Dexter

I let out a quiet sigh as I ever so slightly shifted my legs, breathing a brief sigh of relief as I removed one leg from atop the other. I was sitting in the canopy in the Lotus position. I had learned about it when I took meditation classes. It was supposed to help you relax. Regardless of that, I was still on edge. Salthu had left over an hour ago. I had no clue how the Elites would return, but the message left behind indicated they had their ways. I craned my neck and looked towards the exit of the cavern as I fiddled nervously with the hilt of my sword. The potions hinted that there were at least two dozen Elites still wandering about Snakhagr. The thought of all of them slinking in added to my unease. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Amelia giving me a reassuring look. “Be patient.” She whispered, barely a gust of wind in this eerily quiet cavern. “They’ll be here soon.”

I let out another quiet sigh as I looked around. The canopy had just enough room for all seven of us to lounge in, but it was not the relaxing type of lounging. Orthan was near the rear of the mat, clutching the ornate ritual dagger to his chest. Dumag and Brokil were near the front, peering over the edge to watch the fire pit at the center. I was resting near the center, sitting beside Amelia and Gremach. Bruga was on the far end and appeared to be praying quietly, an amulet of some kind clutched to her chest. I nodded at Amelia as I gripped the hilt of my sword and tapped my index finger to my lips, indicating silence.

Amelia nodded in response as she let out her own nervous huff. She began gently tapping her clenched fist softly on her chest. She was likely trying to say she was nervous.

I nodded in agreement as I placed my free hand on her shoulder, doing my best to try and comfort her. I couldn’t speak my mind though. We had to be deadly quiet, in case any of the Elites showed up and heard our mutterings. The best I could do was grip her shoulder gently as I gazed out towards the entrance to the cavern. I silently thanked whatever god Bruga was praying to that the stalactites were holding out just fine. The divots I made in the stone were holding the rope fine for now. The durability of the stone was not helping my anxiety, however, and I found myself trying to find ways to occupy my mind while we waited. I flickered between number problems, spatial awareness exercises, and mental sudoku until I finally settled on imagining the actions of any Elites that wandered through.

I could imagine them squeezing through the crack in the wall, looking about, and heading towards the stone table. I tried to imagine myself in their shoes and what my decisions would be first on my list. The first would be to search the cave for a clue on the whereabouts of the others. The box would be the best source of answers. Searching it would reveal the potions and message. A swift swig would solve the appearance problem. The next on the list would be a quick inventory; the box, the potions, the ingredients for the-. I looked over at the cage and silently cursed myself as I realized we had forgotten a loose end. The cage was now empty, save for the discarded shawl beside it. I gritted my teeth in a silent curse as I rose from my sitting position and leaned forward to tap Dumag’s shoulder.

He jumped and turned to glare at me as I urgently pointed at the cage, mouthing the words, “They’ll notice the cage.”

Dumag’s glare turned into a furrowed brow as he turned to where I was pointing. His eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized what I was getting at. He turned back and mouthed a silent question, “Do you believe they will notice?”

I nodded affirmatively as I turned to the crate resting at the far wall. Even in the pitch-black darkness, I remembered where it would be. They had prepared an entire base for their arrival. They would be observant enough to notice a missing prisoner. I pointed to the wall that held the various cubbyholes as I whispered a swift notion. “Those furs could be used as a fake body, but we have to get them into the cage first.”

Dumag nodded as he gripped the edge of the canopy and hopped over, swinging with his free hand for a moment before dropping to the cave floor with a soft pffff. I followed suit as I kept an ear trained towards the cavern entrance. I quickly followed Dumag over to the cave wall as he ran a hand along its surface. He finally gripped the wall and pulled away one of the stones. I turned sharply as I heard a clatter somewhere in the cave, little more than an inkling in the deep blackness. I heard, off in the distance, a muttered “Fext” in an accent that sounded like their tongue had gotten stung by a bee. My heart sank as I realized what the muttering meant. I turned to Dumag to alert him, but he was already rushing to grab a fistful of furs. I quietly but frantically reached in and grabbed what I could before Dumag replaced the stone and hid the cubbyhole once more. My heart pounded in my chest as Dumag and I tip-toed over to the still-standing cage at the far end of the cavern.

I felt my hands shaking nervously as we crouched and began stuffing the furs through the bars in the cage. I swore I could hear a nearby scuffling of feet on stone. I bit my lip and winced as I felt new sparks emanating from the wooden prison. I was panicking, desperate to finish the job before the elite arrived. I shoved the last of the skins through as Dumag gestured wildly, his last skin still clutched tight in his hand. He was biting his lip to silence the verbal part of the spell. We couldn’t let the Elite hear us. I reached to start shaping the furs into a body just as Dumag thrust his hand into the cage. The fur he was clutching barely graced the ones currently piled in a heap before the entire bunch sprung to life and dove towards the center of the cage. The furs tumbled for a moment before snapping into a rudimentary shape of Orthan, collapsed on the floor just as we found him. Before I had time to react, Dumag grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away. I stumbled for a minute and caused a sharp skff to sound as I scraped my shoe on the stone floor. My heart leaped into my chest and I bit my tongue, drawing a faint taste of iron as we quietly scrambled over to the canopy. Dumag cast Hop and easily leaped up into the canopy. I squinted as I tried to see the edge, but the blackness made it difficult. I heard a grunt of strain somewhere over at the entrance of the cavern.

I let out a silent curse as I just cast the spell, threw caution to the wind, and jumped. I was rewarded for my haste with a soft punch to the face, the canopy halting my upward trajectory. The rope creaked slightly as I swung wildly and grabbed hold of the edge, dangling and nursing my swiftly swelling face. Three different hands quickly grabbed me and pulled, tossing me into the canopy before I could draw more attention. My stomach twisted as I scrambled as quietly as I could to gaze at the entrance of the cavern. My eyes were still adjusting to suddenly being punched by a piece of rope, leaving me blinking into the blackness for any hint of movement. There was finally a groan as a hulking figure slid in from the crevice. “Fexting orcs.” It groaned as it brushed itself off. “This outsider had better be worth it.” I felt my heart in my throat as we silently watched the figure walk down the path, stretching stiffly as he did so. “These forms are so cumbersome and slow. It is a wonder they pose such an obstacle to Almar. Ah. Here it is.”

He finally arrived at the table, flicking the lid off with ease. He reached in and pulled out the pair of frames, setting them down before reaching for the message at the bottom of the box. He pulled something from his shawl and caused a light to appear above his fist with a quick click, casting light upon the parchment as he read. I let out a slow breath as we watched the orc shaped figure read. The green skin, pointed ears, and coarse shawl were all indicative of an orc, but the Elite couldn’t fool us now. I glanced towards Orthan and saw him glare daggers at the still figure. I motioned for him to stay calm as I turned back, anxious to see his next action. The figure let out an affirmative grunt as he glanced towards the cage then directed the light in that direction. My blood ran cold as I saw that it was a rudimentary flashlight, crafted from wood and glass and powered by god knows what. The figure sneered as he stared at the cage. “I’ve no idea why we don’t just chuck im now. He’s practically wasted away, ain’t ya?” A moment of silence hung in the air, causing the figure to chuckle coldly. “Of course ya can’t talk. You leaf-skins have always been weak.” I saw Bruga place a firm hand on Dumag’s shoulder as he let out a low growl.

My heart jumped again as the figure turned to identify the unexpected noise. I bit my lip as the figure turned the medieval flashlight, scanning the cave for the noise. Brokil acted quickly and gestured, causing an Illusion spell to radiate from his palm. The Illusion swiftly but silently expanded, filling the space of the canopy and hiding us from the cavern. I bit my lip in a silent scream as the beam of the flashlight was directed upward and passed through us. I couldn’t see anyone, nor the mat below us, as the scattered light attempted to illuminate us. Finally, the figure muttered angrily as he turned back to the stone table. “Sarding tremors. This entire cavern is on the brink of collapse.” I let out a slow breath as Brokil drew his illusion back in and allowed it to dissipate. He was sweating heavily as he quietly gasped for air. I silently cursed as I did some quick math in my head. The total space we were occupying was nine hundred cubic feet or about thirty cubic yards. He had to provide enough mana for all seven of us and the three or more extra mana to hide the canopy itself. Brokil had maintained that spell for at least a minute or two which meant he used double that to keep us hidden from the beam of light. I didn’t know how large his mana pool was but judging from his panting, he had spent a good deal of his stamina pool.

I let out a low sigh as I reminded myself to focus and turned to watch the figure once more. He had grabbed one of the potion bottles and was in the process of downing the entire thing. He gulped loudly as he drank the thick concoction, beads and all. He sighed as he finished the bottle and set the empty glass on the stone table. Already his body was shifting, morphing from the familiar visage of an orc. His skin took on a birch hue, his ears and eyes grew to tremendous proportions as quickly as his stature shrank to a stocky height. The tusks protruding from his jaw shrank and vanished as the figure let out a brief yawn. The furs on his shoulders quickly became too large for the elf that was slowly coming into existence in front of the stone table.

The figure sighed as he examined his hands and flexed his fingers experimentally. “Much better.” He muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists. “None of that cumbersome weight to hold me back.” This time, Dumag held his tongue as we watched the elven Elite saunter over to the wall and remove one of the stones. He pulled out one of the black-dyed leathers as he removed the shawl and tossed it aside. “Eltaor had better press Almar for compensation. The prissy child holds no respect for his duties. His father would not have insulted us with such a prize.” The figure continued to mutter as it pulled the armor on, pulling each strap tight before folding the shawl and returning it to its respective hiding place.

We watched in silence as the elf returned to the center of the room and crouched over the fire pit. “Nothing but ash.” He muttered, scraping up a bit of the dust and letting it fall again. He then turned and approached the table once more, reaching above it and pulling away another stone to reveal another cubbyhole. The figure reached in and extracted several split pieces of timber, tossing them into a pile on the mound of ashes before pulling out an axe and small metal container. We watched as the figure worked meticulously, turning the pile of wood into a soft blaze. When he was done, he tossed the axe and container onto the table with a sigh, sitting down as he watched the fire with a bored expression. Oddly enough, the fire did not appear to produce any smoke. I should have honestly been thankful. We did not need to cough our lungs out while we tried to wait for the rest to arrive at the cavern. I glanced at the others to gauge their thoughts. They all held a nervous, but determined expression, save for Brokil who was still sweating profusely from his spell previously.

I let out a sigh as I turned back to the figure staring at the fire, watching the flames dance as they grew. “Nothing to do now but wait.” I thought silently. I only wished the other Elites would drink their medicine as easily.

More elite slowly trickled in over the next hour; sometimes alone other times in groups of two or three, mostly alone though. As their group grew, they began discussing their experience and findings; new alleyways, old paths, blocked sewer entrances, even a few orcs they interacted with while in the city. Oddly enough, they focussed heavily on the sewer paths, discussing something about an announcement that was sent before the lockdown was lifted. They muttered most of their discussions and the mass of them talking amongst each other made it difficult to discern exact sentences, but a few of their words could still be picked out from the mess. Only one had yet to show signs of our trap, which encouraged me. The first one to walk in moved near a darker part of the cavern and lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head for support as he closed his eyes.

I let out an unnerved sigh as I shifted slightly and glanced at the others. They were all gazing at the crackling fire near the center of the cavern and the Elites that surrounded them. I turned back as I studied their movements and expressions. They all looked like the commander guy that had gone missing; massive quarter-sized eyes with long pointed ears and hair that appeared smoother than naturally possible. To them, they might have been mildly disheveled, but to me, it looked like they had just finished stepping from the shower.

I glanced at the entrance as another orc sized figure squeezed through. He stretched as he let out a loud sigh. “Fext. I cannot wait to shed this form. Next time, let us capture an orc with more combat experience.”

The others stopped their conversation as they turned to the new arrival. “You are overeager.” One of them warned. “This was meant as a scouting mission. Capturing Almar’s canary will not be done in false skins. Nor will eliminating that other outsider.”

My heart hammered away as I watched the new figure gesture dismissively. “So be it. I only wish these scouting missions had more comfortable disguises. These shawls are so coarse.” The figure quickly tossed his fur aside as he strode over to the box of potions, concealed excitement in his step. “I wonder how these missions would go if we captured one of their women. Surely you are curious how the potion would alter our appearance.”

The new figure reached into the box as another figure pointed a dagger angrily at him. “Look here now. I will not be turned into an effeminate man-whore for a scouting mission. If I hear you utter a word of that notion to Eltaor, I will ensure they are the last words you ever speak.”

The new figure raised his hand defensively as he removed a potion from the box. “It was only a thought.” He replied, his excitement still beneath the surface. He began to tug at the cork which was rather flush to the bottle. I could see the glass sliding slightly as he pulled. “In any regard, I could not help but draw an eerie aura from the city on this mission. Their wizards appeared more knowledgeable than they were letting on. It occurs to me that perhaps they knew- FEXT.” The potion bottle the figure was holding on suddenly jumped from his grasp and tumbled through the air, shattering with a loud crash against the hard stone floor. “Fext.” The figure muttered, crouching over the mess he made. “This Komodo oil gets everywhere. That ingrate wizard needs to better tend to his ingredients.”

The figure stood and reached for another bottle, but was jumped back as a dagger suddenly sunk into the side of the box with a loud thunk. “Don’t go taking another one now.” The thrower warned; another dagger raised high as he leaned towards the figure. “You broke a bottle now you got to pay for it. There was enough potion for all of us, but now you've gone and spilled your share." He pointed to the page that was laying beside the box. "Lucky for you, they know you'd sard up and left instructions. Now start brewing. I don't want to hear your swearing as I try to sleep."

The still orcish figure muttered angrily as he turned and snatched the parchment up, reading it in a quiet fury as he stood there. He finally scoffed as he tossed the message aside. "Fine." He growled, turning to the large box instead of the smaller frame. "So long as you bite your tongue on the stench this fext makes." He then reached in and began extracting the brewing apparatus as the figure that threw the dagger nodded quietly.

I glanced at Brokil to gauge his reaction to the development. His expression had changed to one of stern concentration, watching the orcish figure work with the implements he had handled prior. I let out a nervous sigh as I glanced at Orthan then at the cage where his false image lay. Depending on how the figure went about it, he could uncover the facade in an hour or a matter of - "Fext." The figure muttered, slamming a hand on the table with a bang. “Where's that sarding dagger? I’d rather pierce what’s left of that blood bag than deal with this sarding mess. How can that wizard be so fexting incompetent with these?” He tossed the cauldron upward haphazardly and it bounced against the table as it clattered along.

The figure then turned and strode towards the storage wall as the one that threw the dagger looked up again. “The blood may be stale by the time you are finished.” He warned. “You would need to extract more if that were to happen.”

The figure waved dismissively as he grabbed a runic stone and wrenched it loose, letting it clatter to the ground without a care in the world. “Then I shall extract more.” He growled, his voice heavy with frustration. “It’s not as if we shall need him after this.” He reached in and began rummaging around. “We do as always, toss him into the bear cave and let them enjoy their fresh meal.” I glanced at Orthan and Dumg and saw their knuckles turn white as they gripped the canopy beneath. I let out a silent curse as I turned to the others, signaling with a clenching fist to get ready. In the faint light of the distant fire, I saw them tense, ready to strike. I made a mental list of who had the amulets before turning to Orthan. I prodded him quietly, drawing his attention, before pointing at him then at the canopy with a serious expression. Orthan gritted his teeth at the silent order to stay still before reluctantly nodding.

I turned to look back at the Elites in time to see the one near the storage wall growl in frustration. “Did Someone Move the Sarding Dagger?” He shouted. The others remained silent as they let out a tired sigh. They were fatigued, but it wasn’t enough. I glanced at Brokil, hoping for some silent answers, but all I saw was the same concentrated expression as he watched the group around the fire.

I let out another curse as I turned to the Elites again, counting them as the one that threw the dagger let out an exhausted sigh. “Ask Zaos over there.” He growled, gesturing at the elf laying in the shadow. “He was here before any of us.”

The orcish figure grumbled again as he trudged back over and marched up to where Zaos lay. “Did you move the dagger?” He asked, not wasting any time.

The one named Zaos growled angrily as he laid an arm over his eyes. “It’s with the cleaning implements like it always is.” He growled, not moving to acknowledge his teammate. “Do you have any clue how tedious it is to care for that blasted thing?”

The orcish figure growled angrily as he gestured insistently. I crept closer to the edge and tensed, visualizing a trajectory from where I crouched all the way to where the fire lay crackling. Even in their fatigued state, they still outnumbered us two to one. “Well, the blade is not with the implements,” The figure growled, gesturing angrily at the cubbyhole he just searched. “Did you move it or not?”

Zaos sighed angrily as he rolled over and climbed to his feet. I shot a glance at Brokil as I saw his jaw clench before turning back and watching Zaos march over to the wall. “Sarding incompetent little-” Zaos suddenly stumbled. In the dim light, I could see his eyes try to blink the blurriness away. I pulled myself forward and drew my knees close to my chest.

Another figure looked up as he heard Zaos’s feet scrape against the cold stone. “Are you feeling well?” He asked, worry plastered across his face.

Zaos waved the concern away angrily as he straightened, his jaw clenched in frustration at being awoken. “I’m fine.” He spat. He slapped himself with a loud smack that echoed across the cavern. The others were now looking up too, noticing Zaos’s strange display. I glanced at Brokil again and I saw him grip a spellstone tightly. I turned back in time to see Zaos smack himself again, weaker this time. A look of confusion was quickly spreading on his face while the others noticed and stood. Zaos slapped himself again, trying to make an impact, but not so much as a kitten would have noticed the blow. “What is-” He muttered weakly, but his strength was quickly fading.

With one last bap to his face, Zaos collapsed where he stood and the others immediately rushed over, shouting “Get To Your Weapons!” That was all they could say before I brought my foot to the edge of the canopy and pushed. The world appeared to slow as I leaped towards the small fire and cast Frost. I knew this was about to hurt, but nothing else would do what I needed. I clenched my fist as the energy from the spell coalesced into my palm and I thrust it into the fire. In a split second, my fist was enveloped by searing fire and ice; only amplifying the pain as the campfire exploded in a shower of frost and embers. I heard a shout of surprise as the only light in the cavern was scattered and extinguished.

I ignored the pain in my hand as I reached down and grabbed the hilt of my sword. “CAPTURE THEM!” I shouted as I jumped back and drew my blade. My fingers cried in protest as they held the cold metal, blisters likely forming as I spoke. I ignored the pain as I used my undamaged hand to cast Spark, sending a bolt of electricity streaking into the darkness where I last spotted an elite. I heard a roar behind me as the others leaped from the canopy and descended upon the elites. I internally cursed for not having an extra owl pendant for myself. The darkness before me made it difficult to see anything but swirling masses of figures. Suddenly, there was a brief flash as a BOOM sounded at the other end of the room, temporarily illuminating the cavern and giving me a brief glimpse of four figures around me, three elves and the one orcish figure. The flashes and noise continued as all four approached.

I leaped back as I saw one of the elves swing blindly at me, shouting “It’s An Ambush!”

I heard a “NO FEXT!” from another as I swung upwards and caught the second swing. The flashes were disorienting and preventing my eyes from adjusting to either the light or the darkness. The sound of magic could be clearly heard near the other side of the room as I sidestepped another figure taking a swing. My heart was pounding in my chest as I realized I was being backed into a corner and surrounded. The words I had heard not moments ago echoed in my head as the direness of the situation finally dawned on me “eliminating the other outsider.” I parried a blow from another, the lessons Bulak had given me racing through my mind as I tried to visualize a path out of this corner to safety, but to no avail. I suddenly felt a jabbing pain in my ribs as a fifth figure stepped from a larger mass of shadows and drove his dagger into my side. The borrowed armor absorbed most of the impact, but I could still feel a damp spot swiftly growing as the fifth figure yanked back. I coughed painfully as I hastily cast Hop, narrowly avoiding another blade in my side. I sailed through the air again over the battle that was swiftly unfolding in the tight confines of this cave. I landed with a pff next to Bruga as another brief flash illuminated her figure. She was blinking, seemingly disoriented in the haze of sudden light and blackness. She gasped as I landed beside her and quickly gestured for another spell.

I quickly realized this was Bruga, without a necklace and blindly casting. “WAIT!” I shouted, holding up a hand. Bruga ignored my shout and fired her spell, sending a swirling mass whizzing past my head. I heard a muffed oof and a thud as I turned in time to see a figure collapse, ensnared by a tangle of bramble. It struggled to try and climb to its feet, but the bramble was steadfast in its hold. I looked back in time to see yet another figure jump from the flash of darkness and stab. I dodged to the side and cast Spark once more, jabbing a finger into his torso and causing him to groan as he seized up and collapsed. “Subdue Them!” I shouted, pinning the stunned figure’s armed hand to the floor. I quickly cast Shape Stone and pulled the hard ground to engulf his clenched fist, hopefully pinning him once the Spark spell wore off.

I jumped up and looked around at the briefly illuminated fight around me. I counted twenty people in total; five orcs, Amelia, and fourteen elves, four of which were already tangled up or restrained in their own way. The one that had dropped his flask was still in his orcish form and he was currently fighting against Dumag. Dumag was the only one that was able to tower over him and was using his gauntlet to parry the dagger and cast barriers while using his other hand to cast more masses of bramble. The orcish Elite was quick-footed, however, and expertly dodged each spell as it came barrelling towards him. Bruga had dashed away to cast further entangling spells at more elves as they tried to attack Dumag from the side. Gremach and Brokil were working in tandem to back five figures into a corner. Gremach was gesturing with his scepter to keep the group at a distance while Brokil hobbled along and used the spellstone which shot bright sparks with each use. He must be the source of the light and noise. Another spell from the stone confirmed my suspicions and I turned to find Amelia.

A shrill yelp thrust a sick feeling into the pit of my stomach and I turned in time to see Amelia fall to the ground, her back against the wall clutching her arm. A pair of the elites stood over her, one wielding a blood-soaked dagger. My vision turned red as I flashbacked to that moment in the alleyway. My knuckles grew white around the hilt of my blade as I cast Move Earth to launch myself in their direction, uncaring of a soft landing.

Amelia

My heart was racing in my chest as I pressed my hand tightly to my arm. The warm blood soaked through my fingers and caused a sickening feeling to rise from the pit of my stomach. I felt myself trembling in fear as the pair of elites leered down at me, my mind jumping back to the first moments of me stepping onto the godforsaken land. Even with all of my study and practice, it had not changed the outcome and it filled me with dread and despair. I hardly noticed as one of the elites smacked the hands of the other and chastised him. “What Are You Doing? Almar’s Isn’t Going To Want Her Damaged. We’re Supposed to Kill The-” A loud thump sounded from behind me as I felt my back hit the wall, but it wasn’t what made the noise.

A moment later, Dexter landed with a thunderous WHAM on the stone between me and the Elites. I felt my legs give out as I slumped against the stone, cradling my bleeding arm as Dexter’s enraged voice filled the cavern “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH HER!” I swallowed guiltily as I just sat there, trembling, and watched Dexter swing his sword wildly. I had been unable to join the fray as I had hoped. A bleak thought drifted through my mind as I saw the snarling expression on Dexter’s face. “I’m so pathetic.”

Dexter

Whatever pain my body was producing was being ignored by my unending rage. They had hurt Amelia. They had hurt my friend. I shook at the idea of the elites harming her, or any of the others for that matter. The sword loudly sliced through the air as my arm swung wildly. The brief flashes of light did little to impede my orientation as I focused squarely on the pair of elves before me. Bulak’s lessons were now at the back of my mind as I swiped at the two elites and attacked with all my might. They dodged expertly out of my reach as they gave me a wide-eyed and fearful look. I continued to charge forward to attack as my thoughts came streaming from my lips. “ALMAR IS GOING TO HAVE TO BURY YOU IN A SHOEBOX WHEN I’M THROUGH WITH YOU!” I bellowed, slamming the sword into a nearby stalagmite. I yanked the blade free from the stone and swung again, the stab wound in my side little more than a memory as I fought for blood. The pair continued to evade my swipes with a strange grace. I roared furiously as I swung at the one clutching the dagger. He would be a bigger threat. The Elites noticed my attention and began juggling the one dagger they had between the two, each swipe signaling them to pass the dagger to the other. Each missed blow just added to my fury as they played a sick game of keep-away, biding their time for when I would tire.

I roared with anger once more as I cast Waterjet. My shout of “ENOUGH!” filled the cave as the blast of water caught the dagger in midair and sent it spinning away. The Elites barely had time to register the event before I set upon them once more, my heart pounding in my ears as I only thought of blood. My move made no difference to their swift nature, however, and I found myself in a similarly infuriating situation as before. Thankfully this time it was without an opposing blade to worry about. I stabbed at one of them with fervor, aiming for his chest as the fight resumed. He dodged to the side, the blade narrowly slicing at his armor as he ducked out of the way. I bellowed angrily again as I swung at the Elite once more. “I’LL BOIL YOU INTO A STEW ONCE I’M THROUGH MASHING YOU INTO THE DIRT!” Once more, my blade struck a nearby stalagmite and I yanked it free before raising it to strike one more.

“What the Sard?” The sudden exclamation distracted me for a moment and I turned to see yet another orc standing near the entrance to the cave. He was gazing about in befuddlement as the fight collectively halted for just a moment. I had enough time to see that three more had been restrained or incapacitated in the time that I had leaped to defend Amelia. However, two others had managed to break free from their bonds and were pulling at the one elf that I had trapped in the stone. The orc’s eyes grew wide as he realized he had drawn everyone’s attention and reached into his shawl as he bellowed again. “RETREAT!” I had just enough time to see him pull something out and smash it into the floor before smoke swiftly expanded from below him and filled the cave with a cloud of oppressively dark smoke.

“NO!” I bellowed, swinging at where an Elite once stood, but I heard nothing but the clatter of metal on stone. I shouted angrily as I swung again, blinded by the heavy cloud of smoke that now filled the cavern. I could hear the rapid tapping of feet retreating towards the path. I rushed after the sound as I continued to swing, hoping to hit one of them as they ran past, but to no avail. “COME BACK HERE!” I roared, my shouts falling on deaf ears as the tapping gradually subsided and I was left stumbling around, thoroughly disoriented. I turned sharply as a light suddenly appeared and the smoke slowly subsided.

Dumag’s growling voice emanated from beneath the light as he was slowly revealed by the receding mist. “Do not bother.” He muttered. “Our ruse is up. They have escaped. Let us gather what we can and depart.” I growled angrily as I glanced around. The smoke had dissipated enough to see now and I could see our group panting heavily, either from a wound they had sustained or general exhaustion from the fight. Gremach was nursing a cut on his forearm, Brokil stepping forward to heal him as he continued to pant. The elf that I had bound to the stone had escaped, leaving his dagger embedded in the stone that I had molded around it. This left us with only four elites, bound either in a wrapping of vines or softly glowing energy. I glanced at Amelia as I gripped my sword tightly. She was still slumped against the wall, her head bowed as she cradled her arm. Her hair had broken free of her ponytail and was cascading in front of her face, hiding her expression. I felt a surge of rage as I saw the blood trickling from between her fingers.

I rushed over as I hastily cast a basic Heal spell. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” I gasped, my fist still clutching my sword tightly. No sooner had I touched her arm and the glow began to emulate from the cut before Amelia yelped in pain, jumping back and looking up at me. My heart sank as I saw the fear and pain in her eyes; fear and pain that I might have caused. I let out a curse as I drew back, releasing the spell. Only now did I notice my hand trembling as I panted, my rage sustaining the steady heartbeat that was sounding in my ears. Brokil pushed past me as he cast his own healing spell and gingerly touched the stain of blood on Amelia’s arm. Her face finally relaxed as she let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t notice, however, as my thoughts were focussed solely on the currently fleeing Elites.

Dumag was the first to speak as he kicked one of the tied and bound Elites. “We should return to the Institute. Garahk will wish to know of this development. At the very least we were able to.”

“Not Yet.” I growled suddenly, beginning to stride back to Amelia. I stepped past Brokil and grabbed the pendant from around Amelia’s neck and pulled it on. The darkness receded in a familiar shimmer to reveal the entirety of the cave, save for the corner that held the standing cage.

Dumag turned to me in surprise as I began marching back towards the path, breaking into a jog as I felt fire blood course through my veins. “Where are you-” He began to ask, but I ignored the question as my jog turned into a sprint, the idea of them escaping giving me the most sickening taste in my mouth. “WAIT!” came his bellow as I came to the crack in the wall and swiftly began shuffling through it. I burst out into the passageway that we had traveled earlier and I strained my ears to hear the direction the Elites went, though I had a suspicion on which way they turned.

Sure enough, I heard a clatter and a muttered “sard” deeper into the cave, out where we had almost gone before Brokil noticed the crack in the wall. I felt my fingers tighten around my blade as I ran forward, charging after the retreating Elites.

Dumag

My shout of “WAIT!” fell of deaf ears as the outsider slipped back through the entrance to the cave, fire in his voice and wielding his blade with intent. I turned to his companion as I gave her a confused expression. “Where Is He Going!?” I asked, harsher than intended.

She gave me a wide-eyed look as she shook her head timidly, Brokil glancing towards the entrance before returning to his healing. “I don’t know,” she gasped, not moving from her sitting position. “He just grabbed the pendant and left.” My eyes grew wide as she said the word pendant. He was not about to- Surely the outsider was not as mad as that.

I could not take any chances. I jumped up and began barking orders. “Bruga, Ensure The Ensnared Do Not Escape. Orthan, Come Down From There And Help Her Keep Watch. Gremach, Brokil, Follow Me. The Outsider Will Need Our Aid Shortly.” Gremach nodded as he gripped his scepter tightly. Brokil let out a tired sigh as he finished with the wound and stood, trailing behind as I, Gremach, and he rushed back up the path.

The outsider’s companion shouted, “Don’t Let Him Get Hurt.” as we slipped into the crack in the wall. I reached into my enchanted satchel and grabbed one of the wands, this one engraved with a ‘ᚺ’ near the base. I could not afford to use a more destructive focus in this cavern so this one would have to do.