"If we destroy it, they will be alerted to our presence immediately," Bellous stated, his indifferent tone making it clear he wasn't implying anything, simply pointing out future events. "And there's a chance its destruction will collapse the stairs."
"Does that matter?" Jim said, cutting in with a quiet, intense whisper. "Let's be honest... Since we were forced into these caverns, the odds of us living to escape are so small that it would be like taking our wages and trying to win enough consecutive dice games to buy a noble's mansion. We continued because giving up was unacceptable. But now we can make a difference in the coming — or ongoing — battle for the Triad. I might be a decent chunk of the way into death's arms already, and the pain might be coloring my thoughts, but we all will eventually die, probably in battle." Shrugging like he was indifferent to his words, he continued, his voice mellowing out, nearly becoming inaudible, "This seems like a pretty good way to go out to me. Better than being run down like animals."
No one had anything to say to that. They all had moments where their thoughts wandered in the direction of how they would die down here. It swas a topic no one brought up, though. The unspoken, if ever present, burden they all hauled forward, one step at a time.
Jim had shattered that silent agreement, and yet, Sathera could only find relief inside her heart and a weight lifted off her shoulders. Knowing and accepting the end is near brings clarity to life. In the end, they were legionnaires. They signed up to continue their tours because someone had to defend the Republic.
When they made the choice to remain in the Legion, the enemies they thought they would face weren't existential threats like these dark elves and goblins seemed to be, but they were present and would strike if given a chance. Holding back the dangers lurking at the edges of the realm gave an unmistakable purpose to one's life, even if no one would ever really know or appreciate the sacrifice.
How many legionaries of the past died in the forgotten corners of the world, their graves unknown to everyone. And with their deaths, how many children and elderly did they end up protecting. How many lives of their comrades in arms did they save while trying to cut down that which ultimately killed them, only succeeding in reducing the numbers of foes by one or ten. Small as that difference was, it still existed and affected the world. Those legionaries might have only fought for a chance to live or for those beside them, though some no doubt did it out of a sense of duty, horrible and callous that moral conviction might be when it ultimately demands its price. But in the end, it didn't matter. They fought, they died, and they served the Republic while doing so, no matter the circumstances.
If the ancestors could make such sacrifices, why couldn't they? Why shouldn't they? Sathera and the others weren't any more or less special. They were just… legionaries.
"Since we are in agreement," Sathera declared, turning to the stairwell and the bright light green light it was giving off, "ideas for how we go about this?"
"Rush the guards and take them out fast." Joxin offered. "Then we surround that tunnel and defend it while one of us finds what's causing the glowing and destroys it. Simple and easy."
"We could try to sneak over to it?" Jim said a moment later. "Should give us more time to inspect and destroy the artifact."
"We won't make it," Joxin said, shaking his head in rejection. "Someone will spot us from the buildings or the alleyways, if not the stairwell guards themselves, before we make it across the square. That assumes we could make it into position without being noticed. And then we would still have to fight, just without the surprise on our side."
Joxin wasn't wrong, but running up to an enemy in the open didn't sound like the best idea, either. Not that any better ideas were being thrown around.
"...We could just walk up?" Bellous hesitantly said.
"That fucking stupid!" Joxin snapped, "They would see us coming and instantly move to attack us."
“…Why?" Sathera asked, a smile twitching at her lips. "We are inside the middle of a secret camp hidden inside a complex maze of caverns with no alarm blaring that enemies are nearby. By the time anyone arrives at this place, they should have been checked dozens of times to confirm their identities. We already know there are human traitors; why can't one be here? And why can't they be arriving with the army pounding its way up the road?" Sathera could feel the incredulous silence behind her, but the more she spoke, the better she liked the idea. "We saw how they are reacting to their superiors' arrival. You really think they would question orders?"
Twisting her hips, Sathera spun on her toes, turning to face the men as she struggled to contain a half-hysterical cackle of anticipation with a broad, infectious smile, which the others hesitantly returned. It was hilariously preposterous, and so was their situation. Why can't one absurd reality oppose another? At the very least, no one will see it coming, and few could ever top this story in a tavern if they lived to tell the tale. There's always a bright side, Sathera thought, lifting her face to the sky, somehow feeling a prickling heat against her skin like the sun's light was shining on her as she took a moment to focus her mind.
"Lose everything with a legion emblem." As she spoke, her hands fell to her belt, which had her scabbard branded with the legion emblem, a laurel wreath surrounding a shield with a cross sword and spear behind it. But even as she was moving, she was slowing down, shaking her head. "No, that will not work."
Hands moving up to her neck, she grabbed her cloak and started adjusting and unclasping the scout brooch insignia, turning it around to face her skin rather than outward. "We can't appear unarmed or with too ragged gear. Make obvious attempts to remove the emblems you can not hide. We don't need it all gone, just enough to make it appear we are trying to differentiate ourselves. We can even cut off the bottoms of our cloaks and use the cloth as wrapping to hide them."
As she told the others what to do, they all began following her lead, engaging in a few hurried minutes of deconstruction as they scraped at leather and sliced cloth. They couldn't let the noise of ripping cloth spread, so they formed small bubbles of psy around their efforts to muffle the sound.
While they hastily worked, Sathera felt the strain of maintaining the small telepathic casting. The resistance wasn't like hitting a brick wall or the scouring sand wind she felt while controlling a telepathic strand further out in the camp, but something like wading through water. While it was manageable on a small scale, if this affected a whole legion, it wouldn't last a minute in battle. It was not like she needed it, but it only added to the need to destroy the artifact. Something so powerful could not be allowed to remain within their enemy's hands.
Giving her scouts a quick once over, Sathera noted that no insignias of the legion were showing. It still looked like the standard basic equipment of the legion, but there were so many items of similar make or just old legion equipment floating around that unless you were a noble, everyone with armor would have an item or two nearly identical to a legionary.
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Nodding her head in satisfaction, Sathera began speaking, "Jim, you are at the back; hide your wounds as best you can. Joxin and Bellous will be to my sides while keeping a pace behind me. I will do all the talking. You are acting as guards, so just stand there and look intimidating. Do not so much as look to the sides until I attack, no matter how they might call out to you. Empty shadows, gentlemen, you will be my empty shadows following me around. Is that understood?" When she looked each of them in the eye and revived a nod, she smiled, "Good, now let's get going."
Turning, Sathera rose to her full height and stepped forward, her entire demeanor shifting during the movement. Gone were the careful steps where, at any moment, she could dart to the side or freeze in place. In its place was the determined strut of a noble on a mission, daring anyone to attempt to deter her from her chosen path. Her slightly hunched back straightened, almost snapping into place as it became so aligned it could be used as a benchmark to determine whether a board was bowed or not. Not that anyone would dare to suggest such a thing. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, swaying slightly with every stride, not even so much as twitching toward her sword, as she crushed any anxious twitches with a practiced, placid exterior.
Taking several steps by herself, Sathera heard the moment the others jumped to join her, as their movements were marked by a rapid patter that stopped at her back. A small knot in her stomach untied itself at their arrival, but it did little to relieve the greater storm raging all around it. Though it did send a flare of heart with gratitude, knowing they decided to join her on this idiotic task. Even if they all agreed while planning, you never really know what someone would do when it was time for action. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel a slight annoyance that they were willingly throwing their lives away.
It was stupid, but she couldn't deny that it was there, not that she would tell anyone either.
With every step the scouts took, while the knots inside Sathera didn't disappear, they just lost their prominence in her mind. She had already won a small victory by taking the first steps. Now that they were in motion, her mind was focused on gaining the next needed victory to their goal by killing the goblins. What else mattered at this point? Nothing else.
The scouts made it halfway across the square before any of the goblins threw a first, then second, look at them. Maybe it was Sathera's forced confidence and determined walk that made people write them off as belonging, or it could be an overwhelming lack of discipline where no one bothered to speak of the four individuals clearly not goblins approaching. Even when one of the guards pointed at them and barked out in their harsh, nasally language, the scouts still made it another five steps before any of the guards acted.
And when they did acr, it was not what she expected. The smallest of the goblins was shoved forward and shouted at until he scuttled forward to intercept them, while another darted around the side of the pillar. When the goblin got close enough to talk casually, it started choking and hacking like he was trying to clear something lodged inside its throat. It took Sathera a second to realize that the noises it was making could mostly be called words, "You are not allowed here, humans. Leave."
Sathera didn't so much as slow her stride as she barreled toward the goblin, making him step to the side or be knocked over. "I will not be questioned by one as lowly as you," Sathera sneered, putting so much contempt into her words that it made it clear to all how she felt having to lower herself. That, in her eyes, he might as well be a vagrant covered in his own shit for how much his presence was an affront to her. "Bring me your commander, and I will dain to explain then... Not that he will be worthy to hear my voice."
"Of course," The goblin snapped, stepping back in fear and bowing low before darting to the side to quickly carry out a hushed conversation with the other goblins, whose numbers had grown as all the guards around the tower were gathering. As they talked, a large warrior goblin arrived, pushing his way to the center and snapping out a few words before listening.
Stopping four feet from the nine gathered goblins, Sathera noted that all but one of them were shadow goblins, which was great. She crossed her arms under her breasts while her foot tapped quickly against the ground in annoyance. Finally, after much gesturing to them from the small shadow goblin, the warrior goblin pushed through the others, begrudgingly stomping his way over.
As he approached, Sathera could smell the unwashed body of the creature, a sickly sweet scent flowing off him in waves. Sathera didn't bother hiding her disgust at the smell. Instead, she played into it, waving one hand at her nose as her face wrinkled. The smaller goblin stepped around from the back of the larger one as it snapped out a few words, waiting patiently. When the large one finally stopped speaking, the smaller one stepped forward slightly, taking on a commanding tone as it said, "The Great Blood Sniffer demands you explain your presence."
Hand plunging into her cloak like she was searching for something to cover her nose, Sathera stepped forward, putting herself almost face to chest with the goblin as she looked down her nose at the creature. Seconds passed as her lip started to twitch and curl at the warrior goblin, an expression the goblin returned with its yellowed fanged teeth, causing a puff of fowl breath to wash over Sathera's face. Nothing happened for long seconds as they locked eyes with each other, a silent battle of dominance taking place in the air between them.
Opening her mouth to speak, Sathera never broke eye contact as her right hand slithered out of her cloak, her wrist flicking in dismissal. The creature didn't even start to react until the knife she held in her hand exited the left side of its neck with a squirt of blood. Lunging forward after the attack, Sathera pushed the warrior goblin to the side as he clutched at his gaping throat, gurgling. "Attack now," Sathera barked as her hand pulled back before flicking forward, sending her knife spinning at the closest goblin.
Her throw utterly failed, as the blade twisted in the air until it struck the creature's chest with the flat side, doing nothing, but the goblin flinched back, and that was all she needed. While Sathera was throwing the dagger, she was also gritting her teeth and gathering her psy to force a tendril outside of her body at her waistline. Even expecting it, her tendril moved at an annoyingly slow speed for the effort as it wrapped around the hilt of her sword and pulled free the steel.
As she covered the four feet to the still shocked goblins, and her hand was coming down from her throw, Sathera's sword flicked up, propelled by her tendril, slicing through the flinching goblin's boiled leather chest piece and torso alike. By the time her hand was outstretched and the hilt of the blade was slapping into her palm, the upward slash had reached the creature's left pec. Fingers wrapping around the worn leather, Sathera tightened her grip as she twisted her body, pulling the sword out of its flesh and bones, letting the body nearly collapse to the ground in two pieces.
Stepping forward and uncoiling, Sathera thrust her blade into the neck of the next goblin in the group, who was finally starting to react, his hand dropping to the sword at his side. The reaction was far too late to stop the mortal wound, but Sathera did halt her advance for a half second as she slammed her palm into the goblin's wrist, preventing him from drawing his blade until blood loss and terror caused him to collapse.
In the moment she paused, Bellous and Joxin flashed past her, steel in their hands, each downing another goblin with the same ease she had. A step behind them came Jim, whose sword was already stained with blood, adding his own weight to the charge. With over half their number dead in less than a handful of seconds, the goblins, cowards that they were, turned, screams of panic and fear on their lips. Not that their fear saved them, as the three legionaries hacked and stabbed into their backs, cutting down the rest of them before they could make it five feet.
Standing within the body and blood-stained ground, Sathera's chest heaved with heavy, labored breaths, feeling drained from the fight, short as it was. Forcing herself to look to the sides for more enemies, her tunneled vision expanded to normal again, and her mind cleared enough for her to remember her true objective.
With her unclouded thoughts, Sathera turned, bent down to scoop up her knife, and yelled back at the men, "Move to the tunnel!"