There was no resistance on the climb up. We stop right before the flight of stairs that would lead to the uppermost level. I am huffing. Sweat pours down from my neck and stains the collar of my shirt as I bend at the waist and suck in air. We take a moment to recuperate.

“You recover faster if you put your hands over your head, like this.”

Shawn stands there with his hands interlocked behind his head and his elbows parallel to the ground. I copy his stance, though it still takes me just as long to capture my breath.

“What are the chances that they’re waiting for us up there?” Shawn said as he eyes the stairs.

“What’s the chance they aren’t.”

“Good point, good point.” He laughs a laugh that seems to shake the entire tower. “I’ll show you something interesting. When we’re done with this tell your, ‘shard,’ to look up, ‘Oak,’ on the leaderboard.”

“What do you mean?”

Before my question even finishes, however, Shawn rushes out in front and already began to climb the stairs to the uppermost layer. The hand that held his shield on his wrist brushed against the wall of the siege tower; the black wood began to warp and change at his touch. As soon as he turns the last corner a deafening sound of dozens of whistling arrows being released all at once stops me in my track. I expected to hear the gasping breath of a dying man, instead, however, I hear the arrows thunk against wood, followed shortly by the sound of a tree groaning against the ravages of a storm.

I finish the climb to the top of the tower, and Shawn is in the middle of his battle. Though, ‘battle,’ would, perhaps, be a loaded term to describe this. There were at least 30 Dogmen up there, and about half were already down — their bodies were twisted or pierced through with wooden stakes that jutted out from the wooden ramp of the siege tower. A tendril of warped wood cracked the stone of the wall and smashes the center of the formation of archers, curls around half their number, and swipes them off the wall.

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The other half rushed toward Shawn who was engaged with a group on the ramp. I hold up my staff, but Shawn stops me with a glance and a smile that seems to scream, ‘don’t.’ He stops a blow from a white-tabard-wearing Dogman with silver earrings wielding a large two-handed sword and stomps the ground. The wood warped and melted at his touch in a straight line toward the Dogman. As the creature’s footfalls on the warped portion of wood, it gives way as if it were rotted through centuries of rain, and he’s sent tumbling down to the ground below. There were ten now standing against him.

Shawn retreats a step and creates a bit of space between himself and the ten remaining Dogmen. Deftly, he pulls a javelin from his quiver, cocks his arm back, and lets loose.

“Ears!” Shawn calls back as he covers his own.

“Hu—”

Boom.

The javelin slams into the center of the approaching mob with a deafening explosion as the javelin shatters the air at a great speed. It carries the one it pierces backward and embeds itself in a stone parapet. It dies immediately. Those surrounding it weren’t as lucky. Each one fell in place. Several of them tumble right off the top, while most of them were left twitching on the ground; blood flowing out of their splattered eyes and burst ears. Were they choking?

I feel the trickle of blood coming from my own ears, and I can’t hear the words coming from Shawn’s mouth as he grabs my shoulder and leads me down the stairs. He taps his wrist and I think I understand. One of those Dogmen must have been the Priest, I reason.

As we run down the stairs, he glances back every now and then to see if I’m still following. I take a quick glance at my wrist. Eight minutes until the door closes. Shit. Can we make it?

The brief moment I had taken my eyes off my feet was enough to get my feet all tangled up. My foot snags on one of the steps in front of me and I tumble face-first down to the next level. Luckily, Shawn was ahead of me and had already turned the corner and begun to turn the corner to the next flight of stairs so we avoided colliding with one another. I push myself up and continue sprinting.

6 minutes to go, and we were only halfway down the siege tower. 5 minutes, and we were a third. 4 minutes and we were a quarter. My lungs feel close to bursting like a balloon, and my legs wobbled and nearly toppled me several times. 3. One more set of stairs. 2. There’s the door.

We sprinted across the green. 30 seconds left, and dive into the tent where we had entered right before the fogwall collapsed onto the area and swallowed it.

We roll out onto the street, and Shawn helps me up. He mouths some words that I can’t hear, moves me to the side and picks up a bundle of cash on the ground, and hands me half before placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. It seems, only then, that he notices the dried trail of blood flowing out of my inner ear, and a look of horror washes over his face. He helps me back to the motel, keeps me out of the way of oncoming cars, and leaves me in my room. I spend the rest of the day healing my burst eardrums until the ringing stops.