I’ll admit, this kid’s a lot better than I figured he’d be. He’s definitely a half-elf, the way he moves is just too slick, every movement of his long, slender limbs is too graceful, he moves like it’s a dance and the sword in his hand is just an extension of his arm. To begin with he was largely running rings round me, or at least more than most fighters I tangled with in my time, but he’s not that great, actually. He’s got some pretty sweet moves, but he’s also only got so many of ‘em. I was taught that if someone you’re fighting’s actually good, then watch what they’re doing. Maybe you could learn something new by fighting ‘em, but more importantly you might start to learn what they’re gonna do if they do it for long enough.

That last part took me a long time to learn, but I had one hell of a teacher. Muldred drilled me every day in that ratty shack, taught me to dissect my opponent’s style and work out how to counter it. I suspect Kesla’s probably had similar training, I seen how impressive she is, she probably doesn’t even think about it anymore. I’d hate it if I ever actually had to fight her someday, that’s one match that scares the hell outta me.

Tog is not as impressive. He’s starting to show tells to me now, or at least I got his number on a few moves, I know what he’s doing when he initiates, or how he might react to something I do. So as I skip back from his latest admittedly deft flick with my axes wide I can’t help grinning as I start to dance in a rough circle while he draws his sword close and turns to follow my progress, watchful behind his mask. I gotta admit, I’m actually enjoying this now. If circumstances were different I’d buy this lad a drink at the end for being such a rewarding sparring partner, instead of killing him.

Giving my right-hand axe a little flourish, then the other, I stop dancing and plant my feet at last, tightening up now as I ready myself for the next round. Lifting my right axe in front of me, I give it two little flicks, beckoning him in, and I catch his eyes narrowing through the holes in his mask as he thinks it through. He’s growing more cautious now, I’m starting to notice, he’s not enjoying this anymore. He’s rethinking his earlier bravado, I suspect. Wondering if he might’ve bit off more’n he can chew with this fight, but realising he’s in too deep to pull out now …

So he doesn’t come when I want him to, not this time. He holds his ground, his own sword raised between us much like my axe, as much a ward as ready caution. Waiting for me to move instead, I suspect. Oh no, two can play at that game, mate. I beckon with my axe again, narrowing my smile into something more dangerous.

I see his eyes flicker to the left, then the right, evaluating his options. He’s getting it into his head that he probably can’t win this, because I’ve taken everything he’s thrown at me and he ain’t landed a single tag on me the whole time. He may have blocked my attacks too, but I’ve given him a few near scares too. At least once he was lucky I didn’t just end it right there, I could’ve split his skull if I’d tried a little harder. But then I was still playing.

Everything round us lights up brighter than the clearest, most cloudless day I ever encountered down South, it’s so bright I could count every stitch in the wool of his cloak and hood if I wanted to. A split later something hits me hard in the back and I’m sent sprawling as the air seems to split with a great cracking sound that sets my ears ringing. I hit the ground and tumble, I don’t know where, suddenly I’m just tumbling and a few times I’m lifted right off the ground again before I finally settle. I skid when I hit the ground the last time, feeling myself getting shoved by something that doesn’t have any actual form that I can really see. Then it just stops as suddenly as it came and I’m just left lying there.

My head’s spinning like nothing else I ever experienced – I been drunk out my skull before and even then the world’s never shifted so inexplicably round me as it’s doing now. Looking up into the rainy sky as it starts to fill my eyes and before it gets all blurry I just manage to make out the turmoil of the storm ain’t actually turning at a mad clip like it feels like, it’s just the vertigo screaming in my head. I been knocked for a loop and I’m a mess.

The urge to puke is strong, but I manage to hold onto my lunch all the same, forcing myself with every ruined effort in my muscles to roll over onto my side, and I see now I’m able to take in my surroundings that I’ve wound up feet short of the entrance. I ain’t alone either, Tog’s lying across from me, although he seems to be faring a little better than me, already managing to push himself up onto hands and knees, although at this crazy angle it’s more like he’s glued to the side of a weird grassy cliff. He reaches up with a shaky hand and pushes the mask up over his brow, and for the first time I’m able to see his face as he starts gasping for fresh air.

He could be younger than I would’ve expected, but then you can never really be sure with half-elves, they almost live long as their full-blood parents. He’s got that same clean, smooth-skinned, delicate bone structure I seen in the rest, although like a few of the males I met in my time he’s managed to cultivate some very fine hair on his chin. That being said it’s only really visible because his hair’s raven black, and he still looks very fresh faced. A few more long, unruly locks of slip into his face as he turns to look my way, and he blinks his bright, pale eyes wide as he sees me looking. Then he looks back into the courtyard behind us.

Following his gaze takes more effort than I’d like, but I manage it all the same, curiosity beating any lingering discomfort as I’m starting to feel something again … mostly just a whole lot of pain all the way through me. Most everyone else I can see is on the ground like we are, although I’m sure the majority are corpses from the skirmish that’s been raging around us while we been so engrossed in out own little fight. Even the two young Order wizards are down, although as I look I can see Gael starting to force themselves up using their metal staff for leverage … but there are a few still on their feet, I can see it now further down. If I didn’t know better I could imagine that blast was aimed in this direction, looking at ‘em now …

The orc’s doubled over but he’s got enough balance to stay on his feet, even if he is weaving like a three-sheets drunkard right now. I can see the other wizard too, the woman from the alley yesterday, the one who’s been causing the crazy explosive lightshow along with Gael that’s been making it so bright out here until now … ‘least along with the lightning from the storm. But I can also make out two figures beyond, most of the way down the other end, and I realise it’s Kesla and the weird bitch, Vandryss. The one we originally planned to catch before this all kicked off. Somehow they’re still standing too, although from what I can just make out it’s taking a hell of an effort for both of ‘em now.

Then in what seems to me like a blink the wizard and the orc have just … moved, suddenly they’re over by Vandryss and as my hearing’s starting to come back I can sort of hear muffled conversation from down there now, under the now insistent hiss of the rain. Raised voices, I think, maybe. Don’t reckon Vandryss is too happy about something, the way she’s acting, and looks like Kesla’s spoiling for a fight even if she does look like she’s been through it now. It’s about to get ugly down there.

Except suddenly they’re just gone, and I realise I almost saw something else happen just before, something I both saw and really didn’t, and I hate whatever it was in the very core of my being. Magic. Suddenly they’re gone, and Kesla’s left there alone. For a beat she just stands there, looking lost, then her arms fail as if her sword suddenly weighs a ton and she just drops right on her face.

Gael finally forces themselves onto their feet, and I hear them shout something, but what I actually hear sounds like it’s coming from a lot further away than it actually is. They’re unsteady on their feet, but start stumbling to their friend all the same, using their staff to prop ’em up as they move, and they get there much sooner than I’d have expected.

Splashing sounds from much closer suddenly wrench my attention back to my vicinity and I turn back fast to see Tog’s finally on his feet, swaying like a drunkard too as he fights to stay upright. He’s still got his sword but his grip’s slack, essentially just dragging it at his side through the mud. He looks down at me for a long moment, then back at the scene beyond again, and spits into the mud before muttering under his breath. The way my ears are still such a mess I’m amazed I can even make out what he’s just said.

“Fuck this …” He starts staggering for the doorway, slipping at least two feet shy of it and only saved from going down by landing against the frame itself. He flounders for another long moment before pushing himself off again and stumbling through, and then he’s just gone into the night. Even if I could follow him right now reckon I just can’t be arsed …

Lying here for what might be a few more minutes but what feels like a few hours, I find my strength really ain’t returning along with my hearing, ‘least not with any reliability. It takes me a long time to muster enough of it to just sit up again, and the effort of doing that’s enough to leave me doubled over and panting heavy as I try to regain my breath while every sinew in me screams. I feel like I’ve been run over by a whole legion of horses now, and every one of ‘em was towing a fully-laden cart of goods while they were at it.

It's not until I notice movement through the corner of my eye that anything like my old self seems to return, but I find myself scrabbling for my nearest axe all the same, even though my fingers are shaking so bad I fumble it three or four times before I can pick it up. Then when I finally manage to raise my head to look at the entrance I see it’s just the golem ducking through the doorway, moving with the same inexorable ease as before even though he's now liberally crusted with mud and pieces of broken stone and wood. As I watch a large patch of it sloughs away, clearly loosened by the constant wash of rain, but there’s still plenty more where that came from. He pauses a little way in, turning enough to turn his glowing red stare my way, and looks down at me for a long beat. “Mistress Thel, are you all right?”

“Not …” My tongue feels like it’s three sizes to big, I have to spit and splutter for a long moment before it feels like I got any real control over it. “Fuck … not even remotely.”

He turns back the way he’s come, looking through the entrance again, and a beat later a much smaller but similarly broad figure jogs through after him, huffing and puffing hard while hefting a large, rain-slick silvered hammer. Krakka, the tengu cleric. He stops just inside the doorway as he seems to realise Driver 8’s stood right there in front of him, then takes a moment to lean forward so he can catch his breath.

“You are needed.” the golem’s heavy rumble stirs him again.

Looking up fast, Krakka’s eyes are wide as he looks up at his enormous friend. “What?”

Driver 8 doesn’t bother answering, he just points towards me, another big sticky patch falling away as he shifts. Turning back to the cleric, I realise he’s liberally splattered with mud too, although the rain’s already washing a lot of it away too.

“The fuck happened to you?” I manage to spit out as Krakka shoulders his hammer and immediately jogs over to me, although it slurs badly. I know I’m not drunk, but I suspect if I saw myself I’d be easily fooled.

“Whatever it was that wizard hit Big Man with, it threw him a long way.” Krakka drops to one knee beside me, setting his warhammer to one side without ceremony as he reaches out. His wide-eyed surprise is gone now, instead he’s going about his examination much like a workman turning his attention to a tricky job, pure professional focus taking over. “He tore through two streets before finally falling into a community well. Took me quite some time to help him back out of it again, especially given how bad this weather’s become.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Feel like I been hit with something …” I find myself fumbling for the word, my brain’s like cotton wool right now. “Similar, that’s the bastard.” I give my head a little shake, but it don’t seem to do much, mostly it just brings a little bit of that spinning vertigo back. “Oh shit … I feel awful. Can only imagine it’s bad as this for the rest …”

Krakka takes my face between both his hands and looks into my eyes for a long moment. “Yes, well you’ve clearly been smote with some very powerful magic. Even if it wasn’t directed at you specifically it would still have knocked you down for the count.”

“The others …”

“Right now you are my immediate concern, Thel.” He lets go of my face again, then slaps his hands together, rubbing palms for a few moments as if he’s warming them up before bowing his head and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath. I’m still not hearing too well yet, I can’t make it out. Then he looks up and reaches for me again, lightly pressing either side of my skull.

Where he touches me his hands feel like they’re on fire, but they don’t burn like I would have expected despite the heat. Instead I feel that great warmth starting to spread into me, and it feels … good, actually. He starts muttering under his breath again and as he continues my head starts to clear, the fog in it fading while I feel the pain through the rest of my body starting to ease. Suddenly I feel my ears just pop, I hear it too actually, and then I can hear him as well, realising he’s offering up a low prayer to his goddess, Serena. Wow … it’s been a while since I’ve received healing from a cleric, but I reckon I’m safe in saying that Krakka here clearly has the touch.

“Oh … bloody hell, that’s champion, that is.” I finally realise I’m still gripping my axe as my sense of touch finally returns in full force, and I let go of it slowly so I can raise my hands and start checking myself over. Yuck … I’m a sodden, muddy mess, but it seems I’m no worse for wear than I was before, weird stunning aside. “Reckon I’m good to go.” I look up at him again, manage what feels like a half decent smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Krakka gives a subtle smile, which, like always, is an interesting expression on his corvid face. “My Lady is blessedly kind to all those I consider friends, old and new alike.”

That makes me blink as I regard him for a long moment. “Well it’s appreciated all the same. You didn’t happen to see a skinny, battered half-elf stumble out on your way in, did you?”

Cocking a brow, Krakka regards me with a quizzical look. “Not that I noticed, no.”

“Would that be the individual described as Tog?” Driver 8 rumbles. I look up and he doesn’t seem to have moved at all, although he’s clearly shed a few more patches of shit since I last looked just by standing still in the rain. “I noticed him retreating as we approached, but he was already well away before we arrived. As far as I can tell the only individuals still living within this structure are our own people.”

“Du!” I remember my friend now, and that has me struggling to my feet now. “Is he still … whoa …” I wobble as my legs quiver under me, and I’d fall down again if Krakka didn’t step to my side and prop me back up.

“Take it easy, you’re likely to still be a little weak for a few more minutes yet.”

“Master Dumoli is alive, but it seems he has been wounded.” Driver 8’s turned now, I notice. He seems to be looking up towards a patch of balcony on the right. “Yeslee is tending to him.”

“She is?” Krakka seems surprised by this information, looking at the golem with something like incredulity.

Turning back to him, Driver 8 remains as expressionless as ever as he simply rumbles, as toneless as before: “Yes. She is. It seems he is in no immediate danger.”

“Reckon you got other folk to tend to, anyway.” I mutter as I stoop to collect my axe again, then start casting about for the other. “I’ll be all right. You go ahead.”

Krakka doesn’t argue with me, but he gives me a long, critical look before finally nodding and hefting his hammer again before jogging off to the next group. I’m left to straighten up on my own, taking a deep breath as I find I’m finally able to balance without wavering again. After looking down at the axe, I scan my immediate surroundings, seeking any possible lingering threats, but I realise Driver 8’s uncanny senses still remain as strong as ever. Assured I’m finally safe enough again, I shake it off to get rid of the lingering mud and slide it back into place on my belt. Then I continue looking for the other.

After a few moments, I realise the golem’s still where he was before, and while he’s not looking directly at me I feel watched all the same. Letting out a weary sigh, I turn to face him properly. “You all right there, Driver 8?”

“I am functional, Mistress Thel.”

“Gods, please, none o’ that formal shit. It’s just Thel.” I stoop back to my search as I see one of the last lumps of mud and debris slide off him, starting to whip the grass about now as I realise this is gonna be harder than I thought. “I hate all that Mistress shit.”

“Very well, Thel. Please call me Big Man, as the others do. I understand they consider it a form of affection, since we are friends. Since I now consider you and your companions to also be friends, I would be honoured if you would do so too.”

That has me standing up again to give him a long, curious look. Gods, he really ain’t like I would’ve expected a golem to be at all. From what I heard from the stories, I would’ve expected a cold, logical killing machine, nothing more. Instead he surprises me at every turn. “That’s … very civil of you, Driver 8. Sorry … Big Man.” I look back down at the dishevelled undergrowth, then up at him again. “Look, you ain’t seen my other axe anywhere round here, have you? I’m having, like, zero luck here.”

“You are two feet away from it.” He answers as matter-of-fact as before, but I can’t help feeling he’s happy enough to be helpful all the same. “On your left.”

Blinking, I turn back the way he’s guiding me, start moving that way, shoving the tall grass aside as I go. Then, two feet further on just like he said, my other handaxe is sticking up a little bit in a muddy puddle. Given the way the rain’s been pouring I’m not surprised I missed it so easily, I had to be really looking close for it in the first place.

Dragging it free, I start shaking it to get rid of the muck, my mouth a little tight as it grosses me out a touch. “Lovely. Thank you, that’s just dandy.” I turn to him now and give him an honest smile. “That’s quite a talent you got there, Big Man.”

He shifts subtly, mostly just turning to look down at me a little more squarely. “It is by no means a talent, Thel. It is merely the way I am made. My senses are as inherent a part of me as my strength.”

Cocking my head, I regard him for a moment. “Wow … okay, fair enough. It’s still pretty cool, though.” I give the axe a few more big swipes, then a last little shake, and by then together with the rain it’s finally clean enough for me to be getting on with for now, so I stow it like the other one. “So they’re definitely all gone now, then? Every last one of ‘em? Ain’t none of ‘em hiding out somewhere, hoping they can just slip off when we’re gone, or just ain’t looking?”

“No. There are individuals gathering in the streets outside, but they are not approaching. They are not involved with the individuals we have been fighting, as far as I can surmise they are merely local citizens. Perhaps they are simply curious about the noise?”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. Typical rubberneckers, that’s what it is. You’re right, nothing to worry about.” I start to head back down the path towards the others, then pause as a new thought occurs to me, prompted by what he’s just said. “That said, best keep an eye on it anyway. Anybody else shows up, best let us know. ‘Specially if it’s townsgaurd, or even more if it’s Terrors.”

He watches me for a beat, and I suspect he’s considering the ramifications of what I just suggested. “Of course. You are quite correct. That would not be good.”

Nodding, I tip him a little salute before I turn back. “Nice one, Big Man. You’re a star.”

As I make my way down the path, I find others are starting to get themselves back into some semblance of order, although they’re looking pretty battered and unsteady after what they got hit with. I can certainly commiserate. Then I realise that some of ‘em are just missing, and as I reach the first clump I notice the young bakaneko, Art, is one of the absentees. His two Guild friends are propping each other up, although given their disparate sizes it’s mostly the hob, Zuldrad, who’s providing support right now. As I approach they both look up at me with eyes that look every bit as tired as my own must be, and they’re not just muddy either, I can see blood on them both too. They’re not actually hurt, though, which is surprising given the state of them both.

“You two look like you been right been through it.” I admit before I can stop myself.

“Speak for yourself.” Brung’s just crouched close by, resting both arms on his knees, watching me with his usual cool after-battle expression. Fighting always makes him unusually introspective, I’ve found. He looks in better condition than the others too, I notice.

Shrugging, I give him a look. “Krakka fixed me up. Ain’t got a clue what I got hit with put me in that state.”

“Force Quake. It’s like a Force Blast, but much more damaging, because it’s an area effect rather than a directed spell. It does also make it less precise if you want to aim it at something, which is why she inflicted as much stunning damage on her allies as on the rest of us.”

Tulen’s stood a little away from the rest, her sword stuck into the ground close by, but the way she’s slumped and just looking off into space suggests she’s not really all here right now. Certainly it’s bolstered by the monotone way she just answered my query with what I suspect was mostly a textbook answer from her own training in the Order. Her white cloak is smeared and streaked with a whole lot of mud, much like the rest of her, even her face, but far as I can tell she’s healthy as the rest of us, and steadier on her feet too. Mostly she just looks crestfallen.

“Are you …” I hold my hand up toward her as I approach, moving carefully now, wary in case I maybe spook her. “You’re okay, right? You don’t look hurt …”

“She jumped Art outta here already.” Zuldrad’s voice is raspier than usual, but his eyes are bright enough. I suspect it’s just fatigue and wear from the hit. “He was … it was bad. She had to get him to a healer quick.”

“Idiot got on the wrong end o’ that fucking mace.” Darwyn mutters, dull as Tulen, actually. She mainly looks haunted. I remember seeing ’em all squaring off against the orc before, I suspect that must’ve been complicated given their history … although now I realise they’re why he was so badly cut up, too. Clearly they got over it in the end.

“He took a hit, yeah.” Zuldrad looks at me, tired as I feel. “Busted him up real bad, so she –”

“That’s right, I did.” Tulen blinks as she turns to regard me at last, but she still ain’t really focused yet. Don’t reckon she’s quite seeing me. “His bones … he was bad … I had to do something. So I just … I couldn’t think of anything else, I just ported him back to the Temple. Got her to get all the healers I could. Shay was already there, but there were more, so …” She blinks again, and her eyes finally focus enough to take me in, but they’re wet now, starting to tear up, I realise, her bottom lip starting to quiver. “He was … but she was too … so they … they …”

“Shay?” I look to the others. “What happened to Shay?”

Zuldrad’s just frowning, while Brung just cocks his head, starting to stand up now as he watches me with a cool look. Darwyn’s no more responsive now than she was before, though. “We … I dunno.” Zuldrad looks past me for a moment. “Gael went over there already, but she left pretty quick, took Shay with her.”

What … what does that mean … Shay. Shay was with me before, she was gonna fight Tog, but then I took that fight instead. No, she was gonna help Kesla, wasn’t she? Kesla … I turn the way Zuldrad was just looking, and see Krakka’s down on both knees now, in the grass beside Kesla. Who’s still lying prone, I realise. Oh … fuck …

I start running immediately, although I’m really not sure what I’m running to right now. I’m not really thinking all that straight right now, I just skid onto my arse next to Kesla in my haste to stop myself, but I really don’t care right now. Bringing my knees up, I just scramble close as she looks up at me, blinking with real surprise while her friend mutters his god prayers while pressing both his hands to her stomach.

“What are you …” Kesla’s voice is wheezing somewhat, but she doesn’t actually look all that bad. Although I suspect it’s due to Krakka’s efforts, he may have already healed a lot worse before I arrived. “You look terrible.”

“Me?” I can’t help laughing, a little hysterically I realise. That’s just such a stupid thing for her to say to me right now. “You’re on the ground. I heard you were … that Shay … is she –”

“Vandryss stabbed her. It’s bad. Gael ported off with her, went to the Temple.”

“Yeah, I figured as much, Tulen said she was already there.” I look to Krakka, but if he’s listening he doesn’t react. Truth is I suspect he’s too focused on healing his friend right now. “Art got messed up too. She ported him too.”

“What?” Kesla tries to sit up but I push her back down quickly, before she can do herself any fresh damage before the cleric’s finished his work. “How bad is it?”

Shrugging, I leave my hand where it is. “I dunno, but it sounded like it was bad. Kesla … what the fuck just happened?”

Groaning, Kesla lets her head drop back with a little wet plop from the muck underneath. “Fuck … nothing good. We didn’t win, that much is clear …” Her sigh’s heavy, but there’s no rattling like I would’ve expected, and she seems to be breathing better now. Krakka’s already stopped praying, now he sits back and takes his hands away as he looks at me with eyes almost as sorrowful as his friend’s.

“Fuck.” Kesla just looks up into the sky for a long moment, seeming oblivious to the hard pelting of the rain now. “Reckon we just royally fucked that up.”

THE END OF BOOK TWO

THE STORY WILL CONTINUE IN BOOK THREE ...