“Have you ever met one of the half-humans?”
Speaker Brightheart turned to regard the Captain, the new one who had been appointed to replace poor Captain Travis. The man seemed competent enough, though he lacked Travis’s fervor.
“I can’t say that I’ve had the privilege. I have reviewed all our documentation on the subject, as well as interviewed the few diplomats who have had that option.”
The Captain scratched his head for a moment before nodding. “Very good, sir. Just wanted to make sure we knew what we were getting into. My ma always told me stories of the pointy ears and their flying Citadel.” The man peered into the distance, where the Citadel was visible floating in the sky, like an inverted mountain topped with a city.
Brightheart followed the man’s gaze. He watched the Citadel slowly grow larger as they approached the village nestled in the hills beneath it. After a few moments he returned his attention to the Captain.
“You may rest assured that we will not be dealing with the elves at this time. We are only interested in those that share our blood at this time.”
The Captain suddenly grinned and nodded. “Right you are, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll just be seeing to the men. We should be arriving within the hour.”
Brightheart watched the Captain ride away, then turned back to gazing at the floating Citadel. Now there would a be a prize worth taking. However, it was a complete unknown. Even though the elves had been around for millennia, they refused to interact with any organized group, only occasionally picking up what seemed to be random people. Even those people weren’t kept for long and never allowed in the Citadel itself.
Shaking away thoughts of the Elves, he refocused on what he knew about the half-humans. They were always considered fair in their trade dealings. There were a number of magical devices that came exclusively from the village, as well as some plants that grew solely in their hills.
Brightheart lost himself in going over his mental notes for the time it took to reach the village. The timber walls appeared, with an open gate facing the expedition. There was a gathering of half-humans standing before the gate. Only a few of them appeared armed.
There were rumored to be about a thousand half-humans in the village, though no one knew the true number. Just in case, Brightheart had been sent with a soldier for each person in the village.
The expedition came to a halt about three hundred yards from the gate and started shaking down into ranks. The Captain walked up with the escort and fell into place around Brightheart. Once the escort was in place they started towards the half-human group.
One of the half-humans stepped forward, a tall fellow with light blue eyes and his long dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail. He held up a hand, palm out. “That’s close enough. You’re obviously not here to trade. State your business with the Village.”
Brightheart clasped his hands together in front, his smiling mask regarding the half-human. The man seemed too relaxed for someone who was so obviously outnumbered by such a significant factor.
“Greetings, my dear man. I am Speaker Brightheart, representative of the Empire of Man. We are here to welcome you home into the arms of humanity.”
The half-human offered a deep bow, one that had his hair nearly touching the ground. When he straightened, he clasped his hands together in a similar stance to the Speaker.
“I am Atrius Bluelight and on behalf of the Village Council, I must respectfully decline your invitation. Your men are welcome to camp outside the walls and may enter the village in small, unarmed groups. We would ask that you return to your Empire on the morrow.”
For a moment Brightheart didn’t respond. While that was the most polite refusal he had ever received, it was still a refusal. He owed it to the human blood within these people to give them a chance.
“My dear man, perhaps I can speak with your Village Council and present the benefits the Empire has to offer.” A brief concentration of will had the sunbursts on his chest and the eyes of his mask glowing, reaching out with their subtle influence.
Atrius Bluelight frowned, those light blue eyes narrowing. “I’m afraid the council will not see you. I would also ask that you not try your enchantments on me without permission. Such a thing is considered extremely rude among my people.”
Brightheart sighed. Yet another with apparent immunity to the magic of his sunbursts. He had hoped to spare the village the inevitable damage and loss of life that came with an occupation. “Very well then.” Turning to the Captain, he said, “Kill the armed ones and take the rest hostage. Then we’ll see what needs to be done with the village.”
The Captain saluted with fist to chest, then turned to shout orders at the men. Brightheart turned back to face Atrius as several Imperial archers stepped up with arrows notched.
The half-elf frowned. “I warn you not to do this.”
Brightheart shook his head. “I tried the peaceful route. You chose the sword instead.”
Bows twanged and several of the half-elves staggered, feathered with arrows. One appeared completely untouched, a blur of silver surrounding her. Some of the other unarmed half-elves rushed to the injured in an apparent effort to save lives.
Another wave of arrows flew out, only to crash into a wall of blue light that flashed into place. Brightheart watched as Atrius waved his arms about and more walls of light appeared.
“Captain, it would appear that this is slightly more complicated than we expected. Please call my mages forward.”
As the men reorganized, the half-elves withdrew through their gate, all except for Atrius, who stood with arms raised, no doubt maintaining his shields. The walls of blue light extended across the entire gate, overlapping in places.
Several scarlet robed mages stepped forward. They spoke to the Captain briefly before coming to stand beside Brightheart, facing the magical walls. One of them said, “Huh, never seen a shield like that before. Don’t worry though, we’ll knock ‘em down.”
Brightheart nodded and walked back to stand with the Captain. He watched eagerly as the mages were each surrounded by rings of magic that swirled at their feet. A moment later and several large balls of fire roared through the air to crash into the shields.
The air seemed to scream as flames engulfed the walls, hiding them from sight. Cheers from the mages turned to screams that cut off with sickening suddenness as a bar of light speared down from the sky, enfolding the mages and washing them from sight.
Brightheart bit back a scream of his own as the light seemed to stab at his eyes. He threw up a belated hand to cover his eyes, trying to blink away the black bar from his teary eyes. Shouts from the men spoke of others in similar states.
Once he could see again, Brightheart looked for his mages, only to find a circle of burnt earth several inches deep. Not even bones remained of the mages. The men were shouting in confusion, most gripping their weapons and staring at the village.
Following their gazes, Brightheart saw the half-elf standing in the open gate, apparently unharmed by the mages’ attacks. Standing with him were several tall, long-haired figures. One with silver hair and glowing blue eyes stepped forward.
“You have used hostile magic where it is forbidden. The Citadel has taken the lives of those who trespassed, but we would know the mind behind this atrocity.”
For a moment Brightheart considered not stepping forward. However, he couldn’t afford the loss of face in front of the men, especially this many men. An entire army.
“I am Speaker Brightheart, representative of the Empire of Man. I…”
The Elf cut him off. “You lead these people?”
“My dear elf. It appears that things have gotten out of hand. I’m sure we can discuss this and…”
Again the Elf interrupted. “You lead these people?”
Brightheart sighed. “Yes, I lead these people.”
The Elf nodded, reaching behind its back and drawing an impossibly long, thin sword. There was no way something that size had been in a sheath the Elf didn’t even seem to be wearing.
“Then you, too, need to be punished.”
The Elf seemed to blur, the blade humming through the air. Stepping back, it returned the sword to wherever it had come from.
There was a thud as something hit the ground. Brightheart looked down to see an arm in a white sleeve at his feet. His gaze rose to see his left shoulder, which seemed to be missing an arm. Strange that there was no pain. He turned back to the Elves, watching them through his mask. The wound seemed to not be bleeding and could be ignored for the moment.
“Justice has been served. You will now depart.” All the Elves blurred this time, then disappeared. Atrius seemed to give Brightheart a considering look before turning and vanishing into the Village, the gate closing behind him.
Brightheart stared at those gates for a few moments as the men milled about, confusion in their voices. The Captain stepped up, holding the cut off arm. “Sir? What are we to do?”
Turning to the Captain, Brightheart nodded slowly. “It would appear that some of the stories about the Citadel are true. A pity. This expedition would be too costly at this time. Turn us around, Captain. And bring me a healer.” He reached out with his good right arm and took the cut off limb.
“Don’t worry though. We will return one day and the Elves will pay for the lost lives.”
***
“Something just occurred to me. How are we supposed to sneak up on the compound with this many people tromping around?”
Palcon turned his head to regard the veteran, though he didn’t stop walking. While the man had a good question, it wasn’t one that required they stop.
“I’ve been told that the mages will handle things as we get closer. We still have plenty of time before we would hit any patrols, assuming the Shadow Dancers left any alive.”
Jensen seemed to think about that for a moment before nodding. “Makes sense.” The man kept walking and Palcon watched him for a few moments.
“Sometimes I envy your outlook on life, Jensen.”
“Of course you do! You think too much. It’s why they keep putting you in charge of things.”
***
“How are we going to sneak up on the compound? The sentries should be dealt with but this many people are hard to miss.”
Marcus looked past a happily humming Hanna to the crossbowman, who was looking back with curious eyes. He smiled and waved at one of the scarlet robed mages next to him.
“Bonnie here is a wonder with water. When we get closer, she’ll summon up a nice one-sided fog. It will bellow up to the walls of the compound, but not over them. We’ll be able to see each other but they won’t be able to see into the fog.”
At hearing her name, Bonnie looked over and gave a shy wave. A small globe of water bobbed over her shoulder. Marcus watched the young Becosea return the wave and a blush overcome Bonnie’s cheeks. She ducked her head and seemed to focus on walking.
Marcus shook his head as he thought on the interaction. Did the mages of the Academy not get out of the Academy enough? Other than magic related expeditions, Marcus almost never left the Academy and he’d been there since he was a young child. Many of the mages entered the Academy at a young age and never left.
Perhaps that was something to bring up to the Mage Council once everything was settled.
Shaking away the thought, Marcus watched Hanna for a while. She seemed so excited for everything. Considering how much combat training they’d been doing he knew she was ready. She’d even gotten him to the point where he felt he was ready for the fight.
Marcus drew on some of her excitement and smiled at her. As if she could sense him, she turned and beamed, one hand reaching up to caress the sapphire necklace.
Yes, they were definitely ready.
***
“How are they going to get all those men near the compound without being seen?”
Ethaniel looked over at Vincent, who was calmly choking one of the sentries with a shadow noose. He winced at the sharp crack of break bones before the man slumped to the ground. This wasn’t the same as killing monsters, even though the things Feron did made him a monster. These sentries were just men. Vincent was far too cool about this. It was a side of his friend he had never seen.
Stolen story; please report.
Realizing Vincent was still waiting for an answer, Ethaniel said, “Marcus and the other mages have something planned, that’s all I know. As long as we do our part, they’ll do theirs.”
Vincent nodded and turned to watch the darkness as a pair of shadows seemed to detach themselves and resolve into the Panthra Shadow Dancers. With their enveloping cloaks it was difficult to tell them apart, though it seemed that Theron was slightly larger of the two.
“I see you two are done here. That should be the last of the sentries. All we have left are the berserkers.”
That would be Bageera, since it seemed Theron never spoke. Ethaniel nodded acknowledgement. “There are three of them, right? So how do we divvy up?”
“Theron and I will target one a piece. We will rely upon the two of you for the third. Once we are in place, I will tap you on the shoulder to signal execution.”
Ethaniel winced at the word choice, though he nodded again. Summoning his shadows, he faded into darkness, feeling the others join him. They traveled through the night, quickly reaching the walls of the compound.
Lookouts patrolled the walls, brightly lit by their mage globes. The gates were closed but that was no impediment to the Shadow Dancers. They slid along the walls until finding a portion wreathed in darkness, then slithered up and over.
Inside the compound were a number of buildings. Two were clearly the barracks. Others Ethaniel couldn’t work out the purpose to before they were past, nearing the tower at the back of the compound.
The tower seemed out of place in the compound. It was over ten stories tall, which was already too much and spoke of magic assisted construction. It was also far too wide, nearly one hundred feet wide at the base and hardly reducing in size as it rose.
Situated at the top was a massive red crystal, one that had a familiar feel to it, though Ethaniel couldn’t quite place it. However, it was what was in front of the tower that was most distracting.
The group of Shadow Dancers collectively drew away from the tower, tucking themselves into a dark corner out of sight before emerging from the night. Ethaniel frowned.
“Why are there four and why are they wearing mage collars? I thought you said there were three regular berserkers?”
Bageera lowered the hood of his cloak, ears flicking forward as he stared at Ethaniel. “Three were here when we were last watching the compound. I do not understand the significance of the collars. Four just means we each have one to deal with.”
Ethaniel sighed and shook his head. “The mage collars are designed to give the berserkers additional resistance to magic. They’re normally used in the mines up north that are still hit by the Leyline storms. What could Feron be doing with them?”
The Panthra frowned, ears flattening. “That does complicate things, though it doesn’t change our objectives. We still need to slay the berserkers, lest they reap a grim harvest among your fellows.”
Vincent nodded with a grin. “True enough. Let’s not keep our dance partners waiting! I’ll take the one on the far left. Ethaniel, you get the one next to him. Kitties, you got yours.” With that he slipped back into the shadows.
Bageera watched the darkness for a moment. Ethaniel wasn’t sure but he thought he detected a slight curve on the Panthra’s lips. His ears were certainly perky enough. Almost simultaneously, the three remaining Shadow Dancers faded from view and flowed towards the tower.
Ethaniel found Vincent in the shadows and took hold of his shoulder. He concentrated on his target, gathering his will for an attack. The shadows seemed almost eager. He was so focused on the berserker in his sights that he almost missed the tap on his shoulder.
Spikes of darkness shot from the night, impaling each of the berserkers in multiple places. At the same time, a quartet of shadow nooses descended to wrap around each lizard's neck. They passed right through the flesh without resistance. Each berserker shook itself free of the impalements, with not a drop of blood to be seen.
Quicker than something that size should have been able to move, one berserker reached for a horn at its hip and blew a long, loud burst. Almost immediately, the crystal atop the tower burst to life, bathing the surrounding area blood red. A multitude of mage globes blazed to life, eradicating the darkness and leaving the Shadow Dancers exposed.
Vincent drew his daggers. “Up close and personal it is.”
***
Marcus watched with a smile as Nic Becosea thanks Bonnie for the concealing fog that had thus far hidden the group’s approach. The water elementalist was beaming at the praise and her globe of water was dancing around her head.
No matter what else happened on the raid, it was already a success in his mind. Seeing the other mages acting so casually with people was a delight.
Looking around, he suddenly realized someone was missing. Turning to Hanna he asked, “Where’s Akara?”
Hanna gave him a mischievous grin. “She went on ahead. She wants her form to be a surprise for you.”
Marcus blinked. What kind of surprise could that stone snake have in store? He peered at Hanna, who just continued to grin.
Sighing, Marcus turned his attention to the mission. They were as close as they were going to get to the compound. He could just make out the edges of the wall about one hundred yards out, peeking into the fog. Bonnie had done a masterful job.
Nic Becosea made his way over. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”
Marcus shrugged. “Not sure. Those boys are two of the most skilled Shadow Dancers I have ever heard of or seen. They’ll get the job done.”
Unslinging his crossbow, Nic checked it over once before reaching into his pouch and withdrawing a gray bolt. It almost looked like stone but that would make for poor ammo for the weapon.
Marcus offered the man a curious look. Becosea grinned but didn’t offer any explanation. Shrugging, Marcus returned to focusing on the mission, wondering how much longer he would have to wait.
Suddenly the fog lit up red. Mage globes burst to life all along the wall, burning away the fog and leaving the group revealed. Marcus could see the lookouts on the wall scrambling for their weapons. One seemed more alert than others and snapped off a bolt at Marcus.
Without thinking about it, Marcus teleported to the side, the crossbow bolt sizzling through the air where he’d just been.
Nic Becosea shrugged. “Guess the element of surprise is out. Suppose I’ll just knock then.”
The crossbow glowed for a second before the cable forward with a twang. A dark line seemed to connect the weapon to the gate for an instant before there was a resounding crash and the gate was smashed off its hinges.
“I believe the door is open.” Becosea grinned and loaded another bolt, firing almost as soon as it settled. One of the lookouts was engulfed in flames, then tumbled screaming from the wall.
That seemed to grab the attention of more people on the walls and several arrows flew through the air at the man. An ax materialized in time to bat away two of the arrows. Marcus blinked as Becosea’s barbarian friend appeared as if from the ether.
“A bit flashy there, Nic?”
Nic grinned. “I wanted to make sure I got my shots in before you killed them all.”
Matthew Makae saluted his friend with his ax. “Well, in that case, to work then.”
The barbarian strode towards the rent gates, followed by the rest of the group. In those few moments the lookouts had been cleaned from the wall, though they hadn’t fallen alone. Marcus could see several of the men on the ground with arrows sticking from them, the healers going from body to body.
Shaking his head, Marcus turned to his fellow mages. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, shall we see to our part in things?”
Hanna gave a resounding cheer, her fists already covered in stone.
Marcus chuckled and led the much smaller group through the gates, heading for where the plan said the Imperial Mages were house.
***
Ethaniel staggered back, sparks flying as he deflected a slash from his berserker. Something that big and strong should not be as fast as it was. It was taking all his skill to just keep from being slashed apart. There had been no opportunities for him to get in an attack.
At first he’d tried any number of different ensnaring spells, shadows writhing as they tried vainly to entangle a limb. Every lashing tendril passed through the berserker without slowing it in the least.
Catching a slash on crossed dagger blades sent him tumbling. Only an instinctual kickflip prevented him from being skewered. In desperation he threw out a shadow burst, the concussive air burst knocking the lizard off balance for a precious second.
Instantly he had two throwing daggers in the air, another two in his hands and flipping into position. The first blades sank slightly into the berserker’s shoulder. The follow-up blades were deflected by bracers and then combat was rejoined.
Amid dodging and deflecting, Ethaniel managed to yell out, “Indirect attacks!” while gasping for air.
He could feel himself slowing. Each dodge was a little slower. Every deflection a little out of place. Only repeated shadow bursts gave him room to survive.
Concentrating, he managed to simultaneous bursts, one on either side of the lizard’s head, earning him a roar of pain and a backhanded slash that once again sent him flying, this time with a deep cut along his arm from a missed deflection.
Tucking in his injured arm, he rolled along the ground, avoiding stomps. Lashing out, he barely managed to catch a bit of leg. The resulting kick wasn’t worth it though.
Rolling to his back, wheezing, he knew it was the end. The dagger that stabbed into the lizard’s eye came as a surprise to them both. When the berserker opened its mouth to scream, Ethaniel launched a shadow burst at the back of its throat.
The resultant spray of blood would have been more satisfying had the lizard not turned that ruined visage on him. With the hilt of a throwing dagger sticking from the eye socket, Ethaniel wagered he’d never seen anything more terrifying.
Another dagger slammed into the berserker’s neck, staggering it. Vincent seemed to appear from behind it, blades in each hand, which were then driven deep into the chest of the lizard.
Ethaniel lay there panting as the upside-down visage of his friend appeared in his view. “Remind me. Not to. Do this again. I’m sticking to. Being sneaky.”
Vincent chuckled, then reached down to haul Ethaniel to his feet. Once he was vertical, the two took a moment to check each other over. Other than a number of tears in his robes, Vincent seemed fine. Vincent cut off Ethaniel’s sleeve, then tore the cloth into strips to bind the wound.
Looking around, Ethaniel saw the Panthras inspecting the corpses of the berserkers. Bageera seemed to be limping. They leaned down, examining the mage collars, working to cut them free.
Ethaniel grunted as Vincent tightened the makeshift bandage. The arm still hurt but at least it wasn’t bleeding.
“So, what now?”
Bageera straightened from his examination. “Theron and I will enter the tower and kill the mage. You two are to help free the prisoners to keep the guards occupied.”
“Shouldn’t all those men that were part of this mission be taking care of the guards?”
The Panthra shook his head. “They are moving from the gate inwards. There are some number of guards patrolling the interior of the compound.” His ears flicked in several directions. “Actually, I’m surprised we haven’t seen them yet, given the alert. Perhaps they consider the berserkers sufficient to guard the tower and are focusing their efforts elsewhere.”
Ethaniel shrugged. “That’s a good point. Anyway, good luck you two. We’ll be heading out now.”
After motioning to Vincent, the two human Shadow Dancers turned to head back into the main portion of the compound. It didn’t take them long to find the prisoners.
They also found the guards that were missing.