370 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Archmage,

By your own words, the thralls are not ready. Trainee-ranked? If we send them out so ill-prepared, they will be ripe pickings for the orcs.

While I appreciate your initiative, the thralls are too precious a resource to waste lightly. I’m afraid I must refuse your request unless you can prove their use is warranted.

—Supreme Mystic Lionel Biaxal.

The fighters spread out into the basement in silence. Flowing around us, they placed themselves along the walls and blocked the other entrances.

“There’s forty of them,” Giselle said tersely. Her hands were on her warhammer, but she hadn’t drawn the weapon yet.

I nodded while I picked random intruders to analyze. They were all human, unenslaved, and wearing no armor, but like Daryl and Thursten, they were armed. “They’re rebels,” I said softly. “Don’t attack unless provoked.”

“Got it,” she growled. “But if they do…”

“I’ll handle it,” I said. The rebels averaged only around level thirty—higher than the villagers, most of whom were in their twenties—but they were little threat to me, especially without armor.

I was struck by the stillness of one figure amongst them. Where the rest of the men and women fidgeted, the man in question stood unmoving, arms folded, while he scrutinized us through narrowed eyes.

He was brown-haired, of average height, and not physically imposing. Still, the man had an air of danger about him. After picking him out, I cast analyze.

The target is Arenson, a level 41 human player. He has no Magic, exceptional Might, exceptional Resilience, and mediocre Craft.

Hmm. So this is Arenson. He appeared to be more than just another rebel, though. From his stance and the respect the others accorded to him, I marked him as their leader.

My analyze triggered a response, and Arenson stepped forward. “Who are these people, Sten?” he barked.

There was a pregnant silence while everyone waited for the old man’s response.

“Friends,” Thursten said eventually, and I relaxed minutely, but then he added, “or so they claim.”

Arenson snorted.

“They killed Gorkin,” the old man said. “And they brought that,” he said, gesturing to the object at my feet.

Arenson’s gaze followed Thursten’s pointing finger. His eyes alighted on the core, and he spun into motion.

My eyes widened. Arenson was moving so fast he was little more than a half-seen blur. He is going for the core, I thought in sudden worry. “Wait—!”

Reacting faster than I could, Giselle placed herself between the core and the rebel dashing forward.

Arenson shuddered to a stop, inches from the warren captain’s chest. Giselle topped his own height by more than a foot and was better armed and armored to boot, but the rebel leader appeared not in the least intimidated as he glared up at her. “Get out of my way,” he demanded.

Giselle smiled. “No.”

Arenson’s eyes narrowed, and I sensed him tense.

Recovering from my surprise and knowing I had to intervene, I cast flare. Dragonfire blossomed into existence, causing many of the rebels to gasp and draw their weapons. I throttled the flames, letting them caress the length of my staff. As threats went, it was certainly effective.

The rebel leader eyed the dragonfire, and I felt an analyze ripple over me. But unlike his men, he didn’t appear daunted by the flames or the Trials’ feedback. “That belongs to me,” Arenson snarled.

He was talking about the core. “Perhaps,” I said, “but I can’t let you have it yet.”

Arenson’s head tilted to the side. “You can’t let me have it?” he repeated and barked out a laugh. There was no joy to the sound. “I wasn’t asking.”

I sighed. This wasn’t going well. I hardened my face; it was time to take a firmer stance.

Before I could open my mouth, though, Thursten intervened. “Give them a chance, Arnie,” the old man said mildly. “They brought William back too. I have my own doubts as to their intentions, but they deserve a hearing at least.”

Arenson swung his head in Thursten’s direction, and the two men locked gazes. The tension in the room ratcheted up. Even with Thursten speaking on our behalf, the rebel leader didn’t seem willing to back down.

In the mounting tension, a woman hurried forward. “Leyla, what about Leyla?” she asked, her eyes shining with hope. “Where is my daughter!”

“Soria! Come back here,” one of the rebels called from behind.

Soria paid him no need. Her eyes darting about, she waited for our response.

I heard Giselle curse under her breath, and I felt like doing the same as I realized who the woman was asking after. We have to tell her.

Ignoring the still-bristling Arneson, I took a step towards the woman, but before I could move further, Giselle gripped my arm. “I’ll do it,” she whispered.

“You’re sure?”

She nodded and hurried to Soria’s side. The warren captain draped an arm around the smaller woman and whispered something to her.

“No, no, no! I don’t believe you!” Soria yelled in denial. A moment later, she fell to her knees and wailed, her entire body convulsing. Giselle kneeled by her side, doing her best to offer comfort.

I squeezed my eyes shut, empathizing with Soria’s grief but unable to bear the sight of it. It dredged up too many of my own painful memories.

“Neville, Kara,” Arenson said, his voice sounding broken, “take her home. The rest of you go with them.”

The rebels shuffled out, taking the inconsolable mother with them.

“Jamie, isn’t it?”

I opened my eyes. Arneson’s countenance had transformed. His cold, unfeeling expression had vanished, leaving behind a face lined with grief. The news of the child’s death had hit the rebel hard.

Our gazes met, and the rebel leader inclined his head in apology for his earlier behavior. “Sten is right,” Arenson continued. “We should talk.”

✽✽✽

A short time later, Thursten, Arenson, Giselle, and I reconvened in a room deeper in the cave network with the settlement core lying on the table between us.

I was open with the two rebel commanders—it turned out Thursten was also one of the rebel leaders—about our plans for freeing Sanctuary. I went over everything, detailing the makeup and disposition of the expedition’s forces, both Tara’s and Petrov’s.

Halfway through my tale, Thursten dispatched Daryl to the village hall. When he returned wide-eyed and full of excitement about the dead bodies he’d seen, the last vestiges of Arenson’s and Thursten’s doubts vanished. Indeed, from that point on, excitement shone undisguised in both their eyes, and the pair consented to Giselle fetching Tara.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Arenson said when I was done, “you want me to claim the settlement but to delay doing that until we kill all the gang members in the village?”

I nodded.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense doing it the other way around?” Thursten asked.

I shook my head. “That was the original plan, but if we can manage it, it will be better to free all the slaves and defeat the gang before the orcs are aware of what we’re about. That way, the orcs won’t have any potential allies to assist them in regaining control of the village.” I smiled coldly. “And after killing Gorkin and half his forces already, I’m certain we can accomplish what we’ve planned.”

Arneson chuckled darkly. “I believe you.”

“What do you need from—” Thursten began, then broke off and listened intently.

Voice could be heard in the nearby tunnel, and just as the three of us turned to face the entrance, the newcomers appeared.

It was Tara, Giselle, and Lance.

Tara advanced to the table and shook hands with Arneson and Thursten. “It is nice to meet you both.”

“You likewise,” the rebel commanders replied.

Leaning back in my chair, I studied the trio. Physically Tara and Arneson appeared of age, but the eyes I was beginning to appreciate were the differentiator amongst players. There was something about Arneson’s gaze that spoke of age, experience, and a life lived more fully than most. Arenson might be as old as Thursten, I realized.

After the introductions were concluded, Tara got straight down to business. “Can you tell us how many men you can gather on short notice?”

Arneson grimaced. “We can gather men and women aplenty, but—” his gaze roved over Sierra’s representatives—“I fear they will not be of much use to you. Most of our people are below level thirty and poorly equipped.”

“Worse yet,” Thursten added, “our soldiers’ skills lag significantly behind their levels. The gang has gone to great lengths to deny us access to the dragon temple.”

I jerked up at that. “They have?”

He nodded. “Outside of the village hall, the strongest contingent of Gorkin’s people can be found guarding the temple.”

I exchanged a glance with Tara. If that was the case, we would have to hit the temple next.

“Where is the temple?” Tara asked.

I was curious to know myself. It was one of the things that had been puzzling me about Sanctuary. None of the scouts’ reports had mentioned the unmissable purple structure.

“The orc shaman has hidden it behind an illusion,” Arenson replied. “Given its strategic value, the orcs also demanded Gorkin keep it under constant guard.”

Lance frowned. “Why aren’t the orcs protecting the temple themselves?”

Thursten shrugged. “We don’t know.”

Lance opened his mouth to ask another question, but Tara waved aside the matter. “Just be grateful they aren’t. It makes our task easier.”

Lance nodded slowly, but I could see the mystery still puzzled him. It baffled me too. There has to be more to this, I thought. But what?

“You still haven’t told us the temple’s location,” Giselle pointed out, getting the conversation back on track.

“It’s in the northeast quarter of the village,” Arneson said. “The shaman’s illusion only disguises the building. It doesn’t block entry—that’s what Gorkin’s thugs are for.”

“We’ll make capturing the temple a priority,” Tara said. “We will do it quickly and quietly. Have your people get ready. The moment the temple is in our hands, they can enter.”

“Thank you,” Thursten said.

“As for weapons,” Tara continued, “we have plenty of those. Both our own and those looted from the thugs. We’ll have your people armed in no time.”

“We will help you take the temple,” Arenson said.

Tara nodded gravely. “We will welcome your people’s aid, but you yourself cannot be part of the assault.”

Arenson’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell not?”

Thursten chuckled. “The lass is right.” He gestured downwards to the core on the table. “And if I don’t miss my guess, it’s because of that.”

Tara smiled genially at him. “Correct.”

Arenson was still scowling. “I don’t get it.”

“You’re our only means of claiming the settlement,” I said. “We can’t afford for you to die in battle.”

Thursten laughed. “Looks like you’re going to have to sit this one out, Arnie.”

The rebel commander looked like he still wanted to argue, but he bit back the words and deflated. “Very well.”

“It will be just like old times,” Thursten added with another chuckle.

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Old times?”

William’s grandfather nodded. “Arnie and I go way back. We spent our youths in one war or the other.” He sighed. “I thought we’d left our fighting days behind us. Looks like I was wrong.” He smiled again. “If you think Arnie is grouchy now, you should’ve seen him on Earth in a seventy-year-old body.”

Tara blinked, struggling to picture Arenson as an old man. For myself, I was wondering why Thursten had entered Overworld in his old body.

Lance, meanwhile, was puzzling over another matter. “What I don’t get is why?” he said aloud.

Everyone looked at him.

“Why what?” Arneson asked.

“Why are you the only Sanctuary resident who can claim the village,” Lance clarified. He held the rebel leader’s gaze. “Why did Gorkin let you remain a councilor?”

“Ah,” Thursten breathed. “That was a miscalculation on Gorkin’s part.”

A smile flickered on Arneson’s face. “One we’ve made him pay dearly for.” Seeing the expectant looks on our faces as we waited for his explanation, Arneson added, “It is a sordid tale, I warn you.”

“Go on, tell us,” Giselle said, leaning forward.

Arneson sighed. “The short of it is that Gorkin betrayed us.” His lips twisted sourly. “The bastard was actually one of Sanctuary’s founding members. Both Sten and I knew him from back on Earth, so we had no objections when he asked to serve on the council.”

He fell silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts. “At some point, Gorkin found the orcs, or the orcs found him. I don’t know the details of whatever deal they struck, but in return for the orc’s aid, Gorkin set about taking over the village. He slew the old mayor and tortured the other council members until they proclaimed him the new settlement leader.” Arenson fell silent again.

“Then he killed them,” Thursten added, taking up the tale. “But he failed to get Arnie, and by that point, it was too late.”

Giselle frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Gorkin lost his majority vote on the council, didn’t he?” Lance asked.

“Correct,” Arneson confirmed. “After he killed the others, there were only two of us left on the council. Without my vote, the bastard couldn’t enact any major edict in the village, including adding new residents or removing me from the council.”

“It’s why he’s been searching for Arnie so hard,” Thursten said softly. “And it’s why he took William and Leyla captive.”

Arneson exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry for what the boy had to go through, Sten.”

“I told you that wasn’t your fault,” Arenson replied firmly. He paused. “Nor is Leyla’s death.”

Arenson bowed his head.

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. Matters in Sanctuary were becoming clearer.

Lance had other questions. “What do the orcs want with Sanctuary?”

“I don’t know,” Thursten replied, “but whatever it is, it is important enough that they were willing to raze another village to retain Gorkin’s goodwill.”

My ears perked up at that. “What settlement?”

Thursten turned to face me. “Doran’s Retreat, it was a tiny hamlet in—”

I cut him off. “I know,” I said shortly. “I’ve seen it.”

Thursten studied me for a moment and, seeming to decipher the play of emotions on my face, didn’t comment on my curtness. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to the others, “for the crime of aiding us rebels, Gorkin demanded the orcs destroy the hamlet.”

“How could such a small settlement help you?” Tara asked, puzzled.

“We were using its temple,” Thursten answered.

I started at that. Of course.

Raising his head, Arneson rejoined the conversation. “The orcs have much to account for. The blood of those from Doran’s Retreat is on their hands, as well the countless who suffered under Gorkin.” He slammed his open hand on the table. “If only we could make them pay.”

Thursten glanced at Tara. “Arnie is correct. As much as I applaud your plan, lass, I don’t like letting those scum walk away. Is there anything we can do about them?”

“I understand how you feel,” Tara said politely. “Believe me, we don’t want to let the orcs go either, but they’re too strong for us to take on.”

“Too bad the orcs didn’t make their camp in the village,” Arenson grumbled. “I would love to see the look on the face of that smug bastard, Jhaven, when I repudiate them as Patrons. I can—”

I jerked back so suddenly the front legs of my chair lifted off, and I almost fell backward on the floor.

Tara caught me in time. “Jamie,” she admonished, “you should be—”

I paid her no mind. “That’s it!” I said, shooting to my feet.

The others stared at me, all except Lance, who looked similarly shellshocked.

“That’s what?” Giselle asked.

“That’s why the orcs aren’t camped in the village,” I proclaimed. “That’s why they aren’t guarding the temple!”

Silence greeted my pronouncement.

“We’re not following you, Jamie,” Tara said quietly.

“You tell them, Lance,” I said. Spinning about, I began pacing, my mind turning frantic circles as I tried to work out how to best make use of the realization I’d come to.

The orcs were afraid. It made perfect sense.

“The orcs are afraid of being repudiated as Patrons,” Lance explained from behind me, unconsciously echoing my own thoughts. “That’s why they won’t enter the village.”

“What? That makes no sense,” Arenson declared. “I get why the orcs won’t enjoy losing the village, but why would it make them afraid?

“Because if they’re within the village’s territory the exact moment you repudiate them, they will be in violation of the Trials Laws. It is sure to punish them,” Lance explained.

“Punish?” Arneson asked sharply. “Punish them how?”

“I don’t know—” Lance began.

I whipped around. “The Trials may turn them into slaves,” I said, recalling Regna’s own fate. “Or they may be killed outright.”

“Blimey,” Thursten said in the silence that followed.

I smiled. “Exactly. And I think I know just how to go about luring some of them to their deaths.”