The steady drip-drip-drip of water leaking from somewhere within the dilapidated walls faded into the background as Oralia crept along the deserted passageway. Occasionally she would hear the scuttling of feet, followed by a scuffle, sometimes a scream, and then nothing. The ominous silence would eventually give way to the steady drip of water once more. There weren’t many stragglers left. From the sounds of it, her team was making short work of the few soldiers foolish enough to have stayed behind.
The old military settlement she was currently picking her way through had clearly seen better days. The lanterns that normally brightened the passageways were either unlit or missing altogether, adding a layer of darkness to an already unpleasant experience. It was times like these that made her grateful she was no longer the Protector of the Realm. Had she visited this particular settlement during her service, she would have ripped the command a new one for allowing their regiments to live in such squalor.
That was all in the past, however. And instead of inspecting the grounds, Oralia now found herself in the unique position of actively hunting its former occupants. She and her small force had split at the last four way cross section, intent on flushing any stragglers towards the exit and into the awaiting arms of the recovery team–any that survived, that is. Certain members of her crew were more eager than others and did not quite grasp the concept of capturing their quarry alive.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Oralia found herself alone. The silence itself was a small blessing. Well, would have been, were it not for the nagging whisper that infiltrated her thoughts. You can feel it, can’t you? The hunger that flows through your veins? That’s the call of magic. And we’re getting closer to the source. To the left, now!
Doing her best not to roll her eyes, Oralia ducked right instead.
Daft, orc. You’re going the wrong way!
This portion of the building looked to be the officer’s barracks. She crept down the gloomy passage with its bowed, planked walls and sagging ceiling. Around her, the musty air reeked of water damage and wood rot. Oralia checked several open doors as she passed, all of which were in various stages of abandonment. These chambers were bigger than the ones she’d seen on the way in. Each room was outfitted with a wooden desk and a single bunk–the sign of rank when it came to military strongholds.
In the distance, faint footsteps grew louder. Whatever officers were still trapped in the barracks were being driven her way. And, judging by the speed of the oncoming footsteps, they had abandoned all sense of stealth in favor of a desperate run.
The powerstone hanging around her neck thrummed against her skin. Turn back around! It’s getting further a–
Oralia shut herself off to the voice that rippled across her mind. Now was not the time to get distracted. With her broadsword gripped in her dominant hand, she retreated into the protection of an open doorway and waited for the approaching footsteps to draw within striking range. The reason for the runner’s speed was soon apparent. Oralia’s heightened hearing picked up two additional sets of footsteps. There were voices as well. Male, human voices with which Oralia was regretfully all too familiar.
“Will you shove off?” Lingon snapped. “This one’s mine! I had to tear down an entire barricade just to flush ‘im out! You can’t jump in mid-chase.”
“What? And let another elf outfox you? We’ve got a namesake to uphold, Dingle. I’m not gonna let you tarnish it ‘cause you’re too proud to ask for help.”
Judging from the brothers’ bickering, it was a miracle they had not abandoned the chase to set their sights on each other yet. Was this progress? Mul and Lingon were getting better at staying on task, to the point where Oralia no longer had to send a chaperone to ensure they kept in line.
Oralia glanced around the edge of the door. The runner was nearly to her, crossing the intersection where the current hallway intersected with the next, when a dark shape took the soldier out at the knees. Oralia leapt from the protection of the doorway and started towards the scene in the event the capture required her assistance. There was no need, however. The struggling soldier was subdued with neat, practiced precision.
Mul and Lingon’s slogging steps reached the intersection only seconds ahead of Oralia. “Dammit, Rali,” Lingon whined. “That one was mine!”
“Don’t use that tone when speaking to my future wife,” Mul said.
“What’s that, Mulberry? You want to join the prisoner on the floor?” The threat in Rali’s tone bordered on lethal. “Keep it up then. There’s plenty of room down here, bucko!”
A shit-eating grin stretched across Mul’s heavily bearded face. “Pickle, we agreed we wouldn’t fight in front of company. You can wrestle me all you like in the privacy of our bedroom.”
“Only if I get to burn it down with you inside afterwards.” With a look of absolute disgust, Rali stood and dusted her hands together. “This here’s number three for me. Remind me what score you two are at again? Still in the negative?”
Lingon crossed his arms over his chest, muttering, “It ain’t fair that it counts against me each time I accidently kill one. I can’t help it that their necks are so fragile!”
“To the losers goes the grunt work,” Rali stepped over the bound soldier with a familiar swagger in her step. “Which one of you dingleberries is going to deliver him for processing?”
The cool, smooth exterior of the pendant grew inexplicably warm against Oralia’s skin. It hung heavy and pulled at her, like an anchor. To the left, orc. To the left! The source of power is near. It’s hiding, but I can find it for you.
It was then that Oralia noticed Rali gazing up at her, her nose wrinkled in scrutiny. “You alright there, boss?”
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“Fine,” Oralia lied.
“That thing’s talking to you again, isn’t it?”
There was no sense in denying what Rali obviously already knew. “It senses a witch nearby.”
While trapping a dark, magical entity into a powerstone had prevented it from wreaking havoc on the mortal world, the aftermath was not without complications. What to do with the stone afterwards, for example, was still being debated. Despite Ellisar’s insistence that they drop the gem into the deepest trench at the bottom of the ocean and hope for the best, others felt it was only a temporary solution. A magic this strong attracted attention and eventually someone, somehow, would find it.
There was also the issue of the dark lines burrowed beneath her skin, tagging along like a cursed parasite. Back on the mountain, unbeknownst to them, the entity had splintered during the final spell. And while the powerstone housed the majority of it, she and Daana each carried a piece. Rasp may have as well but, considering the last time she’d set eyes on him, he was being carried off in the clutches of a dragon, Oralia had no objective way of knowing for certain.
Thus, she elected to keep the powerstone close until its fate could be decided. Without magic of her own, it was incapable of corrupting her. This, regretfully, did not prevent the damn thing from constantly whispering in her ear.
“Fucking witches.” Lingon shuddered. “Tell you what, you all deal with the magic nonsense. I’ll go deliver the prisoner and those of us still with heads can go raid the cantina for a drink afterwards.”
“Nice try, bucko. This is an all hands situation.” Rali reached out and grabbed him by the collar before he could slink away. She turned and employed a tone of voice that gently reminded Oralia what she was supposed to be doing. “Shall I signal for the rest of the team then?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.” Her days of carrying out a mission single-handedly were over. Rali referred to the new policy as ‘no more lone martyr shit’. Between her and Sascha, it was a miracle Oralia was permitted to go anywhere without someone holding her hand. She knew it was out of concern, and tried to view it from their perspective, but it felt like overkill nonetheless.
Rali’s infamous bird screech rang out, echoing along the empty corridors like a lost banshee in a labyrinth. Lingon waited until it was safe to uncover his ears again before voicing his complaints. “If you’ve got backup coming, then you definitely don’t need me. You always complain that I just get in the way.”
“I, for one, support our fearless leader’s tactical decision,” Mul congratulated with a hearty pat to Rali’s shoulder. “Well done, Quartzey. I do hope our children take after their mother.”
Quartz Ralizak was, by nature, not the type to let a fickle thing like virtue get between her and her revenge. Anyone who earned her wrath generally had the shattered kneecaps to prove it. The fact that the dwarf was actively restraining herself from seizing Mul by the wrist and flipping him head over heels onto the floor should have been commendable. Unfortunately, Oralia knew it was her presence and not personal growth that was keeping the bothersome man alive and well.
Rali clenched her jaw as her normally pale skin took on a hue similar to that of a ripe tomato. She locked eyes with Oralia, communicating her displeasure through the placement of a well-furrowed brow. Over the years together they’d honed their ability to hold a silent conversation, or–in this case and, regretfully, almost all cases–argument. Oralia imagined Rali’s protest went something like: ‘One more word, that’s it, and this human’s already short lifespan is going to get significantly shorter!’
In turn, Oralia’s unamused expression replied, ‘You cannot kill him.’
‘Can and will, boss. Watch me. Look, I’ll even do it with the bucko’s own knife. Ha! Killed by his own weapon, wouldn’t that be a scream?’
‘No.’ Oralia was forced to rely on several hand signals to properly convey her line of reasoning. ‘We are guests in this territory. We must maintain a united front. Turn on each other now, and those in power will cast us out.’
Rali rolled her eyes as if to say, ‘What’s the point of being an outlaw if I can’t murder as I see fit?’
‘Outlaws do not murder their teammates.’
‘Fine. I’ll settle for a light stabbing. Deal?’
‘No stabbing!’
From the corner of her vision, Oralia saw Mul lean closer to Lingon. “Why’s it look like they’re fucking each other with their eyes?”
“It’s a form of non-verbal communication,” Lingon replied matter-of-factly. “So they can converse without us hearing all the juicy details, I’d wager.” Whereas Mul was loud, abrasive, and bullheaded, Lingon was also these things, but craftier. The younger Stoneclaw was always watching, always learning, always finding new and inventive ways to make Oralia pull her hair out. There was an undeniable spark of intelligence disguised beneath his slimy, rough and tumble exterior–which was saying a lot for a man who currently had a blasted finger shoved up his nose.
Mul was simpler. There was often only one of three things on his mind and, judging from his eager eyebrows, Oralia could already guess which of the three was currently rattling around his large head. He gave Lingon a playful nudge. “Juicy, huh? Are they fighting over who gets to have their way with me first?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Lingon flipped his long hair over his shoulder in order to peer at Rali without it obstructing his vision. “Since bossy britches here ain’t letting you have your fun, can I earn extra points by hitting Mul for you?”
“No!” Rali looked as though she was fighting the sudden urge to stomp her foot. “Nobody does my hitting for me. The only person who does Rali’s hitting is Rali!”
The brother’s exchanged glances before Lingon’s mouth pulled into a wolfish smile. “Is Rali swooning so hard she talks in the third person now?”
“Mul thinks there’s nothing wrong with talking in the third person,” Mul said. “Also, Mul is an excellent swooner. Thank you for the compliment, Lingon. You are re-invited to the wedding.”
“You’re going about this the wrong way, brother. You have to be cold and aloof. The trick is to make her think you’re disinterested and then, when she’s least expecting it, pay her a compliment. Like this, ‘My word, Rali, those exquisite specks of blood on your face really bring out the color of your eyes’.”
Rali balled her hands into fists, but said nothing. Even in the low light, it was not difficult to see the shade of tomato on her face had turned deep crimson. Oralia considered coming to the dwarf’s aid, but doubted Rali would appreciate it. In the end, it would only encourage the Stoneclaw brothers to double down on their efforts to...woo her? Torture her? Push her into a frenzied killing spree? Oralia still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what their objective was.
“See?” Lingon dug into his sibling’s side with the tip of his elbow, grinning. “Drives her crazy every time.”
“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Rali groaned as she turned back to Oralia. “But can we get back to finding the witch already? The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner I can go start digging some unmarked graves.”
“We are awaiting the rest of the team,” Oralia reminded her. She could hear at least two of them in the distance, steadily drawing closer as they navigated the labyrinth of dark passageways.
“They’ll catch up easy enough,” the dwarf said, eyeing the pair of brothers with a rather unnerving twinkle in her eye. “Should be pretty straightforward given the blood trail we’ll be leaving behind.”
“I said no stabbing.”
“Exactly. You mentioned nothing about bludgeoning.”