long as I never see either o’ you again.” I keep my voice as level as I can, even though my nerves are itching again, the way they always do when I can feel a fight I don’t want coming.

The dragonhalf watches me for a loaded moment, one of her spiky brows rising a little. “Bold of you to assume we’re not here for you.”

“Oh no, I made that connection well enough.” I shift my stance as subtly as I can, a cooler part o’ me formulating a few potential strategies to get me outta this mess. “Don’t mean I can’t still try an’ appeal, y’know, pro to pro. Given we’re clearly both hired hands.”

She smiles at that, and while it’s a cool, sharp one with a lot of fangs, there’s a little humour to it. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Of course, if you are cut from the same cloth surely you understand why we can’t just back off. Beyond the simple practicalities, that is.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t hurt to try though, does it?”

“No, I don’t imagine it does.” She looks to her side now, just a sidelong glance with her eyes, and that makes me itch on its own, it don’t feel like an attempt at a distraction. Suddenly I’m feeling exposed, and I don’t reckon it’s just paranoia.

Shit … chancing my own glance to her left, I see she’s not the only new fighter here, there’s a man taking up a ready position close by on my right. A half-orc, a tall one, broad across the shoulders and chest but still more athletic than bulky like some of his other kin. He seems fairly young, but there’s enough weathering to his face to speak of experience despite his relatively short years. He’s definitely very handsome too, so the scars on his face only add a certain dashing air to his looks. He keeps his shaggy black hair brushed back, while it's shorn to close stubble at the back and sides, and his face is clean save for a tufty little growth at the tip of his chin which instantly speaks as much of his vanity as anything else.

Like his companion he’s dressed mostly in fighter’s leathers, albeit with a few scattered pieces of splint plate thrown in the mix, particularly lining his own bracers, and he wears a loose, flared buckskin kilt over his britches. It’s something I’ve seen orcs wear, a tribal warrior’s traditional garb, but in his case it strikes me more as a fashioned affectation than any kind of allowance for his own heritage. That being said, the way he’s armoured it much like the rest of his gear at least means he’s actually thought it out tactically first. He’s taken up his own similarly guarded two-handed stance with his own weapons, although I think I smell more of a rough-trained brawler in this one than the well-oiled master his companion clearly is. That being said, the simple but clearly well-made longsword and corresponding dagger in his hands still look sharp enough to do the job.

“Hmmm …” I look from half-orc to dragonhalf now, shifting my footing as carefully as I can to adjust for this development, already seeing what small advantage I might’ve had before just eroding. “Right.”

“If it’s any consolation,” the woman sighs “under different circumstances I might have been inclined to offer up similar compromises for consideration myself. You seem like a pleasant enough sort, after all. Unfortunately …” She shrugs, her contrite look entirely unconvincing.

“Yeah …” I take one last, molasses slow step back in order to open a little more space, and set my jaw as I tense my muscles, and when I speak again I raise my voice above normal conversational tone now. “Any help would be appreciated.”

That raises a frown on the dragonhalf’s face, while through the corner of my eye I see the half-orc cock his head, clearly confused by my words. And then, in the breadth of a wink, just as realization starts to dawn on the woman’s face, I catch the barest flash of a figure rushing up on his side, unseen through his distraction, and tense.

I’m not sure what tips him off, if it’s my own tightening or some unconscious flicker in my eyes as I note the approach, or he’s just too sharp not to pick up on it, but then ain’t like he seems particularly dumb, so … anyway, he turns before Shay can overwhelm him, scrambling to respond as she lets a frustrated growl go and just charges. No finesse this time, I notice – she just bull-rushes him, and I think that’s why he doesn’t cut her down when she comes in, he ain’t prepared. She just roars: “Where are they?!” with a ferocity verging on terrifying and barges him with her shoulder, and that fancy enchanted armour Stormshield gave her turns the knife in his hand into a twisted hook when it should just impale her. He goes down in a surprised tangle and she follows.

That bare second or so of distraction’s enough for me, I push off and make my own rush at the dragonhalf just as I see the wizard start to do something with his one good hand through the corner of my eye. I don’t try anything fancy, I just cock the axe in my hand and hurl it at her, putting a hard enough swing into it that for my first few steps I’m almost off-balance, and I catch sight of her widening eyes as she swings to block it, swatting it away with her sword. Which I fully expected her to do, of course …

Because I’m already following through as I close the gap, regaining my balance enough as I round on her that when I twist my sheathed sword at my side I’ve got enough control to aim my drawing slice just right. I don’t doubt for a second that she’s a serious swordsman, she’s impressive enough that honestly I know just looking at her, I ain’t about to take any chances with this fight, so I’m fully prepared to finish it with the first stroke if I can. So I draw my sword and swing hard in the same motion, bringing my offhand up to grab the lower half of the hilt and power through with extra strength like da trained me to.

I’ve ended a few fights before they really started doing this. Honest, it ain’t sporting, I’d be first to admit it, but da taught me early that trying to be honourable on the battlefield all the time just gets you killed. Your first priority is your own survival, next is the fighters on either side o’ you. Anything else can wait. ‘Specially trying to be sporting when you’re fighting for your life.

The fact she blocks me so effectively despite my second distraction tells me my initial read on her was spot-on. We lock for a moment and I see her eyes widen on the other side of our crossed blades, subtle strain in her face too, which surprises me a little given I know how strong dragonhalves are. I might be built more powerful, but she’s got height and reach on me, so we’re pretty evenly matched muscle for muscle. So this is gonna come down to skill.

For a moment or two we just grind up against each other, our blades making an ugly, gritty screeching as we strain ‘em, and it tells me enough about her weapon compared to mine. Dwarven forged steel is just about the strongest in Tao – sure, the ingredients are no different, but there’s something in the way they smelt and treat the metal in the forging that can make it insanely tough under remarkably extreme conditions – but there’s other techniques that ‘least come close to matching it. The brightness of her own steel suggests it might be from one of the elven disciplines, which means it costs, but then given her style and bearing I’d say that’s a pretty fair guess. Whatever it is, no danger of either sword breaking here, it’s all down to whichever one of us weakens first.

As we struggle, the wizard finishes whatever it was he was doing, gritting his teeth as he pulls a complicated hand motion to draw a flickering blue sigil and then mutters something under his breath that, like always, I feel instead of hear. It’s a slightly different sensation to the norm, though, less clean, something a little ragged about the way it makes my ears pop a little, and I wonder if that might be down to his discipline, likely self-taught rather’n Order trained. Whatever it is, the sounds around me suddenly take on a slightly hollow, closed-in air, as if we’re in a room instead of out in the open like we are … and a beat later I realise why.

Zuldrad’s the first to arrive, literally leaping into the fray … and he just lands on thin air, feet first. For a single beat it’s like he’s stuck in place, and there seems to be a strange, subtle crackling in the very air under his feet, then he just slips off and drops onto his arse on the ground. Darwyn skids to a stop just behind him, wide-eyed as she sheathes one of her knives and then reaches out hesitantly, and her fingers seem to meet the same strange, unseen resistance … then she pulls her hand back quickly, giving her fingers a good shake like they’ve just been stung. Finally Tulen slows to a walk behind them just before she arrives, looking a little winded, but when she starts to talk I can’t hear anything coming out of her mouth …

Fucking magic … there’s times I really hate it.

Then suddenly the resistance again my blade eases, quick as a snapping whip, and I’m instantly unbalanced, which I guess was the intention as the dragonhalf takes full advantage of my momentary distraction. She brings her sword around with lethal speed and it’s all I can do to stumble back to open ground and bring my own sword up in time to turn the coming strike aside. It’s a clumsy counter, but it does its job, and as my sword buzzes angrily in my hands I stagger a few more feet away, grinding my teeth against the jarring pain, tense and ready for the next attack I already know is coming.

A thudding starts to pound around us, and as I chance the barest split’s glance through the corner of my eye to the others locked outside of this strange, invisible dome I see the energy of some blazing blue spell of Tulen’s dissipating over it. Trying to muscle her way in … I wonder how that’s gonna go? Honestly, I don’t have time or opportunity to really ponder that …

My opponent presses me again, and while I see the feint coming she still comes so hard and fast that I almost don’t catch the real attack in time, having to duck aside and throw another one-handed counter up to parry it. I don’t so much stumble back as shuffle this time, but I ain’t trying to be graceful right now, I just wanna survive. Instead I concentrating on her sword, on her shoulders, on her eyes, watching for any potential indication of what she’s about to do, and the next attack is just a little easier for me to catch. She powers a viper-swift thrust for my middle and I batter it aside, then don’t give her a chance to recover, instead charging hard as power my own quick low thrust up into her guts. She catches it in time all the same, but I keep control of my blade as she attempts to twist and whip it away, instead skipping back before she can counter and try to cut me.

I want to grin and taunt her, but I curb the urge instead, not confident enough it’d convince right now. She’s too good, and I reckon she knows it too. I don’t know yet if she’s genuinely better than I am, but it’s sure close enough between us, no way I can guarantee I’m gonna win this fight. So I gotta be real careful what I do here.

Okay then … maybe I can shake things up a bit. Taking one more step back, I keep my eyes locked on hers as she simply drops her own sword a little, taking up a low ready guard as if anticipating my next attack. Except I got a different idea.

Instead I take my left hand from the hilt and reach up over my shoulder, giving the haft of my remaining axe a careful little jerk in order to slip it free of its harness. I don’t make any sudden movements as I draw the weapon out between us now, shifting my stance carefully so I can bring it down low between us now. And I see her eyes following it down now as they narrow, brows knitting in a darkening frown.

This time I’m the one taking the lead, jumping forward a few hopping steps with a breathy: “Hup! Hup!” while I give the axe a little low flourish, and she backs up right as I expected, careful but still a little surprised all the same, and I whip my sword round while she’s still watching my other hand.

She catches sight of the glancing cut I try to whip at her eyes just before it hits and ducks her head aside, but by then I’m already skipping in a dancing spin inside her defences, and I swing the axe round hard on the back end of it. This time it’s her turn to strike out desperately as she back-peddles, and I just yank the axe back from her desperate swat without any fear of losing hold of it, already following through with a slash for her exposed side.

Except she’s getting a grip on herself again, and instead of another desperate flailing haymaker her next parry is more precise, stopping my sword cold and then turning in order to try and sneak under my own arm. Instead I hook my axe up under it and batter the blade away with the blunt back of my axe’s head, skipping aside before she can respond and opening a gap between us again. Now I can start to smile, starting to get a read on her skillset like she’s been getting on mine.

Taking her own step back, the dragonhalf narrows her eyes a little more, cocking her head, but there’s the slightest tick of a smile touching the corners of her lips now too. “My goodness … you have got some talent.”

“If you like.” I widen my own smile, grinning feral as I can now. “Then again, it kinda runs in the family.”

“Shoon … oh yes, of course.” She cocks one of her spiny brows now. “Quite a name to live up to, I imagine.”

”Aye, you could say that.” I give Hefdred a quick flourish as I straighten up and start to circle her. “Don’t s’pose you might want me to enlighten you on yours?”

“Oh no, I don’t think that would be wise. If you were to somehow make it out of this alive, it can’t very well benefit me giving you any idea of my identity as well.”

“But you got me at such an unfair disadvantage.” I stop circling, tensing again as I cock my sword. I’m growing aware of the other fight going on in here now, the ringing of steel and winded breathing as Shay fights her own, clearly more haphazard duel with the other half-orc, but I try not to let it distract me. “Reckon you’re just bein’ churlish.”

“Well I’m afraid you’ll simply have to learn to live with disappointment.” She takes a last step back … or at least, she tries to, instead her horned head seems to catch on some unseen thing hanging just behind it and she starts to double over before she can stop herself, getting hung up under the inside wall of the dome. Just as I’d been hoping …

I’m already moving as she realises her mistake, swinging my axe in a wild flourish that she barely manages to parry, but this was never really intended to hit her, I’m already winding up for a proper slice with Hefdred. It almost works, too, she ducks just quick enough to avoid swift and decisive decapitation by essentially throwing herself bodily to the side out of the path of my blade. It’s a clumsy move and she has to roll in order to get out from under me, but it works well enough.

Meanwhile my sword screeches along the inside of the invisible wall with a great staticky crackle of distended … Thorin, I got no idea what to call this stuff. Whatever it is, it buckles and almost tears open under my blow, and somehow my blade doesn’t break in the process, simply bending as it lets out a great metallic howl while scraping at the unseen barrier. Dwarven steel, nothing else like it. When it comes out on the other side it’s already spung back to true, and even though there’s a subtle red glow at its leading edge now, from heat or friction or gods know what I couldn’t guess, you’d never know anything happened to it.

“RIVECK!!!” she screams at the top of her lunges as she finally scrambles to her feet and stumbles away from me, eyes wide now.

“Shit … sorry!” the wizard responds as he drags himself up onto one knee again using his staff while his wounded arm just dangles. “Do you … should I drop it?”

For a moment she opens her mouth and I reckon she wants to agree, but then her eyes flicker to the invisible wall and the wizard aiming her sword low in both hands at it, which flares blinding bright blue like her eyes before the bolt of magic bursts over nothing. “Fuck … no! Just … hold it for a little longer! Where’s Suret?”

“Didn’t you send her with Trouble?”

Frowning now, the woman glares back at me, tightening into a low, crouched ready stance, with her sword hung almost to the ground. “Shit … yeah, I did. Never mind that, just call her! NOW!!!” She doesn’t even pause as she rushes the same time she shouts that last word, reckon she hopes she can surprise me, but I been expecting it.

The swing whips up blinding quick from below as she feints fast to the right and then snaps left at the last, but I don’t fall for it, instead holding my ground and just waiting for her to come. I bounce it off my own blade with almost contemptuous ease and don’t even bother trying to counter with my axe, instead just shoulder-checking her as she stumbles up to me, and she goes down hard.

Still, when she rolls out of it her composure ain’s so badly shaken as I’d have hoped. I surprised her, but I didn’t hurt her, and she’s too good for me to really catch her napping. She scrambles back the other way quick as she can with a frustrated growl, keeping low, and her sword is waving in front of her the whole time, gripped one-handed but swung with more precise purpose now to ward off any attempt to jump on her now. So I don’t take the bait, instead starting to circle with my own weapons cocked and ready.

Then I catch movement behind her, where Tulen’s still working on trying to batter her way in any way she can while the two prowlers just stand by, looking on with dark faces as they watch what’s going on inside, and I realise something’s coming up behind ‘em. Something fucking big. Oh hell, ain’t seen one o’ them since the Reaches …

“Shit …” I take a big step back and straighten up, waving both full hands over my head as I start shouting, even though I’m pretty sure they can’t hear me. “Tulen!! Darwyn!! BEHIND YOU!!!”

Tulen’s still blasting away at the dome, but Darwyn catches my signal, turning to follow my pointing axe just in time to grab hold of the other two as the threat comes racing up on ‘em. But I got more immediate problems.

The dragonhalf must’ve been counting on some kinda distraction, because she comes for me while I’m trying to warn the others, and I barely react in time as she tries to cut my legs out from under me. Skipping aside, I power a hard cut down with my sword and knock her blade aside before she can chop through my knee, but she don’t dodge aside like I would’ve expected, instead simply dancing in a rough turn before throwing herself forward, shoulder first. Intent on shoulder-checking me in return, then, and she’s opened me up just right …

So I grit my teeth and just step into it, turning my own shoulder into her the best I can as I try to put a bit of force into my own response. Even so it’s like getting slammed by a swinging tree trunk, the shock of the hit sends shuddering waves right through that whole side and rattles my teeth while my feet leave the ground … but at least I check her some while I’m at it. She still knocks me down, but she’s surprised enough she’s unbalanced and we both go down in a tangle.

Somehow I manage to keep hold of my weapons as I crash down on the hard-packed dirt, and I don’t really think about what I’m doing, instead I just react as well as my slightly fuddled brain can work. I swing hard to the side with my axe, hoping to power it into her chest before she can guard herself … but this is the same moment the fully armoured ogre slams headlong into the dome and everything shudders like we’re at the centre of a sudden monumental earthquake, which kinda throws me off. Instead I just wind up chopping open ground, the woman already rolling away from me as I struggle to right myself while my shoulder complains mightily from the hit.

Not wanting to give her a chance to rest, I lash out with Hefdred while she’s still scrambling, and she has to throw herself aside to avoid getting cut down, dropping on her arse a good deal more clumsily than I reckon she’d prefer. I to get a knee under me, tightening my grip on both weapons as I focus on her, ready to push up and try a charge of my own.

“Dram!” I catch the startled squawk from the striking young half-orc as he stumbles back in a clumsy roll of his own away from a particularly savage slash from Shay, who’s still working hard on harrying him around the space. She’s got a particularly fierce look on her face, I notice, like something more than just our current situation’s got her blood up. I wonder what that’s about.

Just for a split, I see the dragonhalf’s eyes flicker his way, widening a little, and I catch the slightest flash of something, coming up too clear in this frantic moment for her to hide it. Genuine concern … well that’s interesting. There’s more than just a connection of colleagues, or even friends, between these two. Hmmm … she grits her teeth and glares back at me as she starts to work at getting her own feet under her. “Rev! Now!”

The wizard must’ve moved since I last took note of him, I catch that strange tone that he speaks from somewhere on my right now, and then the air just … gods, it’s weird, I got no words to describe it exactly, it’s like a big bubble on top of oily water popping, like suddenly something’s just gone. The next thing I know a whole lot of sound starts assaulting my ears at once, from the desperate shouting of Darwyn and Tulen to the crack of something getting violently blown apart not far away at all. I feel bits of broken earth pelting my back, but whatever it was can’t have been heavy enough to actually shake me, at least. The most immediate thing that hits me, however, is the overwhelmingly loud, furious guttural bellowing of a very large ogre bent on committing terrible wreckage on everything in sight … along with the sudden, thunderous shaking of very heavy hand-and-footfalls fast approaching. Shit …

I don’t bother trying to go after my opponent now as pure survival instinct takes over, my mind screaming at me to just get as far away from what I know is bearing down on me as I can as quick as possible. I throw myself aside and drop into a clumsy roll that very nearly lands me on my own arse, scrabbling desperately to get my feet under me fast enough to start running while I’m still doubled over, and just head straight for Shay. Behind me I feel the passing of the ogre as they barely miss me on their fierce, unstoppable charge through the now wide open space, lending me desperate speed now as I make a bee-line for my friend.

The ogre lets out another particularly loud bellow behind me at the same time I hear them clumsily checking their run, and somehow I just know what’s about to happen, so I just toss my axe down and flick Hefdred to my off-hand. Managing to catch the hilt underhanded, I hurl myself forward, and Shay doesn’t even realise I’m there until I slam hard into her with my arms outstretched, bearing her down to the ground with a shocked, winded hoot. Thankfully we both drop just before the likely thoroughly devastating swing of the ogre’s gigantic battleaxe can cleave us both in two.

“Kesla, what the fu –” Shay tries to shake me off but I just grab tighter hold of her wrist with my free hand and drag her into a low run as I hear another resounding roar from the beast behind us, and she must make the connection now cuz she don’t resist anymore. She’s got a good look at what I’m trying real hard to ignore now, for the sake o’ my shredding nerves …

Your typical ogre is a pure, unstoppable force of nature, it could charge you completely naked with nothing in its massive, craggy mitts at all and it’d be the most terrifying thing you ever seen. They ain’t genuinely invulnerable, they can be killed like any other living creature, I even seen it a couple times, both at the hands o’ Big Man himself, who was clearly designed after an ogre himself only to turn out even more indestructible. They ain’t actually made outta stone, but their hides are so thick the resemblance is more’n just cosmetic.

Seeing one wearing actual armour almost feels like overkill, but da’s stories about the wars and the shit he saw tells me what this one is – a veteran like him. The armour’s pretty rudimentary, little more’n big pieces of thick, heavy and very battered steel plate that’s coloured mostly with rust, so it’s hard to recognise which side they might’ve served on. But it’s still perfectly serviceable, and it certainly adds to the sheer ferocity o’ their appearance, ‘specially with that helmet’s visor tipped down over their craggy face. It’s also an even more daunting prospect to even think about actually having to try an’ kill this thing if you gotta try an’ get through armour too. Never mind the huge, broad-bladed, long-shafted battleaxe they’re laying about in great haymakers that likely ain’t half so wild and outta control as they might look. Not with this kinda strength.

There’s another great whoosh behind us and I don’t even think about it, I just dive for the ground, and this time at least Shay just goes with it. Again I feel the wind of the axe’s passage as it barely misses our backs, and even before it’s finished swinging I roll over and start peddling backward on my arse, flipping my sword back into my free hand even though I know it won’t do shit this time.

The ogre looks at us both on the ground, just a few paces short now, and just … stops. They start to heft their axe but then pause, cocking their head, and look us both over. There’s something genuinely unreadable in those deep-set, unfathomably dark eyes, so much more intelligent than you’d ever expect to just look at this great hulking beast. As if they’re actually evaluating the pair of us before resolving to finally kill us.

Whatever it is, ‘least it gives Tulen time to get her shit together and help again. I don’t hear or feel the incantation this time, likely they ain’t close enough, but I catch sight of the big, fat blazing blue blast of magic they hurl at it all the same. It’s got a strange sound to it, I realise, almost like a high, crisp musical note, or ringing steel.

Except that ogres ain’t pushovers, any more’n Big Man is. The bolt hits ‘em in the back of their left shoulder and … they stumble. They don’t go down, it just knocks ‘em a few feet and they wobble like a drunkard for several steps, then right themselves and, very slowly, turn round, face darkening very quickly. Oh shit …

Tulen sees this, and she sees the face the ogre’s making, and her eyes widen as she straightens up, the sword drooping immediately in her grip. Her mouth opens but clearly not to speak any incantation, she’s just struck dumb as she realises what’s about to happen, and she’s terrified. Damn it.

Scrabbling up onto one knee, I just start shouting: “Tulen! Call Naru! Do it now!”

At first it seems like she ain’t heard me, instead she takes a step back, growing more wary now but still clearly scared, and starting to tighten up again, before raising her sword again and charging another bolt. I see the sword blade glow, and as it builds I hear that same ringing note, and I realise what she’s been doing. Finally she sets her jaw and, with a muttered word, raises the sword in her hands again and just lets go. The resulting flash is similarly blinding, and the ogre barely has time to start turning, certainly not enough to try and dodge, even if they could.

Not that it has any chance of actually knocking ‘em down, any more than the last hit did. Instead they stumble again, knocked back and turned round a little, and they’re left teetering for a few steps, but manage to keep their feet. But it’s enough, cuz just when I think I need to shout again to rattle her into heeding me Tulen takes advantage of the resulting distraction in order to drop her sword so she can lace her hands together and drop her head, closing her eyes.

Meanwhile the others seem to be grabbing the opportunity too to scramble to our aid, Zuldrad quickly wheeling into view as he moves faster than I’ve ever seen him do as he ducks and weaves to avoid the dragonhalf’s increasingly frustrated sword-swipes. A moment later I see the half-orc stumble past on the other side, having similarly completely missed his own attack on Darwyn, proving to be far too tiny and nimble for him to effectively target. Clearly the two prowlers are holding their own here, but even so the woman in particular is still managing scary well against our impressive young hob. But it’s enough to give the rest of us a brief respite so we can get our shit together.

Shay’s starting to pull herself up, looking pretty filthy now from a whole lot of smutted dirt and grime from the ground and trash she’s clearly had to repeatedly throw herself into, but she hasn’t really registered it yet. She’s wild-eyed, frantic even, and as I turn she reaches out and grabs my arms, pulling herself up with intense focus. “Kesla! We’ve got to stop them! There’s no time –”

“We will! Come on!” I slip my empty hand free and give her arm a companionable pat, hoping this might perk her up some, maybe ground her too.

Instead she just looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Wait, you don’t understand –”

She doesn’t get any more out, instead the whole hill around is seems to shake at once with a great booming crack and I grab hold of her again as she starts to stumble while steadying myself the best I can. Even before I look I know what that was, the atmosphere around us has changed entirely.

Lady Naru’s already stumbling backwards, clearly having suffered from porting too much weight in one go, but she really has gained a staff from somewhere, and she uses it now to lean into to keep from just dropping on the spot. It’s mostly metal, like Gael’s new one, but in the firelight I can tell it’s been fashioned from at least three very different ores, flowing together through the tall shaft in interesting ways, almost like the rainbow colours that dance in oil on water. Instead of the corkscrew motif I’ve seen a lot of the Silver Order folk favour, this one’s topped with a kind of open spiral, almost like a hollow, twisting cone, and this is clearly fashioned from gold. Inside the spiral is the crystal, and this one glows in particularly striking, varied shades of pinkish red, colours which almost seems to swirl and pulse inside the stone itself.

Driver 8, meanwhile, still ain’t got his weapons, but doesn’t let that stop him as he just drops into a low charge straight for the ogre … who just turns and tightens up, cocking their axe ready to strike as they plant their feet. Okay …

The two great behemoths come together in a great ringing clatter of metal, and while they get forced back several feet, carving deep furrows in the dirt, the ogre don’t go down, instead planting their feet again at the last and giving a forceful shove. Driver 8 actually breaks it must be so hard, and while he don’t actually stumble he still backs off fast, opening room between ‘em now as he starts to circle. Then the ogre swings their massive axe and he twists, cocking his arm just right so when he blocks the blow it mostly just skitters off the built-in armour on his raised wrist, and he’s already priming a big punch in response.

“Kesla!” Shay shouts now, grabbing my arm and pulling me, dragging my attention back to her. “You need to listen to me!”

“Come on Shay, we don’t have time for this! We gotta stop these people!” I try to shrug her off as I start to head out into the fight, but she won’t let me go.

Then I see Zuldrad tumble past, knives spilling from his hands as he goes flying, and I see the dragonhalf withdrawing now, although she’s glaring over her shoulder in my direction now as she starts to head to where their wounded wizard’s reaching out to her with his good hand. There’s a reluctance in her look that makes gives me warning, and I shrug Shay off with a harder jerk as I start to rush after ‘em in earnest, tightening my grip on Hefdred as I go.

Except the wizard barely even waits for their fingers to touch before he speaks the incantation and they just poof away in that strange split-second absence of a portal. “Shit!” I snap as I run forward, unable to help myself, grinding to a clumsy halt right where they would’ve been standing as I start to cast about. Then I see them suddenly appear next to the half-orc, and they don’t even bother announcing themselves first, the woman just grabbing hold of the boy’s flailing arm despite his swinging blades, before porting the three of ‘em at once.

“Fuck!” I proper snarl it this time, turning now so I can instead start making for where Big Man’s currently trying his best to grapple with a heavily armoured creature that’s essentially tough as he is right now. “Big Man! Wait!”

He gets one more punch in and the ogre reels back, and he starts to turn towards me now … just as there’s another flicker of something I can’t really see and the wizard reappears, having to duck to avoid getting clobbered by the ogre’s swinging arm as they right themselves, giving their head a good shake. That might actually have done some real damage, least enough to make a difference, but the wizard don’t give it a chance, reaching up to grab hold of the jutting end of the ogre’s axe … and he actually winces, like he knows what he's about to do’s gonna hurt. Seeing that starts me running again, ready to shout a warning even as the golem homes in on the new arrival too, starting to turn back himself. Too late …

One more blink of a non-existent portal, this one seemingly much bigger than the ones before, and they’re both gone, leaving nothing but another puff of air and few stray drops of blood on the dirt. I awkwardly stumble a few more steps before I can finally plant my feet, and this time I just let the word out full blast: “FUCK!!!”

“My apologies, Kesla.” the golem rumbles now as he turns to me. “I did not pick up on the interloper in time.”

“Shit, Big Man, don’t sweat it. Ain’t your fault, this was a mess.” I drop a heavy sigh and start to cast about until I find my discarded axe, heading over now to retrieve it. “No harm done, anyways. We’re all good, right?”

“No.” Shay practically whispers the word, I almost don’t catch it. “We’re not.”

“What?” Turning her way, I’m so surprised by her face I almost freeze on the spot – she looks so haunted all of a sudden, genuine dismay in her face, desperate and fearful, immediately at odds with the softness of her voice. Like she’s scared to death, but she’s in shock about it. “Shay, what are you –”

“I told you.” Her eyes lock onto mine now, starting to focus as she seems to snap out of it, becoming more vocal as she holds out her hands, grasping for me now as she stumbles forward. “I fucking told you we had to stop them!”

When she grabs hold of me this time I don’t resist, a little too taken aback seeing her like this, even when her fingers stat to dig into the meat of my arms. “I don’t … please, Shay, I don’t know what –”

“It’s Gael! She’s gone! Something … I don’t know what happened, Krakka said they were just gone! Those people … they must’ve done something to them! They took them, I think!”

Oh fuck … I go colder than ice, right through the core o’ me, hearing that. “What … oh no.” I turn in a slow circle, casting about, but of course I can’t see shit. Now I know what Shay must surely be feeling, my friend’s in deep shit and now we don’t have any kind of lead. Suddenly I’m really scared …