“This place is familiar,” Luna said from Vergil’s shoulder. “It is like home. But… more.”

“More what?” Vergil asked.

The spider had huddled up on his shoulder, as if peeking over to look around. It was almost adorable, though Vergil felt he aught to grab a reasonably fitting cloak to conceal the spider.

“More,” it repeated the word, voice tinged with awe.

Fine, the place was indeed impressive, just as much as the outer walls were. It teemed with life and energy and activity. If he hadn’t been out in the field all night and seen the mounds of the dead and the dying, he wouldn’t have believed war was on the doorstep. And yet, as Tallah had said, the people were singing.

A woman’s voice carried above the din and it seemed to be the one holding the tune. A longing melody, the lyrics of which spoke of love and danger. Others sang in chorus with her, their voices filling the air.

“They’re quite happy, I see,” he said, gaping as they descended into the narrow streets. “Does that Vilfor guy lie to them about the battles or something?”

“Nah,” Tallah answered, looking uncharacteristically cheerful. “They know what’s happening. They’re all armed.”

Now that she mentioned it, he noticed how everyone wore at least some sort of blade hanging on their hips or backs. Shields as well. Some carried crossbows that looked well-oiled. A few others had bows. Everyone had at least a knife, including some of the children he could spy playing in the tight alleys.

Fighting here would be like fighting among the dwelling of Grefe, all narrow corners and looping streets. He knew with certainty—or, rather, with Horvath’s certainty—that this was by design.

* Feast yer eyes, sprig!

* This be the work of your betters.

* Ye hide in our city like the vermin ye always were.

* A pox on yer species! A pox on yer arse!

Well, that was… a lot to unpack from the dwarf’s side. Vergil chose to ignore him.

“Everyone at the Rock is a combatant,” Tallah went on. “Everyone will fight if the fight spills down here. It’s never happened in over two centuries, but martial prowess is maintained.”

She led them through the labyrinthine arrangement of dwellings, walking with a sure step until she let out a small gasp of pleasure.

Ahead, nestled inside a dead end, was a tavern. The title above its doorway announced it as Brandy’s. Tallah quickened her step and almost rushed inside.

Sil, however, said nothing and didn’t look to share in the sorceress’s new found enthusiasm. If anything, she looked more miserable and worried than she had back in Grefe. Vergil couldn’t shake the faces of the dying from his mind, the ones that he couldn’t drag away in time. He still felt their blood on his hands and could smell it on his clothes.

The healer looked little better.

“Have you been here before?” he ventured a question.

All he got back in answer was a shake of the head and a grim look in Sil’s eyes. She walked after Tallah without a word.

“Everyone’s acting so weird,” he mused to Luna. “I don’t know what to make of them right now.”

“They are tired,” the spider chirped. “Hungry. Friend Sil is worried. Friend Tallah is not. Is this what you needed to know?”

Vergil chuckled and pressed a hand on the spider’s back. “It’s a good try.”

Inside, the tavern looked pretty much as the Sizzling Boar had, right down to the worm-eaten floor that creaked underfoot with each step, and the beer-encrusted tables. The place had seen better days.

The place was also packed wall to wall. People of all shapes and sizes milled about in the common room, drank, ate, spoke, and a couple even arm wrestled. They all carried the unmistakable look of adventurers sitting idle and waiting for the next chance to earn a payday. Tallah’s entrance sucked the air from the room. Silence spread like a wave ahead of a ship as the sorceress advanced towards the bar. A wide path opened up for her, many heads turning to follow her progress.

Vergil felt too many eyes glued to him, prying curiosities seeking to understand who he and Sil were. Instinct had him reaching for his axe and wrapping a hand around its shaft.

Tallah was wanted. She’d made that perfectly clear. Would anyone in the room seek to get whatever bounty there was on her head?

Silence continued to stretch by the time they joined Tallah at the bar. She spoke animatedly with the tavern master, voice low, a wide smile on her lips She had ordered three tankards of beer, the one drink that never ran out even during a bloody siege. Vergil and Sil sat on either side of the sorceress and she handed them each a tankard.

When they raised it to their mouths to drink, a cheer errupted out of the room. It made Vergil choke on his cold beer. Sil raised hers and drank it all in a single try. Tallah needed two.

The room exploded into more cheers as Sil set her tankard down and asked for a second.

“What’s happening?” Vergil asked in a panic as someone approached and clamped him on the shoulder. People bowed to Sil. He noticed several soldiers going nearly to their knees next to Sil’s chair.

She didn’t look at any of them.

None approached Tallah, but everyone cried out in pleasure every time she took another sip of beer.

“We’re the heroes of the hour,” Sil said as she lifted her second tankard back up to her lips and drank deeply. “We’ve saved lives today. Bask in this. It’s not something we’ll often get to enjoy.”

Vergil turned in his chair sheepishly, met too many eyes staring at him and cheering mugs swinging in the air, and immediately turned back to stare at the rows of bottles on display. His fingers seemed to have frozen on the mug’s handle and refused to be displaced again.

After what seemed like an entire day, the cheers went down and normal conversation resumed in the room. Some of the people approached Tallah from the crowd, much to Vergil’s dismay. They were all heavily armed.

“Are you here to break the siege?” a large, brutish man asked.

“Aye,” Tallah said.

“When?”

“When we’ll be good and ready to do so.”

“Are there more coming?” a woman asked. She was armoured, her helmet clasped to her waist. A mess of scars crossed her face.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you kill all the demons out there today? Can we finally go over the pass?” a young, sickly looking man asked. He looked to be nearly the same age as Vergil, but his eyes shifted side-to-side as if he were in hiding.

“Not my call. Take it up with Vilfor.” She cast a glare at the rest of the assembled rubberneckers, and they dispersed. There were many muttering her name as if they couldn’t quite believe who had walked in.

“Won’t we have problems?” Vergil asked as he sipped his beer. “Isn’t there a price on your head?”

The tavern master placed a loaf of hot bread on the polished wood of the counter, and a small plate of butter next to it. Nobody else in the room looked to have received anything remotely similar.

Vergil’s stomach growled as he ripped a piece of bread. Steam curled above it and the smell… oh, the smell! He barely heard what Tallah said afterwards, over the sounds of wolfing down the treat.

“There’s no set price on my head, boy.” Tallah relished saying this. “Whoever kills me gets to name their own reward.” She inclined her head and Vergil followed that line to a group of bloodied soldiers drinking at the far end of the room. “If anyone here decides to try their chances at cutting my throat, I think the men there may object. I’ve just pulled their entire squad from the claws of a bloody guillant.”

“I don’t know what that is.” He chased down a thick slice of bread with a long drag of his beer.

“A big, ugly beast. It’s about the size of a horse, if you’ve ever seen one of those. Has jaws like a guillotine.” She mimicked with her hands a snapping motion. “Get your arm anywhere nearby and you can kiss it goodbye. They won’t soon forget who it was that got the thing off them.”

“You seem well-known here.”

“I am. I fought here several times actually. This is where I was first assigned when joining the military, like most fresh channellers.” She shrugged, drank, and belched. There was a grin on her face as she gave him a side glance. “I did pest control, same as you. That’s where you start as a channeller after you finish your induction.”

He laughed. What he saw out there did not compare—it didn’t matter. This would be the kind of nonsense he would expect from Tallah’s history now that he began understanding more of it. Part of him wanted to ask the questions that niggled about the sorceress, now that she was in such stellar mood.

Why exactly was she wanted?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

But maybe it were best he waited for a day when they wouldn’t fall asleep at the table.

Sil had done just that after downing her second tankard. She snored softly, head leaned on her arms on the table.

Tallah looked at the healer, then at him. “You want to carry her to a room? Or should I?”

“I’ll do it,” he spoke with his mouth full. “Been carrying people all night. She’ll be the lightest load yet.”

Tallah talked to the barkeep and learned more about the situation. Many of the people drinking their supplies dry were adventurers that had become trapped in the Cauldron the same way they had, arrived by portal and unable to get out. These were the lucky buggers that had been rescued from the forest by Vilfor’s advanced scouts, before they’d lost ground. There were no rooms to be had aside from a small one the barkeep kept for the high brass of the Rock. He was more than willing to hand it over to them for nothing. He and the sorceress went way back.

Vergil finished the bread, drank, and watched the room. Argia was having an argument with Horvath in the corner of his vision.

* Memory cluster compromised. Quarantine in effect.

* Please wait

* Get this arse-licking ghost out of mah sight!

* It can’t oust me.

* Containment status: Successful!

* Infection contained to memory cluster ###### error ######

* Bugger ye, ya blimey ghost. Get out’er an’ sho—

* Containment status: Successful!

* Muting in effect!

* Bugger ye!

* Muting subroutine: crashed! Please stand by!

It was a pleasant enough distraction from the horror of the day. Idly, he wondered how it had come to this and how he’d ended up so… fine with whatever got thrown his way.

Finding Sil in Erisa’s clutch had pretty much thrown off any sort of measured response he felt capable of. He didn’t even care to know what the monsters out there were. They were monsters and were to be killed.

But so had the spiders been, before he understood them.

A pricking sensation crept across the base of his spine, as if someone stared at him from the crowd with murderous intent. He scratched away at it initially, then it became more insistent. He turned in the chair and surveyed the room.

Nobody paid him any attention. People drank. They talked. Nobody stared.

Still the sensation persisted.

* Containment status: Successful!

* Routine cluster cl-cl-cl-cl-cle—

* Error!

* Wake up, sprig! ‘S not right—

It became more than just an idle itch. He jumped to his feet, spilling over his beer as he turned to stare out. Something was happening… somewhere.

A call went out from outside, some horn blown to echo sonorously in the city’s cavern. It quieted the hum of conversation across the common room.

Tallah’s head snapped up as well as she listened intently. “That can’t be right,” she said. “Is it inside the walls?”

“Aye,” the barkeep answered. “We keep getting ’em. They kill a few before the soldiers take ’em down.”

“Look after my friend,” she said.

The barkeep had already brought out a blanket and draped it over Sil’s shoulders. “She’ll be safe. The rabble stays in when the calls go out. Vilfor don’t want anyone obstructing the soldiers.”

But Tallah was already moving to the exit, a bow wave forming in front of her as adventurers scurried out of the way. Vergil took a look at Sil’s sleeping form, then followed the sorceress.

“What’s happening?” He caught up just as they stepped out into the street. The whole place looked deserted all of a sudden.

“There’s a daemon that’s slipped in here. If Vilfor still had ears, I’d tweak them for being this lax with security.”

“You’re going to fight it?”

“I’m going to kill it. First I need to find it. Keep your eyes peeled. If you feel cold, let me know. It’d be near.”

Tallah emanated heat like a torch and Vergil knew she had infused in preparation for the fight. He’d drawn his axe but wasn’t sure what to expect or if he could manage on his own without Sil’s tether. Tallah didn’t even look back when she started down a random passage, in the direction where the horn was blown.

There were men scurrying about on the walkways above, whistling as they moved from position to position. They were aiming large crossbows down into the city, forming lines ready to pelt anything that drew their attention.

Vergil hurried to keep up with Tallah’s long strides as she seemed to know where to head.

“Where are we going?” he asked in a huff. “Couldn’t it be anywhere?”

“It’s going to head to the city’s hearth,” the sorceress answered without breaking stride. “There’s a sliver of an Ascendi here. It’s what allows portals to even open in the region.”

“Like the one in Valen?”

“Like the one in the Guild’s courtyard, yes. That’s what draws portals to the region.”

Tallah wasn’t walking anymore, but floating about half a meter off the ground, picking up speed. A swarm of fireflies flitted around her, moving together to aim in the direction of every sound coming from the streets. People had drawn inside and cleared the area in a hurry. The few stragglers that were left were armed with swords and nets, patrolling the streets in groups of three or four. They nodded as they passed by, gesturing towards various points. Tallah did the same, showing the path she’d travelled already.

This was an old, well-practised effort. Vergil felt useless among these better trained men and women. Nobody paid him any mind.

“Quit gawking,” Tallah snapped at him as she rose higher into the air. She gestured down a cobbled street. “Go down that way until you reach the fountain. You’ll recognise it. Whistle if anything bars your way.”

And with that she rose higher, not waiting to see if he obeyed. It would’ve been easy to just… stay there and wait for things to play out.

But he did obey and took off at a half-run. Luna jumped off his back and crawled quickly among the buildings, jumping gaps as easily as its bigger kin had in the labyrinth. It increased Vergil’s range of search considerably with its efforts. He received quiet confirmations from the spider as it checked every nook and cranny.

The chill stopped him in his tracks. A breeze of winter air blew down a side passage. There was no light there, only the shadows leaning on one another. Vergil skidded to a halt and returned down the way, axe held in both hands, eyes scanning the narrow space. He could see to the back of the alley, to where the mushroom-like buildings united into a single trunk.

Something moved and his heart leapt in his throat.

Luna emerged from the darkness, appearing for a moment before changing colour again to camouflage. “This one feels cold,” it said as it perched atop a protruding eaves.

“So do I.” Vergil took a cautious step forward. The shadows trembled and shifted.

I should have gotten a torch. He cursed quietly and headed in deeper, expecting a beastman to explode out of some hidden alcove.

He fell. Not forward, but down, feet sinking into the ground down to his knees. He would’ve toppled but this wasn’t a hole. Something had a hold of his legs and kept him upright. Before he could draw breath to whistle, a hand clapped impossibly over his mouth. It was in his helmet?!

More grabbed at his waist and trousers and pulled down. One black hand gripped the shaft of his axe and nearly yanked it from his fingers.

A face formed out of the darkness… no, out of the wall. It was as if the rock itself morphed and twisted and grew more hands. A maw filled with teeth opened as the creature coalesced. Tar-like drool dripped off long fangs. It smoked at it hit the ground.

The shape was insane. A long neck topped with a featureless, inexpressive face. The lower body was all shadow and grasping, multi-jointed arms. The creature’s maw sat somewhere among the thicket of limbs, like the beak of an octopus.

A sudden, shrill scream tore through the air. It stunned the monster before it could drag Vergil to the waiting mouth.

Luna?!

The spider leapt from the building and landed atop the monster’s head, scrambling to bite at the black arms that tried to grasp for it. The face remained blank and expressionless, though the grip on Vergil slackened minutely.

He yanked on the axe and swung it blindly, seizing the opening. The hands gripping the shaft loosened, then broke. Black fingers remained clutched to the wood. Vergil swung it down on the arms surrounding him, hacking off fingers, cutting through sinews and black muscles. Shockingly red ichor spurted from the wounds he inflicted and spattered his clothes. They began smoking.

With an effort, he pulled up a leg and managed to rip off the hand holding his boot.

It’s not solid. He yanked himself free, swinging the axe and his free arm, drawing and ripping the creature off him.

No matter how much he hacked at it, it made no sound. Fresh hands grew out of the shadows and gripped on to his clothes. One grabbed his horned helmet and pulled savagely on it, twisting as if it tried to wring his neck.

Darkness took him as the helmet was spun around. In the fresh blindness he could only swing his axes, punch and kick out. Every swing brought a satisfying crunch. He felt meat part under the axe’s kiss, bones shatter under his boots, and, finally, teeth closing in around his gauntlet. He yanked back the hand before the maw closed, then punched out quick as he could.

There was a crack and a crunch, and the feeling of something snapping against his knuckles. He punched again and was rewarded with a wail of pain. It had dealt it a blow right in its ugly face. Finally the hand on his helmet released him and he took a precious moment to swing the armour piece back.

He brought the axe up double handed, aimed at the monster’s white, bulbous head. Luna leapt off and onto him just as he brought the blade down.

Several fireflies crashed into the monster’s shadow body at the same time as his axe cut open its head. They detonated with deafening cracks. Ichor burst into the air and Vergil had to shield his eyes with his forearm. It drenched him, the ichor sizzling on the spider’s silk. It smouldered but didn’t eat clear through the material. The stench of rotten eggs hit him straight in the sinuses.

A heat lance dissolved the monster before his eyes as Tallah landed besides him. The pressure around his boots eased off.

“I would’ve killed it.” He was breathing hard, head filled with a mix of adrenaline and bloodlust. The axe came away with sickening crunch when he pulled it out. “It was my kill.” He was managing. He had been winning. On the razor’s edge, but upright.

He would have won on his own strength!

“Pull your trousers up.” Tallah ignored his complaints. She lit a fireball and checked the alley. “I’m seeing more of you than I care to.”

In the heat of the battle he hadn’t realised the grasping hands had nearly undressed him. He let out a slow, angry breath.

“Is it dead?” he asked as he fumbled with the clasp of his belt.

“Probably. Hard to know with these slimy things.”

The corpse was strewn about, opened up like some overripe fruit. Tallah’s fireflies had cracked it in two and there was a bright red heart visible among thin bones. It was also burst. The whole think stank like a sewer’s innards.

“Seems clear,” Tallah concluded as she finished her inspection. “Keep going. We’re continuing sweep.”

Vergil wanted to sit down and rest as the adrenaline drained out of him. How Tallah could keep going after not having slept a wink was beyond him, but he suspected Bianca was aiding her.

“Let me re—”

The world froze for Vergil. So did he. Muscles locked tight and his voice cut off with a squeaking wheeze.

A black shape loomed behind Tallah, as tall as the building. It, unlike Vergil, could move.

And it slammed a massive, tree trunk arm into Tallah’s back.