“Damn, he is good. Araxesendenak wasn’t kidding.”

The voice was male and squeaky and came from Sam’s left. He glanced that way, but saw no one. The map, still up in his display, showed a red dot maybe forty feet distant.

Invisibility. He got it in an instant. His attackers were invisible. But for some reason the dungeon map still showed them. Either that was a feature of the map, or it was a bug in their spell. Either way, it negated part of their tactical advantage.

“Put down your weapon and throw up your hands, kid,” another voice, female and gravely, said from his right. “You ain’t gonna win this fight.”

“What fight?” A third voice asked, high-pitched and of indeterminate gender, came from right ahead of him. Gnome. He recognized the timbres. “Massacre, maybe. Drop it bubba, or we drop you. Araxesendenak is paying for live goods, but he didn’t say nothing about ‘undamaged’. How many pieces would you like to be delivered in?”

Well. That explained what was going on here, at least. He glanced at his map. The dots were closing in slowly. Presumably a spellcaster, a ranged weapon specialist, and probably a melee fighter too just to keep it balanced.

An adventuring party. Sent to capture me. Must have been sent before he teleported in. Before he even thought about it, for them to have gotten here so fast. Unless they were quartered nearby.

And if they were quartered nearby… There weren’t any large dungeons in this part of the country. That was why Araxesendenak had hired Pop. Which meant there was a chance they weren’t very high level. And that they might be making the mistake of thinking he was just like any other 8th level, strong but only by non-adventurer standards.

I could teleport back to the dungeon. Get help. Ma and Pop could sort these three out in a second.

It was the best course of action for certain. He might—might—be able to handle three mid-level adventurers by himself… But there were too many unknowns. Like himself, their levels wouldn’t show what kind of magical gear they might have accumulated, or what disposable items they might have access to. And—

And this wasn’t like fighting against Rakun or his undead. These were people. From the way they talked, from the tactics they used, they were at least somewhat seasoned and used to working together. He could stand toe-to-toe against unthinking mobs all day long and twice on Sunday. Against real adventurers, people who did this for a living?

So he opened his menu and prepared to teleport home. He selected the Guardian Teleport power—

*Error: Teleportation disabled while within anti-teleportation field.*

He stared at the error message flashing in his display. No, no he couldn’t have done something that stupid, could he? Hastily he brought up his map… And there it was, an anti-teleport field, the very one he had just constructed a few hours before, blanketing the map for a good mile in any direction.

He swore internally as the red dots came closer. He’d forgotten to set a damn exception for himself when he’d put the things up! Of all the stupid, dumb-ass mistakes…

“Last chance kid,” the gnome voice called out. “Drop the hammer or I put one through your kneecap.”

Shit. He was caught. He couldn’t call for help, couldn’t teleport away, couldn’t see to fight…

But then an idea popped into his head. The way they approached him, they either didn’t know about his teleportation ability or didn’t believe it. And why should they? Teleportation required a full room of equipment to support it. Resonance generators, epsilon mirrors, a metric buttload of mana batteries hooked up in alternating sequences to regulate the current… Personal teleportation spells were things of fantasy stories and bards’ tales.

Which means they probably didn’t know about the anti-teleport field. And if they didn’t know about either of those things, they were probably just planning on tying him up and throwing him over the back of a horse or something, which would eventually take him out of range.

All he had to do was go with them, and wait.

Okay. He could do that.

Slowly, he bent down and dropped Thumb Bane at his feet. Then he straightened and held up his hands. If they didn’t know about his ability to teleport, perhaps he could turn this to his advantage. Learn more of them, and their plans. Perhaps take them by surprise when their invisibility came down.

“Smart boy,” the gnome’s voice purred. “Bennet, lock him down.”

“Right. Don’t move, kid.”

“C’mon, hurry up,” said the third voice, giving Sam the distinct impression its owner was fidgeting nervously. “We gotta get out of here before anyone else shows up. Think Tenners got the other one yet?”

Other one?

Sam stiffened up. There were more of them. And he wasn’t their only target.

A pair of rough hands grabbed his arm and twisted it almost painfully behind his back. He felt the cold caress of manacles snapped around one wrist, then the other.

*Hunters Shackles Activated: All active debuffs will remain active until shackles are removed.*

“Should be. C’mon you,” the third voice apparently belonged to the rough hands. Bennet, the gnome had called him. “March this way.”

The invisible hands guided him eastward, into the foothills across from the Thumb. Which made sense. If you wanted to hide, it was a good spot to hide in. And it was away from the dungeon, and perhaps any possible patrols.

The invisible hands became visible almost as soon as they rounded the base of a hill, putting them out of sight of the valley. Bennet was a dwarf, with three-day stubble and glowering brown eyes. The fidgety one was an elf, tall and androgynous with half of their head shaved and the other half full of long straight blonde hair that hung down to their chin. The gnome was female and curvy and had the longest green eyebrows Sam had ever seen in his life. They looked like beatnik caterpillars.

All were armed. The gnome had a heavy repeating crossbow of obvious quality. The dwarf had a sword almost as long as he was tall slung across his back. And the elf had a brace of daggers strapped to both forearms. They also had picked up Sam’s hammer, and held it with both hands like it almost weighed too much to lift.

For a brief second, Sam considered hitting one of them with his Identify spell. But until he made the damn stealth module add-on for his glasses, doing so would alert them to the fact that he had targeted them with a spell, and that, in turn, would give away the fact that he still had access to spells and abilities through his quick slots. That was not a trump card he was willing to play just yet.

He tested the length of chain between the manacles. Only a few inches, and the links felt like good steel. He wouldn’t be able to break them himself. Possibly with the harness’s aid, but it would be dicey. Enchanted items often had greater strength than unenchanted ones, and were more difficult to break. If he just had more information about the things…

Hmm. Now there was a thought. Magic items didn’t have consciousness to tell when they’d had been the target of a spell. He glanced around. His captors were splitting their attention between him and their surroundings. He waited for a moment when no one was looking at him firectly, pressed his fingertip into the cold steel of the manacles, and hit his Identify Object spell. The glasses warmed perceptibly on his face as the spell was cast.

Item Name: Minor Hunters Shackles

Minor Magical Item

Hardness: 99

Item HP: 200

Description:

Kinky.

These manacles are a favorite among bounty hunters and jailers on a budget. Rather than conveying any specific debuff to a prisoner, they just extend ad infinitum any debuffs—or buffs, if you’re dumb enough to slap them on someone with those running—that might be active on the wearer. They come in a variety of colors and styles, including fuzzy pink!

Because we all know you were wondering.

Note: Both manacles must be locked around one or more limbs of a creature in order for the Hunters Shackles to work correctly.

*Warning: Removing these shackles will instantly end all status effects both positive and negative*

“He’s supposed to be waiting for us, right?” Asked the fidgety elf. “He said he’d be waiting for us.”

“Gods above, Ty, will you keep it together?” Bennet the dwarf growled. “I swear, you’re worse than an old woman. We’re in and out clean, no one saw us, and he can’t talk to anyone. What are you scared about this time?”

“Hush, both of you,” Eyebrows said with a thunderous glare. “If that Rock-Walk scroll worked like he said it would, then yes, Tenners will be there. If it didn’t, we give him ten minutes, then we board the skiff and get the hell out of here. Now keep it clenched until we’re gone, got it?”

“Yes Marta,” Ty the elf said meekly.

“Got it boss,” the dwarf said.

They walked on in silence. Sam forced to it, his captors apparently choosing it. They moved perhaps a quarter-mile away from the dungeon when they hove to in the shadow of a rocky outcropping. A stand of boulders ripped up from the ground stood a few paces off, a good hiding place if someone were looking for one. Still within the anti-teleport field, more was the pity.

Aha. His guess had been correct. A trio of shadows stepped out from behind the boulders. Well, one stepped, One of the others was dragged, and the third shoved forward unceremoniously by a kick to the rump. The first was a human, tall and broad as an ox, wearing leather armor and carrying a hand-axe in one hand. The other hand was clenched around the much, much smaller shadow’s wrist. And as they both emerged into the moonlight…

Sam swore a silent blue streak and tried to ignore the way his heart plummeted into his bowels.

Rashun.

The smaller shadow was Rashun. And the one on the ground, trussed like a pig awaiting the spit, was Araxes. The lich’s eyeflames blazed crimson, going back and forth between the human, the kobold, and the newcomers. They widened in abject shock when they saw Sam, but the lich said nothing. He must have been under a similar spell as Sam. Otherwise there was no way he wouldn’t be excoriating his captors right now.

“Got the small fry I see,” Bennet the dwarf sneered. “How come you always get the cushy jobs?”

“Cushy?” The human man—Tenners?— snorted. “I had to swim through a thousand feet of rock with this little bitch nipping and struggling the whole way,” he snarled and jerked Rashun forward. The kobold child let out a whimper, but glared defiantly up at his captor. “And this bastard,” he kicked Araxes in the ribs, drawing a look of pure loathing from the lich. “He was in the room and would. Not. Leave. I had to grab them both. Good thing Araxesendenak told us about him, otherwise I would have damn near wet myself.”

“But you got out,” Eyebrows said. “Good. We’ll get a bonus for bringing his copy back to him.”

“…had to avoid like a dozen of those freaks in that dungeon.” The big human grumbled. “There’s some truly weird shit going on in there. They’ve got mushroom people. It ain’t natural.”

“I don’t care,” Eyebrows said. “Job’s to get them to the lich, and that’s what we’re doing. Skiff’s parked behind that hill. Let’s go.”

“Big bro?” Rashun blinked as his eyes settled on Sam. “Oh no, they got you too? What’s going on—Ow!”

The big human slapped Rashun roughly across the mouth. “Shut up. I’m tired of listening to you.”

The boy cried out in pain, then fell silent except for a soft whimper. Sam saw his eyes fill with tears, heard the big man say something, but a rushing had filled his ears and the entire world had gone red.

It was only by herculean effort that Sam didn’t crush the man’s head where he stood.

Calm and cool, son, a voice inside him cautioned. You could probably take one. Maybe two. Hell, you could probably take all of them. But you can’t be sure Rashun would be okay, and he can’t respawn like you can.

“Had to Gob-Smack both of them,” the human was still talking. “Figure we’ve got maybe eight minutes before it wears off. Bennet, you got any more of those shackles?”

“What happened to the pair I gave you?”

“Slapped ‘em on the copy. He wouldn’t shut up.”

“Huh. We were only supposed to have two passengers this trip. Didn’t think to bring more.”

“There’s another pair in the skiff,” Eyebrows said impatiently. “Now hurry the hell up. We’ve got to get out of range before someone in that dungeon twigs to us.”

Dammit. Neither Araxes nor Rashun would be able to call out.

He did some quick mental arithmetic. If the Gob-Smacked spell had effects that lasted for a minute per level, that put the human’s level at somewhere around 13, give or take. Which meant the others were likely somewhere within a couple levels. Eyebrows was probably higher, the elf was probably lower.

The human hauled Araxes to his feet and shoved him roughly towards Sam. The skeletal body collided painfully with him, and he let out a silent ‘oof’. Araxes’ eyeflames still blazed crimson, but the rage was directed at their captors, not Sam for once.

Get us out of this, those eyes seemed to say.

Working on it, Sam glared back.

His harness would still work, as would any of his guardian abilities. His glasses would bypass just about every restriction those Hunters Shackles put on him. Everything except the problem of communicating with others.

When I get out of this, I’m making a comm device. Something that can’t be shut down.

Araxes might have similar use of his spells. Those eye-blasts Sam had seen him use had never needed a somatic component, so it was likely he’d have at least some offensive capability. Rashun… Would have to be gotten out of the line of fire as quickly as possible. Maybe if he used the harness to fling him clear…

But even as he formulated plans, his eyes fell on the little kobold… And he knew it wouldn’t work. Too many ways the boy could get hurt. Too many scenarios in which his presence made escape impossible. If it were just him and Araxes, they could fight to the death and re-appear back with Cora in an eyeblink. But Rashun had no such protection. Worse, if he and Araxes were killed, the kidnappers would still have the child, and a head start on a skiff.

Sam wouldn’t be able to catch up with them if they decided to just flee with Rashun in tow. They’d be out of range of his Guardian Teleport before he even respawned.

Shit.