The voices became louder as the enemy combatants approached the cave entrance. Maiz took a deep breath, and sat perfectly still. An amorphous shadow appeared in the doorway and…

One exceedingly bright flash and loud noise later, Maiz was blinking away stars from his eyes. What was that? He didn’t have time to figure it out, because a shout came from the doorway. “Move in!” A moment later, there was a second. “What the hells?”

Finally, Maiz could see again, and he gripped his staff tighter. There were four of them--two dressed in simple leather armor, carrying a sword and an axe respectively. Behind them was a man with an arrow nocked on a short white bow, and in front was an absolutely massive man in chainmail, holding a wide shield in one hand a mace in the other. Even as Maiz watched, there was a thrum as the archer released his arrow, and a ring of metal as it hit bare stone.

“Ambush!”

Adrian leapt forward, dodging a second arrow that somehow appeared on the bowman’s string. He flowed around the swordsman, and Maiz saw him land a single kick on the man’s leg before continuing on to the archer. The enemies finally appeared to understand what was happening when Hugan crashed in the axeman, Rajit following up behind him with a series of punches and kicks to the man’s weak spots. He shouted, first in surprise, then pain, then anger, and his hand blurred. And Hugan stumbled.

Maiz was over the well in a moment, Windblade already flowing over his staff. He managed to remember not to activate Nightwalker--he wasn't risking any unusual abilities around the Adept, even tough most of his new abilities were meant to be concealable in battle. He ducked another arrow as he ran. How was the archer still shooting while fighting Adrian?

Maiz made straight for the axeman, who was now focused on Rajit. The combatant swung his axe like it weighed nothing, blade flashing in tight, controlled arcs that were difficult to follow. The Warrior-Monk was dodging, but clearly the exertion was taking a toll on his stamina. Hugan had just struggled back to his feet and was stepping back towards the fray when Maiz’s field of vision was blocked by a plane of steel. An incoherent roar filled his ears, and he was shoved backwards, barely managing to keep his feet.

Focus. Maiz’s eyes snapped up to the mace flying at his head, and he skipped to the side, barely using Fast Feet. He struck out in three rapid blows, two strikes to his opponent’s armored midsection and a final stab at the neck. The first two landed, chainmail shearing and blood flying, but the last attack met the massive shield, and metal screeched. Maiz growled in the back of his throat as he ducked another wild swing of the mace. He began casting Flaming Strike, and leapt to the side as his opponent barreled forward with a shield bash. He felt the wind move as air displaced, and was suddenly very glad he’d dodged. Was that a skill?

Flaming Strike snapped into place quickly, Maiz pushing his mana flow to its limit as he dodged around another pair of ponderous blows and returned with a swipe at the legs and another at the helm that both met the huge shield. Though his ears were filled with the screeching of Windblade grinding against metal, he could still hear shouts and the clang of weapons hitting a shield from down the cave. Hugan.

Maiz’s opponent appeared to be preparing himself for another rushing shield bash. Maiz considered his options. Now that he'd seen the way ths skill would play out, the best option was clearly Blood Paralysis--it wouldn't be powerful enough to immobilize the man, but a slight nudge would be enough. He'd already started gathering blood mana in his pool when he remembered the Adept standing behind him. There wasn't much chance he'd be discovered, but he'd rather not make this the first time he used an unusual ability. Briefly, he considered stopping the charge with the Flaming Strike. It would work, but it wouldn't create an opening to end the fight, and Maiz needed to help Hugan. But as he considered his staff, wreathed in red ribbons and the explosive force it could unleash, a memory of something he'd done in another world struck him. As the giant’s armored form started barreling towards him, he slammed his staff into the ground and Jumped.

Maiz made a note never to try out a new trick in the middle of a fight he might actually lose. He'd been so used to fighting monsters that, individually, posed no threat to him, that he'd forgotten the caution he needed to survive a real battle. He also decided never to do this Jump thing again, ever, without checking to see how high the ceiling was beforehand. His back slammed into hard stone, his breath escaping in a single gasp, but as he fell back down, vision blurred by his watering eyes, he saw the giant form of his opponent and managed to lash out with his windbladed staff at his head. The man really should have invested in a better helmet.

As he hit the floor, there was another flash of pain, but Maiz shrugged it off. He was no Hugan, but he still had the Constitution of an Apprentice. Besides, the clangs were getting louder. He thought about casting another Flaming Strike, but but he would be fighting in close proximity to his allies now, and they weren't protected the from the spell's blast. Moreover, it still took him a sizable chunk of mana relative to hs pool. Best to save it for holding Windblade longer. He ran forward, glad for the slight Agility boost Fast Feet granted him, and moved to enter the fray.

The archer had been laid out--Adrian and Juya were both focusing their attention on the swordsman. The man was parrying their blows beautifully, his every move setting him up for a defensive counter to Adrian’s kicks or Juya’s staff blows, but he appeared unable to fight back against their combined assault. Hugan was still engaged with the axeman, who appeared to have slowed down from his earlier rate of attack. Still, Hugan’s shield was dented in several places, and Rajit was was down on one knee behind him, seeming unhurt but taking heaving breaths. Even as Maiz stepped towards the enemy, the soldier managed to hook Hugan’s shield with the head of his axe, and pull it away with great heave. His friend cried out as the shield was torn from his arm, and, dashing forward the last meter, Maiz struck.

He’d expected to bite deep into the neck, but in a startling display of Dexterity, the man whirled, shield still attached to his axe, and parried. At the moment of impact, there was a screech of metal and the shield tore. Without pause, the axeman swung his weapon around and aimed a blow at Maiz’s head.

The major issue with Fast Feet was that, while it made one almost invulnerable to an opponent’s first attack, it didn’t always prompt a strategic dodge. Maiz could mitigate that if thought about it, but he hadn’t been thinking. He'd only been worried about saving Hugan from the soldier's axe, and he’d been sure he was about to do it. So instead of stepping out of range of the axeman’s swing, shortening his grip on his staff, and attacking from a distance, Maiz ducked, as his enemy had no doubt planned, and a boot came up to meet his face. Maiz’s body jerked, but he had no way to change his momentum so quickly. All he managed to do was close his eyes.

Maiz heard a pure note, like a temple bell ringing, and the boot hit his face. Except, instead of the debilitating pain he’d expected, the impact barely stung. What? Whatever it was, he had no time. He straightened immediately, and unleashed a barrage of his own. Pressure. The staff was a little slower than other weapons on the first impact, but after that, he could change directions with an ease that both aided his speed and made blocking his attacks difficult. Combined with the fact that each of his blows cut worse than a sword strike, and Maiz easily had the upper hand. His opponent managed to block most of his blows, moving his axe with that uncanny speed, but it was only a matter of time before Maiz won.

Except that his mana pool was running dry. Godsdammit. He was seriously regretting that Flaming Strike now, and every rank he hadn’t yet gained in Windblade, which would make the spell’s cost go down. But that was the past--he had to focus. Options. He could go on the defensive, rely on Fast Feet and wait for his mana pool to refill, but if Rajit had been exhausted doing the same thing, Maiz wouldn’t fare any better. If he could use more skills, an unexpected Illusion Strike--or even a surprise skid from Nightwalker--would be enough to finish it. But no, that might be too obvious in front of the Adept Warrior Monk behind them. There was another way.

Maiz began to maneuver around the soldier as they fought, increasing the pressure of his strikes as best he was able. They were costing real stamina now, and soon he wouldn’t be able to manage an Illusion Strike if he wanted to. But the axeman was forced to engage him with equal fervor to stay alive, and Maiz could see him beginning to flag as well. Whatever skill allowed him to move so quickly with that axe was costing him. The man’s eyes were set with steely determination as he defended himself, turning as Maiz came at his flank, stepping into a blow before it could reach its full extension, trying to crowd Maiz and use his staff’s range against him.

Then a sword was poking out of the man's chest, and Maiz released Windblade with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” He flashed a smile at Hugan as the axeman crumpled to the floor, then frowned. The young Warden’s helm, a gift from the Temple, was a standard design--a steel cap that completely covered his skull and came down in flat planes on either side of his face. His vision was preserved by a horizontal cut out on level with his eyes, and a thick steel nose-guard came down between them. But the wedge of steel looked slightly bent, and Maiz could just barely see the beginnings of a pair of black eyes forming behind the helm.

“No p’oblem,” his friend replied. His voice sounded stuffed--he must have broken his nose.

What the--oh, right. I should probably help with the swordsman. Maiz whirled, raising his staff and feeling at his mana pool. Near empty, and the healing bracelet was slowing down its recovery. He still took a step towards Adrian and Juya, but even as he watched, Adrian landed a jab on the unprotect spot behind the man’s ear, and as he froze, Juya finished him off with a savage blow that caused a wet crack and sent the man sailing away.

“Good.”

The older Warrior Monk was suddenly standing by Adrian, patting the young man on the shoulder. as he fiddled with something in his own tunic. Adrian was heaving in great breaths, looking around wildly, and Juya was doing the same on his other side.

“Calm down, it is over. All of you fought well, and in good time. Come over here, sit down so we can talk.” The Adept kept a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, putting another on Juya’s. He walked over to an unmarred section of the stone floor, and gently pushed them to sit. He looked over at Maiz, Hugan, and Rajit. “Come here, boys.”

Maiz glanced over at Hugan, only to see that his friend was helping Rajit to his feet. Maiz had thought the Warrior Monk was just exhausted, but apparently he’d sustained some sort of injury to his leg, and he was leaning heavily on Hugan’s armored form. Maiz hurried over to help, and together they shambled to the others.

When they were sitting, the Adept smiled, clapping his hands over them. “Adrian, nicely done on the archer, and Juya, you were dealing with that swordsman well--he was nearly an Adept, I believe.” The man looked over to Rajit, who was touching his leg gingerly and wincing. “Rajit, you should have used your partner here better. He is clearly a very talented defensive specialist, and he was quite handily protecting you after you took that hit. If you’d let him do that earlier, you could have focused completely on disabling the enemy. Speaking of which,” he turned to Hugan. “Well done. You kept to your role, defended your ally when he was injured, and held your own against a fighter a full realm above you. Half the Journeymen in the Temple could stand to learn from that display.”

Hugan who had taken his helmet off, smiled at the Adept, and Maiz winced. His nose was visibly crooked, and his eyes were surrounded in a ring of deep purple. With a start, Maiz moved to take his bracelet off and hand it to his friend, but before he could, he caught the eye of the Adept.

"That was disappointing boy. You clearly have talent, but what possessed you to pull that ridiculous stunt against the large one? I grant you it worked in your favor, but you should really be using more reliable methods of attack--why did you not use that flame spell to stop the brute’s charge and damage his shield arm, then finish him over time? And charging the axeman was ill-advised. You are nimble, but your opponent came close to hitting you many times--in fact, he did hit you once, did he not? Your friend is paying the price for that, I believe.”

What? Maiz’s memory flashed back to when the soldier had kicked him. It hadn’t even been enough to phase him. And he’d heard a bell ringing in his ears.

Hugan grinned at him, the expression positively ghoulish with his rapidly swelling face. “Bin’lly ‘ot ‘at dad ‘kill doeb!”

Maiz stared at him for a moment before his brain decoded the words. Finally got what that skill does. His Shieldmate. Maiz felt a horrible feeling of guilt come over him as he looked at his friend’s damaged face, the injuries that he should have sustained presented to him in stark relief. Hurriedly, he finished clasping the bracelet over his armored wrist. It just barely fit on its widest lock setting.

The man's other words were meaningless--he'd been in little danger thanks to Fast Feet, and he already knew that his jumping trick had been a little foolish. He'd still won, but it had cost his friend in blood. Idiot. Maiz resolved to practice fighting--really fighting, with his allies more. If he hadn't been so hasty to save Hugan, he could have easily avoided taking any hits. And he suspected Hugan could have held his own for that extra split second without sustaining nearly so bad of an injury as he'd taken for Maiz.

“I believe that is it, then. Come, let us return to the Temple. Adrian, I will not be observing you next time--be sure to work with your team on a cohesive strategy for your next engagement.”

With that, the Adept walked lazily over to the downed archer and scooped him up into his arms, Maiz stood, helping Hugan and Rajit to their feet. He surveyed the room around him, and his eyes froze.

There was a man lying on the floor near the well, his huge armored form almost indistinguishable from a pile of scrap metal. That was, except for the massive wound that had literally split his skull down the middle, gray bits of brain floating in a pool of blood around the ruined head. The man’s blood was red. Not the black ichor of a bioric, or the incorporeal essence of an elemental. Red, like Maiz’s own. He remembered what he’d thought as his staff sheared through the man’s head. He should have gotten a better helmet. He turned away, almost dropping Rajit, who was also looking at the grisly corpse with a look of horror on his face. So was Hugan, on the injured Warrior Monk’s other side. And Adrian and Juya, past him.

Maiz wondered if the unnamed Adept enjoyed seeing what they’d all had for breakfast.