Randy picked up and put a mail shirt over his own, strapping a seax to his belt.

The knife thrower picked up a few extra knives and daggers from the pile of weapons. Regretfully, he had no straps or place to carry the blades. Even if they weren’t made for throwing, Randy felt he could’ve still used them as such. As Randy was about to place the throwing knives back, Barry intervened.

“I can help you with that.” Said Barry, stepping towards Randy.

The mage placed a hand atop Randy’s chest. With his eyes closed in concentration, Barry started chanting.

“In the night, shapes and figures blend into the darkness.

Take upon another’s Shadow in the dead of night,

The black shrouds their contours as a spider hides beneath the web.

Intertwine their spirit in the strands of the hunter,

“Shadow Binding.”

Liquid shadow emanated from under Barry’s hand. It seeped into Randy’s mail shirt, spreading out from the point of origin. The mail became stained black and lost its reflectiveness, and along with it, most of its sound.

Straps made of solid darkness formed upon the mail shirt.

“Put a dagger near it, and it should wrap around it.” Said Barry, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Wow, thanks. How’d you do that?” Asked Randy.

“I… It was mostly the Spell. My soul does most of the work; I just provide the direction. I imagined straps for your daggers, and the Spell did the rest.”

Barry touched a hand to the bundle of weapons, quickly reciting two words.

Shadow Binding

Shadows coated the bundle as well. The mage placed the pack on his back, shadows and darkness holding it in place.

“Anyways, let's go. Some will be running, some waiting. Either way, the quicker we get there, the better.”

“Aye.”

After battle-testing his magic, and after so many experiments and tests, Barry had found out how to mix Spells together. Though he could manually cast potentially anything. It took time and effort to do so. Using an innate Spell sped up the process, removing the burden from his Mortal mind and placing the strain upon his soul instead.

Mixing Spells was done by a mixture of intent, visualization, and chanting. The intent of the Spell changed its targets and whether it was beneficial or not. Visualizing what the Spell would do helped make it more precise. When the mind was left alone, it took the path of least resistance, taking upon what is already there to impose its will upon the world. Easier to make shadow formless than sharp and solid. Takes more mana to do that.

Combining Spells were akin to improvising a song with chords and lyrics Barry already knew. The mage had a bit of skill in the lute, and as such, he quickly grasped the concept. Chanting were lyrics, and the chords were the casting or manipulation of mana.

Shadow Binding was a mixture of Shadow’s Embrace and Shadow Lacquer. It left behind a mass of Shadow mana that was “alive” in a sense, like the entity left behind by Shadow Lacquer. The binding had to be tuned by Barry to have any predetermined effects, such as the magical self-sheathing.

The Shadow-bound mail took essence from its surroundings, so the less mana around it, the weaker it became. The essence imbuement would also slowly degrade over time, so it was not permanent. Unless Barry willed it so or perhaps had some more knowledge on mana-imbuement. The mage would make sure to get some tomes and treatises in the next town over.

Barry shook his head, clearing away the magic from his thoughts. He had bandits to track and ultimately cull. He had to focus.

The mage focused on the Ethereal tide, feeling its ebb and flow. Waves of mana crashed upon him, creating an image in his mind. They’re fleeing in random directions. The flow of essence is rampant. There is still a large number of them going towards the camp. Maybe they aren’t even aware of it themselves. It’s just where they most feel safe.

Barry let out a scoff at the irony of bandits having a place that made them feel safe and protected.

Following the Ethereal Tide and keeping an eye on his surroundings made tracking the bandits child’s play. In their effort to turn tail and bolt, the dregs of the bandit’s forces broke many low hanging branches, trampled through piles of leaves, and left behind footprints in the soggy mud.

Barry felt the essence grow large enough to be, perhaps, a league away from the camp.

“We’re close.” Said Barry. “A cornered animal is twice as likely to fight with all it's got. Humans are no different. They are mostly deserters that got some sort of weapon’s training. That blade at your hip is probably the first ‘sword’ you’ve held in all your life. Don’t fight them with skill. Fight dirty.

“My magic will make them scared, taking away their skill. You’ll take them by surprise while I make some noise.”

“So,” said Randy, “You’re the fire, and I’m the Dancer in the flames?”

“Ha, wouldn’t have guessed you as the sort to like plays. You think there are a lot of troupes passing through Charliestead?”

“Hope so.” Said Randy. "Anyhow, let’s do this.”

“Aye.” Said Barry, his face furrowing in worry for a brief moment before he continued: “Wait, you know what? Let me magic up more of your equipment.”

“Com’on, I don’t even have a gift for you.” Said Randy with a grin.

“A comrade at arms by my side is enough of a gift.” Said Barry, a tendril of shadow handing the mage a pair of gloves from the pack at his back.

The mage closed his eyes, visualizing the intended effect. Barry began chanting, mixing his Spells together so that he could create something new.

“In the night, shapes and figures blend into the darkness.

Take upon another’s Shadow in the dead of night,

The black shrouds their contours as a spider hides beneath the web.

Intertwine their spirit in the strands of the hunter.”

The glove became enshrouded in shifting darkness as the mage continued his chant.

“The dark rose blossoms with thorns of night,

Place the seed of Death upon another’s flesh.”

Thorns made of shadow danced upon the surface of the gloves like the blade of a knife glides through parchment.

“Take upon the Mist that bleeds from another’s spirit,

And shadows shall come.”

The thorns unraveled into squirming tendrils and wriggling coils before settling into the fabric of the gloves.

“Shadow Binding.”

Darkness enshrouded the gloves, staining them in the blood of night. Barry felt his exhaustion weigh him down further like a blanket made of stone. He felt his Inner Shadow become thin like cheap ale.

“These will enhance your blade throws and stabs. And will also let you shoot out a coil of darkness like my own. The ropes of shadow will place strain on your stamina, but the strain will lessen if you connect them with a bandit.

"You have to hold a blade and say Thorns to activate the Spell. The coils are created by saying Lariat. The rope will go towards where you aim with the glove and will have some lurch, taking your arm forward a bit.

“I can’t give you any more magic equipment after this. I’m spread thin now.” Said the mage, handing Randy the twin gauntlets of night.

“Three magical pieces of anything is more than I’ve had my whole life.” Said Randy, his voice lilting and animated like a child on winter’s solstice.

It’s just like the Gifting Night. Thought the giddy rogue.

“Thanks, Barry.” Said Randy as he donned the gloves.

When Randy equipped the gauntlets, they called out to him, extending a mental strand towards him. He gripped the sensation, accepting the connection as his instincts told him it was not malicious in nature.

The smile vanished from Randy’s face as he stretched his fingers inside the gloves. His stamina dipped as he became attuned to the Shadow-bound gloves. His step faltered, and his hands burned as thousands of invisible needles burrowed into the fabric of his very being.

Barry quickly rushed towards Randy as he sensed the large dip in the amount of essence that bled from his skin. The mage propped Randy up.

“Gods, sorry.” Said Barry. “I should’ve known the cost would be greater than I thought. It always is with magic.”

“No worries, Bare.” Said Randy, extricating himself from Barry. “I can handle it for now. Let’s take those bandits out, and then I’ll take these gloves off.”

“Alright.” Said Barry. “Try out the Spells before we head into the camp proper.”

Randy gave him a nod, heading over towards a tree.

“You’ll have at most four knife throws, two with each glove.” Said Barry. “Don’t worry, though. I can renew them before the fight.”

Randy removed a dagger from the front of his mail, sliding the blade out with minimal effort. He gripped the knife’s handle, his sight setting at a thick tree trunk.

“Thorns.”

The blade became coated in liquid shadow. The flat of the blade was smooth and lacking reflection. Its edge was like a lake under a brightmoon: glossy and eager to return the sheen and incandescence.

Like blood under the moonlight. Thought Randy.

The knife became easier to handle, almost weightless even. Small wisps of darkness smoked out of the blade like a winter’s breath.

The glove lost some of its shadowy vibrancy. Instead of a rich and deep black, it was now dull like coal.

The burden of fatigue lessened on Randy’s body, like a weight being lifted off his being.

Interesting, so this Spell is always placing some type of strain on me. Thought Randy.

The rogue’s eyes narrowed into slits; his brows furrowed in concentration.

Randy flicked his wrist, the blade shooting straight like an arrow.

The knife sliced into the tree, settling deep inside.

Spikes of shadow shot out from the cut before collapsing back in. Pieces of bark flew away, and a mangled mess of a crater was left in its wake.

Oriath above, those black thorns are destructive. A shudder wormed its way through Randy’s spine as he imagined what the blooming spikes could do inside a man’s body.

Randy shook his head, clearing away the gruesome thoughts.

Time for the next Spell.

Randy aimed a hand towards another tree, one that did not have a small crater.

“Lariat.”

Randy felt his energy being pulled from his body as the feeling of thousands of sharp needles came upon his hand. His palms burned like they were wreathed in flames.

The glove puppeteered his hand, pulling his digits away from his palm as a blade made of sharp shadow appeared.

The mental strand between Randy and the Gauntlets of Night intensified, images flooding into his mind like a flash flood made of scalding hot oil.

“Release.” Commanded Randy, feeling the words reverberate between forest clearing and the echoing space made of pure thought.

The blade made of sharp shadow shot out from his palm, a coil of shadow trailing along with it. The bolt of darkness dug into a tree, the rope of shadow that followed it becoming taut.

The gauntlets gave him guidance, the instinct that he could dismiss the lariat becoming his own.

Randy relaxed, the coil of darkness dissipating into the night like it was never there.

“Huh,” said Barry, a tinge of worry coming over his voice and confusion clouding his face, “the coils were supposed to simply grapple something. Not stab it.

“Maybe, the binding takes after the wielder as well.

“Anyhow, let me refill the gloves with essence, and we’ll go.” Said the mage, his eyes turning stone with the knowing of what was to come.

He could not prepare anymore.

Barry walked towards the bandit camp without any stealth whatsoever. He was a decoy, after all. The mage could deal with many enemies, but the knife-thrower could not.

Randy was to be the cold steel behind the bellowing warrior.

The mage began his chant.

“In the night, shapes and figures blend into the darkness.

The black shrouds their contours as a snake hides in the grass.”

Darkness clouded the whites of his eyes like inky blood under the water.

“Shadow’s Embrace.”

Darkness bled from his skin, cloaking him in ever-shifting shadow.

Barry pulled at the starlight deep within his soul, calling it forth. Luminous pinpricks made of citrine-white danced upon his blurry form. His eyes two beacons imbued with the essence of starlight.

A figure made of starlight and shadow entered the bandit camp. The cutthroats had been following its movements since the mage turned into a bright, otherworldly beacon.

The bandits that returned from the failed robbery fled once more after hearing the whispers of a man clad in shadow and starlight. The ones that witnessed the twin beacons that night went together with the twice-fleeing bandits.

Their necks were met with daggers in the dark, painting red smiles upon their throats.

Some fell upon the forest floor like puppets with their strings cut; new strings made of shadow attached to the back of spines.

Like deer being corralled into the hunter’s sight, the fleeing bandits were felled by the Dancer amidst the darkness.

Some bandits were skeptical or too stubborn to leave. These were to meet an end reminiscent of Kedweni Holy Scripture. There's was an end like a smiting from Oriath Himself. And the machinations of the Dragon Below.

The Man Clad in Shadow and Starlight dashed towards the wide-eyed bandits, sending the camp into chaos.

An old brigand with a scar over her lip brought up a felling axe, aiming to cut the mage from head to groin.

The shadows and light played tricks upon her eyes, her axe falling upon what she thought was head.

The blurry silhouette made of light and shadow winked out of existence.

A shadow devoid of light appeared to her right, away from the reach of her weapon.

A claw made of pure darkness came to her face.

Whispers came to her ears.

“...Place the seed of Death upon another’s flesh.”

“Die.”

The claws connected, digging deep into her flesh. Death came quickly as spikes made of sharp shadow erupted from her head, spraying blood upon the bandit's once-comrades.

Barry pulled at the essence that bled from the bandit’s corpse, amassing it into a ball made of undulating blood that ebbed and flowed atop his palm.

“Ignite.”

The orb condensed into a pinprick of vibrant red before it flashed into a conflagration made from the yellow blood of stars.

The mage took the starsblood and pushed it into his axe cloaked in darkness. The flat of the felling blade became dotted with luminous pinpricks. Its edge burned with the incandescence of beyond.

Barry took upon the last dredges of red essence from the bandit, imbuing it into his legs.

His muscles strained with the added strength and power, threatening to tear and break away from the bone.

His mind reeled, blazing with the determination of violence.

The Man Clad in Shadow shot towards the next brigand, too fast for him to react.

His axe cut mind from body in one fell swoop.

His clawed hand grabbed the decapitated head before it could fall, the rest of the bandit’s body dropping to the ground.

“Take upon the vibrant red that bleeds from another,”

The decapitated head shriveled as its life's essence was sucked dry.

A grey, desiccated skull dropped to the ground as the mage aimed a hand towards the fleeing bandits.

"And shadows shall come.”

“Lariat.”

Three bolts made of sharp shadows flew through the air, piercing the legs and backs of the fleeing bandits.

The brigands fell to the ground, paralyzed or tripped by the coils.

Their strength and will to flight shattered under the effect of the Spell.

The Man Clad in Shadow and the Dancer Amidst the Flames cut down the last remaining brigands with the ease of culling chickens.

Barry knew that hunting the bandits would become much harder after that night. The rumours would spread. They would be prepared.

But so would the Man Clad in Shadow.

“That was… That… Happened.” Said Randy. “We did it?”

“We survived, aye.” Said Barry as he looked towards the mass of bodies being burned into nothingness by black flames. The bandit's corpses moving and shifting as they were dragged into the next turn of the Wheel.

“Why don’t you use those flames during battle?” Asked Randy, eager to fill the void of conversation. Silence was too uncomfortable. His thoughts were too unbearable.

Silence was violent.

“They’re too… Cruel. You’d probably feel almost nothing as those flames ate away at your flesh.

"They do the same to the spirit as well.

"Too dangerous if left unchecked. Too slow to kill. Too cruel.”

Barry shook his head before continuing.

“Help me pick up the rest of the blades and loot, and then we’ll go to the inn and get some ale.

“The Gods know I need to drown myself in the cheap stuff.”