My breathing stops. Not by choice. Well, not exactly by choice. It was my choice to wrap my breath, true. It wasn’t my intention to wrap my mouth. I have successfully failed and can no longer try to fail now. Because I can’t breathe.

My focus all comes together, I puzzle a way through my predicament. I can’t breathe because I willed my mana towards my breath, which happened to be near my mouth. That must have caused confusion with my intent, and the mana seized upon all my breath holes. Now that my face is wrapped in mana, I don’t know how to release the hold. Which should be fine for another thirty seconds or so. After that, things won’t be so fine.

To think I am the cause of my death this time… well, I guess that isn’t much different than any other time. Grundle’s first attack might be a death outside my actions. Though I did choose to sleep in a bear cave, so was it really?

Right, I’m dying. Need to focus.

I try to will the mana off my face. It doesn’t work. I throw my will at it in several ways. Nothing is happening. About twenty seconds left. My heart is starting to race. Silly heart. You’d do more by doing nothing.

My next attempt is to stop cycling pure mana. Cut the power off the source. Or something like that. Truth be told, I am not worried because this is a sure solution.

Turns out, solutions can only be sure when they solve the issue. In this case, my wrapped face does not have a power source. Or rather it does not need the mana to fuel it like my shadow cloak or bone armor. Interesting and problematic.

The heart ramps up a few beats faster.

I begin cycling shadow and death mana. In each hand, I summon a dagger, one shadow, and one bone. Thinking the bone will work best, I carefully prod the boney knife into my mouth. I’m sure glad no one is here to see this. It is a successful failure despite all my assorted gentle jabbing techniques, and I get to keep trying to figure out how to breathe.

I have about fifteen seconds left. My heart is completely irrational, and my face feels extra pressure on the inside.

I hate it when my words are used against me. Failure is the worst, no matter how you try to spin it.

Shadow knife now plucks at the mana perimeter. It gains no grounds, and I am still short three breathing holes. Now it gets entirely foolish, and I am ramming both knives at my mouth without any lack of concern about cutting myself. It is quite the opposite. I’m currently open to cuts.

My heart practically runs itself to death. The pressure in my face is getting light, and I’m not too sure about my whereabouts.

Breathe.

Just brea — Oh fetch. This is a problem.

I switch back to pure mana and throw every intent at my mouth I can.

Release.

Relinquish, Relent, Repel!

Retract... A lot of redundancies for sure.

My vision is going dark. Feet gather around me. Am I on the ground?

As I am about to fade, I imagine a tether of pure mana extending from my body. The energy obeys. I focus on the tether and mend it into the mana around my face. When they connect, I command the tether to release.

Like the coziest breeze, air brushes my face. From there, it is engulfed as I suck in all the precious life around me. My heart stops taking a break from whatever. The pressure in my head relents. I can breathe. Sweet, sweet air, I can breathe! My eyes open, and I can see… goblins.

What the hell, feet? Why did you keep walking? And where is a bloody tree when you need one? I walked right into the goblin encampment and am surrounded by spears.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Hello, Liam. Let’s see how you like being clubbed.” My friend, Sil, parts the circle of spears. She is holding a wooden club. Before I can get my body to stand, the club falls. Once again, my vision goes dark.

When I wake up, I’m tied to a chair in the middle of the fortification. Sil is nearby though she has yet to notice I am awake. The surprise is ruined when her buddy on the left, sporting a fading bruise on the crown of his hairline about the thickness of a staff says something like, “He’s awake.”

How did I get myself into this mess? In all my foolish choices. This is the worst. I wasn’t even trying to be foolish either. I was careful. Stupid feet. Stupid trees. No one is loyal these days.

“Hello, Sil,” I greet my host as politely as possible. “I’ve been meaning to stop by to say hello.”

“You are lucky you are not dead.” Sil silences my words.

“Oh. I know. For a second there, I thought I was a goner. Then I lassoed the mana around my face with another mana tentacle and told the tentacle to get lost. I’m just as surprised as you are it worked.”

“What!” The bruised bard says in more of a statement than a question.

I answer anyway because I am not picky with questions, and they left an opening. “I meant tether. Not tentacles. That just doesn’t make sense. Sorry. My mind is still foggy from the lack of air. And the clubbing. Nice hit, by the way. Maybe could have been a little softer.”

“No, you fool,” the bard speaks some more. “You are lucky our chieftess stopped us from killing you when we could have.”

“Oh.” Now we are on the same page. “Right. Thank you for not killing me,” I say as genuinely as possible.

“Show your gratitude with silence.” I know I bruised him before, but this bard is not catching the vibe. Still, I’m the guest, and I concede to his request.

Now it’s silent in the camp. Sil and Bard are talking quietly amongst themselves, keeping me out of the conversation. I have nothing else to do now, so I read the surrounding energy.

Gene is flying above us, keeping an eye on the reunion of us friends. Through our connection I let her know I am OK, and she doesn’t intervene. She questions the relationship and I explain that this friendship has a weird tendency for bondage scenarios. Gene goes completely silent after that.

The fortification is looking stronger than before. The walls are another ten feet higher. Adding to the thickness of the wooden walls is a four-foot-wide backing of solid dirt. More wood covers the back side of the dirt wall, and it looks like work is being done to add a walkway on top. More watch towers were added that span higher than the wall. Standing guard in each of the eight watch towers are two range-focused lancers. The completed sections of the wall also have patrol units.

Inside, dome-shaped dirt huts have replaced the fabric tents that were here before. The eight huts are the same size, and they are placed in a circle formation near the center of the fort. The domes and watch towers are set between each other. This arrangement allows the tower to all have a perfect view of the center of the town. Which in turn allows the guards standing in the towers to keep their bows and crossbows aimed at me.

The only entrance to the fortification, or exit depending on your outlook, is on the north side. Two guards are standing outside the gate. Another goblin, inside the gate, is inscribing runes into the wall adjoining the exit.

Overall, I think the goblin camp took my previous constructive criticism to heart and have done a tremendous job with the improvements. It makes me wonder, how was I able to walk myself into this sturdy mess?

My energy reading is broken by a loud but harmonious grunt. “Where is the core?” Asks Sil who is sorta thumping her club into her hand.

I go full ignorant in response. “What core?”

“The dungeon core. You used the dungeon core to destroy the stronghold. Now, where is it?”

“What?” I’m aghast. ”I did no such thing. For one, I don’t know what core you are talking about. Two, that is a stronghold you are talking about. I’m one person. Three, I don’t have a core.”

“Stop being a fool.” Sil’s club is caught firmly in her offhand. Her hand indents the solid weapon causing it to crack. The faintest wisp of darkness burns around her body.

I widen my eyes in response to the threat and agree with Sill, “I wish so hard that I could,” hoping to build common ground between us. “It wasn’t me that destroyed the fortification. Perhaps it was the dragon?”

Sil has her doubts. Her thoughts nearly display themselves on her face as she weighs my words. “Jonas,” she shouts. Another bruise-sporting lad, the dark ranger, joins Sil, Bard, and me. The three of them discuss secret business while I watch their back. The huddle breaks. Bard walks towards the exit. Jonas gives my eye a punch and also walks away.

So far, plan Pillage, Plunder ‘n Save is off to a great start. Being on this inside will make part one of the two-part plan so much easier.

“You’re coming with us.” Sil’s words race the swinging club falling toward my face. Violent clubbing lulls me to sleep abruptly.