Erevan crouched low, searching for signs of disturbance at the ground. A group of humans had been here. The footsteps were getting clearer, which meant that they must be closing in on the hide-out. He glanced behind him, seeing the determined faces of Nalion and Hama. It was weird working with others, but he had to grudgingly admit that at least Hama seemed to know what he was doing. And even though mages were always annoying, ugh mages, having someone who could heal might come in very handy if things went awry. As they often seemed to when Erevan wasn’t on his own.
Now he might look all gruff and grumbly but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He had noticed the knowing glint in Nalions hazel eyes as the Order was brought up, had seen how enthusiastic the scrawny elf had been to catalog the information from the ruins. But then again, Nalion had wanted to free Glibb and Globb. Erevan would have just killed them. It’s not that he wanted to actively murder anyone, but they were kobolds and he was practical. Nalion, however, seemed to… care.
It could be dangerous. It could be an act. But it could also mean he might learn more about the Order. There had been many things he was too young to have known before they all died. Maybe there were more members alive, hiding somewhere. Maybe Nalion knew more. Maybe Nalion was a member.
Nalion squirmed nervously. Thus making Erevan realize that he had just been intensely staring at the elf for gods knew how long without saying a single word. This opened up the familiar well of insecurities within him, would Nalion think that he was some weirdo who just stared at people? He deepened his scowl, which only seemed to make Nalion even more nervous. Damn it. Erevan hated interacting with people. He always seemed to do or say the wrong thing.
“We’re close,” he rasped, while turning his gaze towards where the footprints seemed to be leading.
“Oh,” Nalion said softly. “I was thinking I could cast a spell that would help us blend in with our surroundings, to muffle the sounds of our steps in order to decrease the chances of us being discovered. Before we want to be, that is.”
“Umm,” Erevan said intelligently. On the one hand, that would be extremely useful. On the other hand, magic directed at him gave him the heebie-jeebies. He had never excelled in arcane studies and would not be able to identify others' spells let alone interrupt them. Unless one counted physically throwing himself at the castor as interrupting. Then he would be great at it.
“Dude, that sounds so cool, we’re so doing that!” Hama exclaimed enthusiastically.
Erevan rolled his eyes. Getting excited about magic. What a rookie.
He guessed Hama hadn’t witnessed the awful things magic could do. Or maybe he had and he just was a crazy person. Or maybe he trusted Nalion. Like a crazy person. All of these felt inexcusable. He himself might be letting Nalion walk around and be in his company, but that didn’t mean he would make the rookie mistake and actually trust him. Erevan had been a naive idiot before and that only got him into trouble. A swell of pain surged in his heart as he thought of the bard, the friendship that he’d so foolishly believed was for real. Well, fool him once, shame on bards. Fool him twice… Well, that was just not going to happen.
Nalion cast the spell, a soft glow emanating from his hands. To Erevans growing discomfort he was involved in the effect. He was too old for this crap. He should just retire and start a beer farm. Did one farm beer? He should find out. After all, what was life without a retirement-plan? Maybe Nalion would know, the bookish elf seemed like a know-it-all.
Erevan glared at Nalion for good measure.
They crept forward, pace slower now. The spell was working wonders, it was as if they were constantly covered by the trees and the bushes, their steps soundless. They didn’t have to go far before noticing an old fortress before them. Half of it was entirely in ruins, whereas in the other half they could see people. Erevan could spot thick, black smoke at the back of it lazily curling its way up to meet the heavens from a chimney.
What was it with bad guys and camping out in old, destroyed buildings? Perhaps it was a budget issue. Maybe that’s where the slogan “Crime doesn’t pay” came from.
Erevan stopped in his tracks and lifted his palm up, hoping the others would catch on his signal. Luckily they did. He looked back towards them, and then gestured at a patrol consisting of three bandits in uniform walking towards them. Huh, they all wore a bandana over the lower half of their face. Maybe Hamas bandana was a dum fashion trend. The trio continued forward with care, sneaking around the bandits with ease. Erevan had to begrudgingly admit the spell was pretty neat. Before long they were almost next to the hideout.
Erevan glanced at the partly cloudy sky contemplatively. The sun was getting lower. Dusk would be settling upon them soon. They should make their move now and use the coming darkness to their advantage whilst making their escape.
“How long can you keep up the spell?” Hama interrupted his thoughts.
“It depends really on the spell, its complexity and -,” Nalion began but quickly shut up after a particularly nasty glare from Erevan. Nalion looked at him sheepishly before rushing out the rest. “This particular one isn’t so taxing, I’ve been practicing it a lot, though I am getting a bit tired since we are three not one, and if I need to cast something else or do something extravenous, or if I can’t concentrate on it for some reason it will be broken.”
It was the longest sentence Erevan had ever heard anyone say without stopping to breathe. He blinked as he attempted to process the information. It had been a bit hard to follow.
“Stop the spell once we’re inside. Save your strength,” he commanded in a low voice. It would be stupid to exhaust the only one of them who could heal so early on.
Nalion nodded. Good.
They came around to a backdoor, the smoke from the chimney becoming much more visible now. The somewhat run-down door was guarded by two clearly bored bandits. Erevan looked around, finding a small, smooth stone. He picked it up, a rare smirk playing on his lips. This would do. He threw the rock with all his might to a shrubbery further back and away from them.
The bandits jumped in tandem, startled by the sudden noise.
“Did you hear that?” one of them asked as he looked around wildly, trying and failing to identify the source.
“Yeah, I did. I also saw that bush move. It could be an animal, or it could be the idiotic big buffoon from the village trying a doomed rescue mission. Come on, let's check it out.”
The bandits casually made their way towards the bush, laughing at the idea of the blacksmith coming here all by his lonesome.
Erevan shook his head in vague amusement. Of course it worked. It felt like bad guys were getting dumber and more incompetent by the year. Embarrassing, really. Erevan mentally gave himself a pat on the back. He still got it. Maybe the retirement plan could wait a bit.
As the bandits busied themselves with searching for their formidable enemy, also known as a pebble, the trio sneaked inside unnoticed. It really was embarrassingly easy. Once the door was closed behind them, Nalion let go of the spell and Erevan drew out his trusty old shortswords.
In front of them was a narrow corridor with uneven wooden stairs leading down to what was presumably the basement and current bandit headquarters. Not only did bad guys enjoy wrecked buildings, they also seemed to get kicks out of being underground. People were so weird. Erevan could never handle being confined like that for longer periods of time.
“Well, down we go!” Hama said cheerfully. Erevan pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed slightly. He felt like he was doing that a lot nowadays. To his defense, he was not only surrounded by people but some of them were also cheerful. What’s cheerful about a bandit hideout? Hama really was crazy.
They made their way down slowly, wary of movement but encountering none. Soon they found themselves at the beginning of another narrow corridor with closed wooden doors on both sides. Erevan came to a halt at the first door on the right, pressing his ear against it. His hearing was sharp, yet he could not hear a thing. He cautiously opened the door, revealing a room filled with weaponry. Mostly spears, swords and shields. Erevan shook his head, slightly disappointed. So basic.
The next door, well actually doors, were on the left side which was also the inner wall of the building. He didn’t even need to try to listen to hear the sounds of a jolly feast. There was laughter and drunken yelling booming from the room. Oh, to be drunk. He frowned at the doors wistfully.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Nalion and Hama could clearly hear the jubilation on the other side of the doors as well. Based on the sounds he deduced that the majority of the bandits must be inside. Erevan turned back, waving slightly to indicate that he wanted the others to follow. They walked into the armory and Erevan grabbed a handful of spears. He gave them A Look, whilst nodding towards the spears in his hand. Understanding lit the other guys faces as they too grabbed some spears, Nalion slightly struggling to carry the heavy load.
As they returned to the door Erevan expertly used the spears to barricade the way out. He nodded as he lowered his hands to his hips, satisfied with his handiwork. They probably used more spears than necessary to keep the doors closed though he’d rather have too many than too few.
Suddenly one of the doors further ahead swung open and the trio could see a man walking out of it. The man stepped in the corridor while talking with a distinct whine in his voice, “- and people say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day! Oh, shit, INTRUDERS!”
The bandit charged at them, still yelling. As if shouting hard enough would miraculously give him superior fighting skills. Erevan scoffed internally as several other bandits stumbled in to join the first. The ranger gripped his swords tight and as his body automatically slid into a fighting stance. The half-elf could vaguely see a blur of black, Hama, as he engaged in battle. Nalion was casting spells, was that acid just casually sizzling its way through a bandits armor?
Behind them the party became suspiciously quiet. Then the doors rattled. And rattled again as the people trapped inside shouted, banked on the doors and tried to get out to join the fight. Fortunately the spears were made of high enough quality to hold back a drunken mob. It was mildly surprising to Erevan compared to the competence, or more like the lack of it, of the bandits.
He focused on his own opponent, dodging a blow with ease. He counter-attacked, only for his swords to be blocked. Finally, a somewhat worthy opponent. Erevan dropped low as a blade swung past where his own neck had been. In his crouched position he forcefully kicked out, effectively tripping his opponent. He took advantage of this and plunged his sword into the bandits abdomen as he blocked a blow to his face with the other. Then he lifted the lower sword, bright red and dripping with fresh blood, and sliced at the new person.
A few moments later they stood, splattered in blood and breathing heavily. As far as Erevan could tell they were all unharmed. Good. The doors kept rattling violently.
They moved swiftly to check out the other rooms, but they were all empty. The blacksmith's daughter was not here. Only one door remained, at the end of the corridor. It was different from the rest as this one was made of metal. Erevan walked to it with a few long steps and twisted the handle. The door didn’t budge. Of course. He guessed at least one bandit in this bunch had to have a brain cell.
Hama walked past him and casually knocked on the door. There was silence. Then, a slightly muffled trembling voice emerged. “H- hello?”
“Hey dude, are you the blacksmith's daughter?” Hama asked conversationally.
“I-, yes I am. You’re not with the bandits, are you?”
“Nope! We’re your very own rescue-squad!” Hama flexed his muscles even though the girl couldn’t see them. Erevan rolled his eyes. “So could you be a dear and open up this hunk of a door?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t. There's no locking mechanism to use, you’d need the key for that.”
Erevan sighed again. It just couldn’t have been that easy, could it.
“Where is the key?” Nalion joined the conversation, curious as ever.
“The leader of the bandits had it on his person, I don’t know where. Or at least he had it before… But I think he’s out because the last time someone was here to give me food it was one of the other bandits.”
“How do we recognize the person who has it?” Hama asked.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
Huh. Maybe the bandana wasn’t such a dumb trend after all.
“It’s alright, we’ll figure something out.”
Erevan was the first to move. He headed straight towards the dead bandits, a plan forming in his mind. The doors wouldn’t hold forever and these uniforms would work wonders as a disguise. The bandanas would cover their identities and the red cloaks hid their armor. He started removing the items as silently as he could. As he clasped the cloak by his throat he used the hem to clean up the worst of the splatters in the front of his body. There. Spotless.
Erevan lifted his blue gaze and saw that the others were almost done too. Good, no time to waste. He lifted the hood over his head, hiding the rest of his features effectively. It was a nice and comforting feeling, hiding inside a large hood. He should get a cloak himself, with a hood so huge it would swallow his whole face. Nalion and Hama mimicked this as they followed Erevan back up the stairs.
“What’s the plan?” Nalion asked quietly as they reached the first corridor.
“We run down and make a ruckus, pretending to be part of the bandits. We let them out, find the leader, try to get him alone or with as few men as possible. And then we take the key, free the girl and go drink beer.”
“You think that’ll work?” Hama questioned, one eyebrow arched. Erevan frowned. Maybe when the crazy one questioned your plan it only meant it was sane. Like a double negative, they canceled each other.
“You got a better idea?” he growled, the challenge clear in his voice.
“Ahhh, got me there dude. Fine, I’ll play along,” the human conceded.
They began to run down the stairs, stomping on the ground to make as much sound as possible. The banking on the doors intensified as they could hear the bandits inside yelling for help.
“WHAT’S GOING ON!” Erevan yelled as he ran at a steady pace.
“OH GODS, LOOK, SOMEONE HAS BREACHED THE PREMISES!” Hama screeched, seeming to enjoy this a bit too much.
“THANK THE GODS!”, “LET US OUT!” and “THEY TRAPPED US IN HERE!” were heard as several voices shouted from behind the doors.
“OH NO THEY’VE KILLED PEOPLE!” gasped Nalion dramatically, disappearing into the role and way over-doing it. “THEY MUST’VE BEEN AFTER THE HOSTAGE, WE NEED TO HURRY!”
The trio stomped their way to the double doors, spears clattering on the floor as the doors were unbarred. More than a dozen bandits rushed out in various states of drunkenness.
“They must’ve gone that way, see the bodies? I’m sure they got the hostage, they are probably somewhere in the woods by now! Most of us should go there while some of us stay here to check out the room,” Hama reasoned.
“Good idea, ‘coz Gideon’s gonna kill us if they get away,” nodded one of the more sober ones in slight panic. A murmur of more or less slurred agreement echoed in the room. Erevan decided to take charge of the situation. He pointed towards the bandits.
“Anyone have the key?”
“Ah, shit, yeah the key! I think Tommie has it, but he’s not looking so hot.” Erevan followed the bandits gaze to an unconscious man sprawled on the floor next to a pool of vomit.
“You, go out and try to find them. You and you,” Erevan barked as he gestured to Nalion, Hama and an additional two other bandits, “you’re with me. Get the key and let’s move it!”
Erevan suppressed a huff of laughter as the bandits scampered to do his bidding. He took it back, they all seemed to be lacking brain cells. Casting a last longing look towards the pitchers of ale innocently sitting upon the rows of tables, he followed the other two bandits to the metal door with Hama and Nalion in their tow. Finding it locked, naturally.
This was their cue. Erevan and Hama made quick work of the closer bandit, distracted as he was. A fondness for sneak attacks seemed to be something they had in common. As Nalion went to hit the head of the remaining bandit with the hilt of a spear, the bandit shook things up by grabbing a hold of it - shocking all, including himself. He then clumsily swung it out of Nalions grasp and brandished it before them.
“So you’re the intruders,” he said, grim.
“Wow, what tipped you off?” Hama quipped, posture lax and unworried.
The bandit gritted his teeth as his gaze fervently flitted between them, the tip of the spear following his gaze.
Hama looked at him with fake concern, sarcasm positively oozing from his words, “You know, I’ll try to be nicer, if you try to be just a little smarter.”
Picking his target, also known as the empty space between Hama and Erevan, the bandit half-stumbled half-charged ahead with a yell. Hama stepped aside with ease as Erevan used his foot to trip the red-cloaked fool. The man jumped over the extended foot and thrusted the sharp end of the spear towards Nalion. The elf gave a small “Eep!” as he narrowly avoided the attack. The sound of a slight rip in fabric reverbatered in his ears.
The half-elf spun around deftly. He took an unrelenting hold of the man's cloak, pulling him closer to the duo. The still drunk bandit almost lost his balance, stumbling backwards in a desperate attempt to stay on his feet. Hama swung his fist. When it met with the bandit's nose a crack pierced the air. The bandit fell, unconscious.
Hama shrugged. “I guess that works.”
Erevan went back to barricade the outer door while Hama kneeled down and fished the key from the floor. The young man then went to unlock the door, leaving Nalion to stand awkwardly behind him. The lock clicked and the door was open by the time Erevan joined them again.
The room inside was the most comfortable one they’d seen so far. Most of it was likely due to the fact that it wasn’t rundown nor did the room carry the odor of mold. There was a big, thick red rug to keep the chill at bay, a simple wooden table with a few chairs, as well as two small windows high up. In a corner there was a tidy little bookshelf. At least someone here had made the effort to decorate.
In the middle of the room a young teenage girl stood, looking spooked. Or maybe a pre-teen. Judging ages was hard.
Hama pulled off his hood, “It’s okay, it’s us, your very own rescue-squad!”
The kid's expression changed into a wide smile. “It’s you! The people my dad sent! Oh thank you, thank you!”
“Are you alright?” asked Nalion, as he too lowered his hood and pulled the bandana down to his neck.
The girl's eyes widened as she took in the strange features of the elf.
“Y- yes I am,” she stuttered, recovering quickly. “They’ve just kept me here. I’ve been mostly alone, except for when they’d bring me food or the leader came in to read that book.”
The girl pointed at an old, worn leather book within the bookshelf. It was easy to spot since it was the only one without a fleck of dust on it, as if it had been often and repeatedly taken out. Nalion instantly navigated towards the book, looking excited. Mages. The elf then promptly took the book and all the vials, placing them in his backpack with great care.
Erevan raised a questioning eyebrow. He had nothing against looting, he just hadn’t thought Nalion would be the kind of person to partake in such an activity. Nalion merely shrugged in his general direction and said, “They might come in handy.” Well, who was he to argue with that.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly and began to walk outside of the room, the others trailing behind him like little baby ducklings. As they neared the exit they could hear fists pounding on the outer door that Erevan had barricaded earlier. His mood soured. Of course. Now they had to decide between facing several bandits - albeit many of them drunk and not nearly as proficient in drunken fighting as Erevan - or trying to puzzle another way out.
Nalion was the one to break the silence, “There’s a chimney in the dining room, I could transform into an animal, then back to myself and lower a rope. It should be getting dark outside...”
Erevan gave a curt nod of acceptance. It was a sound plan.
They hurried in the dining room, the young girl looking pale and frightened. Then Nalion began chanting, several hairy limbs appearing around his body as he grew smaller. The teenager brought her hands to her mouth, effectively muffling a scream. And then there was a spider. It was a big one, as spiders go. Erevan was glad he wasn’t arachnophobic. The spider skittered swiftly up the chimney and then after a while a sturdy rope fell down.
Erevan grunted as he signaled for the young human to go first. The girl took the rope with trembling hands. She took a deep breath and then determination settled on her features. She began hoisting herself up fast, showing surprising upper body strength.
Hama gave a low whistle.
“Now that’s impressive. She’d make a fine warrior when she’s older, you know, if Luccans weren’t such misogynistic assholes.”
Erevan didn’t know how to answer that. So he didn’t.
As the rope fell down again he gesticulated that it was Hamas' turn. Hama shrugged and said “Whatever floats your boat dude,” and then he was up as well, struggling a bit more than the young girl had. Erevan smiled smugly. It was a nice feeling. He would need to remind himself to write about it in his diary later today.