Everyone in the room went silent, and Gunnar listened closely for commotion outside.

Hank the Kobold shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Gunnar skeptically. He met Em’s gaze, but she nodded assuredly.

“Chimera, remember?” she whispered, pointing to her ears.

Thirty seconds later, Gunnar heard the drone of indistinguishable voices, the plodding of feet, and the ringing of weapons beyond the crypt’s walls.

Then, silence.

Gunnar’s companions looked to him. He held up a closed fist, to signal for them to remain still.

The timer read: 28:23.

The crypt was unmarked on his own city map, and there were a few other doors to check on that small street behind the temple. But surely, it wasn’t possible that Sykes’ crew hadn’t found the entrance, particularly with Kohli’s help.

What are they waiting for?

A jarring boom shook the chamber, raining crumbling pieces of stone down from the ceiling.

A pause.

Then, another thunderous pound against the door. The vines and roots kept the door from instantly exploding at the impact, but Gunnar worried the entire chamber might cave in around the door, even if it held.

One more blow sent a large crack shooting up the largest tree root, and chunks of stone the size of skulls shattered on the ground around them. One of the human hobos cried out as a jagged shard crushed his shoulder. The man tried lifting his arm, but groaned at the attempt and let it hang useless at his side. He picked up his gladius with his good hand.

“Back up the corridor,” Gunnar whispered sharply. “All of you!”

The mountain orc, Grippa, pulled the table and sarcophagi back to blockade the hall beyond the entrance, but it was little more than a hindrance.

“Gunnar, you can still make a run for it,” Em said.

But he shook his head.

“This is the only home we’ve got,” Cork said.

“Must defend it,” said Hank.

Em grinned, drawing a bow and a quiver of arrows from her Inventory. “Well, all right then.”

There was a pause in the pounding, then a voice boomed through a small gap in the door where the stone had crumbled completely away.

“Gunnnnaarrr!”

It was Kohli.

He could just make out the thief’s face through the foliage. Gunnar stooped down so that he could meet his loathsome gaze.

“What? Sykes too much of a coward to come for me himself?”

“Oh, you’ll meet Sykes soon enough,” Kohli said.

Kohli didn’t know he was on a time crunch, and Gunnar decided to try to milk that for all it was worth.

“How’s it feel to still be Sykes’ lap dog?”

Kohli grunted. “You poked the wrong beast, Ashwood.”

“Yeah, you’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? Was it fun having your guts ripped out by my wolf?”

“You don’t have your wolf anymore.”

“I’ve bested you every chance I’ve had. You really think this time is going to be any different?”

“The only way you’ve won is by stabbing me in the back.”

Gunnar shrugged. “No honor amongst thieves. You taught me that well enough.”

“You pissed off a lot of powerful people in this city. And not just at Dravingdel’s party. We know it was you who robbed that trader. But Sykes ain’t itching for a slaughter. If you give up what you took and throw in those damn hobos, we’ll let you go free.”

The hobos and slaves glanced at him, but Gunnar shook his head. He doubted it was a genuine offer anyway, but there was no way in hell he was going to turn these people over to Sykes.

“Don’t know about any trader,” Gunnar said.

Kohli stepped back for a moment and muttered something to one of his companions. Gunnar pointed to Em and motioned towards the hole.

The thief’s face appeared again.

With a surge of green earth magic, one of the vines shot out and struck Kohli straight in the eye. He staggered back moaning and cursing, while a series of angry shouts rang out from the street.

The timer read: 21:19.

Em closed off the gap in the door with another surge of magic.

“Nothing changes, Gunnar!” Kohli shouted. “You’re always two steps behind!”

“Whatever you say.”

“You’re not the only one who can stall for time.”

Kohli laughed darkly and barked an order.

A faint boom echoed up the hall from the depths of the crypt, the floors rumbling softly beneath their feet.

“What’s that?” Hank asked.

Gunnar had experienced a couple small earthquakes in his life, and this felt eerily similar, though that made no sense.

“Maybe it’s the battering rams at the other end,” Cork said tremulously.

A terrified look stretched across Em’s face, and she shook her head. “You’ve got another blockade, right?”

Gunnar nodded. “Outside Angus’s old loot room. But we’ve gotta hold them off here first.”

“It’s too late for that,” Em said, backing away and tugging on Gunnar’s wrist. “We’ve got to fall back. Now!”

“What’s she bloody—”

But Cork never finished.

The door, Em’s wall of foliage, and the rest of the chamber wall—all of it went up in a blinding explosion. Gunnar and Em were thrown back into the corridor and enveloped in smoke and dust.

Stones flew over their heads, and the hall filled with cries and groans as debris rained down on them.

The roar of crumbling rock was deafening.

The chamber went dark.

***

Gunnar coughed violently, barely able to see anything in the smoke and darkness. He could feel Em beside him, her knee or something digging into his back. He turned and reached for her, but realized that wasn’t her at all. It was the curl of a root jabbing into him. The ground rumbled beneath him, but the roar subsided. He checked his status bars.

[Health 80% - You’ve sustained damage, but nothing critical.]

Gunnar groaned, debris falling off him as he shifted.

It was so dark. And silent.

A pang of worry tore at his gut. Gunnar scrambled to his hands and knees and hit his head on something hovering directly over him.

Someone coughed nearby, and in an instant, the chamber lightened significantly, as Em withdrew the covering of roots she’d formed as the explosion hit them.

Relief washed over him. He crawled over jagged debris to Em and gripped her hand. “You all right?”

She nodded. Her Health was still around 60%, though her Stamina and Mana were both low. She slowly rose to her knees and glanced into the slowly fading plume behind them.

The chamber filled with coughs as the dust settled. Gunnar grimaced as he took in the carnage. Em hadn’t had the power to protect them all. One of the goblins had been completely crushed. His partner, Luda, knelt beside a massive chunk of wall the size of a small car, clutching his hand, the only part of him still visible beneath the rock.

A cheer rose up from the street and light poured in through the gaping hole left behind after the explosion.

“Death and glory!” Hank the Kobold shouted, rising to his feet. Some of the others joined him, though it was half-hearted.

They were clearly outmatched. Several were dead and most were injured.

Em gripped his shoulder, which caused him to wince from the minor blow he’d sustained.

They looked to Gunnar.

He rose to his feet and drew the saber he’d pulled from a Red Cloak at Dravingdel’s party. “For Glory. But I’d just as soon stay alive.”

Hank the Kobold snarled with delight, and the others drew their weapons.

“Why aren’t they attacking yet?” Cork asked.

“Gunnar, that other explosion must have come from the other chamber,” Em said.

“A blast like this one could have been big enough to breach that barricade,” Cork said.

“They’re waiting for the others to surround us,” Gunnar realized aloud. “Fall back! All of you! Fall back!”

There was a mad scramble, made no easier by the debris and bodies littering the chamber. They’d lost four for sure, maybe more.

But there was no time to dwell on it now.

A pair of large orcs shoved aside the remains of the stone door, and Kohli’s crew attacked.