Gunnar cursed to himself. Why was she bothering him now? Did she know what was going on?

It struck him that Em also knew where this crypt was currently located, which meant the Nighthawks might know as well, and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be too thrilled about him dealing with something like this on the side.

Considering Nymoria still wanted him to get in with the Nighthawks, he thought it best not to respond.

He dismissed the message and hurried out of the inner sanctum, where he found Cork and Hank the Kobold and a few others in Angus’s old loot room, quickly sifting through low-level weapons and armor to equip their very shoddy army.

“A butt-load of shite down here,” Cork muttered.

Hank held up a rusty gladius, and swung it through the air. Gunnar was pretty sure the hilt creaked with the motion. “Think I’ll carry three of these, in case of breaking.”

Gunnar nodded toward the war hammers in the corner. “Those are sturdier.”

Cork and Hank both glanced at them, then at their own small hands, then at Gunnar.

“Not for you, obviously. Give them to him.” Gunnar pointed at the mountain orc from the slaver. “What’s his name again?”

“Grippa!” Hank hollered.

The mountain orc dropped a too-small helmet he’d been trying to force onto his head and trotted over, his large boots thudding on the ground.

Gunnar momentarily regretted how quickly he’d dismissed all orc races when he’d arrived in the realms of Pantheon. The Level 12 orc hefted one war hammer in each arm and swung them with ease, a large grin stretched across his mottled face. He swung again, and nearly hit one of the goblin hobos.

“Hey, watch it!” the goblin snapped.

The mountain orc shrugged, lifted the hammers to his shoulders and sauntered out of the room.

The goblin growled with frustration, then went back to fixing a chest plate on himself.

“Go easy,” Hank said. “He is missing mer-friend.”

“What happened to the merman from the ship?” Gunnar asked.

Hank shrugged. “He is mer-people. He stays in water.”

“Makes sense,” Gunnar said. Many of them had leapt into the harbor to escape the slaver. “They were close?”

Hank just nodded.

Several of the others grabbed weapons and began making their way toward the temple entrance, where they expected to make their stand.

“Hey, make sure you’re prioritizing shields and armor!” Gunnar shouted for all of them to hear. “We’re biding time, and trying not to die.”

Cork nodded and ordered the remaining hobos to haul shields to the entrance.

Em: Sykes rounded up a whole bunch of thieves. What’s happening? Is this because of what happened at Dravingdel’s party?

Gunnar ignored her again.

“We’ve got company any minute!” Gunnar shouted. “Get to the entrance, barricade as best you can.”

Cork and Hank, who both seemed to fancy themselves in charge of the infantry, barked orders, and hurried off. Gunnar hurried after them, snatching up a wooden shield and throwing it over his back. Another message pinged.

Sheira: The Mermaid has left the building.

Gunnar: How many we facing?

Sheira: Thirty, maybe forty. Guessing they’ll split up at first. But once they realize that main chamber is blocked, they’ll all be pouring in through the temple entrance.

Gunnar: It’s small. We’ll hold them.

Sheira: Pretty sure they got some gifts from the city watch. They’ve got a couple battering rams too.

Gunnar: How big we talking?

Sheira: Some damn big logs with metal nobs at the end. Won’t do much to get past a pile of stone, but they’ll get through the temple entrance. The Red Cloaks won’t support someone like Sykes out in the open. But you can bet there’s some undercover with him too.

Gunnar: We’ll hold them. Just make sure you’re all in place when the time comes.

Sheira: Brewing up some cocktails now!

The timer had ticked down to 46:13 by the time Gunnar reached the entrance.

There were a few sarcophagi and a large wooden table shoved against the door. Judging by the fact that the walls themselves were old and crumbling with vines poking through from the outside, Gunnar did not have much hope that the barrier would last long.

“Should we try to haul more coffins from deeper in the crypt?” Cork asked.

Gunnar shook his head. “No more time. They’re on their way. And besides we’ve gotta preserve our Stamina.”

There were twenty of them total, including Gunnar. Their only hope was to find a way to filter the enemies through in small numbers. Once they broke through the door, Gunnar and his crew would retreat to a second partial barricade further back. After that, it would come down to the inner sanctum.

A huge thud resounded from the other side of the large door. The stone shifted with a loud groan, but the barricade held.

The crypt entrance rang with the drawing of blades.

“For death and glory!” Hank the Kobold growled, brandishing his rusty gladius eagerly.

Gunnar shook his head. “No way that’s them. They were at the Mermaid a few minutes ago.”

The thudding came again.

Em: Let me in! I know you’re in there. Sykes and his cronies will be here any minute.

Gunnar groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

The last thing he needed was to get the Nighthawks involved with this.

“What’s going on?” Cork asked warily.

Em: I’m trying to help, you dumb bastard!

Gunnar: I don’t need any help.

Em: The hell you don’t! I could break through this barrier myself.

Gunnar: This doesn’t concern you.

Em: You’re really going to make me break in? Because I swear to god, with a little Sheer Strength, I’ll break through this door, and then, I’ll be scratching your eyes out.

Gunnar cursed softly to himself. But at this point, she already knew something was up. And exactly where he was.

“Open the damn door,” he ordered.

“What’re yeh bloody sayin’?” Cork demanded.

“It’s a friend here to help.”

“But what if Sykes and his—”

“Just open it!”

Hank the Kobold growled. “You hear him! You dammed the door, now open it!”

Grippa the mountain orc shoved the table and sarcophagi aside, and the stone door swung in.

Em dashed in, and Grippa immediately closed the door behind her.

The young chimera woman glared at him, her cheeks flushed. “First, you leave me out like a damn bra on a clothesline. Now, you’ve got half the underbelly of Thailen after you, because of a quest I got you into, and you don’t even say anything?”

Gunnar shrugged. “Forty is hardly half the city, and we didn’t exactly part on cordial terms.”

Grippa began haphazardly recreating the barrier, but Em shoved her way in front of him, and knelt on the ground.

“I’ll tell you when we’re cordial,” she said, reaching her hands out toward one of the vines poking through a crack in the wall.

Grippa held up his thick paws with irritation, but Gunnar shook his head.

“She’s an earth mage,” he said.

A soft green luminescence extended from her fingers, prompting the vine to grow and expand, multiple shoots stretching across the entire door and branching out, attaching in cracks in the wall and the floor of the chamber. The vines criss-crossed and branched out more and more. Em continued the spell with one hand, while she reached for a root sticking up through the floor. Soon, a thick splay of roots fixed itself across the entrance and up into the ceiling, intertwining with the vines to form a veritable wall of foliage.

The timer in Gunnar’s vision read: 37:06.

Once the stone was barely visible, Em slumped back, panting for breath, her Mana completely depleted.

“That’ll hold them for awhile, at least,” she said. “Should give you time to escape. There’s a third entrance somewhere, right?”

“We’re not running.”

“Gunnar, you can’t hold this place. Sykes will be back with more.”

Gunnar sighed, but figured there was no use in secrets now. “We’re moving the crypt. We just gotta hold them for a half hour or so.”

“Moving it?”

“The Crypt Keeper is currently untethering the core.”

“Oh—well—nice, that was good thinking on her part.”

“It was my idea.”

Em smirked. “Look at you, Mr. Battle Strategist.”

“We’ll see. That wall will help. Thanks.”

“Well, my guild can’t get too involved. But they liked what you pulled last night with those slaves. Even if you did completely blow off Leilani.”

“So, you’re keeping tabs on me for them?”

“Take it as a compliment, Gunnar. You’re playing hard to get, and it’s working.”

“Does… Leilani know about this place?”

“You think Leilani doesn’t have her own stuff on the side?” Em asked. “She’s a damn noble.”

“She doesn’t care?”

“I didn’t tell her. But she’ll care if you get strung up by Sykes.”

“So she sent you.”

“I’m here because I want to be, Gunnar Ashwood.” Em brushed his arm, and Gunnar could not help but notice the unabashed grin on Hank the Kobold’s face.

“Look, kiss and make up and be done with it!” Cork muttered. “But we’ve got a bloody guild war to fight.”

Gunnar and Em both glanced at each other and blushed.

He had not forgotten about their kiss back at Dravingdel’s party. Sure, it had been meant as a distraction. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed it.

Em shoved him in the chest as if to say, You wish.

She drew a pair of short swords.

“I can hear them outside.”