Dahlia looked up at the darkening sky, a small frown on her face as she watched dark plumes of smoke rise and dissipate into the clouds.
“I still think I should help,” she voiced, her hands clenched into fists.
“What good would that do?” Helen asked, yawning as she stretched. Dahlia looked down at the shackled woman resting against the mainmast, whose arms outstretched as she spoke up. “You’re injured, no? Judging from all those bandages, I’d say you’re in no condition to fight.”
Dahlia almost scoffed at that. “And everyone else is? James took on a full-on strike from one of those things back on that island, and somehow, he’s still good to fight another day?” Dahlia shook her head, gritting her teeth as she crossed her arms.
“Fair point,” Helen responded lightly, shrugging as she looked off at the waves of the sea. “However… Let’s say you go and try to help. Where will you go?” Helen asked, raising an eyebrow as she turned to the shaman.
Dahlia met the other woman’s gaze, her brow furrowing as she tried to come up with an answer. “I’d obviously go to the town they were heading towards.”
“Are you sure they’ll even be there?” Helen asked, her hand gesturing towards the sky. “There’s more than one plume of smoke,” she pointed out.
Dahlia clenched her jaw tightly in frustration. “Then I’ll try to track them. There has to be more than one–”
“Stop. Just stop,” Helen groaned, shaking her head as she rubbed her eyes. “Look, I’m going to be honest since you do not understand me clearly. Going out there and trying to find them is a stupid idea. You will be killed by either whatever lies beyond those trees or simply die of the freezing cold when night falls. Understand?
“You could’ve said ‘fuck it’ and went with them back when they left, but you didn’t. That is your own fault for not trusting yourself enough to go. Or maybe, just maybe, you knew you couldn’t go because James and that crazed follower were right about you being too injured to go on. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter anymore. You made your own choice, and now you’re feeling guilty about it,” the marauder ranted. There was a breath of awkward silence, the only sound around two being that of the waves and the drunken conversations between Dimitri and his crew.
Dahlia bit her tongue, unsure of what to say or respond with. “What do you suggest I do, then?”
“My advice? Do whatever you feel like.” Helen shifted her body to get comfortable in her spot. “Follow your gut or listen to your friends, whatever works. You can go off and help your friends for all I care. Or you can stay here, rest your wounds and mind. It all centers on the trust you have in James and that coward Seamus. Stop worrying for them and mind your own troubles,” Helen muttered, closing her eyes as she rested back.
Dahlia looked down at the ex-marauder with what felt like envy. Helen knew what she wanted and needed—there was no worry in the world.
‘Whatever I feel like…’
Dahlia repeated the words of advice in her thoughts, her eyes looking back at the plumes of smoke rising in the distance. Dahlia took a deep breath, her back resting against the wooden mast of the ship. She slowly slid down to the deck, her eyes closing as she rested her head back.
‘I trust you, James.’ She thought, doing her best to clear her mind as she rested.
----------------------------------------
James watched as Edmund adjusted the sheathed broadsword on his back, his hands angling the scabbard.
“Where’d you even find this?” The young mercenary asked. “I thought I would never see this beautiful thing again.”
“Silas showed us to a tent where they kept the stolen items from Aldren. I guess they also kept the stuff they stole from prisoners,” James explained, stifling a yawn as he looked around the deck. He could see how the recently freed prisoners conversed with each other, some of them even embracing.
‘It’s good to know that we actually saved some people today… Even if we couldn’t help them all.’
James shivered as he recalled the palisade’s decorations.’ He caught one of the freed prisoners giving a dirty look over to the other side of the deck, where Silas and his orcs conversed. Silas had freed around four of his own kind, most of them relatively friendly towards James and his companions. Still, James could see how the people seemed to hold a grudge against the orcs despite Silas helping with their freedom.
‘You can’t expect them to be on good terms just because they helped free each other,’ Faust pointed out, prompting a response from James.
‘Makes sense. I doubt I’d feel any different if I were in their shoes.’
Archibald walked into view, making his way to the young man as he adjusted his sheathed rapier. “Where is the rest of everyone? I’ve just noticed that Seamus and Miles aren’t with you,” the elf pointed out, his question making Edmund perk up.
“Yeah, Haggard, too. Where are they?” The other mercenary asked.
“Seamus and Miles got separated from us after that fight in the clearing. I’ve thought about going after them, but I trust Seamus to keep himself out of harm’s way. As for Miles… Well, I have a feeling he’s fine,” James explained.
“What about Haggard?” Edmund asked, raising an eyebrow.
“He went off to make a distraction after we got into the camp. Gave us time to free you guys. Although…” James slowly trailed off, his eyes turning to the camp nearby. He noticed how the flames of the distant fire were slowly growing as more smoke piled into the sky. It created a rolling blanket of darkness that covered the orange light of the setting sun.
‘This doesn’t feel right…’
As he stared out at the encampment, the young man felt a small tingle of cold running down his spine.
“Silas!” James called to the orc, turning back to meet his gaze. “How long until you can get this ship sailing?” He asked, watching how Silas pondered for a bit.
“Half an hour, give or take… Why?”
“Get working on getting this ship out of here thirty minutes from now. I’m going to get a friend. If I don’t return, leave without me.” James grabbed his round shield off the floor, strapping it to his left arm as he turned to the bridge.
“Wait! You can’t seriously go out there by yourself?” Bjorn called out, running over to James as the young man fixed his steel helm on his head.
“Haggard is still out there,” James pointed out.
“He can handle himself!” The dwarf argued.
“It’s not just that,” James muttered. “Something isn’t right. I haven’t seen a single other orc outside of this longship. Don’t you think that’s strange? I think something might’ve happened to Haggard.” James turned back to the boarding platform that connected the longship to land. Just as he was about to leave, Bjorn’s voice suddenly shouted out to him,
“I’m coming with you then!”
James stopped in his tracks, swiveling back to see the dwarf making his way to the bridge, his hands fixing on his helmet once more. “Are you sure?”
“I’m damn sure! No way I’m letting you get all the glory!” Bjorn complained.
James felt a smile grow on his face as the dwarf stepped onto the bridge, making his way towards the camp ahead.
“Edmund, do you still have that rune Dahlia gave to you?” James asked, watching the young mercenary’s eyes widen, his hand moving to one of his pockets.
“Yeah! They actually didn’t take it from me. I guess they didn’t search hard enough.” Edmund pulled the small rune stone, his hand tossing it to James, who caught it with ease.
“You’re not coming with us?” Bjorn asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No thanks. Those bastards hurt my leg good back when they caught me,” the mercenary revealed.
“Archibald?” James asked.
“I’ll stay behind. Thank you very much. Had enough of the orcs for one day,” Archibald commented, crossing his arms as he sat back. “No offense to all of you over there.” He gestured, glancing over at the other orcs.
“That’s fine by me. You must be here to ensure that Frostbite knows the ship is friendly. That is if we don’t make it back,” James responded, smiling as he waved off the elf.
With that, James and Bjorn set off into the encampment, heading their way to the north.
----------------------------------------
BANG
BANG
BANG
There it was again, the sound growing louder with every impact.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Seamus sighed, glancing at the vault doors as they shook violently, the torch near the entrance flickering on and off. “They’re getting close to knocking them down,” he muttered before he looked over at Lowe. The gnome was sitting against the stone wall, his hand clenching at the cat statue.
“Stupid! Stupid! I shouldn’t have convinced you to come here…. This was a huge mistake… A huge mistake!” The gnome was cursing at himself, hanging his head as he dropped the gold statue. “We’re all going to die now. There’s no escaping…”
Seamus frowned as he looked at the hopeless gnome. “We can still get out of here.” The young man looked back at the poorly lit vault, his eyes examining its contents. “There has to be something that can help. Maybe another entrance? A bomb or something? Runes?”
“There’s nothing,” Miles’ voice sounded out. “I’ve checked most of the stuff here. The only useful things I found are a couple of agility potions and an old ignitor.” The follower stood up from his search, his head turning as he examined the vault.
‘No way out of here while a group of bloodthirsty orcs are currently bashing down the only entrance here. We’re really fucked, aren’t we?’
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Seamus could feel how his heart beat in his chest, an inkling of fear manifesting in the young man.
“I have an idea,” Miles suddenly spoke, catching the attention of both Seamus and the gnome. The ex-follower was holding what looked to be the steel helmet from the armor stand Seamus had admired earlier.
“What kind of idea?” Seamus asked. He raised an eyebrow as he focused on the mercenary’s other hand, which held one of the agility potions he had mentioned earlier.
Miles turned his head towards Seamus, the young man swearing that the strange mercenary was grinning underneath his mask.
“How fast do you think you can run, Seamus?” He asked before he tossed the helmet to the young man. Seamus barely caught the armor, his hands gripping the steel.
“I guess if I had to answer, I’m pretty light on my feet. Why do you ask? Those brutes will most likely block most of the doorway when they break through, so I doubt running is an option.” He looked back up at Miles, wondering how the ex-follower was going to get them out.
“It’s an option. You’re just not thinking about it the way I am.” Miles tapped at the side of his mask. “Put on that armor and get yourself a weapon from the crates. They’re pretty well made and better than the one you’re carrying. I also need you to see if Lilith is in any fighting shape.” The ex-follower gestured towards the resting berserker, whose head perked up at the sound of her name.
“Why? You’re not thinking of having her hold those orcs off while we run?” Seamus asked in suspicion.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Miles waved off Seamus. “She won’t be the only one holding them off.”
“What? Aren’t you a medic or something? You should know that–”
“She’s good enough to fight,” Miles interrupted. “She has some bruises and cuts, but judging from her old ones… I’m willing to bet she’s been through worse.”
Seamus blinked, unsure if the mercenary had a point or had lost his damn mind. He chose the latter.
“What?! You can’t seriously think that she’s in good enough shape to help take out those armored orcs!”
“We won’t have to kill any of them. At least if this goes smoothly. Which probably won’t.” Miles shrugged as he raised a steel vial with a blue ribbon, shaking it lightly. “Agility potion, hold on to it,” he called out before tossing the vial to a confused Seamus.
“What exactly are you planning?” Seamus asked as he caught the vial, feeling how cold the steel was.
“Well, it’s not really a plan if you ask me. It’s more like… To put it simply…” Miles was currently struggling with one of the old barrels, pushing it onto its side before rolling it to the bulging doors.
“A tactical retreat,” the mercenary finished, letting out a breath of relief as he laid the barrel against the doors. Which banged loudly once more. “Now, if you’re done asking questions, I suggest you do your part as quickly as possible. I don’t think these old doors are going to hold out much longer.”
Seamus opened his mouth to ask more about this ‘tactical retreat’ but was interrupted by a loud bang from the doors. One torch flickered in response.
“Got it,” Seamus opted to murmur instead, his eyes turning to the berserker woman, who was currently watching the doors with a confused look. With little of a choice, Seamus made his way to the bandaged woman. “Lilith!” He called out, his hands signing to the redhead as he caught her attention.
“Do you think you can help?”
Lilith stared at Seamus’ hands, raising an eyebrow as she raised her hands and slowly signed to the young man.
How?
“Green bastards coming in soon. Miles needs help.”
Can we kill them all?
“No. We have to escape from them. Fight through them.”
Seamus could see how Lilith hesitated. Her green eyes glared over at Miles as the man barricaded the doors. She turned to Seamus, her hands signing quickly.
If you stay safe, I will help.
“I promise.”
Lilith stared at Seamus’ raised sign of promise, her eyes seeming as if lost for a moment before she collected herself. With little of another sign, Lilith made her way to the doors, where her fallen axes were laid out. Seamus frowned as he watched her before reminding himself that he needed to armor up.
‘Maybe I should get myself a weapon from one of those crates…’
Seamus’ gaze settled on the crate of assorted swords, maces, and axes. He looked down at his own sword, his hand unsheathing the blade. It was a gift from Kate Rowan, a thank you for saving her that day in Yorktown. He could still remember their conversation.
> “Are you sure? This is a nice sword.”
>
> “I’m sure of it! It’s a sword from the old shop before it went up in flames. My father and I could never sell it due to the price.”
>
> “Then I really think I shouldn’t have it! This is too much.”
>
> “Nonsense! You saved me, Seamus Falken. This is the very least I can do to show my appreciation.”
>
> “Oh… Alright. Thank you. I’ll keep it well-maintained!”
>
> “Good. That’s good. Be safe out there, Seamus, I hope you find your peace soon. Hel, I hope we all do.”
Seamus pondered at the memory, his hands sheathing the blade. It might not be as well made as the ones in Yorn’s armory, not as sharp or durable, but it was something that reminded him of what was left for him. His only home, his friends, and most importantly, his fate.
“This is pointless,” a voice softly spoke out, barely audible to Seamus. The young man perked up, his head swiveling to see the source. It was Lowe, who was still curled up by the wall, the cat statue on the floor. Frowning, the young man reached the distressed gnome, kneeling down as he picked up the golden cat.
“We’re all dead. Dead,” Lowe murmured, shaking his head.
“Lowe.” The young man sighed, placing the cat in the gnome’s hands. Lowe stared at the ‘artifact,’ his head turning to Seamus. “I’m going to need you to get yourself together right about now,” Seamus said in a whisper.
“Why? Just because that chaos follower told you so?”
“No,” Seamus’s voice was quiet and soft. “It’s because I need you to.” His words gained a slight tremble of fear. “Lowe, let me tell you something. I’m fucking terrified right now. Probably more than you.” He looked to the doors, watching as Miles fiddled with one barrel. “This plan will probably kill us both, and I can see why you might not want to take the risk. Because of everything you’ve been through. Because you probably have nothing to go back to.”
Seamus looked back at Lowe, his hands gesturing to himself. “But look at me. Despite my fears, I’m willing to take that risk. It’s because I have something to come back to. I have friends counting on me to come back. I have a home that accepts me.” He slowly extended a hand to Lowe, watching the gnome stare at him. “I want the same for you because you’re all that’s left of my old family. My father would want it.”
The gnome seemed to stare at the young man’s hand for what seemed like forever, despite it being only a couple of seconds. With little of an argument, Lowe accepted Seamus’ hand.
“Just to clarify, your father never cared much for me,” he muttered.
Seamus smiled, helping Lowe back on his feet. “I doubt it. He never told me or my mother about the vault’s location.”
“Ha! That old bastard loved his secrets.” Lowe chuckled, clutching the gold cat in his arms as Seamus returned the laugh. “Thank you for that bit of hope. What would you have me do to help, Seamus?” Lowe asked, grinning at the young man. Seamus glanced at the set of armor, shamefully avoiding eye contact as he gave a nervous smile.
“I might need some help with putting on the armor.” Seamus embarrassingly gestured towards the steel set. Lowe glanced over at the set, rubbing at his beard.
“It looks bulky, doesn’t it? Like it was made for a much more… uh… meatier build,” Lowe pointed out, demonstrating by flexing his arms.
“Got it,” the young man sighed. “I just need to wear it for the time being. I’m not looking to keep it on for long.”
Lowe nodded to that, turning to the armor set. “We can do without a couple of pieces. We can make it work.”
“Good, then let’s get at it. Not much time left,” Seamus muttered, the sound of banging getting louder behind them. Both the young man and elderly gnome quickly got to work, removing Seamus’ pieces of leather armor, a reminder of Yorktown’s siege. Seamus watched as the stained leather dropped to the floor, leaving the young man in his long-sleeved tunic and chainmail shirt, which only extended to his shoulders and low collar.
Seamus and Lowe soon worked on putting his greaves, strapping the pieces on before moving to his thigh armor and padding. “Any discomfort?” Lowe asked, knocking on the piece of metal as Seamus moved his legs around.
“Not as much as I thought there would be,” Seamus realized. Before long, both men worked on the breastplate, ensuring it fitted just right. Seamus was about to ask Lowe a question before the gnome suddenly whacked his chest with the blunt end of a nearby spear, the surprise making the young man jump.
“What was that?!”
“Just testing. Did you feel anything?”
“No…”
“Good.” Lowe smiled, dropping the spear before stepping onto the crate he was using for the added height. After tightening and loosening certain straps, Lowe moved to Seamus’ arms and shoulders. It wasn’t long until Lowe fitted on the rest of the armor, despite ditching a couple of the pieces, mainly since they wouldn’t fit the young man. In the end, Seamus finally donned the Lumen Knight armor, even if it was partial.
“How does it feel?”
“It’s pretty flexible,” Seamus responded by rotating his arms a bit before moving his torso as he tested its limits. “It feels like it was made for someone bigger, but I think it’ll do for the moment.” Seamus looked down at the nearby helmet, his gauntlet moving to grab at it. The young man finally completed the armor set, his vision obscuring as he secured the helmet on his head.
“Can you see well?” Lowe asked.
“Barely. The field of view is atrocious,” Seamus commented before opening the helmet visor.
“You’re going to have to get used to it unless you want your face speared in by an orc,” Miles called out to Seamus, the strange man walking up to the two. “We should hurry; those orcs should get through any minute now.” Miles gestured towards the bulging doors, which seemed about ready to drop. Seamus could see how Lilith backed away from the doors, her feet bringing her closer to the group.
“Lowe, do you think you can get these torches off? Just like how you got them on?” The ex-follower asked.
“I can. Why?” The gnome gave Miles a strange look. The mercenary turned to the torches around the vault, his hand gesturing for the candlelight spell ball to come to him.
“Because we’re going to ambush the bastards as soon as they get in. Then make our escape while they’re stunned,” Miles explained. “For that to work, however, we need complete darkness in here.”
Lowe rubbed his chin, nodding as he turned to one of the dark spots in the vault. “I’ll be back then. Don’t snuff out your Candlelight spell while I’m gone.” Miles nodded as he watched the gnome head off, the mercenary turning towards Seamus.
“Do you think you can run with that on?” Miles asked, his hand reaching into his pockets to take out an agility potion.
“I’m confident I can. If I don’t trip on any rocks on the way out,” Seamus answered honestly.
“Let’s hope not. Here, give this to Lilith. I can get myself out of a situation pretty easily. However, I doubt she’ll be able to run far with that wound at her side.”
Seamus accepted the steel vial just as the torches went out in the vault, leaving the group with nothing but their spell crystals and Miles’ candlelight spell. Seamus turned to Lilith, watching as the woman backed into the safety of Seamus’ spell crystal’s light. The young man tapped her shoulder lightly, his hands signing as Lilith jumped in surprise.
Take this.
Seamus signed, watching as Lilith cautiously accepted the agility potion, sniffing at the wax seal.
“It’s a helpful drink. Makes you faster,” Seamus explained as he pulled out his own. Lilith stared at the young man with a confused look, still cautious about the potion. Seamus sighed, using his teeth to break the wax seal of his potion before downing the contents of the vial in one go. The agility potion tasted like dusty blueberries, with a hint of medicinal bitterness in it. Still, Seamus had no trouble swallowing the potion. At first, there was nothing noticeable, at least not until a couple of seconds later.
‘Gods!’
Seamus felt as if electricity had run through his veins, his adrenaline pumping as he felt his sore body lose all of its tiredness. The potion’s effect felt as if it was a lightning bolt that had struck him. He watched Lilith do the same as him, her teeth biting off the wax seal and chewing it before spitting it out in disgust. She sniffed at the contents of the vial before downing it in the same fashion as Seamus. Just like him, she seemed to be normal a couple seconds after drinking the potion before her body suddenly tensed up, her green eyes gaining a tint of blue.
“Bit of a rush, isn’t it?” Miles asked, his hand pulling at the short sword on his back. “Better make the best of it. It’s only going to last you an hour. Half an hour if those potions are as old as I think they are,” Miles explained, his other hand grabbing at what looked like an old ignitor. Lowe soon arrived at the group, panting as Miles gestured towards the spell crystals on Seamus and Lowe.
“Break those crystals now and get ready to run,” he ordered, the two men doing as asked. Seamus stomped on his crystal, its light sparking out before Lowe smashed his, leaving Miles’ candlelight spell as the only source of light. He felt as the gnome climbed on his back, feeling how Lowe held on, similar to how he did with Miles. Seamus signed a couple of words of advice to Lilith, hoping she would follow them.
Follow Miles.
“Everyone ready?” Before anyone could answer, the doors suddenly burst open, letting in weak torchlight from the other side and the distant shouts of orcs. Seamus couldn’t understand a damn thing, but it didn’t really matter to him.
‘I really hope this works…’
Seamus watched as Miles snapped his fingers, the candlelight spell finally snuffing out, leaving them all in darkness. The young man pulled down the visor on his helmet, hoping he would be able to see his way out once he started running. He watched as the doors finally came down, breaking some barrels in the process.
Seamus soon heard a small noise, one that went ‘chk’ before being followed by a small, almost unnoticeable spark.