“You missed two back there.”

Palcon parried a spear thrust with one blade while locking up a sword coming at him from the side with the other. A twist of his wrist knocked the sword free, allowing him to slash at the spear wielder’s hand, forcing the man to drop the weapon with a scream. Spinning back to his other opponent, he skewered the man in the neck as he stooped to retrieve his sword.

Momentarily free of targets, Palcon turned to glare at Jensen, who was leaning on his own spear almost casually. “Did I? I’ve been a mite distracted. Hope they weren’t too much for you.”

The Spearman grinned back at him, then spun his spear up, thrusting past Palcon to impale the other spearman who had apparently retrieved his weapon. “Nah, me and the boys handled them easily enough. Not that there has been much to do, between you and yon axeman.” Jensen pointed his spear in the direction of the leather clad barbarian, who would have looked red even without the light from the crystal atop the top, given the amount of blood covering him.

Palcon paused a moment to clean his blades on the clothes of one of the fallen guards before sheathing them. There was a lull in the fighting and he took the opportunity to down some water before tossing the container to Jensen.

“Is it me or does there seem to be more guards than we expected?”

Jensen took a swig, swished, then spat out the water. After wiping his lips, he replied, “Does seem that way. Thought it might be because we were out in front, but the other lads were telling me we’ve been having random knots of guards showing up. Rough count is already past our original estimate.”

Palcon nodded. “Thought so. Anyway, look alive, we’re moving towards the barracks. If they haven’t already emptied that’s where the rest of their men should be.”

“Maybe we’ll catch them in bed.”

“Miracles can happen.”

***

Marcus watched the guard slam into the wall before crumbling to the ground. Another was rolling on the ground, trying to claw at the globe of water engulfing his head. The third had long since vanished, blown away by a wind gust from one of the other mages.

Thus far this was only the second guard group they’d encountered. The first had been just as easily handled, Marucs teleporting one hundreds of feet into the air while his fellow mages handled the other two.

Marcus still felt a little sick at the thought of the man’s screams as he fell through the air and the grisly thud of his body smashing into the ground. Before tonight he’d never used his teleportation abilities to harm another person. While he knew it was necessary, that didn’t make it easier.

The group moved on, turning a corner and finding the mage house directly before them. Three scarlet clad figures stood before the door of the building, hands folded into their sleeves. One stepped forward slightly.

“Feron forbade us from seeking out combat. However, if some fools present themselves for execution, who are we to deny them?”

Rings of magic swirled to life beneath Marcus as he used one of the few preset spells he ever bothered with. A translucent shield snapped into place between the two groups of mages. A split second later and walls of water and wind rose into place, augmenting the shield.

Marcus caught a glimpse of Bonnie’s grim frown from the corner of his eye and resisted the urge to smile.

Wind, water, and fire slammed together in a spray of steam that flowed safely around Marcus and his team. The Imperial Mages scowled as a group, their spokesman growling. “So, it seems you have some skill. I would not expect that of scum willing to fight against their own people.”

Marcus glared at the spokesman. “Says the mage helping perform experiments on those same people!”

“Bah. Rebels and agitators going against the will of Mankind. They deserve what happens to them. And so do you!”

The Imperial Mages linked hands. A massive ring of magic whirled into being beneath them, one that grew more complicated with each moment. It wasn’t a spall Marcus recognized. He held out his hand, sending out light darts that flew out, only to crash into a shield. So, these mages weren’t quite as arrogant as he’d expected.

Hanna suddenly stepped forward, her stone clad hands at her side. “Come forth, Akara!”

The ground shook as something massive smashed its way free of the roof of the mage house. Marcus looked on in shock as the head of what appeared to be a fifteen-foot-wide stone snake rose dozens of feet in the air, its body curling beneath it and destroying the rest of the building.

There was only a moment for the Imperial mages to scream as the gargantuan head plunged down on them, smashing them to paste that promptly exploded from the magical backlash of the aborted spell. Half the head of the snake was cratered in the explosion, though it quickly rebuilt itself.

Marcus stepped over to a beaming Hanna, who was clapping at the snake.

“She knows not to hug me in that form, right?”

Hanna turned a sparkling smile on him. “Of course.” Then she kissed him on the check. “Let’s go find Feron.”

One of the other mages, Marcus wasn’t sure which, whispered, “Ever feel like you’re not needed?”

***

“You are seriously out of form.”

Ethaniel glared up at his so-called friend, who was grinning down at him. This was becoming an uncomfortably familiar situation.

“Help me up, you smug overachiever.”

Once he was back on his feet, Ethaniel looked around at the devastation. Over a dozen guards lay dead or dying outside the building that housed the prisoners. Though calling it a building was being generous.

There was barely a roof, just a loose canopy of overlapping canvas, set atop poles that formed a series of metal pens. Hundreds of people were crowded into each pen, with barely enough room to lay down, with not a bed in sight.

The people were filthy, their clothes had seen better days, and many of them seemed to be in poor health.

Those people were now crowding the bars, some reaching, others staring with blank looks. Ethaniel started searching the bodies of the guards while Vincent kept watch. Frowning, he went over the bodies a second time.

“I can’t find the keys.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “What kind of Shadow Dancer are you? Sometimes I worry about you, Ethan.” He stepped over to one of the locks and placed his hand on it. A moment later there was a click and the lock popped open.

“I’ll deal with the locks, you deal with the people.”

Ethaniel looked at the crowd of people who were starting to gather, while others were heading away to who knows where. Some had obviously worked up the nerve and were coming towards him.

Where were all the people who were supposed to deal with this aspect of the mission? Ethaniel glanced around, hoping that by some miracle one would appear. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was on his own.

One of the freed people stepped in front, a man in rugged leathers. “Who are you and why’d you kill those guards?”

“I’m with a group that thinks what the Empire is doing is wrong. We’re here to free all of you!”

The man folded his arms across his chest, even as murmurs broke out in the crowd behind him. “Are you now? What do you intend to do with us, now that you’ve freed us?”

Ethaniel tried to remember the briefing. “That’s up to you. Any who want to return home may do so, though we advise caution so as not to be attacked by the Empire. We will also rehome those we can into sympathetic settlements. You are also welcome to join us. To fight to change the Empire for the better.

“Lastly, you may choose to travel to the lands of the Majestix. They have offered to shelter any who wish to flee the Empire, as has always been the right of all peoples.”

A great deal more murmuring broke out with that last offer. Many of the people seemed to hold no love for the Majestix, even if they weren’t happy with how they’ve been treated by the Empire. Several groups began streaming away.

Still, there appeared to be hundreds milling about with more joining with each passing moment.

The spokesman still had his arms crossed. “You say a lot of interesting things, but all I see is the two of you. There are over a hundred guards here that we know of, not to mention whatever that maniac has cooked up.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Ethaniel. “You planning on freeing everyone?”

Ethaniel saw Vincent making his way through the crowd. His friend flashed him the signal for ‘all clear’. Nodding to himself, he focused on the man in front of him. “What do you mean, everyone? I thought all the captives were here?”

The man shook his head. “There are at least two other groups that I know of. They’re held in the underground pens.”

“There is an underground area?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The man nodded. “That’s where they take people for the experiments. The guards called it ‘going under’. They use it as a threat. Better behave or you’re going under. They’ve taken hundreds of us in the time I’ve been here.”

Ethaniel turned to Vincent, who had finally made his way through the crowd. “You heard? What do you think?”

Vincent shrugged. “I think this crowd needs to be organized before anything else can be done.” He turned to the spokesman and raised a hand in greeting. “I’m Vincent, by the way, since I doubt my friend bothered to introduce me.”

“My name is Leon, once a member of my village council. And you friend never bothered to introduce himself either.”

Ethaniel blushed as Vincent tsked at him. “Sorry bout that. I’m Ethaniel.”

Leon nodded. “And now that we’ve all been acquainted, let’s see about getting these people organized, then see if we can’t find these other people you mentioned you’ve with.”

Vincent grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

“This is way more fighting than I was expecting.”

Palcon kicked the body off his sword and looked over at Jensen, who was leaning heavily on his spear. On the other side of the room was what remained of his squad.

“I agree. These barracks are far more extensive than we were led to believe. This is the second sub level and I suspect there to be at least one more. We still haven’t run into any of the monsters that are supposed to be here.”

Jensen grinned. “I’d happily take some monsters at this point, just for a change of pace.” Slowly the grin faded into a frown. “Killing another man doesn’t sit right, even though it’s needed.”

Palcon sheathed one of his blades so he could grip Jensen’s shoulder. “Killing should never sit right, for all that it’s what we train for.”

Jensen nodded, then moved to head through the next door. He paused in the doorway, body rigid. “Huh. Found your monsters.” Something suddenly yanked him through the doorway. There was a scream then a crunch.

A blood-soaked paw gripped the doorframe, crushing the wood. The head followed, looking like a bear with quill for fur. There was a keen intelligence in the red eyes that turned themselves on Palcon and his men.

The beast opened its mouth and a voice like ground metal escaped it. “You all look like much more fun than the fare Feron usually provides me. I do hope you’ll entertain me.” It pulled itself through the doorway, quills scratching the wood.

One of the remaining spearmen darted forward, stabbing at the shoulder of the beast. The spearhead seemed to barely pass the quill, lodging in the flesh below. There was a road and a curse, then the beast unleashed a backhand that sent the man flying, quills embedded in the ruins of his chest.

“Back out! Get outside!” Pacon shouted the orders, his blades held between him and the beast as he slowly stepped back.

The beast chuckled, reaching up and pulling the spear from its shoulder. “He actually got past the quills. The man must have been strong to push them aside. I had Feron infuse them with steel. It’s like having chainmail made from daggers.” The beast flexed its body and Palcon could hear what sounded like metal sliding on metal. His good eye could see the sheen of the quills, one he had ignored when it first emerged.

Suddenly, something dawned on him. “You said you had Feron do this to you?”

The beast grinned, revealing a mar of bloodstained fangs. “Oh yes. You see, those kitties down south are bigger and stronger than normal humans. We need something to even the fight. And I do so love to fight.” It looked down at the blood on its paw. “And I really love to kill.”

Palcon scowled and leveled his blades. “Then there is no need to try and save you. You are condemned by your own words.”

“Says the dead man!”

A single lunge took the beast across the room, leading with a massive swipe of the bloody arm. Palcon deflected the attack with parallel blades, though even that contact knocked him back a step.

Taking another step back for room, he held one blade straight out and the other perpendicular across it. Palcon watched the quills shift as the muscles beneath bunched, the beast preparing another lunge.

Just as it leaped forward, swiping with the same paw, Palcon stepped into the attack with a lunge of his own. His blade dug into the same shoulder that had been stabbed earlier, while his second blade guided the paw over his head.

There was a roar and a backhand that he barely blocked that sent him tumbling from the room. Rolling to his feet he sprinted for the stairs, even as the beast screamed behind him. “You will die slowly, little man!”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he glanced back in time to see the beast smash into the bottom of the stairs, then start lumbering up.

The next floor was free of men, though not of bodies. Palcon had to leap over a few dead guards as he ran for the last set of steps, feeling the beast bearing down on him from behind.

Whirling in place at the bottom of the steps, he slashed out with both blades, managing to catch the beast across the nose, the only unarmed spot besides the eyes that he’d seen. Blood and a scream flew across the room even as Palcon spun to mount the stairs.

Fortunately, it seemed that the main floor was already cleared of bodies, giving him a straight sprint for the door.

The sound of splintering wood spoke of the beast’s renewed pursuit.

Palcon dove through the door, barely ducking a swipe from the beast. There was a series of sharp twangs, followed by a roar and gravelly cursing. Rolling to his feet, he saw a group of crossbowmen frantically trying to re-span their weapons.

More warriors stepped forward, grim determination on their faces. The beast crashed into them, scattering the men with a swipe, while their attacks skittered off the quills.

“Stab it! Don’t slash!”

Palcon tried to drive his blades into the beast’s back, only to have spin towards him, reaching out and snagging one of his blades in its teeth and pulling it away from him with a shake of its head, nearing wrenching his arm from its socket.

One of the recovering crossbowmen managed to reload and got off a shot that had the beast whirling like a startled cat. It also cost the man his life as the beast bowled through the defenders to bite into the man’s neck, nearly severing the head.

Swiping to both sides, the beast knocked two more men down, their screams joining the other wounded.

Palcon and others were trying to pull the beast’s attention from the crossbowmen when he saw a black line connect to the beast. A moment later there was a sound like a gong and the beast was sent tumbling to crash against the wall of the barracks.

There was a deep indention in the side of the beast and blood trickled from where the quills had been driving into its own body. Somehow it seemed to be shaking off the blow and was starting to drag itself to its feet.

Suddenly a leather clad barbarian seemed to be flying through the air. Makae unleashed a two-handed overhead blow of his ax straight to the top of the beast’s head.

The concussive blow dropped the beast to the ground and knocked several men from their feet.

Palcon watched as Makae tugged at the ax with both hands, trying to dislodge the weapon. He finally had to brace a boot against the beast’s head in order to work his weapon free.

“That was exciting. I’ve never used a siege bolt on a living target before. Then this lug had to go and finish it off.”

Palcon turned to see Nic Becosea make his way over, another bolt already loaded. Makae arrived a moment later.

“I’m sure you could have finished it off, but men’s lives were in danger and timing was critical.” The barbarian examined the weapon before sheathing it on his back.

Palcon shook his head at their antics, though he thanked both men for saving lives. After checking on the injured, he gathered what men were in the immediate area.

“There is at least one more unexplored level. We don’t know what’s down there, but given that this fellow was the one trying to stop us getting in, I’m betting it’s important.”

“You bet it is. The labs are down there.”

Palcon looked over to see the Shadow Dancers approaching, followed by what looked like hundreds of people. Most likely the prisoners. At least that part seemed to have gone according to plan.

“Looks to me like you got everyone out. Has Feron been taken care of?”

Ethaniel shook his head, then shrugged. “No idea, though I imagine so, by now. Those Panthras were skilled. I’m sure we would know by now if something had happened.”

There was the sounds of an enormous crash from the direction of the tower.

Ethaniel looked chagrinned. “Guess something happened.”