Up until now it’s all gone off without a hitch. Shayline jumped in with Art and Gael and we counted down the minutes from then without hearing anything to distress us as Wenrich kept his senses open for the signal we agreed on. It didn’t come, which means they made it in without any hitches, well on the way to making the rendezvous. So the first count came to an end and it was time for stage two.

Wenrich jumped in with Yeslee and Roe, and nothing else seems to have happened since. Garnon’s kept their own magically-boosted awareness open in the meantime, leaning into tightly gripped their staff and looking down into the valley to try and catch a sign, any sign, of what might be going on below. There was a moment maybe five minutes ago where I think I might’ve seen movement near the ramparts, but I can’t be sure. It’s more likely than not though, because if it was Yeslee then the tiniest dark flicker’s likely all I’d pick up on anyway. She’ll be comfortably in place now, somewhere high where she’s got a good vantage point with wide coverage for her bow, but if we’re really lucky she won’t even be needed.

Tarrow’s getting restless now, though. Despite the calm the waiting seems to be getting to him, although in the short time we’ve really properly gotten to know him it’s become clear it doesn’t take a lot to get him worked up. He’s pacing back and forth, gripping the sword at his hip tight, clenching his free hand over and over again, every once in a while muttering to himself. And he keeps creeping back to the edge to look down, as if hoping to see some great miraculous change from last time he looked. So far he’s had no luck in that department.

As if in perfect counterpoint, Krakka’s been perfectly silent this whole time, perched on a small boulder as he cradles Bloodmoon and gently rocks back and forth with his eyes closed. The hammer’s head keeps glowing gently, off and on, as have the silver moons on his armour, meaning he’s been in communion with Serena this whole time. Praying and mustering all possible goodwill for the enterprise ahead and hoping, like me, that we won’t be needed either.

Like always, Driver 8 hasn’t moved at all. His eyes have been quite dim of late, a sign of something he’s occasionally referred to as “low power mode”, which just raises more questions than it answers for me. Maybe it’s something like what Krakka’s doing, in his own way, gathering his strength. The ways of golems remain largely mysterious to me.

“I don’t like this, it don’t feel right.” Tarrow growls now, returning to the edge to glare down at the fortress again. As if his eyes could pierce the stone and see what’s going on inside.

“Whatever happens will happen when it’s due.” I mutter from where I’m still leaning against the rockface, repeating one of the many mantras my father drilled into me over the years. “No use in trying to force it.”

“What if they need us? How do we know everything’s going smooth down there? We can’t tell from all the way up here.”

“Garnon’s listening out, like we discussed. If anything changes he’ll be the first to know.” I push away from the wall now, take a few slow, measured steps around the space, swinging my arms idly about, stretching a little. Staying limber, just in case. “Don’t forget, we’re just the backup. We’re waiting in case everything goes to hell. You shouldn’t want to get in on this thing, cuz if we are needed that means it’s all gone tits up in spectacular fashion.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Tarrow scowls, not at me, just the situation. “Don’t have to like it, mind.”

“Of course not.” I let my mace rest across my shoulder. Part of me wishes I had a shield to go with it, I’d feel a little more comfortable with that extra layer of protection, but really it’s more just for a personal sense of completion, really. Maybe I should invest in one next time we go to Murphin’s. “But it really doesn’t change anything, does it?”

He gives me a sharp look and I just stare right back. He doesn’t hold eye-contact with me for very long at all.

“That’s the end of the second count.” Garnon says after a moment, eyes blazing as they open them again. He looks to me. “Nothing’s changed so far, so it would seem everything is going smoothly still.” He shoots Tarrow a glance now, and the half-orc growls.

“Well then, that’s good.” I start to stroll towards Krakka again.

“Wait …” Garnon breathes low, and for a moment I wonder if I just misheard it, something in my head that wasn’t actually really said. But when I turn back his head’s snapped right round to face the ledge now, and he’s suddenly very stiff. “Something’s happening.”

As I move to the ledge Tarrow’s already there, looking down at the fortress. At first glance it doesn’t seem any difference, but as we watch we can make out movement from within the fortifications, suddenly people are running around with torches in the courtyards. While I can’t make out too much detail from this height, I recognise troops mustering well enough when I see it, even if they are a little more disordered and slapdash than most professional forces I’ve seen over the years. They may not be disciplined, but they are efficient.

More importantly, I can hear it. The wind’s still high up here, but enough sound is carrying from the fortress below that I can hear raised voices and clattering, urgent sounds riding the air now. That’s it, then. They’ve been discovered. How close they managed to get is immaterial.

The next thing I hear is the loud crunch of Krakka’s armoured feet landing on stone as he jumps down from his seat. When I turn he’s already regarding me with his dark-bright eyes, and while he says nothing his look tells me volumes. Driver 8’s eyes are on fire, but he still hasn’t moved, no need yet. Tarrow’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, but it’s not excitement, just tension, his face tight and eyes wide, concerned for his friends. And not just the two we sent in, either – if this really has gone so wrong, then people he knows, people he’s grown up with, come to love, family even, are likely being killed below.

Gods, I’m sorry Shay. I know we promised we’d show restraint, but that choice has been taken away. Not for the first time, I’m on the edge of a battle I ain’t too enthusiastic to get into.

“Okay, so we need to go, right?” Tarrow’s already drawn his sword, although looking at his face I’m not convinced he could actually use it, no matter how enthusiastic he’s seemed in the past. “They need us.”

“Yeah.” I sigh, turning to Big Man. “You’re clear on the plan, right? You know what to do?”

“Of course.” Driver 8 doesn’t need to nod, and in truth I don’t really need to ask either, that’s really just for my own peace of mind. He remembers everything. “You said I am the Last Resort. You will summon me only when the situation is at its most dire. I will be waiting.”

Nodding myself, I turn to Garnon, who digs through his satchel and pulls something out. It’s not one of those big egg-like stones, like I would’ve thought, but smaller, the size of a gold coin, although it seems to be made of the same stuff. He walks up to Driver 8, seeming to slow in the last few steps, and I realise it’s because he’s never actually willingly gotten this close to the golem before, and he’s understandably nervous. But he takes the final steps, holding the stone out and setting it onto Big Man’s open palm when it’s offered.

“Right.” Garnon looks to me, frowning again, then turns back to the golem. “Keep an eye on this, please. When it glows, you need to crush it in your hand. It won’t take much to do it, especially for you, I imagine. That’s all there is to it, when you do that you should be transported in an instant.”

“I shall come out swinging.” Big Man replies. I think if he was capable of expressions he actually might’ve cocked a little grin saying that.

Garnon turns back to me once more, and the expression on his face tells me he ain’t too pleased about the way the conversation’s going here. I don’t respond, really not wanting to get into the middle of this, and instead take one last opportunity to check my gear over. Things are moving very quickly now, and I hope we’re not already too late.

“All right, time to go. Everybody ready?”

Three nods is all the response I need, seems we’re all on the same page. Garnon takes a deep breath and holds his free hand out while tightly gripping his staff close to his chest, and as I approach I can just make out that he’s muttering something under his breath, too low to understand. He’s growing more uncomfortable by the moment, the implications of what he’s about to do taking hold as much as in Tarrow. I’ll admit I ain’t much more confident in him than I am in his companion right now, but I ain’t got much choice, so I take his hand.

Krakka doesn’t need encouragement, marching straight up and laying his gauntleted hand on mine while he rests Bloodmoon on his corresponding shoulder. After a long, loaded moment, Tarrow lets out a low, frustrated growl and finally walks up to put his hand on Garnon’s shoulder.

I look at each of them one at a time. “Remember, we’re going straight for the keep. If we’re lucky the others already made their ways inside, so they might already have the advantage there. If not, we gotta open the way up for ‘em, but our primary objective’s getting to Ashsong and shutting him down. Now I know you hate this, I know it goes against everything you reckon you’re capable of, you’re gonna have to hurt folk you love, maybe kill ‘em if they don’t give you a choice, but there’s no other way. We gotta stop ‘im, and we gotta do it fast. So don’t pull your punches. We good?”

“Yeah, boss.” Krakka nods.

Garnon sighs again. “Yes. You’re right, I don’t like it. But yes.”

When I turn to Tarrow, he’s frowning deeper than ever, gripping his sword so tight I hear the creak of his tendons even over the wind. He doesn’t answer for a long time, but finally growls again and it almost seems like he has to force his mouth open. “Okay.”

Looks like I’m gonna have to live with that answer. I hope he can follow through. Turning back to Garnon, I nod. “Do it.”

“Yeah … this might be rough, four is a lot for this spell. I’ll try to make it as smooth as I can.”

Frowning a little, I pull in a good deep breath and hold it. It can’t hurt, might even help. If we drop right into the middle of them I can’t afford to be wasting precious seconds trying not to throw up, I have to be battle ready the moment we touch down. Garnon speaks under his breath and I feel that awful tugging, falling sensation again and it’s like I’m being turned inside out. Suddenly the wind’s pretty much gone, as we land in the more sheltered space of the main courtyard, and I have a moment of serious dizziness as I fight to regain my balance on this perfectly level ground. Flagstones under my feet, I shouldn’t be this shaky.

Then I remember I’m holding my breath and realise I got no air left, and I gasp to pull in a fresh lungful. It’s a further moment before I realise that, while it’s not entirely gone, the nausea’s nowhere near as bad as it’s been last few times. Gotta tell Gael about this sometime, if we survive.

We scatter fast, but there’s no immediate reason, while there are folk milling about in the courtyard there’s no one close at this precise moment. As I watch a substantial group are a clustered around a doorway on the right beside what looks like a large meeting hall I can only imagine is the mess, and it seems they’re all jostling to be first through the door. Somebody didn’t get so far as we would’ve liked, then. Gods, we need to fix that, so I do the only thing I can think of.

“HEY!!! MORONS!!! OVER HERE!!!”

Once again I wish I had a shield with me, so I could bash my mace against it to make even more noise. My shout works well enough under the circumstances though, one of the ones at the back of the crush turning to me, and there’s a moment he just blinks, surprised, unable to make sense of what he’s seeing, I think. Then he snaps out of it, slaps the orc next to him on the shoulder and they look back too, and the message quickly radiates through the group. More turn to face us, so it looks like it worked.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tarrow hisses at me, wide-eyed, dropping into a defensive stance ten feet to my left.

“What I can.” I growl back, dropping into my own ready guard.

Through the corner of my right eye I see Krakka take a casual swing at the air with his hammer before bringing it up beside his head, winding up for the first hit when it comes. He’s smiling a little, finally relieved the waiting’s over at least. Every inch of silver on him is searing with light already. Even Garnon, who’s fishing through his satchel at the extreme end of our line on the right, seems surprised by it.

As the majority of the force jostling at that entrance finally turn to face us, forgetting their original call to duty in light of this more immediate threat, I breathe a small sigh of relief. Whoever it is they were going to fight, hopefully I cleared some of the threat they were facing out the way, least for now. I raise my free hand and beckon, and I’d stick my tongue out and waggle at ‘em too if they could clearly make it out behind my helmet.

“Kesla!” Tarrow hisses at me “Seriously, what about the plan?”

“We’re improvising.” I growl back, giving the mace as much of a flourish as I can manage given its weight and balance, and the results are a good deal more impressive than I expected. “Giving the others a little more time.”

Through the corner of my left eye I see the boy open his mouth, frowning, then stop himself. He finally nods, but looks awful bitter about it. “I … I’m not sure I can do this.”

“There’s no way round it.” I tighten up a little more, fractionally tightening my stance as the rallying fighters start working themselves up enough to attack. Must be thirty of ‘em now, it’s a crazy imbalance of odds to be facing. Truth is I don’t know how long we’ll actually last here. “It’s them or you, Tarrow. Kill or be killed.”

He growls again, tensing like I have. He snarls, readying his sword as he tightens up. Working up his nerve as much as these men are, getting his blood good and hot and getting ready to kill, whether these are his friends or not. Don’t reckon they’ll be making any more distinction seeing him here with us now.

“Come on.” I mutter under my breath, half to myself but also to the growling, snarling, roaring mass of ill-disciplined muscle arrayed across from us, and I give my mace one last swing for a little more encouragement. “COME ON!!!”

They finally charge as I roar, the ones in front belting out some throaty battle cries, and those behind are essentially pulled along by the slipstream of their fury. I tense up one last fraction and prepare my first swing.

Arrows start shrieking in from right over our heads, coming scary fast and aimed with disturbing accuracy, and the first few drop long before they reach us. Long, black arrows that hit their targets with the force of an ogre’s punch, knocking them off their feet and ploughing the next few men behind them down in the process. I fight the urge to turn and check behind, knowing Yeslee’s up there on the ramparts just like I thought she would be, covering us now, instead readying myself for the ones still coming, even Yeslee’s truly terrifying shooting not enough to completely stop the charge.

Just before the first wave hits at least four on the extreme right are engulfed in an instant by a blazing explosion that shakes the entire courtyard, and I feel the heat flaring right over me, it’s so intense. Thanks for that, Garnon. I swear, one of these days a bloody fireball’s gonna be the death of me. It’s done its second intended job though, rattling others enough to prove a viable distraction.

The first to reach me must be one of the more focused ones, or just brave as hell, but then he is an orc, eyes blazing bright red as he raises his double-headed battleaxe. I shift for the blow and turn it aside, planting my feet as I turn my body and putting all the force I can into my counter, and smash the handle and pommel hard into his jaw off the back of my right hand. His jaw’s like a rock, but it still cracks under the blow, and I shove through it while he’s unbalanced, throwing him down to my side. I lift my feet then and let myself step into a spin through my own momentum, and I spin the mace round with my while I’m doing it, building up enough force through it that I stave the skull of the human behind him open on the backswing. He goes limp in an instant and all I have to do is step aside.

My first opponent ain’t done yet, but I keep track of him as he staggers back up, shaking his rattled head but still in the fight enough to remain a threat. He drags his axe up off the ground and immediately turns his recovery into an attack, intending to swing from below and chop up into me. I respond by raising my left foot and stomping down on the weapon as it whips towards me, catching it high on its shaft and smashing the whole thing down to the flagstones, causing the orc to stumble again with it. Even before my feet are planted again I’m bringing another swing down from on high, and the mace catches him with full force on his upper back, the thick leather of his cuirass splitting under the impact while the blow drives him the rest of the way down. He grunts, badly winded, and spits blood. I don’t give him time to recover, one last blow cracks his skull open.

I spin round, not expecting a respite and almost validated to find more coming despite several having already been felled by black arrows. They’re not as fast or fiery as they were at the start of their charge, but those who weren’t properly cowed by the threat are still very much in the fight. Just as the next ones rush me I catch a great white flash through the corner of my eye and see three go down in a line from a great smiting bolt from Bloodmoon. Krakka’s giving good as I am, then.

Two more orcs charge me, and I scramble back a few steps with as much control as I can muster to give myself time to prepare. Thankfully they haven’t yet seen fit to gang up on me all at once, the one in lead’s clearly shoved the other out of the way in his enthusiasm to get at me and that’s probably a mistake. I pull down low, cocking the mace under me and swinging up hard, and he’s not fast enough in his counter to parry the blow as I catch him under the chin. I hit with all the force I can and his head snaps up so fast I hear his neck break along with his jaw.

His comrade shoves the faltering body out of the way without consideration and brings his big broadsword round in a wild haymaker, roaring with due savagery as he puts everything into it. Knowing there’s no way I can deflect the force of this one, I simply throw myself forward and drop into a roll past his feet, not realising until I’ve done it that I didn’t account for the extra weight I’m carrying. I don’t quite make the recovery on the other side and wind up on my arse as he flounders round to find me again, already winding up another stroke intended to smash down on top of me. I swing the mace out one-handed with my right and smash it through his ankles, whipping his feet out from under him.

Getting to one knee up wastes precious seconds, but thankfully he’s too busy sprawling in a furious heap to take advantage. A small part of me curses myself for forgetting that additional weight, even spread out as it is and not too great a load, but even so it’s been a while since I’ve worn such heavy armour and I haven’t had a chance to retrain with it yet, so I’ve forgotten the difference. That could have been a costly mistake, and while I’m still down on one knee another attacker rushes me, a large human in half-plate wielding longsword and handaxe.

She’s raging hard but clearly well-trained, and her slice is well aimed, I’m barely able to bring my counter up in time to parry the blow two-handed across the shaft of the mace. She follows through with a hack of her axe and all I can do is try to duck out the way, bringing my arm up as I do. The axe smacks hard into my vambrace and stops dead, but I still feel the hit and the dull pain of the bludgeoning is enough to spur a little more anger in me. I let go of the mace with my left hand and swing hard with my right, and she’s not quick enough to bring her sword up in time to deflect it. The flanged head of the mace turns the lower half of her face into mulch and she just drops.

If the orc had any sense right now he’d just come at me from behind without making any undue sound, but his blood’s up and he’s so full of battle rage he can’t think straight. He bellows at me to face him with honour and as I finally stand up again I turn to face him as requested, already winding up with the mace again. He’s a little unsteady on his feet now, looks like my ankle-blow might’ve broken something, but he’s fighting through it like I would’ve expected, letting it add to his fury to make him stronger. He hefts the sword again and doesn’t try any big swings this time, he just rushes me with the point aimed at my middle like a lance as he comes.

The charge is fast and hard and almost catches me off guard, if he’d been a little more focused he might’ve done. Hell, if he’d really been thinking he wouldn’t have called me out first, he would’ve just tried to run me through from behind while I was finishing the woman off. Instead I sidestep and bring the mace up, smashing the sword away and ruining his charge as I force his arms up and unbalance him, and as he starts to stagger I turn my upswing round behind him. The mace pulverises the back of his skull and he faceplants as his remaining forward momentum takes him several more feet across the now blood-slick flagstones. On the way his raised sword skewers another man who was charging in, and he’s forced down to his knees with three feet of jagged orcish steel rammed through him, staring down in utter disbelief while blood pours from his mouth.

“Kesla!” Krakka yells at me, snapping me out of the momentary reverie this surprising event promotes. I turn to find him standing amongst several sprawled corpses, smashed and broken but more than one also smoking somewhat, I can only imagine due to Serena’s searing light. “We need to move!”

“I know.” I mutter, looking round at the others. Tarrow seems to have gotten over any lingering reluctance he might’ve had pretty fast, but the heat of battle tends to do that, although his hot orcish blood probably helped there. There’s a fair few dead scattered round him too, and as I watch he finishes another, moving with impressive, skilful speed I reckon I saw before with Shayline, making me wonder if she was the one who trained him. Any lingering hang-ups left about killing his friends are forgotten as he turns the human’s sword with ease and follows through beautifully, ramming his longsword into his opponent’s chest. It’s only when the man falters that I see the conflict flicker across Tarrow’s face, his jaw tight and eyes brimming, and as his knees give out the boy lowers him gently, letting him settle on his side. An unbidden sob escapes Tarrow’s mouth as he crouches, waiting for him to die before finally tugging his sword free again.

“Tarrow!” He doesn’t respond to my call, so I repeat it more forcefully, and this time he finally twitches, turning to me with tears cutting streaks through the blood splashed across his face. “C’mon! We gotta make the keep!”

For a few moments he just glares back at me, mouth open now, and I wonder if he wants to respond with some insult or worse just scream his anguish to the heavens, but his eyes are locked on mine, blazing hot and red as the blood painting him. His friends’ blood. There’s a long, drawn out moment I’m genuinely unsure he’s still on our side, but then he shakes his head, lets out an angry snarl and swipes his wrist across his eyes, only to smear more blood across his face in the process. He breaks off and moves to join us.

Turning myself, I face the keep now, our original objective when we jumped in. The gate’s still open, men pouring through the entrance now, likely planning to take us in our backs while we were dealing with our more immediate enemies. They’re still coming, and I stiffen, ready for them, only for half to get downed by a volley from Yeslee. Then Garnon raises his hands, staff still ready in one, and whips them both across.

No finesse this time, nothing fancy, no big fireballs or force blasts or lightning or whatever else he might have up those voluminous sleeves I ain’t seen yet. He just picks up the remaining men with his mind and tosses ‘em aside, hurling them several feet to sprawl across the flagstones some distance away. Many don’t seem up to rising again.

With the way clear for now, we move fast, Garnon already heading for the gate, and I follow him, clapping Krakka on the shoulder as I pass him. Tarrow’s close behind, and we’re already close to our objective when they drop the portcullis.

Shit. They block the gate before we get to it and it’ll slow us down, we gotta keep this momentum up. Thankfully Garnon’s already close, and as I watch that intimidating gridwork of thick iron bars plunge into the entranceway he raises his hands again and clutches a fist while speaking a fresh incantation. The portcullis stops halfway down and the whole thing just … twists, bending on itself and curling upwards as it’s turn open and everything just arcs up round the stone of the archway. When it finally finishes dropping into place there’s more than five feet of clearance torn from it, easily enough to duck through.

“Go!” I shout at the others as I put on a fresh burst of speed and charge the gate, already overtaking Garnon as he falls back to look back into the courtyard. Krakka stays hard at my back with Tarrow close behind, and I power through the gap, already prepared to kill whatever I find on the other side.

Which happens to be just a boy, armoured up with sword and axe in hand but altogether too green to be in this kind of situation. He sees me in full armour with my helmet on, liberally splattered with the blood of his friends and my teeth bared while I’m hefting my mace and he freezes on the spot, eyes going very wide indeed. I stop before I can finish my swing but it’s a close thing, and for a moment we just stare at each other, although he’s far more scared than I am. He blinks a few times and falters a touch, and I press the advantage, unleashing my most bloodthirsty howl in his face. He screams too and drops his weapons, breaking fast as he turns tail and runs back into the corridor beyond.

It’s quite tight in here, a sharp right turn just inside the gateway where two unarmoured people could just pass each other by, winding round the curve of the keep itself, and I’m sure there’s stairs ahead leading upwards. The builders of these fortifications wouldn’t have wanted to make it easy on anyone trying to fight their way in. Listening, I hear shouting from somewhere ahead, or more above really, and there’s the sound of feet and clattering gear approaching. Okay, company’s coming.

“Okay, don’t let ‘em press an advantage.” I growl over my shoulder to the others. “We gotta get through here now.”

I feel a hand touch my arm, coming up from below, and don’t have to look to know it’s Krakka, the feel of his heavy gauntlet enough for me to recognise. He mutters under his breath, an incantation or prayer or whatever, and I feel something come into me now, recognising the blessing. It’s been a little while. I don’t resist for a second, Serena’s light’s becoming a warm and familiar balm to me as I let him work his god magic. I feel the strength return to my limbs as the fatigue the fight in the courtyard’s put in me peels away and I feel strangely refreshed again. But it’s my steel, I can feel it in each of my weapons, not just the mace in my hands but the axes on my back, Hefdred on my hip, even the knives tucked away in place all over me, and every lame of my armour. The blades growing hot, but not unbearably so, and I can at least see the mace is glowing now, just like his hammer does, while the armour simply develops a subtle shimmer. Right now each I’m practically a holy weapon, and I’ll stay that way for the next hour. I just hope the fight don’t last longer’n that.

Okay … might be I can make this work. Taking a deep breath, I realise just how strong I actually feel right now, so I stalk forward with great purpose now, moving round the turn as I slip the mace back into place in its harness and cinch it tight, then reach up and slip the axes free instead. I don’t give them a flourish this time, mindful of what space I actually have to work with right now, and instead simply square my shoulders and set my jaw. The stairs start to come into view round the corner same time the first wave reaches the bottom.

The orc in front bellows as he rushes me, and in here the sound’s near deafening. I respond in kind, doubling my pace to charge to mee him, and I duck the swing as he makes it, letting his momentum smash his battleaxe into the wall with a great crack and ring of juddering steel. The pain’s clear on his face as he’s jarred by the reverberations, and I’m already taking advantage, hacking into his torso, one, two, three. The third blow sinks deepest and he coughs blood into my face, but most just hits the helmet and I don’t even need to blink it from my eyes. I shuck the blades free and shoulder-check him aside, already stalking past as he drops to take on the man behind him.

Some of these are more heavily armoured than those we’ve encountered before, not regular raiders now but clearly heavy fighters kept in reserve for when things get hairy. Their mixed mail and plate’s largely mismatched and patched together, but looks effective enough, seems like some of these are gonna be more even matches than I faced so far coming in. If it weren’t for Krakka …

As I dodge the sword swing the man brings his axe round to counter and I smash it aside, my own axe actually sparking when it makes contact with his weapon, which promptly shatters on impact. His eyes widen as he looks down at the splintered shaft of wood in his hand, some errant slivers of wood driven into his hand from the force of the explosion, and when the pain finally hits he screams, floundering as he tries to bring his sword round again. I don’t give him a chance, swinging the other axe round and letting the white hot blade shear his neck like it’s made of butter.

Seeing this, the eyes of the man behind widen considerably, and that momentary hesitation’s all I need as I shove the faltering headless body aside and rush him. I don’t swing, instead barging him aside with my elbow and swinging back with my left-hand axe as he stumbles, catching the back of his skull and splitting it like a melon. The half-orc behind ain’t ready in time and I let my momentum carry me forward, ramming hard into her with my shoulder and pushing hard. Her feet go out from under her and she’s just carried back into those behind her, and as I start to force my way up the winding stairs they’re bunching up.

I keep going until I start meeting real resistance, then give one last serious shove before stepping back. Half a dozen go down in one go, and as they sprawl on the uneven stairs they’re completely unbalanced, floundering in a yelling, grunting tangle. I don’t pause, I just lunge straight in, hooking the half-orc’s own battleaxe aside with my own in my left before I bring the right-hand down to chop a deep gouge right through the plates on her otherwise unprotected chest. I shove her aside as she coughs up blood and follow through on the two men tangled together behind her, decapitating one while he tries to extricate his sword. The other barely manages to bring his axe up in time to parry my first chop, but when the axe shears clean through the shaft I don’t even need to hook it away so I bring the other axe over right after. He raises his arm to try and ward me off and the searing edge cleaves clean through his wrist, bracer and all, before sinking deep into his skull without further resistance.

The rest are struggling to their feet, but the steps below them are blocked by bodies now, and they can’t reach me without chancing more treacherous terrain. Same time I’m gonna have a little more trouble making my way up too … maybe I didn’t think this out right, but I’m mostly going with my battle-rage right now. Taking just a breath to adjust, I push right on, clambering up and hoping for the best, somehow finding strong enough footing I don’t stumble as I climb.

First one I meet’s a half-orc who’s still getting to his feet, and he swings wildly at me as I press forward, missing as I duck aside and while he’s still floundering I follow through with a hard chop that cleaves clean through his knee and forces him down again. He snarls in shock as the stump spurts, tries another swing without calculating first, and I knock his sword aside with my left-hand axe while I’m still pushing upwards, getting close enough to attack in earnest. I swing for his head but he ducks aside just in time and my right-hand axe cuts deep into the step behind with a great crunching sound, the cloven stone hissing a little from the heat as I pull it free. He throws his free arm back to foul mine as I start to withdraw and for a moment we’re wrestling clumsily, while more are descending from above while I’m occupied. Growling, I headbutt him in the face and pull free as he flops back with his nose shattered by my helmet, then sever his sword-arm at the elbow and follow through by sinking the axe in my left into his skull, dragging it free as he start to slump.

Struggling to regain my balance, I stumble into the wall on the right and work to find my footing again on the steps. The attackers above press their advantage and I pull low into myself to present a smaller target for them, planting my feet as much as I can while I tense, waiting for them as I evaluate my best chances. A female orc comes first, roaring loud as she rushes me with broadsword swinging down at me, and I push away from the wall at the last so her swing goes wide, screeching loudly down the hard granite of the wall. I swing as she stumbles, overextended on the backend of the attack, and my axe catches her high in her back, shearing the plate with the ease of holy light and sinking deep, severing her spine and cleaving through her heart before I whip it back at the last. The blade shucks free without resistance and I’m already climbing past as her body starts to tumble down the stairs.

Letting out a fresh battle cry, I square my shoulders and pound on, those closest definitely starting to think twice when they see it. The young man who finds himself in my path certainly didn’t realise what he was getting himself into, eyes wide as he fumbles his defence badly, starting to pull back when he sees me coming but not fast enough to save himself. I batter his long-shafted axe aside mainly just to clear the way for my attack and ultimately don’t even bother swinging, instead hooking his leg out from under him so he crashes down the stairs. I just give him a little push with my boot on the way past and he doesn’t even manage to scream as he keeps tumbling, ultimately just a surprised whoop before he starts bouncing.

The tight confines of the winding stair are supposed to work to the advantage of the defenders here, making it so that a few deft fighters can hold a gap against many, but I’m pressing too hard and fast for them to take advantage here. I swing savage as I can as the next bunch come, cutting the knees out under the next man to come descend close and then chopping into his shoulder and back as he stumbles past me. With a furious snarl I charge right on, battering aside another broadsword and laying open the chest of the half-orc woman wielding it. This time I don’t let the body drop but instead shove my shoulder into it and start pushing, shoving upwards as I go to barge into the next few attackers before they can ready themselves.

I’m still running on fury and adrenaline, I’m not feeling fatigue from all this climbing and fighting yet, but that little voice in the back of my mind’s warning me that it’s coming. Right now I’m focused on trying to power my way up as fast and hard as I can, hoping I can make it all the way up before I start crashing through sheer rage and stubbornness. So I ain’t paying attention to where I am or what’s going on round me beyond what immediately affects me, not even what’s going on behind me, in truth I got no idea what’s going on with my friends right now. I’m just taking this one opponent at a time and hoping for the best.

So it’s almost a surprise when I give the body one last shove, knocking another young man down under it and hacking his skull open while he stumbles, then the way just opens up. I’m a little taken aback by suddenly finding nothing ahead but open space, and I stumble a little against the wall in my disorientation. Beyond is what I could best describe as an oversized staging area, nothing in this large, vaulted room but a simple, rough weave carpet and racks lining the wall that might once have held weapons when this was still a military outpost.

Now I’m not in the thick of the fight I’m able to take in my surrounds again, and I chance a sidelong glance behind me to find the others are making their way up behind me, taking considerable care navigating the now more treacherous, corpse-strewn steps. Tarrow and Garnon are close, while Krakka just now appears round the long, curving corner below, liberally splashed with gore like I must be and I realise he must’ve been fighting a rearguard action. In truth, he’s probably the perfect height to defend a staircase this steep.

All at once the sheer exhaustion hits me and I pant and wheeze as I fight to regain my breath, finally aware of the clammy slick of sweat covering me under the armour. I blink it from my eyes too as I cast about the room beyond, seeing no-one but not buying it for a second after the fight I just had. Gritting my teeth, I force myself up the last few steps and onto the platform beyond, finding myself four steps up from the open floor below. Just as someone springs from the left like I already half expected.

The moment I’m attacked the fatigue just seems to vanish, and I’m already countering as the broadsword swings at me, the cut low and swift and frighteningly well-aimed. I barely knock it aside in time and instead of replying I throw myself back hard. My feet meet nothing but empty air, I’ve run myself off the platform, but I catch myself in time to prevent a tumble and instead turn it into a fighting retreat, turning my stumble into a dodge as a second attack whistles bare inches over my head. I turn my body into the clumsy landing and throw myself forward, accounting for all the extra weight as I roll. Spinning fast when I regain my feet, I skip back and clear as much space as I can from my attacker, using this significant stretch of open space to my advantage now.

When I see my attacker squaring off a well-judged distance away I give him a quick, calculating once-over. it’s a hobgoblin like Roe, but this one’s smaller, although that’s not so easy to catch since he’s pretty bulked out in one of the ugliest suits of pieced-together plate armour I even seen. That said, it’s more attractive than he is, his features have been liberally mangled with a selection of ruinous scars that’d offer stiff competition to old Jakul Murphin’s mangled visage, not least that torn cheek giving him a permanent sneer. Most dramatic of all are his horns, their curves particularly elaborate as they spread out from either side of his head, but this pair also look to have been liberally marred over the years.

Going by Shayline’s descriptions of potential key obstacles we might encounter, this must be Noric the Shameless. Shay was particularly adamant in her warning when talking about this one – anyone who crosses blades with him is gonna be in for one hard fight. Looking at him now I don’t doubt it.

Movement behind him grabs my momentary attention as I see the others finally arrive at the top of the stairs. Tarrow and Garnon both freeze seeing me squaring off against this new arrival, and a moment later Krakka shoves past them as he sees my predicament, immediately preparing to back me up. I point my right-hand axe his way and wave him off. “Just leave ‘im! I got this, just keep going!”

“Kesla –”

“Go!!” I wave to the side now, indicating the left-hand doorway at the back of the chamber, leading upstairs to where we should find our target if the plan’s been thought out right. “Find Ashsong. End this.”

Krakka frowns deep, and if he had teeth I know he’d be gritting them now. He takes one more step, starting to heft Bloodmoon, but stops short again. He gives me a long, hard look, then growls. “Watch yourself, dammit.” He signals to the others and starts to circle wide, going for the door I’ve already indicated. Garnon follows with one short, complicated look at Noric, but Tarrow seems more reluctant to move.

Looking at the boy, I’m really not sure whether he wants to help me or rejoin his original friend. Once again I wonder if this might all be a bit much for him. His blade is slick and he’s even bloodier now, but this could be as much of a trigger as anything else. Then he looks at me and when I nod, he only takes a moment to return it. Although the reluctance is still there, he follows the others.

Then they all pause on their way and I take a chance turning away from the hob now to risk looking over my shoulder, just in time to see the someone appear in the opposite doorway to the one we intended to take. I glimpse pale blonde hair and even paler skin, but more importantly I spot that gleaming purple armour and realise this is the man himself, my blood quickening seeing him. Part of me wants to break away from my challenge right now and go for him, but something checks me. He’s still in motion with something in his hands.

Ashsong mutters under his breath and something flares in his eyes, a subtle flash of green, I’m not even sure I really see it. He throws the objects into the middle of the room, right at my friends, and I realise it’s three more of those strange stones. Ah shit …

They burst in the air long before touching the floor, and again that strange emptiness opens up, hanging for a moment while several bodies drop through each brand new, substantial portal. Too many for me to count in a glance, but it’s a sizeable force in this suddenly small chamber, rough guess there’s now at least forty new arrivals dropped in the midst of us.

“Shit!” I hiss, and as I whip my head back to face the hob he’s just been waiting this whole time, and the grin he gives me’s just awful to behold.

Looking at ‘em, we got a span of seconds ‘fore we lose all advantage here, we learned from experience they’re only gonna be distracted and disoriented for a span of seconds. I round on Garnon and snarl: “Do it! Now!”

They look at me for what feels like too long with the weight of time bearing down on us, then realisation dawns and their eyes widen. “Now? Are you … I can’t … what?”

“DO IT!!! NOW!!!”

For another beat I reckon they’re gonna argue, they’re balking hard and given what I’m suggesting I don’t blame ‘em, but they reach into their satchel and pull another of those stones out. The crowd are starting to realise we’re here now, and they’re squaring up. We’re outta time.

They toss it into the middle of the room with a muttered incantation and it shatters in flight, another great weird void opening in the air before something huge drops from the empty air. When Driver 8 lands on the carpeted stone of the floor the great boom of his impact rocks the whole place, and for a moment everyone’s shaken off their balance. As we all fight to regain it those closest to the golem start to realise what’s just appeared in the middle of room, immediately registering everything that’s going on around him, and screams of pure terror start to sound.

I just drop into a ready guard and roar at the top of my lungs: “GET TO THE DOOR!!! GO NOW!!! FUCKING MOVE!!!” Then I square on Noric the Shameless and charge.