The first hood lunges at me as I’m still dragging my sword from the back of my last kill and I have no chance of parrying, so I just tumble backwards instead. They start to stumble as their momentum takes them clear through where I would have been and they hit nothing, they’re just not quick enough to stop themselves in time. But the other two are quick in reacting, and now I’m flat on my back, prone on the ground and essentially at their mercy.

Neither of them are willing to give me a chance to recover, but the one advantage I have is that they’re coming at me from in front, so they can’t both attack me at the same time. The first one comes in to stab me but so does the second, and they’re clearly not coordinating their attack because they immediately get tangled up and it just devolves into a shoving match. By which point I’m already rolling to the side so I can clear a little distance.

Right, not time for anything fancy here, I just have to get back in the fight before the two other remaining attackers who’ve come for me can get their shit together. Drawing my knees up fast and snap my feet forward hard as I shove myself up off the ground with my shoulders, a risky movement that I’ll admit I’ve have had fail almost as often as it succeeds. Thankfully my luck holds out this time and I’m on my feet again in a simple whip-snap, and as I start to straighten one of my original attackers gets their shit together enough to just shove the other one out of their way and come at me.

Just in time to run headlong onto my blade as I thrust it forward. I catch them just below their throat and there’s barely any resistance at all as the blade severs their spine, and their whole body just goes limp while their eyes are still widening above their simple cloth mask. I yank the blade free fast and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, which is enough to warn me I’ve got another attack coming from behind.

Simply sidestepping the lunge as it comes, I turn after planting my backfoot and sweep my sword up, catching them low under their thrusting arm and cutting right up through them, the blade meeting even less resistance from their simple leather armour than with full plate. The sword whips out just under their shoulder-blades and the top part of their body just seems to slough off while they’re still moving forward, their steps growing clumsy and uncoordinated as they start to come apart. Meanwhile their other arm just falls away separately from just below their shoulder, the long knife in their other hand still caught in a death-grip. Deep down that rational part of me can’t help wondering if he actually even realised what just happened to him as he started to fall apart …

Keeping my momentum going, I spin to meet the next one as they try to rush me on my side while they think I’m still distracted with the last one, but my brain’s working too quick for them to catch me out. I batter their longsword aside as they try to swing it at me, then just plant one foot forward before I step right into them, putting my offhand side forward and just barging them full-force with my shoulder. They’re a good four inches shorter and definitely of slighter build, there’s really no contest in it, and they just go flying.

Two left now, looks like. The first one charges me while I’m still turning and I prepare to dodge the attack since that’s going to be safer for me than to try and parry it while I’m still adjusting … then a swift-moving lance of white light just seems to smash into them and they’re blown hard to the side, flying a good ten feet and turning a full cartwheel in the air before they crash down in the long grass. Barely the space of a blink later a squat, dark figure races into my vicinity, already winding up the brightly blazing silvered warhammer in his hands as he charges the one remaining hood. Having seen what Krakka’s capable of with the weapon he lovingly calls Bloodmoon before, I just take a big step back and give him all the room I can to let him swing.

The poor bastard doesn’t even know what hits them. Krakka’s mighty haymaker catches them low in their leading side as they come in before they quite realise the new threat, so they have no opportunity to respond as the hammer just smashes into their side. They fold, that’s the only way I can describe it – Bloodmoon smashes into them and its glowing white head flares for a moment and their whole body just seems to snap around it as the momentum of Krakka’s swing takes them off their feet. For a beat or so it’s almost like they’re smeared across the hammer’s head, then they fly off as he finally checks his movement, and the crumpled, broken remnants of what was once a person simply spirals away.

“Thorin …” I breathe low, a little taken aback by that.

Krakka pauses for a moment, turning to look up at me now as he starts to lower his hammer. It takes me a beat to realise the blood that’s speckling Bloodmoon’s head seems to be sizzling as the light of Serena burns it off. The raindrops are hissing too as they hit the silvered steel, which fascinates me in a rather morbid kind of way right now given what I’ve just noticed with the blood. “Sorry …” he finally responds “It occurs to me now that you may have already had that handled.”

“Does it?” I’m a moment catching up with him, I think. “Oh, right … no, really, the assistance is appreciated.”

Movement on my right catches my attention now, and I turn to see the one I barged to the ground finally getting back up, dragging their longsword up. I was right, they are smaller than me, but then it’s simply because I’m pretty tall for a half-elf, and by most standards this one could be considered pretty average. Lean, wiry built, but there’s strength there, it seems. Must be given how hard I hit them and they’re still getting up so easily. If I hurt them much at all it’s not showing now.

Then I see they’re wearing a carved, paint-patterned grey wolf mask and I make the connection at last – this is Tog, the young gang leader that the boy mentioned earlier. He’s the one that Gael tangled with yesterday, I remember. They one that got away by the skin of his teeth thanks to the wizard. Still alive, then. Maybe they haven’t made the connection to Gael getting his blood yet … or maybe they just don’t care.

Tog straightens up a little more as he registers the two of us together now, Krakka starting to heft his hammer again as he steps away from me now so he can start flanking. The man in the wolf mask simply raises his sword one-handed, slow and easy as he steps onto his backfoot, and there’s no clear worry in him even though he’s effecting a very clear, wary guard against an expected attack. I remember what Gael said about him before – when they fought, she got the impression he’s good. Maybe very good. And now my own competitive side starts clamouring for a chance to find out just how good.

“Do you want assistance with this one, Shay?” Krakka enquires after a moment, finally remembering himself, I suspect. I chance a quick sidelong glance at him and he’s half watching me too, a little expectant, perhaps.

I try not to smile too wolfishly as I fix my gaze on that mask, but I really can’t help myself. I think Tog’s gotten an idea of just how good I actually am now from seeing me annihilate his companions. “No, but thank you all the same, Krakka. I imagine I should be just fine on my own here.” I glance up past Tog now, and a great flashing peel of lightning from what might be right outside the building this time, since the thunder cracks at the exact same moment and everything seems to shake with violence around us, lights up the giant hole in the wall. “Maybe you should go find Big Man, though. Given what’s still going on back there I suspect we may still need him.”

“You’re sure?” When I chance another little glance Krakka’s fully focused on Tog now, and he’s gripping Bloodmoon with clear, raw intent. He wants this fight as much as I do.

“Oh yes, quite sure.” I adjust my own stance now, drawing sideways so I’m now presenting a profile to Tog as I set my backfoot at an angle behind me. Of course this also puts my back to Krakka. “This one shouldn’t give me any more trouble than the rest, I’m certain of that.”

There’s a long pause, and I wonder if I might’ve hurt his feelings a little, but when he finally speaks he mostly just sounds concerned for my well-being. “Just be careful.” Then I see him breaking off through the corner of my eye, rushing in a wide arc around Tog to get to the entrance. Going to find our downed golem, just like I suggested. I’m a little surprised to realise I’m actually very concerned about whether Driver 8’s all right, given that after he was hurled through the wall so unceremoniously he hasn’t come back yet.

But I’ve got a fight ahead of me now, and I need to be cautious now, so I cram it down hard as soon as it makes itself know. I give Ashsong’s sword a quick little whip off to the side and the water that’s been accumulating on the blade sprays away from it, and I think I see Tog’s eyes, behind the mask, watching it all happen.

Well that is interesting, isn’t it? Some of the ones I’ve been fighting tonight have been very comfortable in these very low-lit conditions, able to see exactly what’s been going on around them the whole time. Others have fared less well, I suspect some of the easier kills have come about because they’ve not actually been able to actually see everything in the gloom and rain, so they’ve likely been as human as Kesla. At least she has her fancy goggles so she can see what she’s doing. But now, seeing how comfortably aware Tog is, I suspect this one has some elf blood in him like me, so his nightvision’s as strong as mine. Of course, that also explains why he’s so sprightly. This really is going to be an interesting match.

“I’m sorry, d’you mind if I cut in?”

Thel’s stood a few feet away on my right, I don’t even really need to look her way to spot her through the corner of my eye while keeping my attention focused on Tog. He looks her way as well, a little more blatantly, but her presence is enough of a distraction that I don’t just attack him right now while his attention’s divided. So I just turn enough I can take her in properly while still being able to keep an eye on him too. “I’m sorry?”

“Wolf Mask an’ me have had this dance going on for most o’ the week now, where we keep almost getting into a fight but then it always gets cut off before we get the chance.” She cocks her head as she gives him a particularly contemptuous glare. “Interestingly, both times he ended up running away. Don’t say much for your character, boy.”

Tog’s eyes might narrow at that, I can’t be sure with the mask. “You can shove your opinions up your arse for all I care. I’ll be happy to oblige you now, if you’d like. Unfortunately I seem to have a prior engagement, as I’m sure you can see.”

I see Thel’s jaw tighten a fraction, her fingers curling a little closer around the grips of the handaxes held down by her sides, but otherwise she seems as much in control of her temper as I am. She looks sidelong at me now, catching my eye, and I see her own narrow just a little. “If young Mistress Swift-Kill would be so kind as to oblige me, I’d be awful grateful if she wouldn’t mind backin’ off so I got me a chance to finish what we never got to start.”

Thinking for a moment, I admit she’s got a point. This is more than just pride for her, it’s a genuine matter of honour for her now, she’s clearly been foiled one too many times to let it go now. Gods know I’d be feeling exactly the same if our roles were reversed. So I lower my sword and take a step back, turning her way as I wave to Tog. “By all means, help yourself, Mistress Frostforge.”

Thel gives me a look as I take a second step back, then a third, still keeping part of my awareness focused on the man in the wolf mask as I withdraw. I know she’s trying to work out if I’m being serious, clearly Tog is the way his eyes seem to be flickering back and forth between us, but I just shrug as I start to back off with more purpose once I’ve gained distance. Finally I give her my full attention as I say: “Just watch yourself.”

She frowns a touch at that, but doesn’t reply. Tog chooses that moment’s slight distraction to make a quick charge on her, moving fast as he prepares a lunge, but he’s not yet close enough, and I think she catches my reaction to the movement. Both seem to be enough for her to react in time to turn his attack aside, and if he were less quick on his feet she could just cut him down right there before he can recover. Instead he dances back, but his movements are tight, careful, definitely wary now he’s clearly been disabused of any notion that he’s superior in this fight. He backs up and starts to circle, and Thel reacts in kind, adjusting her grips on her axes as she watches him with the slightest smile touching her lips now …

Turning back the way Thel must have come, I get a fresh look at the substantial skirmish that’s been unfolding while I’ve been busy. Of course my eye’s immediately drawn to the flashy explosive duel that’s being waged at surprisingly close quarters between Gael and the enemy wizard, who I just about recognise from the brief glance I caught of her before she vanished yesterday. As I watch she throws a bolt of something bright blue at my friend, crackling and violent and seemingly most unstable as it arcs through the air, but before it can hit them it just seems to burst apart over a previously unseen dome of some invisible magic. Gael’s quick in their response, setting their feet and squaring their jaw as they just mouth something and jab their staff forward. I don’t see any bright flashing lights or sparks this time, but I think I see something happen all the same – the rain that’s falling through that space suddenly seems to splash out in an expanding wave in front of Gael, seeming to spread and expand as it rushes towards the woman. She puts up her arms, staff still clutched in one hand, and when that wave seems to hit it’s like she’s being buffeted by powerful winds, and she’s even forced back a few feet across the wet turf. She keeps her feet though, and when Gael relents she seems no worse for wear than before, just a little windswept. Whatever that spell was, she clearly weathered it well enough.

Closer to me, I see Art locked in a much more desperate fight with the massive orc from yesterday, but he’s not alone, Brung, Darwyn and Zuldrad are backing him up. As one gets turns back dodging an attack another jumps in and tries to inflict damage with one of their blades, although I’ll admit this looks like one tough nut to crack. And he’s swinging some very big weapons, from what I can see.

Between me and them, however, are what seem to be another newly arrived group of attackers, although presently Tulen seems to be setting about them with both her sword and flashes of her own magic too. It’s impressive to watch, seeing her cut one of them down and then as another tries to blindside her they strike one of those invisible shields while she’s still turning, their own sword sparking brightly with the impact. The blade doesn’t break, which surprises me given what looked like an impressively concentrated amount of fireworks, but it still visibly warps as it’s battered away with significant force, even if it does ultimately still spring back to true. I suspect if it had been a cheater weapon and not one of the Guild’s impressively well-made blades it might have fared much worse in that exchange.

As she turns to face them properly, Tulen doesn’t try anything fancy, she simply mutters something under her breath and then whips her free hand sideways across the group with a particularly savage jerk. In the same instant the hood is bowled clean off their feet and hurled bodily in the same direction, ploughing two of the other would-be attackers down while a third manages to throw themselves aside in time. Finally they go sprawling through the grass, and they don’t seem too keen on trying to get up.

Even so, there’s a fair few still around her, and they’re no less enthusiastic in their attack despite what they’ve just seen. Then I see some more movement in the corner of my eye and I tense for a moment as I turn that way, ready to react to a potential attack that might be coming in as I ready my sword … but I realise it’s coming from above, as I see something flitting about on the balcony. There’s another moment where I start to worry I’m about to take an arrow or crossbow bolt or whatever in the throat, then a body tumbles with significant force over the rail before plummeting at a surprisingly oblique angle across the yard before smashing down on the far left. I spot the long black arrow run right through the body as it cartwheels for a moment before finally settling, and the odd flight path finally makes sense.

Looking back, I’m just in time to see Yeslee take a run straight at the balcony rail itself and she leaps right up onto it with one foot as she lets another arrow fly while she’s still twisted so she can fire behind her. I don’t see where the arrow hits, my angle’s awful, but I hear a crash behind her as she just pushes herself off and takes a leap right out into the open air. She arcs high, but she’s moving all the same as I watch her path, although she’s moving with such impressive momentum I barely manage to catch what she’s doing as she flies almost directly over my head. Specifically she must nock and loose twice as she’s still flying, because two of Tulen’s would-be attackers are effectively pinned to the ground when her arrows jam hard down through them, one caught on the charge so he goes down in a splayed mess, limbs in a tangle. I can’t quite believe what I’ve just seen, even though I’ve seen enough of her shooting now to know what she’s truly capable of.

Then I hear a crash on my left and I look up in time to see that her momentum was strong enough to take her right over the courtyard itself, although when she landed she clearly ploughed through the divider rail instead of clearing it. All I can make out is shattered wood around a rough hole in the balustrades and a billowing cloud of dust slowly eroding in the rain, and I wonder if she might’ve just done herself a mischief on her landing. Only for three arrows to streak out overhead with their distinctive thin shrieking sound as the front row of hoods who were chasing her to the balcony are plucked out of sight in quick succession. I don’t catch sight of her again after that, but she must be moving because the next arrows to streak across come from progressive spots further down the line. Lethally preying on more of those who were previously hunting her.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle again as I hear charging wet footfalls draw close and dodge aside so the axe-stroke that was intended to chop me down whistles harmlessly past me. I swing my sword round as I move and it catches my intended attacker square across their midsection, cutting deep before I let my stroke rest, and for a beat they’re just stuck there on my tilted blade. I shoot them a glance, just quick enough to see wide amber eyes struggling to focus on me under the hood, and they cough, most of the blood they spit out stopped by their cloth mask but a few spots spraying free. Gritting my teeth, I take hold of the hilt with both hands now and drag the blade hard out of them, and they fold slowly, dropping to their knees as their suddenly weak, shaky hands try to keep their guts from spilling out. I turn away from them fast, having trouble feeling good about this particular kill, it's a nasty one …

Another one’s coming for me as I give my sword a little whip to clear away the excess blood and … whatever else might be stuck to it after that, and I just go right for them, my now troubled mood feeding me as I batter their sword aside and step round them as they try to recover, countering fast as I cut through the back of their hood and sever their head. I don’t even bother watching the body fall as I keep moving, watching Tulen put two more down while one of the ones she knocked down gets to their feet in front of me. I manage to check myself in time to keep myself from just murdering them before they realise I’m here, instead knocking the sword right out of their hand and charging them while they’re still registering what just happened. I put my full force behind my offhand fist and when I connect with their jaw they go down hard and don’t move again.

The next one sees me coming but I think when they get a look at my face they must think twice before attacking. Maybe they saw what I did to that poor bastard back there, whatever condition they’re in now, but they just drop the axe and shortsword in their hands and hold their hands up in surrender before starting to circle around me, clearly heading for an exit now. My nerves itch a little letting them go without turning to make sure they don’t try anything after all, but by this point I’ve reached Tulen and the three remaining hoods who are left trying to kill her, so I have more pressing concerns.

Tulen cuts one down but another’s rushing her from behind, and I’m not confident that whatever that fancy shield thing she does is, she can necessarily make it work if isn’t aware of the attack, so I move too. I don’t bother lunging, instead just rushing right up behind them and ramming the full length of Ashsong’s sword clean through their back, and I stop dead the moment they’re stuck fast, almost instantly checking their forward momentum too. I wait for a few beats, waiting for the wound to sink into their awareness, then they drop their sword and start to follow it and I finally pull the blade free, letting them fall forward so I won’t have to look in their face, even if it is covered up. By this point Tulen’s already turning to check the sounds at her back, and our eyes meet even as I catch more movement to her left.

I’m the first to turn, but Tulen’s sharp enough too, it seems, so we’re already both preparing to counter whatever attack’s coming as the one remaining hood starts to realise what they’re about to charge into. Then something smashes hard into them from the side and they fold with very little grace indeed as their leading arm snaps like a twig and their body starts to follow. I’m a moment seeing what happened, by which point the body’s already landing several feet away in a broken tangle and Dumoli’s skidding to a halt at the end of his swing, once again momentarily off balance as he fights to bring his huge hammer back under control. Ultimately he winds up skidding in a little circle on the wet turf underfoot, but finally reins it in again and pauses for a moment after, letting the hand drop to the ground and then leaning into the shaft so he can get his breath back. Then he finally looks up.

“Sorry about that … just thought it might be prudent. We really don’t have time for any more playing around.” He looks to me for a moment, then back the way I’ve come, and must be taking in Thel’s fight for the first time. “What the hell is she doing?”

Finally turning back, I watch as Thel dances back with both her axes held wide and her little smile grown into a self-satisfied grin now as she dodges Tog’s savage backswing. He presses forward almost instantly, whipping up two blinding swift strokes, and while she bats the first aside with ease his second almost catches her in the face, and she has to duck away from it as she starts to circle the other way. He pulls back too, more watchful, but there’s a certain spring in his step that makes me wonder if he might not be enjoying this somewhat too.

“Making a point.” I sigh after a moment, turning back to her companion.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“For Thorin’s sake …” Dumoli hefts the hammer again, and he does it with a somewhat more winded grunt than I would’ve expected from someone who’s clearly so powerful, suggesting he’s starting to tire now just like the rest of us. This definitely is turning out to be a hard fight. He starts to head towards his friend, clearly intending to back her up.

Reaching out, I lay my hand on his shoulder as gently as I can while still exerting enough grip to at least check his progress. I almost let him go – Thel’s clearly a very good fighter indeed, but so’s this young Tog, who definitely managed to find some talented warrior to teach him how to handle a sword with that kind of skill, and I’m really not sure who’s actually going to win that match. I’ve only known Thel for a day but I like her, I don’t want to see her get herself killed in some pointless duel over her honour. And yet … “Du, please … she can handle herself, and she wanted this. She won’t appreciate you jumping in like that. Besides, we have to finish this now. We need you.”

He gives me a long, hard look, frowning deeper than I’ve ever seen a dwarf do before outside of anger, and I know he’s absolutely champing at the bit to help his friend, whether she wants him to or not. But then he turns away and looks back down the line of the courtyard, taking in the rest of the violence, and in particular the insane fireworks show that’s erupting between the two wizards as they try to find any advantage against each other. “Shit … shit!” He throws his offhand up in the air, although his other arm gives a little jerk like he almost does the same with his hammer, he’s so frustrated. “For fuck’s … damn it, you’re right. And yeah, she’s good, but … she can get herself into a lot of trouble sometimes if I let her. I don’t like this.” He growls as he watches Thel fighting for a moment longer, then finally looks up at me again. “What’s the plan?”

“I need you to go help Yeslee. I don’t know how many of them are still up there, and I think there might be more coming, so …” I shrug. “I don’t know. But if any of them start sniping down at us, well, that can’t be good. You need to make sure she doesn’t get cut down while she’s trying to protect us, and maybe take some of them out yourself as well.”

Cocking a brow, he looks up at the balcony, looking unconvinced. “Where is she?”

Shit, I didn’t think of that. “I don’t know … last time I saw her she was up there somewhere.” As I point my sword in the proper direction, I brush my hand up over my hair, then instantly regret it when I realise I’ve been getting rained on for however long and it’s completely soaked now. “Gah … look, it’s all connected up there, far as I can tell. Just …” I look over him for a moment, my gaze particularly lingering on his massive, metal-reinforced boots, very much like Thel’s. I’ve never understood dwarven footwear. “Watch where you’re stepping. That wood’s pretty old.”

Frowning again, Dumoli gives me another look. “You’re not filling me with a lot of confidence here, lass. Don’t worry about it, I’ll either help out or fall through the floor and probably break my neck. Either way it’s in Thorin’s hands. But you’re right, it needs to be done.” He shoots Tulen a look, then gives Thel one last lingering glance, before peeling off for the nearest access to the upstairs.

“What about me?” Tulen’s watching me more nervously than I’d like.

“Just come with me.” I don’t bother beckoning her after or anything else, I trust her to follow me as I just turn and start running at an oblique, skirting angle around the side of the skirmish, heading for the other end of the courtyard.

As we start to move around them, Granzun shrugs Brung off his back, sending the goblin sprawling as he starts swinging both of his massive weapons in wild haymakers, seemingly intended more to just ward off would-be attacks than actually trying to hit anything. Brung scrambles up almost immediately, only keeping down long enough to avoid getting beaten to a pulp by that big mace, and he’s already bouncing on the balls of his feet as he’s obviously looking for his next opening to spring. Darwyn’s hanging back, muddy and dishevelled now but otherwise not looking any the worse for wear, small but wickedly keen-looking knives clutched in both hands as she seems to be re-evaluating her own plan.

As I watch Art springs at the orc while his back’s turned and grabs hold of his left-shoulder pauldron, using Granzun’s momentum against him as he swings himself up onto the other shoulder with his knife cocked in the other hand, ready to stab. Except the orc’s clearly ahead of him, shrugging at just the right moment and throwing the smaller fighter off-balance, and as Art loses his grip and starts to slip he throws him off. Art tumbles away as Granzun takes a big step aside, but at the same moment he’s swinging that huge mace around to catch him. Art twists in the air as he drops, clearly intending to right himself to land well, but that attack’s already coming.

Seeing it, I start to scramble forward before I realise I’ve got no chance of making it in time to do anything. Then Art touches down and the mace is racing at him, but he’s already moving, ducking hard to the side as he throws himself into a roll that fouls the orc’s aim, and the mace mostly misses him.

Mostly. The spiked head misses his crown by no more than an inch, I see the wind of it whip at the shaggy hairs between his ears, but the shaft clips him in the side as he tumbles. I hear the cracking above the driving hiss of rain and all the other sounds rattling and booming around us, and I know that’s his ribs splintering as he’s bowled hard off course as the weapon swats him into a sprawling tumble.

“Shit!” I let it out before I can stop myself, changing course to intercept him as he lands with the utmost lack of grace at my feet and I almost trip over him before I can make myself stop. Dropping the sword, I fall to my knees at his side as he grunts and growls and tries very hard not to touch his wounded side. “Gods … Art, are you …”

“Oh fuck …” He can barely wheeze the words, the pain clearly very bad. “That proper smarts.”

“You think?” I force him down onto his back as he starts trying to get up, and he doesn’t resist me as it just makes him wince in clear fresh pain. “Just stay down, you bloody idiot.”

“I think I can fix it, but it’ll take a while.” Tulen’s dropped to one knee at my side, her sword, still gripped tight in her right hand, held off to the side at the safest angle she can find. “It’s not one of Krakka’s healing spells, but I can still mend the ribs. It will hurt very much indeed, though.”

“No!” Art snarls, gritting his teeth tightly now. “No, save it, you’re gonna need it. There’s no time anyway, you gotta back Gael up.” He looks to me through narrowed eyes that I can see are nonetheless full of pain right now. “You’re gonna help Kesla, right?”

“That’s the plan, yeah.” I squint up at the flickering, crackling bright blaze of the dome that I think is Gael’s shield as they ward off another of the enemy wizard’s lightning bolts. “Art’s right. Tulen, you need to help Gael, that’s why I brought you. Go now.”

“But Art needs –”

“I ain’t dyin’,” he snarls through his teeth “Just fucked up. I can hold on for Krakka, I reckon. Won’t enjoy it none, but …” He focuses on her the best he can. “I’ll live. Just help Gael.”

Tulen looks at him for a long moment, and there’s so much going on in her wide, frightened eyes now. She clearly doesn’t want to leave him, and she’s also pretty rattled, which surprises me given how impressively capable she seemed just minutes ago when she was fighting for her own life. But she can see the sense in what we’re both saying, a slow determination finally starting to harden through the doubt and uncertainty now. Looking down at the now mostly clean sword in her hand for a long moment, she gives it a quick whip off to the side before sheathing it, then reaches under her cloak to slip something out of the holster under her left arm.

I’ve seen Gael’s wand, so I recognise this. It’s of a similar design, a little thicker and longer, almost more of a short wooden rod really, but has a similar carven spiral motif to its top half. This one, however, has a small pale gemstone set into the tip, and it starts glowing almost as soon as she’s produced it. “As long as you’re sure.”

“Help ‘em.” Art growls the words with as much determined certainty as he can likely muster, reaching up for a moment with his left hand. Tulen takes it immediately, giving it a good, reassuring squeeze.

“Okay. I’ll do my best.” She lets go and gets to her feet quickly, but pauses once she’s up as she looks at the fight unfolding in front of her. Her apprehension’s coming back now, I can see, and it occurs to me now that this is likely to be the first time she’s ever had to engage in a real magic battle. I really can’t blame her for being scared now.

Then she just sets her jaw and charges forward, rushing to Gael’s side as I see her starting to summon up a sigil. Gods … I hope she’ll be all right, I really do.

Art offers his paw to me now, and I grab it tight. “Go on, give that creepy bitch a good kickin’.”

“You’re sure you’re going to be –”

“Just go!” He growls it low, but I think it’s less pain that just insistence. His eyes are fixed on mine. “Finish it quick.”

Nodding, I give his paw one last squeeze before slipping free too and snatching up my sword, already moving away as I’m rising. I continue to follow an arcing path around the outside of the wizard fight, but even so as Tulen whips her wand around as she sets her feet and tosses something bright and surprisingly loud at their opponent I feel the pressure of that hit buffet me hard. There’s a great cracking sound, loud as thunder, enough that I actually go deaf for a moment and when it comes back there’s a subtle ringing in my ears, and as the spell shatters over the responding shield the shockwave’s almost enough to knock me off my feet.

Somehow I manage to keep moving forward as I fight to keep my footing, but I still weave like a drunkard for several feet before I’m finally clear. Then I’m past the worst of it, and it’s almost like a great powerful wind just dropping all at once, and this time I really am unbalanced and I drop to the turf without ceremony. I sprawl onto my back and just lie there for a few moments, breathing heavy as I wait for my hearing to come back properly.

The rain starts to splash in my eyes now and it’s partly the discomfort that has me forcing myself up again as I blink the water away, but now I’m starting to hear the clatter of steel on steel close by and I remember why I’ve come this far. I sit up fast, shaking my head as much to clear it as get rid of the rain in my eyes, and when I blink I can finally see Kesla and that weird bitch, Vandryss, wheeling around each other, their swords flashing bright as they try to cut each other down.

Vandryss swipes a blurring cut at Kesla’s face and she ducks away from it just in time, spinning on her heels as she wheels about, and she swings her bastard sword in a savage underarm stroke that’s so swift she should cut the woman in half and end the fight right here. Except the pale woman parries at the last and batters the blade away, and as Kesla stumbles back she looks a little more unbalanced than I would’ve expected. No, she’s worn out, that’s what it is. As far as I can tell this fight’s been raging since it all first kicked off, and if they’ve been going at it this hard the whole time it’s no wonder Kesla’s starting to tire. She’s tough as hell, I know that, and she’s got impressive stamina, but this woman is strong, clearly powerful despite of being much smaller, and obviously ferociously capable with her own blade. And if she’s tiring too, it doesn’t show.

Seeming to sense an advantage, Vandryss lunges as Kesla stumbles away, aiming to skewer her through her side. Except Kesla’s still no easy target, swatting the sword aside while still reeling, and it unbalances her opponent long enough for her to get her feet back under her. They back off from each other now, starting to slowly circle again, clearly biding their time looking for an opening for the next round.

Forcing myself up to one knee, I’m a moment realising I’ve lost my sword, and I waste precious moments searching the grass, increasingly fearful I’ve managed to lose it in the tall, dark undergrowth. Then I spot it lying in a jumble of sheared glass that was clearly cut down in its passage, and crawl to it as fast as I can, clawing it up as I struggle to my feet. My head swims for a moment and I almost go down again, but then I collect myself again and a fresh twinge in my back helps me focus as I turns back to the task in hand.

Kesla charges with an ill-tempered grunt and starts to chop at Vandryss’ side, but when her opponent starts to react she switches into an impressively sneaky feint and instead tries to bring Hefdred down in a weighty slash instead. Vandryss back-peddles with surprising agility as she realises her mistake, though, and brings her sword up just in time to block. Even so, the force of the blow is enough to knock her off balance again, and instead of being forced down she chooses to disengage, ducking aside and risking Kesla cutting her shoulder as she retreats. Hefdred scores a line across her back as she stumbles away, cutting a substantial gouge through that fancy leather coat she’s wearing.

I start to move behind her as she takes several big, athletic steps back to open some fresh distance between them, and despite the hit she doesn’t seem to have been hurt at all, still moving with the lithe grace of a dancer. Once she’s finally planted her feet Vandryss looks to her shoulder just long enough to inspect the damage, the sleeve starting to slip away from her arm already as the ruined collar sags loose. She frowns as she looks it over, then turns back to Kesla. Her eyes flash with strange, bright emerald fire now, and her somewhat lupine face starts to crease as her expression darkens. “You gigantic bitch. This was vintage. I’ve had this coat for decades.”

Spitting to the side, Kesla rolls her shoulders as she takes a step forward, moving with slow but steady deliberation now. What exhaustion she may now be feeling still isn’t crippling her yet, she’s not done yet. Or maybe she’s got her second wind. She fixes Vandryss with one of her characteristically stoic glares and speaks with a matter-of-fact level tone I’m sure is intentionally pitched to irritate. “Any real fighter knows you should never wear your best to a battle.”

Narrowing her eyes, Vandryss starts to smile, sly as a fox as she passes her sword to her other hand and starts to shrug the coat off. Underneath I see she’s wearing similar leather armour to the rest, but like the orc’s it’s of a finer quality, and in her case also much more streamlined. It’s quite eye-catching actually, especially what’s already been slicked by the rain, the rest following suit now. It’s an interesting mix of sleek black patent and rougher rawhide, and while the plate is clearly well-made boiled leather it’s very much been crafted to fit her form. She’s definitely as lithe and sensual as I would’ve expected from the way she’s been moving, although she’s also more slender than I am, largely devoid of any prominent muscle tone, at least from what I can tell. She’s also carrying more blades, two long knives strapped to her hips while there’s a similarly expansive selection of smaller blades secreted about her to Art’s impressive collection.

Letting the coat drop behind her and kicking it aside, she flicks the sword into the air and lets it spin once in a lazy arc before catching it in her right hand again, and now she turns to look my way. “Well hello there. Looking to join us, are we?”

“Being prudent is how I’d put it.” I give Ashsong’s sword another little whip, splashing more water aside, then give it a deft flourish of my own. “Might be best if you just dropped your sword and surrendered, to be honest.”

“You don’t think I can beat both of you?” There’s laughter in her voice now, and it could almost be pretty if she was a little less creepy. Really, there’s just something so very not right about her, beyond just the fact that her smile is much too sharp.

“Well you’re welcome to try, but …” I look to Kesla.

“Dare say neither of us gonna make it easy on you. Make me fight you, I’ll make it hurt ‘fore I cut you down.” She raises Hedred now, taking up a ready two-handed grip.

Vandryss does laugh this time, and it’s quite musical, but also a little off-key. It gives me chills, I can’t help shuddering. Then she’s coming at me while I’m still shivering …

Thorin, she’s fast. I concentrate on her sword as she whips it towards me, leaning onto my backfoot as I twist and knock her blade aside, but I’m aware enough that she’s drawing one of her long knives with her offhand too. Obviously mindful of the fact she’s fighting two of us now. I skip backwards as she recovers, still coming for me and not leaving me any opportunity to catch her out, and as I backpedal I chance a couple of cuts, trying to catch her low in her side before swiping for her face. She batters the first aside with ease and simply ducks the second, her smile never shifting from her face.

Her sword’s a long, light blade like mine, the blade curving subtly before the hilt twists a little the other way again, although hers is fitted with a wider, more solid guard and the blade appears to be made of normal spring steel. Her knife shares this design sensibility, but there’s a subtle jagging to the edge of this blade that makes me a little uncomfortable to think of what it might do if she caught me with it. That thing looks to be capable of particularly ragged wounds, and I’m suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact I’m not wearing any armour right now.

Then Kesla comes in on her blindside fast and silent, fully expecting to catch her out while she’s busy with me. I try my best not to visibly register her approach, but Vandryss is clearly just too sharp for us, suddenly spinning her sword in her fingers in a particularly wild flourish which is a little too alarming for me in the moment. I’m forced to jump back out of the way to keep from catching the flying edge wrong, a little astounded she’d risk such a reckless move before I realise she did it on purpose, but by this point I’m already disengaged. She’s already ducking aside as Kesla aims a hard slash at her back, hitting nothing but air.

As she’s unbalanced and stumbling by as she fights for balance without leaving herself open to attack, Kesla’s suddenly between me and our opponent, forcing me to dart back another big step so she doesn’t charge right into me. Vandryss doesn’t take advantage of the momentary jumble, however, instead skipping back with another sinister musical giggle as she opens a little space between us again.

Grabbing hold of Kesla’s offhand arm, I pull her to a stop and yank her back around, giving her a little slap on the arm once she’s got her shit together again. She gives me a little sidelong look, then nods as she silently acknowledges my assistance. I return it. “Okay, so … that didn’t work. Any fresh ideas?”

“Maybe we go in together this time?” she ventures, then gives a little shrug. “I tend to just do this shit on the fly.”

Frowning, I turn back to Vandryss, who’s not even bothering to set her feet or take up a defensive stance yet. She’s just standing there casually, grinning with her sharp teeth flashing in the wet as she waits for us to make up our minds. Gods, I hate her already. I really want to carve that smug grin right off her face.

“Okay, then …” I pull myself down into a low stance and hold my sword low at my side, ready to charge. “Go!” I surge forward, trusting Kesla to move with me but focusing entirely on Vandryss as I rush her.

I feint fast towards her right side as I come in, then as she brings her sword up to block it I’m already swinging under her arm to cut into her side. Kesla’s already coming in from her other side, nothing fancy on her end, she’s just powering a two-handed thrust up right for her middle. By rights we should both catch her right here and end the fight between us.

Instead, somehow she just twists out of the way of both of our blades and batters them aside with two deft moves. I plant my feet tight as I can in an effort to keep myself from stumbling with my momentum, but Kesla’s not so lucky, Vandryss’ parry seeming to strike her sword with sufficient strength to unbalanace her entirely and she just slips up arse over head. For a split I’ve lost my opponent, then I catch a glimpse of her coming quick on my left, and I don’t even bother trying to counter whatever’s coming. Instead I just throw myself forward and roll away as I feel her sword pass so close I feel the wind of her blade’s passing on my soaked back.

Turning fast the moment I’m up, I find she’s already coming right at me, spinning her blade again in another flourish but this one seems a good deal more deliberate as she hacks right for me on the downturn. I twist away from the stroke, swinging my blade round over my head as I shift aside from her attack, then hack at her on my backhand swing, only for her to whip her own sword up from under at the last to catch it. We lock for a moment and I push forward, almost off balance for a moment before I get my other foot solid under me again, bringing my other hand up to grip the hilt two-handed again. She gives me a two foot lead before stopping me again, and then we’re locked tight.

“Oooh … that was nice, I liked that. You have some talent of your own, I see. Much like your friend, but different.” Her expression really hasn’t changed at all this whole time, she’s still smiling at me like a demon from the other side of our grinding blades. “Elven taught, perhaps? I see you’re half one yourself.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a fight that involved this much talking.” I grit my jaw as I try to force her back a little more but now it’s like trying to shove a boulder. Her arm feels like it’s made of iron, how can she be this strong when she’s so small compared to me? “Do you take anything seriously?”

“Apart from my ruined coat?” She cocks her head, smile narrowing some but not going away as a look more like curiosity crosses her face. “Only about where my next meal’s coming from. That an offer?”

“What do you –” I’m a little thrown by her words there, I’m trying to work out what the hell she might mean, so I’m not quick enough remembering the fact that I’ve essentially only got her right arm locked up right now. So when she rams the knife in her offhand just above my belt I don’t even realise what’s just happened until I feel the force of her stab start to twist me aside and then the warmth of my own blood soaking into my clothes along with the cold rain. That’s when the pain hits.

“Oof …” It’s all I can get out as I stumble back, breaking contact now as I drop my sword arm and stagger away from her, and she holds onto her knife so as I back off I essentially let her drag her blade out of me again. Oh fuck … I’ve been stabbed before, I’ve got a pretty decent collection of my own scars even though from what I’ve seen of Kesla’s she could put me to shame with her back alone, but this is just … different. Deeper, more painful, like something’s really torn up inside me. I know the blade’s out of me now but I’d almost swear it was still there, and now it’s white hot.

Vandryss doesn’t attack me again as I stumble away from her, she’s just watching me with her amused little smile, head still cocked in quizzical fashion, blazing bright green eyes slowly turning from me to look down at her knife as she raises it in front of her. The blade slick with my blood. A lot of my blood, I can see.

I keep my sword up even as I transfer it to my other hand, determined to have it ready to ward her off if she does decide to come after all, then use my right hand to reach for the wound, going as gently as I can. Even so it hurts like a bastard when I touch it, and as I let a winded snarl go I have to force myself to press my fingers hard to the wound, probing carefully to check just how bad it is.

Fuck … it’s really bad. I’m lucky she didn’t just stab up under my arm and sever the artery there, much like I’ve seen Art do when he’s fighting big opponents he wants to put down fast, but she definitely hasn’t gone easy on me. She’s still gone for a kill, but she clearly wanted it to be the slow one, she’s rammed her blade low and punctured me deep in my guts. Even if I don’t just bleed out right here, I’m as likely to die from a massive infection over the course of a few days. And it’s going to hurt, every burning minute of it.

“You … fucking bitch …” Ashsong’s sword finally slips from my fingers at about the same time my legs finally give out under me, and I drop onto my backside in the sopping wet grass, a low, keening moan escaping my mouth entirely unbidden.

“Fuck … Shay!” Kesla skids to her knees at my side, clearly showing her priorities now as she ignores her opponent and just comes straight to my rescue, such as it is. The look on her face is genuinely shocking to me, it’s like she’s looking into the face of death herself and finds it terrifying, she’s taking this development very personally. I mean … okay, we’ve known each other for a few weeks now and it’s clear enough to me we’re becoming friends, but still, this level of a reaction takes me very much by surprise. She drops Hefdred at her side and starts to reach for my wound, but stops short as she looks at the blood still gushing from the ragged tear in my abdomen. It’s so dark … that’s really not a good sign at all. “Oh gods … what did you … oh fuck … I can’t –”

“Thorin’s sake, Kesla …” I pretty much snarl the oath into her face. “I’m not dead yet, you have to finish this. Deal with this fucking bitch already.”

Her wide eyes snap to mine, and I see there’s so much panic in them all of a sudden, it’s truly startling seeing that in her eyes. I didn’t think she was even capable of that. I mean … all right, I saw how she reacted seeing Gael dead after Ashsong, but … “What … what are you saying, I have to –"

I slap her across the face as hard as I can, and it takes her so much by surprise she falls on her own arse beside me. She looks as shocked as I’ve been feeling about her reaction, shaken too, but … no, there’s a little indignation in there now, I think. I might actually have provoked the right emotion out of her, there’s a little anger rising in her now. Her eyes start to narrow, and for a split I genuinely regret what I’ve just done as she starts looking at me with real venom … but then she turns to Vandryss again and that expression doesn’t change, instead she just reaches over and grabs her sword in tight fingers while she gets her feet under her. Bloody hell … now she looks fit to murder someone …

Astonishingly, Vandryss doesn’t seem to have taken any advantage of the situation at all, she’s just standing there watching it all, still as cool and casual as before, still smiling her nasty little smile. The rain’s already largely washed my blood clean off her knife now, but there are still a few stubborn dark streaks there which make me deeply uncomfortable to see, and as my gaze lingers on that edge I feel another heightened stab of pain amongst the rest of it. She sees me wince as my hand goes to the wound again, pressing as hard as I can to try and stem that awful flow even though I know it’s pointless, and her smile starts to grow again.

Then Kesla’s on her feet and as she raises her sword one-handed, just pointing at her now as if marking her for death, those bright green eyes turning to take her in. Kesla’s voice is a deep rumble of pure, rageful threat now. “You just fucked up spectacularly, you evil little bitch.”