"What did you see?” Mitchell whispered as Lethelin appeared from around the boulder.

The lithe assassin pulled the hood down on her cloak and the distortion effect ended, the edges of her form coming into sharp relief once more.

“Five souls. All armed. Two humans, an orc, a dwarf, and a goblin. They’re a bandit party, no doubt.”

“Scum,” Allora almost spat.

The smell of smoke had alerted them to the presence of others on the mountainside. Surprisingly, it was Mitchell who detected it first, not Allora. He’d noticed that his senses were improving as they got deeper into Awenor. Allora said to expect them to improve even further once he bonded with Awen. But already he felt stronger than he ever had in ways that had nothing to do with all the training and hiking he’d done over the last several weeks. His eyes were better, his hearing was sharper, and he almost never felt winded anymore. Not from just the regular walking and hiking they’d been doing, at any rate. His reflexes were also better, something which Allora noted as they sparred. He was still no match for her but she told him he was already good enough to best the average guardsman.

“From what I could gather,” Lethelin explained, “they’ve been attacking travelers and then retreating up into the foothills.”

“Aren’t there, I don’t know, rangers or soldiers or something?”

Allora’s brow knit together in frustration.

“There were,” she explained. “These days, patrols are thin. Morale among guardsman after the coup was poor, and the mercenaries that control the lower ranks are not very motivated to stop petty crimes. So, banditry has flourished in the wilds outside the smaller communities.”

“It’s not a bad time to be a thief in the cities, either,” Lethelin remarked.

Allora shot her a hard look.

“What?” Lethelin whined. “I’m just saying. It’s not.”

“You–” Allora began, but Mitchell cut her off. Now was not the time.

“So!” he broke in. “Do we skirt around them or do we deal with it?”

“I’m for dealing with them,” Lethelin said with a level tone. “I know I’m a thief and all, but I only steal from rich assholes who can afford it. They’re attacking farmers.”

“Our own little Robin Hood,” Mitchell chuckled.

“Who?”

Mitchell shook his head and looked to Allora.

“I do not like taking such a risk until you have bonded with Awen and are better protected but…” She trailed off and looked down the path where the bandits sat sheltered. “I am afraid I must agree. They are preying on the weak.”

Mitchell nodded.

“And,” Allora added, “it will be a good opportunity for you to test your training.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mitchell smiled.

Mitchell had been training almost daily for well over a month now. His sword work was, he felt, more advanced than his spell work as the latter took considerably more time to master, but he had no trouble casting the arcane bolt, or fire bolt spell now, nor was the minor healing he’d learned of any difficulty. He should have been studying more combat-oriented spells, but he’d spent the last few days since they found Vras learning a spell to speak with beasts. It was coming along.

As a new magic user, Mitchell hadn’t noticed at first, but he discovered with experience that the spell forms were different for the different kinds of mana they required. As he went from practicing combat to the language spell to the healing spell, he started to detect the subtle differences in how they were cast. The second combat spell he had learned was slightly easier than the first because it was relying on a very similar spell structure. But that didn’t translate over to something like speaking with beasts. There was a common form just as a guitar and a violin had strings and the same general shape. Yet, how you played them was very different.

Jumping to a new magic type would slow down one’s progress with the others, which is why people chose to specialize. There was nothing for it, though, as far as he was concerned. He wanted as much versatility as a caster as he could get. It just meant he had to work harder, that was all.

Lethelin said that it sounded like they had just come back from a raid and were busy gorging themselves on stolen food and booze. With a short wait, the rogues should be truly in their cups and present even less of a threat.

“From the state of the camp, it looks like this is a common bolthole for them,” Lethelin detailed. “There’s a fair bit of trash around the entrance to the cave, and I see semi-permanent sleeping areas inside.”

She reached down with a stick and began to sketch a general layout of the cave they sheltered in.

“The entrance is a little narrow, but it opens up plenty when once you get inside. Looks to have been worked by someone. They were all sitting around the fire when I peeked in on them.”

She drew an X in roughly the center of the diagram, and then made little marks representing the approximate location of each member.

“Also, I saw a sevith on one of the orcs,” she drew a little circle around one of the figures, “And one of the humans.”

She added another circle.

“The orc has a clear view of the entrance as well. I couldn’t see how many stones he had though, so it’s anybody’s guess. Hard to say how drunk he will be, as they can hold their liquor.”

Allora nodded, studying the diagram. Then, she gave the thief a respectful nod.

“This is good work,” she said. “You have a mind for details.”

Lethelin looked a little taken aback. Allora almost never gave her compliments. Mitchell saw a

blush actually rise in her cheeks.

“I’m a thief. Scouting marks is part of the job.”

Allora gave her a small smile, then focused back on the crude sketch.

“Likely, the orc and the human are not that skilled,” Allora speculated. “If they were, they would not be raiding travelers along the foothills. A good offensive magic user is always in high demand. They would be going after larger targets. As you said, it is a good time to be a thief. I would be surprised if they are little more than sprites.”

“Probably,” Lethelin agreed.

“It does not mean they do not have any powerful spells, but it should not be more than we can handle.”

As they discussed the finer points of their strategy, Mitchell found that he was growing excited. Or was it dread? He honestly didn’t know. He wasn’t afraid of the fight. He felt the three of them were more than a match for the bandits that were currently getting drunk about a hundred meters down slope. But most likely he would have to kill at least some of them. His mind went back to the fight with Dakath and the locals he’d hired in that little town that he’d already forgotten the name of, and how he had killed the man who had attacked him. So much had happened after that with Allora’s near death and Luvari, plus the dangers of trekking through the mountains, that he still hadn’t fully dealt with it.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Mitchell thought back to his grandfather, who had fought in a war. He had been a hero in the very real sense of the word, even if Mitchell could no longer remember what it was he had done. His grandfather had killed. Many soldiers had. In practical terms, he was also now a soldier. He was going to be doing battle against Milandris and his forces. He would use the skills he’d learned to end the lives of others. Mitchell wondered if every warrior going into battle had these thoughts. Something inside him told him that he could do what needed to be done, but he also worried what that meant. In the first fight, they had been attacked. In this one, they were choosing not to ignore the danger these men posed and were about to attack them.

“What do you think, Mitchell?”

“What?” he said, being jolted out of the swirl of thoughts going through his head. He’d only been half listening. “Umm… Yeah. Allora in first, since I haven’t learned a shield spell yet. I’ll deal with the orc. You take aim at the other guy with the sevith and knock him out as quick as you can, Lethelin in last to help take out any stragglers. Sounds good.”

“I wish I’d picked up a bow in Besari. I can’t believe I forgot!” Lethelin cursed. “I miss my bow.”

“Didn’t you say you had a rapier, also?” Mitchell inquired.

“I left that with the local guild in Tregar. It’s a decent-sized town on the Awenor side of the Southern Road. I knew I was likely to be trekking across the desert, and it was too much weight. I had thought to return that way once I was done, but I’ll likely have to send for it now.”

“The guild?” Allora asked.

Lethelin arched an eyebrow. “The local thieves' guild?”

“Oh.”

“You know they have those, right?”

“I heard rumors growing up, but I thought it was somewhat preposterous. Why would thieves form a guild?”

Lethelin chuckled and wobbled her head.

“You’d be surprised.”

Mitchell glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark, which meant it was almost time to move. The men should be drunk enough now if what Lethelin said had been accurate. He turned towards the yulops and secured their leads to a nearby bush. They should be safe enough while they were gone. Allora had said that the dire wolves were not nearly as plentiful on this side of the Peaks. They had been hunted more vigorously by patrols and the locals to stop them from raiding the farms and settlements in the valleys.

Once the pack animals were secured, he checked on Vras who was sitting in the satchel they’d constructed out of bits of cloth and canvas and hung from Marvin’s back. He hadn’t liked it at all, but the little shadow cat mostly slept during the day as it was a nocturnal hunter, so it didn’t freak out the poor animal too much. He formed the spell in his mind that he’d been practicing to talk with Vras and let him know what they were about to do. It kind of worked.

“I need you to stay in your satchel,” Mitchell said slowly to the drowsy creature. He could feel the tenuous nature of the spell, and he wasn’t sure how much of his meaning was conveyed across the link between his mind and the cat’s.

Vras’s head came up, and it blinked at him, then yawned, and rested its head once again on against the yulop’s side. It had worked. Probably. Either way, it would have to do.

As he stood up a single thought drifted into his mind right as he was about to drop the spell.

“Hungry,” Vras said in a sleepy voice. “Food.”

“It worked!” Mitchell said aloud. “Vras heard me!”

“How nice for you,” Lethelin said disdainfully. “Tell the greedy little moocher not to eat all our food while we’re gone.”

Allora shook her head and grinned before turning her attention to Mitchell.

“He understood you?”

“I think so. He told me to bring food.”

“It is a start. He is young so will need time to learn to better communicate. Once you are more confident with the spell and can form a stronger link, you will need to practice with him frequently. The more you speak with him the more easily you will both understand each other.”

“Good to know,” he said and scratched the slumbering shadow cat between the ears.

“Time to go,” Lethelin said as she pulled Mira from the sheath behind her back.

“Yes,” Mitchell answered. “Time to go.”

***

As they descended quietly down the slope, Lethelin leading the way, Allora studied Mitchell. His sword was out and at the ready, and he flexed the fingers on his offhand, the one where he wore his sevith. He appeared nervous, but he showed no hesitation. This would be his first true test. Part of her hated taking the risk, but she knew that was just the old fear talking. She had trained him to the best of her abilities so far. He carried his blade with confidence now. Long gone was the unsure Earth man who couldn’t even hold the wooden practice staves properly and tripped over his own feet.

His body, while not weak in the beginning, had grown significantly stronger. And his physical abilities were improved even further by the heart stone he now carried in his chest. Over the last several weeks he had grown in size, strength, and wisdom. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to ignore the desire to touch him, to run her fingers over his taut muscles. Since she’d awoken in Luvari’s cabin and decided to no longer push him away, it had been almost impossible to stop herself from pulling him close at every opportunity. She wanted him, and she knew he wanted her as well. He never pushed her for more than she offered, though.

Allora felt as he did that their first time should not be in the mountains, sleeping on bare earth, their bodies filthy from travel. It would not be right. She was not some tavern wench, nor he some sweaty laborer spending his coin on wine and women. But watching the ease with which he navigated down slope, watching how he studied Lethelin’s movements, placing his feet where she placed her feet, watching his body flex and twist, she almost forgot herself and took him right then. She felt that familiar heat grow between her legs and tried not to think about how long it had been since she had lain with anyone.

They would have their moment, she knew. And he would have his moment with Lethelin as well. The woman still irked her to no end, but Mitchell had been right about her. The dock rat had earned Allora’s trust. She had fought by their side when she could have run, and she sold her own blood and time to the fey witch to save Allora’s life, promising to reveal secrets to Luvari that no doubt she had fought to keep most of her life. Allora once again said a silent prayer to Vish and thanked her for the aid she had sent. A moon child! Allora almost couldn’t believe it. Scanning forward, however, watching how Lethelin stalked ahead, silent and deadly, Allora knew that their little thief cum assassin would be invaluable to them in the fights ahead.

Once she had accepted Lethelin as an equal, things had settled down between them, but the redhead still knew how to get under Allora’s skin. Her needling had lost a lot of its heat, though. Allora did not know if she could truly be friends with Lethelin, but she had most certainly come to respect her and value her as part of their party. She could also see how much this pleased Mitchell. He loved her, as well. That much was plain to see. Lethelin, for her part, seemed uncertain what to do with that, but Allora was confident it would work itself out. She certainly lusted after him, probably as much as Allora did, but she also seemed scared of that sometimes. In the meantime, Mitchell had become fairly adept at managing Lethelin’s snippy moods as well as preventing Allora from tanning the woman’s shapely ass when she mouthed off. As a result, they were truly coming together as a team with Mitchell at the center.

For Allora, this was perhaps the strangest adjustment, but not an unpleasant one. Mitchell was asserting himself much more as he learned to trust his own mind and his own skills. Whereas once, she would have had to lead him, more often now he was in charge. He still asked her for her advice, and he seemed to know when to listen and when to deviate from her council. Had he been this way on his own world? It certainly had not been so when he’d first arrived, and there had been times – she was ashamed to admit – when she thought him too weak to do what needed to be done. He had been so helpless that she really had doubted the spell’s choice. No longer, however. Mitchell was growing into his role.

Almost before Allora realized it, they had come to a stop. Up ahead in the darkness, she could see a weak light emanating from the mouth of the cave and laughter drifted on the wind. The smell of wood smoke and body odor was thick in the air. Per the plan, Lethelin brought up her hood which activated her cloak and began to creep forward towards the entrance to scout for any changes. Allora strained her eyes to find her in the darkness but knew it to be futile. What she wouldn’t give to have a cloak like that. Lethelin had been tight-lipped about where she had gotten it, though. Such enchantments were not easy to come by.

Allora stepped up beside Mitchell and crouched down next to him.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said.

His voice was firm. She checked his sword hand and saw it was steady. He crouched on the balls of his feet, body tight and ready to move. He glanced over at her and his blue eyes found hers.

“You will likely have to kill again,” she told him, remembering how the death of the man in his first fight had upset him.

“I know,” he replied. “I don’t like the idea, but I understand what must be done. I won’t hesitate.”

Impulsively, Allora closed the small distance between them and kissed him. As she pulled away, her cheeks hot, she saw he was grinning.

“For luck?” he asked.

She shrugged, but didn’t answer. She looked down the slope and waited for Lethelin to reappear. She was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. Allora felt Mitchell’s free hand lightly stroking her thigh as they waited together. Just a moment later, the path immediately in front of them began to blur and Lethelin reappeared.

“We’re in luck!” she exclaimed in a not-so-quiet whisper. “One of the humans is passed out cold. Guess he couldn’t hold his liquor. Only four to deal with.”

She saw Allora’s grin.

“What?” she asked, looking between the two of them. “What are you both grinning at?”

“Nothing,” Mitchell said, the smile plain in his voice. “You ready?”

They both nodded and all three of them began their approach.