Krakka keeps tutting as he fusses over the boy, cuz that’s what he is, he’s way too young to be involved in this kinda shit. First thing we did, before even thinking about waking the others, was tie him up good and tight with some of the rope we packed with the rest of our gear, just playing it safe. That’s not what’s bothering him. What’s bothering our tengu cleric is the nasty gash in the side of his head, still sluggishly seeping blood under the greasy black undercut pulled back into a tight ponytail, the somewhat purplish darkening to the green skin round the wound indicating serious bruising. Might even be swelling. Clearly I hit him a little too hard with my axe. Headwounds like that are nasty, and they can be tricky. Might be he’ll wake up on his own, just as likely he could die in this torpor, or be strange if he does wake again. Krakka’s displeasure is squarely aimed at me right now.

Not sure I blame him, truth be told.

Art’s ignoring all this entirely – right now he’s sat on his bedroll again, conspicuously turned away right now, meticulously cleaning his blades in case he needs to use them again soon. He’s been quiet since we came up, and I don’t blame him. I don’t feel that great about the fight we just had out there, and I didn’t kill anyone.

“What d’you think?” I ask once the tension gets too much for me. I’m having to fight hard to rein my emotions in right now, and I ain’t entirely succeeding. Might be it’s making me impatient. This just got potentially complicated for us.

Sucking his breath in with a clipped hiss that sounds a lot angrier than I’d like, Krakka doesn’t turn round to look at me, but his fists are clenching tight now. “The lad’s in a bad way. I doubt it would’ve been much worse if you’d just hit him with the sharp end after all.”

“Nothing you can do then?” I take a deep breath, and it’s shaky. “I didn’t want to kill him. The point was to just take ‘im down, I wanted to ask some questions.”

“Well that’s gonna be a tall order right now, isn’t it?” He finds his feet as rounds on me, and I actually have to take a step back I’m so surprised. I’ve seen Krakka roused and ferocious in battle, but he’s usually so chilled out when there’s no fighting to be done, I could probably count the number of times I seen him genuinely mad in the day-to-day on the fingers of one particularly mangled hand. “Congratulations, Kesla Shoon, you are a most mighty warrior. You felled this poor boy with a single strike and you weren’t even trying to hurt him.”

“Can’t you just heal him?” Gael ventures, although their voice is particularly timid right now, and the look on their face suggests they’d rather they hadn’t spoken up after all, but also they couldn’t really help it.

For a moment it looks like Krakka might just turn his ire on them too, but he softens considerably looking up at them. No surprise there, he’s become incredibly fond of the young wizard in the time we’ve known them. “I really couldn’t say. Headwounds are difficult, there’s a lot that can go wrong. Even if I mend the damage, there’s no guarantee they won’t still be a little wrong in the head after. And the information you want might not be there anymore anyway.” He looks at me when he says that last thing, in a particularly pointed way I gotta try real hard not to scowl at.

“All right, look, I’m sorry I did it like that, all right? I just had to stop the fight right there, I didn’t wanna give him any chance to skewer Art. He might be young but this kid is good.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Yeslee mutters, probably half to herself. She hasn’t moved from her spot near the cave entrance since we came back, still looking out into the night, She’s still holding her bow, still nocked, not drawn but ready all the same. Up until now I doubted she was even paying attention to what’s going on in here. “Looked like he had it well in hand to me.”

I look back to find Art’s turned right round at that, looking surprised as I am. Yeslee’s fond of our little reprobate as the rest of us, the way she is you’d never know it the way she acts, but anyone who’s spent enough time with her can read between the lines well enough. Even so, might be the first time she’s ever even remotely praised Art for anything.

“Yeah, me too.” I admit, giving him the tiniest little nod as I say it, then I turn back to the main conversation. “But I stand by what I said, I wanted that fight done. That hob’s still out there, an’ I doubt he’s wasting any time stickin’ round to see what we do now. He’s headed right back to his gang, so we ain’t got much time.” I let out a deep sigh, hating that I have to ask this question now. I look down at Krakka again. “Can you wake ‘im up? Gentle as you can, of course, be real careful, but please, wake him up.”

The look Krakka gives me could almost be described as lethal, even on his very subtle face it’s clear as a bell, but he doesn’t voice the thought that’s clearly going through his head. He doesn’t have to. Then he looks round at the others, frown only deepening and darkening as he goes, before his shoulders finally sag. “All right. I suppose you’re right, anyway. It needs to be done. But I’m not happy about it, Kesla.”

That last has me wincing, I can’t help it. He’s usually as deferential to me as the rest of them, though with him, much like with Art, that little epithet’s largely become more a term of affection these days. The way he just used my actual name is just cold.

So I hold my tongue, simply nod. I don’t wanna set him off again. It’s not his fault, I feel no resentment towards him about how he’s reacting to me right now. He’s right. I had good intentions, I guess, but I probably didn’t do the right thing there. I wasn’t really thinking, and sometimes I pay for it when I do that. He watches me for several moments, and maybe he can read my mind, it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything that’s going through it right now, and maybe he picks up on it. His ruffled feathers finally start to smooth out, and his face softens. Finally he sighs.

“It’s all right, boss. I’ll do what I can.” He turns away before I can react, but it’s a subtle relief all the same. I ain’t off the hook with him, not by a long shot, but he won’t stay mad at me, if he even still is. We’re too good friends for that.

“So what’s happening now?” Gael asks as I turn back to them.

It takes me a moment to realise they don’t mean with the boy, and I have to think before I answer. This has become a very fluid situation now, I doubt the folk shadowing us intended for that confrontation to happen any more than we did, but circumstances kinda threw us together. Now we just gotta live with the collateral damage. Adapt or die.

“Can’t say. What happened out there shouldn’t have happened, that’s all I know. They weren’t looking to jump us, I’m sure of that much. Doubtless they were just tracking us, then when we came in here they must’ve lost our trail, so they got too close trying to pick it up again. Out there was just accidental. It’s just their bad luck they got so close we had to react.”

“What does that mean for us now, then?” Wenrich’s joined us now, and he’s very composed considering the situation. Once again the consummate professional, then.

“Three down, two dead, we got one here. One of ‘em got away, the leader, definitely the smartest. That hob’s got a sharp head on his shoulders, and he looked old enough to have plenty experience. He ain’t gonna fuck round, he’ll be heading straight back to the rest of his band. What they do next is a question mark at best, but don’t reckon there’s gonna be many ways it can play out from there. Best case we got maybe an hour an’ a half, but I’d happily bet on considerably less. I want us ready to move in under thirty minutes.”

The two wizards exchange a glance and Wenrich simply nods. Gael takes a deep breath, looks at me for a moment, then nods herself, heads to her makeshift bed and immediately starts packing all her stuff together again. The halfling remains where he is, thoughtful now.

“What do you need that unfortunate young man alive for, then?”

“I wanna find out everything I can before we light out again. They’ve had us on the run this whole time, I want something to even the odds up for us again, if that’s at all possible. I want every advantage I can grab. What would you do in my place, Master Clearwood?”

He frowns at that, clears his throat. “I imagine I would do the same, Mistress Shoon.”

“Precisely. So help me out, get your shit together. Wanna be able to move the second I’m finished with this kid.”

All he does is cock a brow at that. I wasn’t really expecting an argument, Wenrich’s been real good about deferring to me on the road so far, but even so, I might’ve been a little more curt with him than necessary at times. He’s taken it all in his stride, and seems he does again here. “If you need any help, please ask, although I doubt you will. You’ve done fine so far, under the circumstances.”

As he heads back to start packing up his gear, I try hard not to read too much into his response. Got too much on my plate right now as it is.

Krakka’s gently praying under his breath as he kneels beside the boy’s prone form, tips of his fingers very gently probing his forehead and temples. There’s a very subtle, silvery glow slipping and slithering around his hands, almost like faintly glowing smoke, and I can feel the subtlest thrum of energy even stood some feet back as I try to give him space. The wound’s already looking better, the bruising fading to a faint smudge and the swelling going down, and that nasty gash recedes as I watch. This might just work out.

Eventually the waiting gets to me, but I’m still trying so hard not to bother Krakka, he wouldn’t appreciate it and his mood’s prickly enough already, so instead I distract myself. “How’s it looking, Big Man?”

“No sign of anyone at this time. The hobgoblin has left my range now, but he went in the direction we expected. I would venture it means they are still sufficiently far behind.” For the first time since me and Art dragged the kid in he moves, turning halfway round to look at me now. “You are correct, we have time, but not an infinite amount.”

Yeah … not quite sure how I feel about that particularly statement. Driver 8’s not usually given to fanciful philosophy, even subtly, so when he does it tends to make me wonder all kinds of things about him I’m not always sure I want to. “Gotcha.” I’m kinda scrabbling to cover there, but maybe it works. “Y’know we might have to kill a bunch of these folk, right? Like a lot? If they make us.”

He watches me for a moment, still so impossibly unreadable. “That had occurred to me, yes. If it comes to that, we will have no choice, so I will do my duty. They will have made that decision for us. I will defend my friends.”

Can’t help smiling at that, despite the grim undertones of our conversation. I give him a gentle nod, and he seems to accept that’s it for the conversation, already turning back to his vigil out the mouth of the cave, even if I suspect he was fully aware of everything outside the whole time.

“Kesla.” Krakka says my name again, which jars me a little, but his voice is gentle, no trace of malice or reproach in it this time, and when I look down he seems warmer than he was. “I think it worked.”

It’s true, the boy’s stirring. As I drop to one knee next to him and adjust the sword still strapped at my side he’s starting to shift, face tightening a little as he frowns, his eyelids fluttering a little. He gives a soft moan, then a louder one, a grunt of clear discomfort as he tries to sit up, but it doesn’t work, he’s too well tied. That’s when his eyes fly open, and he mutters; “What the …” as he raises his head, looking round. He sees Krakka first, and his frown deepens, confusion clearly blooming across his face. Then he turns to look the other way, and he sees me. His eyes narrow. “You.”

“Yeah, me.”

“What the fuck …” He tries to sit up and that’s when he looks down at himself as best he can over his chest while he’s still lying down. Then he gets it. We haven’t used all that much rope, but this ain’t our first time, Art’s got real skill with this stuff so ain’t no way he’s goin’ anywhere like this. He starts squirming now, grunting and cursing as he wriggles his hands, but he’s trussed up like a Winterheart roast, best he’ll do is flop round a few feet and wear himself out. “Lemme out this shit, right now!”

I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen. Cut it out kid, all you’re gonna do is tire yourself out an’ it’s kinda annoying. You can’t get outta this.”

“Fuck!” he snarls after several moments, once it seems to have finally sunk into his skull that I’m being honest about his chances. His head drops back and it’s good one of the first things Krakka did was fold a blanket under there like a pillow otherwise he’d brain himself. He grunts again, clearly frustrated, but there’s some resignation in his face now. “What d’you want, then? I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.”

“Oh, well now that’s a foolish way to think.” I adjust my position, bring my other leg round so I can drop onto the cave floor, sitting cross-legged beside him now. I lace my hands together and bring them up under my chin, elbows on my knees as I look down at him. “We ain’t even asked you any questions yet.”

“Go fuck yourself, I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” He glares up at me, but while I suspect he wants to spit at me he restrains himself. Might be he’s smarter than I thought.

“Well I dunno ‘bout that. You’re tellin’ me enough already without even realising it. You never been interrogated before, have you?”

His brows go up a little bit at that word, and it’s not much of a surprise. I’m speaking as gently as I can, keeping my words friendly and companionable, but I’m being very deliberate about my choice of words too. In spite of my manner there’s a potential implication behind that statement, whether he wants to read what I want into it or not is down to him. I watch his eyes flicker round, going to Krakka, then round the cave at the others, finally he turns his head and for the first time looks at Driver 8.

Big Man couldn’t have picked a better time to turn back round, he’s looking down at us now, at the boy in particular I’m sure, and that paradoxically cold red stare is boring into him. Bless the golem, he’s a whole mess of intimidation without any effort at all. The kid blanches, quickly turning his gaze away. “Um …”

“Yup, that’s Big Man. You never seen a golem before, have you? Not many folk have. I seen him do shit you wouldn’t believe. He’s taken hordes of goblins apart with a single sweep of his sword, it’s bloody incredible to watch. An’ that’s some o’ the least he can do, believe me.” I lean in a little closer to him, smiling a little now, showing my teeth, and I try to keep the humour out of my expression. “Wee lad like you wouldn’t be much work for ‘im, he decided to take you apart.”

He swallows hard at that, flickering the briefest look he can at Driver 8. He whips his eyes right back to me, gulping again, and his jaw tenses some as he tries to work his hands free again, having no more luck now than before. “Um … I’m … I can’t … you don’t … I wouldn’t … um …” His eyes are wide now, and he starts struggling again, more forcefully this time, and has no more luck freeing himself.

“Chill, kid.” I place a hand on his chest, pressing down gently, but firm enough that he knows I’m there. “Just chill out, quit that, ain’t doing yourself no good, you’ll just get tired an’ rope-burned. Now listen, we ain’t gonna kill you, I promise. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve used the sharp end o’ my axe. We just want a nice, pleasant conversation with you, no need to get so worked up. You comply an’ we’ll let you go.”

“Bollocks.” He stops squirming, but he’s proper glaring at me now. “I ain’t sayin’ shit, you’re gonna get the knives out anyway. Y’already said interrogation. I know what that shit means. You’re gonna torture me.”

“Oh gods, no. I hate that shit,” I lift my left knee up enough to reach under and slip my fingers inside my boot, pull the knife strapped in there free. It’s one of my longer ones, but it’s got a relatively slender blade and a slightly serrated single edge, a finessed tool suited for finer work than its length might suggest. His eyes lock to it the moment it’s out, still wide, and genuinely fearful now. “I mean, sure, folk torture, and it does sometimes get results, but only after a lot of mess, and I hate that shit. I wanna fuck you up, I’ll do it quick, an’ clean. Not necessarily cuz I’m a particularly moral person, y’understand. Nah, just cuz it’s too much bloody work doin’ messy shit like that.”

His eyes are still locked on the blade, and he’s really sweating now. He licks his lips.

Taking a deep breath, I lean in real close to him, bringing the knife up close to his face while I do it. “Don’t mean I won’t do it, you make me. Might be I’m a little petty like that.”

He watches the blade for several moments, fascinated by the gleam of the steel, the wicked keen edge now hovering perilously close to his nose. His lip’s wobbling now, and there’s the first little pricking of tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m … I can’t just … please, I can’t just give my people up to you like that. Please …”

“Oh no son, really, you don’t have to. All I want is the answers to a few simple questions, ain’t askin’ you to tell me anything’s gonna kill people you care about, ‘least not if I can help it. We just wanna know what we’re actually dealin’ with. You get me?”

Those pale gold eyes flicker from the blade to my face again, and he looks at me for a long time. Calculating. I wonder if he’s trying to work out if he can actually get out this situation he’s found himself stuck in, probably comes up short an answer. He seems pretty smart, but he’s also terribly young, and that can even make the really smart ones kinda stupid sometimes. He licks his lips again, but this time it’s less nervous tic, more a conscious, deliberate thing.

“C’mon, son. I know it’s a whole big honour thing, I known orcs before. You’re proud folk, even when you ain’t whole-blooded. You’d rather die than sell out your friends, your family, whatever, an’ the fact we caught you at all, ‘stead of you dyin’ in a spectacular blaze of glory, has you all kinds of bent outta shape. I’m impressed you ain’t tried to bite my throat out already, I know full well you thought about it. You done your people proud, an’ you won’t be shaming ‘em any now you answer my questions, I promise you.” I sit back now, slip the knife away, thankful I didn’t have to go so far as actually cutting him, I was worried I might at least have to give him a little one just to sell what I was saying. Not sure I could’ve done that, not with him all helpless like this. “So what d’you say, kid?”

After a moment he closes his eyes, letting his head drop back again. His jaw’s tight, his brow furrowing deep, but there’s still less tension in him than there was before. I look across at Krakka, who’s watching me now, one of his brows cocked. I tip him a wink and the corners of his mouth quirk up in response. By the time the boy’s eyes open again, we’re as composed and cool as before.

“Fuck. You fucking bastards. Just keep that thing away from me, please.”

“Sure, that should be easy enough.” I look up at Driver 8, fighting hard not to grin as I admonish the big bad golem. I can’t help the feeling he might even be a little amused by this himself, though you’d never be able to read it on that face. “You hear that, Big Man? Leave the kid alone.”

Driver 8 watches me for a moment longer, then looks back down at the boy to give him one last good long glare that does so much of my work for me before he turns away again. Gotta remind myself to proper thank him for his help later.

“Okay. I’ll talk. Within reason.”

I allow myself the smile, this time. “Great. Let’s start nice an’ simple, shall we? What’s your name?”

“Tarrow.” He frowns a little again, looking up at Krakka. “Is he a tengu?”

“He is, yes. This is our cleric, Krakka. He serves Serena, the moon goddess. So you see, you never really had a chance out there.”

Tarrow scowls at that, but it’s half-hearted. He’s still looking at Krakka. “Why doesn’t my head hurt? I would’ve thought –”

“Yeah, I might’ve hit you a tad harder’n intended there, but Krakka healed you. You’re right as rain now.”

“You did?” He licks his lips again. “Um … thank you.”

“No need for thanks.” Krakka shoots me a look, and just for a second that reproach is back, just a hint. “My Lady helps all those in need. It was a kindness.”

“Well I’m obliged, then. I’m sorry for the words, earlier. It was … impolite.”

That seems to take Krakka aback a little, and his brows arch as he looks across at me. I’m a little surprised by it myself. “Um … sure. Accepted, I suppose.”

“So, Tarrow …” I scratch my jaw for a moment, getting back to myself. “How come you lot were sneakin’ round like that out there? Seemed a mite dumb to me.”

The boy’s frown deepens a little for a moment, and his gaze flickers round one last time. A last defiant attempt to stay quiet, but his heart ain’t in it this time. “You vanished. We were s’posed to be shadowing you, but we were told to be real discreet this time. Not get your attention. Keep back as much as we could. And we were trying real hard to do it, until suddenly we just lost you, your trail went cold. It’s this bloody place.”

“Yeah, reckon that was a stroke of luck on our part, but not so much for you. So you just stumbled across us?”

He shrugs, although it’s somewhat restricted by his bonds. “Kind of. Roe’s got a keen nose, and he sees in the dark better’n any of us, so he was in front. He smelt your horses, that kinda guided ‘im in. Didn’t count on getting that close, though.”

“Roe?” I shoot a look over my shoulder, finding that Art’s finished cleaning his weapons and is now mostly done packing up his gear too, but he’s stopped, looking our way. He caught that as well as I did. “That’d be the hob, I take it.”

Another lick of his lips, a little more defiance, gone quick enough. “Yeah, that’s him. Good man. You kill him too?”

“No, he had a brain in his skull. Reckon he figured discretion was better part o’ valour in this instance. Smart move. He’ll be back to yours pretty soon, looks like.”

“They won’t wait very long, then. They’ll be coming. You killed Onog and Ghak, an’ you killed more yesterday, and back in the city last week. Lot o’ my friends dead cuz o’ you. They don’t like you very much. I don’t, for what it’s worth.”

I have to grit my teeth to keep the retort at the back of my throat for that. Finally I look across to Krakka again, and he’s conspicuously avoiding my gaze now. I sigh. “Yeah, well it’s understandable. Folk tend to die in this business. You went after us, we responded. Don’t tend to differentiate when you’re shooting arrows an’ throwing fucking avalanches at us.”

He watches me for several moments, finally breaks contact and lets his head drop back, staring at the craggy ceiling now. “Well … shit, it’s just a job, ain’t it? For both of us.”

“Yeah, gotta agree with you on that one, though it’s a bloody cynical view for a young ‘un like you to be taking so soon. What are you, sixteen? Seventeen? You shouldn’t be in this yet, you’re just a kid.”

“Nineteen.” He shoots me a reproachful glare. “I was born into this life. I was brought up in it, found it pretty easy to pick up. Done some pretty hairy shit in my time.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” I manage to keep a rising note of condescension out my voice, but it’s a close thing. “Who hired you, then? You said it was a job. Can’t imagine someone like Min the Reckless would have any kinda use for this particular cargo.”

A subtle note of confusion crosses his face now. “How’d you … yeah, we were hired. I dunno who, some fancy elf guy, showed up two weeks ago to talk to Min. Took like two days to convince her, I heard. Something ‘bout not wanting to mess with some order. Never known anything like it before, can’t really get my head round it. She’s fearless, can’t imagine anything she wouldn’t do. He convinced ‘er, though. ‘Parently we’re gettin’ paid a shitload for this.”

To my surprise I find a hand on my shoulder now, a gentle but firm grip. Wenrich’s joined us, a cool, somewhat unreadable look on his face. Aside from his hand it’s like he’s not even acknowledging me right now, he’s focused all on the boy. “Tell me about this elf. Did you hear a name?”

Tarrow seems surprised as I am at this new arrival, looking Wenrich over with some small suspicion. If he recognises the white and silver of the cloak hanging over his shoulders he hides it impressive well. He turns back to me, thoughtful now. “No, he’s a proper High Elf, a seriously arrogant prick. Far as he’s concerned most of us don’t even exist, he’ll only deal with Min. Reckons he’s a gift from the gods or something. We never got a name.”

“What’s he look like?” I ask, giving Wenrich a pointed look that I reckon he misses entirely.

“I dunno. Tall, haughty. Skinny bugger, like elves always are. Blond, pretty pale. Real flash dresser too, reckon he’s proper rich he can afford fancy armour like that. Purple of all colours, full plate, shiny as fuck, there’s a word for it … elaborate.” He smiles a little. “Sweet sword, too. Wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that.”

Wenrich lets go of my shoulder, takes a few steps away. I watch him go, frowning deep. It’s like he’s not acknowledging anything else in the cave, he’s lost to himself right now. Might be a little shocked too, looks like. Something about that description, maybe. I need to talk to him, but not right now.

“So this flashy elf hired the mighty Min the Reckless to pilfer a box from a band of mercenaries in the mountains. That didn’t strike you as overkill?”

He chuckles, and it’s a bitter sound. “Maybe at the time. Reckon you proved me wrong since though, eh?”

“Cute.” I look across at Krakka. He’s thoughtful now, watching me again. “You don’t know what you’re going after, then? Don’t sound like he’s the type to give away that particular nugget of information.”

“You couldn’t win a fortune on an easy bet like that. Just said it wasn’t fragile, but we should take care with it all the same. Not open it, under any circumstances. Pretty adamant about that little detail.”

“So you dropped half a mountainside on us.”

“Um … yeah … that was Garnon’s idea.”

“Garnon?”

Another frown as he realises he misspoke. I stare him down until he gets I’m not gonna let the slip go. “Garnon Javette, wizard type. Dragonhalf. Works a lot with Shay.” That makes me raise a brow, and he catches it. Another pause, then he continues. “Shayline Swift-Kill. My captain. She’s who’s been followin’ you all this time. She’s sharp as that fancy thin sword she’s got, I wouldn’t fight ‘er if you paid me.”

That flashy half-orc from back in Hocknar. I saw her again next day, other side of the bridge. Reckoned she was a sharp one before, this just confirms it. It was a smart move back there in that valley, they came bloody close to pulling it off. So it was her behind that? Can’t say I’m too surprised. Nice to be able to put a name to the face, at least.

“She won’t take too kindly to this, then?”

Tarrow scowls, has another little squirm, but more just frustration than an attempt at escape. “She cares about us. Everybody under her command. We’re her friends an’ family, so yeah. She ain’t happy ‘bout how many you killed. Out there’s gonna piss ‘er off even more, reckon she’s got ‘er eye on you personal. Wouldn’t wanna be in your shoes you ever meet face-to-face, she’ll make it hurt.”

“I don’t doubt it.” I mutter, meeting Krakka’s eye again. I look down, taking a deep breath and letting out a long, frustrated sigh. Gripping my sword and flipping it up out the way, I roll sideways to step up onto my feet, and turn back to the others. “Time to go.”