Chapter 69: Standoff

Meditation interrupted!

“… not go quietly!” The voice reverberated through the cavern, calm, measured, and undaunted.

Morin, I thought, my eyes snapping open. I checked my internal reserves, wondering how long I had been out for.

Your stamina is at 12%, your psi at 36%, and your mana at 0%.

Judging by how far my reserves had replenished, only five or six minutes had passed.

Saben laughed, his languid tone in sharp contrast to Morin’s. “And how will you do that?” he inquired mockingly. He gestured to the waiting elites. “You are outnumbered eight to one.”

I peered into the cavern through the intervening silk strands. Morin, Tantor, and Decalthiya hovered near the entrance. The painted woman held the moonstone lamp aloft in one hand and her spear in the other. The half-giant’s hands were clenched around the haft of the greatclub, and Tantor’s eyes flitted around the room. Saben’s elites had risen to their feet and had formed a half-circle at their leader’s rear.

“Where is he?” Decalthiya demanded.

Saben tilted his head to the side with feigned interest. “Who?”

“Michael,” the half-giant ground out. “Did he betray us?”

The gang leader chuckled. “Of course, my dear. Michael has always been one of mine. Who do you think forewarned me of your assault?”

Decalthiya’s face turned red with rage, and my own lips tightened. Goral glanced down at me, the warning not to say anything clear on his face.

I stayed quiet, not because I was intimidated, but to play for time. The longer this dragged on, the greater the chance that Sigmar and the reinforcements would arrive in time to intervene. Hopefully, Morin realized the same. What I didn’t know was why Saben was toying with the trio. Was it simply for pleasure? Or did he have some other game in mind?

Biding my time, I began analyzing each of Saben’s followers while listening to the conversation with half an ear.

Morin laid a restraining hand on Decalthiya, before addressing Saben again. “Enough of your games, Saben. We will not believe any of your lies.”

There wasn’t the slightest trace of doubt in the painted woman’s voice, for which I was relieved.

“Surrender now,” Morin continued, “and perhaps you will be spared.”

The gang leader threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Oh, this is too delicious,” he said when his mirth subsided. “Tell me, Morin, why would I do that?”

“Because,” she replied, unmoved by Saben’s amusement, “the rest of the candidates are on their way here. All one hundred and fifty—each and every one baying for your blood.” She paused. “The only one that can stop them is me. So, this is your last chance. Drop you weapons, and surrender.”

I had to admit Morin was convincing, and I hoped what she said was true, but I doubted it. At best, Sigmar would only be able to bring three to four squads with him. Not counting those who had gone with Bornholm, the rest would be needed to guard the gang members that had surrendered. Nobody wanted them swapping sides again.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Saben said, echoing my own thoughts.

Morin raised a questioning eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Saben chuckled. “Because I happen to know that only two dozen more of your troops are heading this way.”

My own brows drew down. Is Saben bluffing? If he was, it was an oddly specific lie. I felt my trepidation rise. Something was amiss, but I couldn’t figure out what.

“All the more reason to surrender now,” Morin said, seemingly unphased by the gang leader’s words. “The rest of my people will be following on their heels.”

Saben shook his head with exaggerated sorrow. “No Morin, I’m afraid you’re wrong. No one else is coming after them.” He cupped a hand around his ear. “And if I am not mistaken, here are your reinforcements now.”

As if summoned by Saben’s words, two squads of candidates appeared in the tunnel beyond the entrance, with Sigmar at their fore.

I saw Morin’s stance relax minutely. Despite her brave front, the painted woman had been worried, I realized. I felt my own tension ease. With two dozen more candidates on our side, we had a chance now.

Sigmar, his face carefully neutral, entered the cavern, and stepped up to Morin’s side. The painted woman gave the inquisitor a welcoming smile before turning back to the gang leader. “Now Saben, for the last time, surrender your—”

Morin broke off. Her eyes widening, she stared down at the bared sword at her throat.

It was Sigmar’s blade.

Saben giggled. “Oops. I’m sorry. I misspoke earlier. Did I say ‘your’ troops?” He grinned. “I meant mine.”

The silence in the chamber was deafening. Speechless with shock, Morin, Tantor, and Decalthiya stared at the still-impassive Sigmar.

“No,” I whispered.

Saben clapped his hands. “Everyone, it is my pleasure to finally introduce to you my deputy, my right-hand man, and the most loyal of followers: Sigmar.”

With a groan, I closed my eyes and bowed my head to the ground.

There was no getting out of this alive now.

~~~

“Is it true?”

At Morin’s whispered words, I picked up my head. The druid’s gaze was fixed on Sigmar, waiting for his answer. His lips pressed together in a grim line, the inquisitor didn’t say anything.

While I waited for his response, I let my eyes rove past Sigmar to the candidates at his back. Now, that I looked more closely at them, I realized none were part of the original warband that had set out from the safe zone. One I recognized as a gang member who had surrendered, another was Markus.

I grimaced, realizing then how deep Sigmar’s betrayal ran. He had played us from the very beginning.

Morin’s words had broken the spell despair had cast over me, and after grasping the extent of Sigmar’s treachery, my anger only grew. It didn’t matter to me if I died here anymore, only that I sold my life dearly.

Gazing within, I took stock of my reserves. My stamina was still ticking upwards, but my psi remained at thirty-six percent—enough for three simple charm attempts, I judged.

“Don’t keep the dear woman waiting,” Saben said, seeming to finally run out of patience with his henchman’s silence. “Answer her!”

Sigmar threw the gang leader a scowl before turning back to address Morin. “As with everything Saben utters,” he said finally, “his words are a mixture of lies and half-truths.” Sigmar’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. “I’m not the zealot’s follower. I’m his partner.”

Morin’s capacity for shock appeared exhausted and she evinced no reaction. Not so, her companions. On the far side of Morin, Tantor’s face drained of all color, while at Sigmar’s back, Decalthiya’s eyes burned with hate into the inquisitor.

“How long?” the painted woman asked.

“How long what?” Sigmar asked, looking confused.

“How long have you been betraying us.”

“Ah,” Sigmar said, and fell silent for a moment. “Since before we entered the dungeon.”

“I see,” Morin said.

“This is all getting tedious," Saben said. "Can we get on with it, Sigmar?”

The inquisitor gave the gang leader a curt nod, before turning to address the druid again. “Join us, Morin,” he said. “The Dark is not all bad, and together we can curb Saben’s excesses.”

“Now wait a moment,” Saben protested. “This is not—”

“Shut up Saben,” Sigmar growled. He glanced at Tantor beyond Morin, and Decalthiya standing on the other side of him. “We are still companions,” he urged. “Take this chance. Please.”

I don’t know what Sigmar expected, but his words weren’t reaching any of the trio. If anything, his words only appeared to infuriate his former companions further. Decalthiya, especially, seemed to be in the throes of an almost berserker rage, and I could see some of Saben’s people edging away from her.

The half-giant’s hands tightened suddenly around the haft of her club, and I knew she was about to lash out. I saw Tantor’s eyes narrow as he came to the same realization. Morin was harder to read, but I thought I sensed a coiled readiness to her as well.

Sigmar, on the other hand, appeared oblivious of the danger at his back. I dipped into the pool of psi in my mind, and prepared myself.

The time to act had come.