As the door thumps closed a little louder than I’d like, quickly followed by the sound of several turning locks, sliding bolts and dropping bars, my heart sinks a little further in my chest while the fatigue of two days of abject failure settles on me like a lead weight. Another dead end, but this one’s so much worse than the rest for me. This one represents the last tentative lead we had left in this great mystery, and since we’ve again come up with a spectacular fuck all that means we’re officially stumped. I stand on the top step for what feels like a painful long time, looking at that strangely hostile door, and feel bereft.

“All right, so … now what do we do?”

With what feels like a titanic effort, I turn on me heels and climb down from the front door of this relatively modest terraced house, clenching and relaxing my fists fitfully with each step. Gods, I’m so bloody tired. We were knocking on doors and chasing up leads all yesterday, and my night was fitful when I did sleep, broken by bad dreams I’m sort of glad I couldn’t remember after I woke. We’ve been just as busy today, but as the city grows dark under the red sky we’ve got absolutely nothing to show for all that effort. My stomach’s empty and grumbling at me now, but I genuinely don’t know if I could keep a single bite down the way I feel right now.

Dumoli and Brung are waiting at the bottom, the goblin keeping his hood pulled very low over his face right now. This isn’t a particularly classy neighbourhood, but it’s still pricier than we’re used to frequenting, and they definitely wouldn’t take too kindly to running into a goblin round here. Ever since we passed the Sentinel statue at Degrek he’s kept his face under wraps and his tail tucked under his cloak along with his claws, hoping folk’ll think he’s just a short halfling. Even so, he still catches wary glances ever once in a while, and I don’t know if Du’s any more convinced than I am it’ll last. Untermer’s more egalitarian than some cities we’ve visited but even so the sooner we’re back in scuzzier streets the better.

At least I can see Dumoli’s face right now, and he looks almost as dejected as I feel. He’s got his hammer set on its head at his side and he’s wringing his hands a bit, not much more comfortable here than our friend, but I know they’re both as worried in general as I am. We haven’t had any luck getting any fresh information on what’s happened to Yulla and Drin aside from something that scares the hell out of all three of us – nothing more than hushed rumours, circulating among equally scared locals, but apparently people are disappearing, mostly homeless and slum dregs, but some of the poorer working class have started to go missing too.

The local townsguard are, apparently, all over it. Which means they either haven’t any more of a clue what’s going on than the rest of us do, or they’re in on it so they’re covering it up. Either way, I don’t see there being much help from that quarter, nor would I expect them to make it a particularly high priority. They’re not here to watch over us, not really, despite what some of the more civic minded ones might even try to believe for themselves. They just care about keeping us in line and making sure the richer folk in this city are happy, most effectively by keeping us in our place and therefore out of theirs.

“Maybe we should just …” I stop, coming up short. There’s nothing else I can think of, and that’s scary too.

“Don’t think local coppers would be help, then?” Brung growls from under his hood, keeping his tone as low as possible but casting about as well as he can all the same to be sure there’s no-one close enough to pick up on it.

“They ever been in the past? For anything?” Dumoli scratches his chin through his thick tawny beard, more of a nervous tic than an itch, I think. His eyes are flickering around a little, noting the various taller, more well-dressed figures that pass us by, going this way and that as they make their way home from a long day at work, or heading out to a nightshift perhaps. Most are relatively menial workers, but the well-paid ones here, store clerks and overseers and the like, and while their clothes aren’t really too much better than ours a trio of sellswords still stick out like turds on a plate in an eating house.

Another growl comes from under Brung’s hood, but no words in it this time, just a general exclamation of low frustration. “Can’t be all shit, surely.”

“Well I never met a townsguard smart enough to find his own arse in his trousers that wasn’t bent as a corkscrew.” Dumoli turns to me again. “Seriously Thel, we’re doing no good here. We should get out of here before one of these stuffed suits calls us out for a beating or something.”

Damn it … he’s right, of course. Night’s coming, and if we get caught anywhere near this part of town after sunset the very best we can expect is a whole lot of questions being asked about our business. We leave now we can be cross the Watch Bridge by dark and just call this two days of shit but nothing more.

“Yeah, we should.” I shove my hair out of my face and turn back to that slammed door for a moment, giving it a particularly evil eye as though the tenant could even see me through it. It’s not their fault, of course, I’m just casting two days’ worth of ineffectual frustration on them before we have to move on.

The movement catches my eye as I’m turning away to follow the others as they head back in the direction of the Sentinel and the Watch Bridge beyond it. They’re not the only figure dressed in black here, but they’re more notable than most of the bodies around us, partly because, despite their workmanlike wear, they seem as out of place as us. Maybe. I don’t really catch a good enough look to really tell.

Tall, willowy lean, dressed in a long black duster I think. Warm in these climes, even this time of year with the autumn growing old. And that black hat is too broad in the brim for this company. It’s the way they move, though. That’s what gives them away most. They glide, more a dance than simple steps.

I stop where I am and look hard, trying to pick them up again. I focus on the alley I saw them duck into, but see nothing there now, as if they’d stay. Could be they weren’t even looking at us, not really, I could’ve just imagined it. Except I felt that watchfulness as sure as I saw it, just in that second as I was turning. Too much coincidence right now for me to discount.

“Thel?” Dumoli’s voice breaks through to me, and I suddenly realise he’s been trying a few times already. “Thel. You still with me?”

“Umm …” I bite my lower lip a little, then reach up and pull my hood back up over my hair again as I turn back. “After a fashion. I think.”

“You look spooked.” His words stop me after my first step, and I look him in the eye, seeing less concern now and more … not suspicion, we’re too good friends for that, just a watchfulness.

“I’m just jumping at shadows.” Mentioning the interloper won’t do any good right now, not when I can’t even be completely sure I genuinely saw what I think I did. “Come on, we need to be gone.”

He keeps watching me as I move past him and follow Brung, who’s already making good time ahead of us despite his short legs. It’s a moment before I hear Dumoli stepping after me, and I suspect he had a good look around himself for whatever might’ve bothered me. Doubt he sees any dark figure watching from the shadows, though.

We’re maybe a quarter hour making our way to the Sentinel statue, and by then the sky’s darkened to the purple of a bad bruise while the bodies on the streets have thinned out some. Most have returned to their homes now, or gone their way, and most of the stores that we’re passing now are already shut for the night or are now closing up. We’re still uncomfortably conspicuous here, the pavements too clean and the buildings nowhere near darkened enough by soot or grime to make me comfortable yet. We’re catching more frequent glances from those few who pass now, and Brung especially seems to be catching too much curiosity.

When the boxy granite plinth supporting the worn old statue hoists itself above us, I chance another look back and beyond Dumoli I think I see another dark flicker somewhere behind us. I stop where I am and turn all the way, looking harder, but again see nothing that shouldn’t be there. Du’s stopped too, watching me with a troubled frown.

“Damn it, Thel. What is it?”

“You’re not feeling eyes on your back coming through here?” I mutter absent-mindedly, more to myself as I continue to cast about, focusing for a moment on a half-lit passage cut into the side of a towering building on the left, what I assume is for unloading carts directly into a stockroom. Is that where I saw them ducking? If they were even there in the first place …

“No more than I normally would in a place like this, no.” He grimaces. “Seriously, we can’t be here.” His frown deepens as his eyes flicker away from me. “Hmmm …”

Same time, Brung’s voice returns my attention to the path ahead of us: “Sharpen up.”

First thing I see when I turn back is the few people still on the street now hustling on their way with more focused haste and in a wide circle, and I see why a beat later. Six … no, eight newcomers who don’t seem to fit in any more than us are spreading out around us, each one moving like they’re armed and entirely focused on us. They’re certainly not townsguard.

I can’t quite tell what half of them are, they’re all dressed in a loosely uniform manner, all in black, some tattered cloaks, others ratty coats that have seen better days, but all are wearing hoods, and masks too. In most cases they’re just snug-tied scarves obscuring mouths and noses, but a few seem to have carved wooden masks covering the upper halves of their faces. Two are largely featureless, plain and smooth with eyeholes cut in them, but the one in the middle, stood directly across from me, seems to have made an actual effort to look distinctive, at least compared to the rest.

They’re a varied bunch in size and shape, and I definitely can’t distinguish gender too easily, but I’m pretty sure the one I’m focusing on now is either human or half-elf. Male too, I think. He’s lean and slender with a cool, cocky ease to his stance, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t who I might’ve seen before. His short travelling cloak’s swept around his shoulders in a rakish fashion, and I suspect it’s designed more to hide his weapons than keep him warm. His leathers, and I’m sure there’s some armour pieces in the mix, are somewhat classy but not overly expensive from the look of them, and worn enough to have seen serious use. HIs mask’s the most striking thing about him though, carved in the likeness of a wolf with markings picked out in shades of black and grey.

“Evening.” His voice is too deep, and definitely too gravelly to be a woman’s, even if his chin under the mask is smooth.

Giving the rest a last glance over as they stop fanning out around us, I set my jaw and fix my gaze on their tall leader. “That tends to happen at the end of the day, yes.”

What I see of his grin is a little cocked, and I suspect he might even be quite handsome under there. I can’t make out his eyes through the holes, but there might be a little twinkle in there too. “Oh, I like that. You got a lip on you, don’tcha? That’s funny.”

“Well that’s debatable, I can’t say it’s my best work.” I shift my feet a little, trying to make it seem like I’m simply getting more comfortable but wanting to get to my handaxes fast if I need to. “We’re just trying to cross the Watch before it gets all the way dark, you know how folk get in places like this after the sun goes down.”

“Indeed? Just goin’ about your lawful business, then? Not askin’ questions o’ folk who don’t know better instead?”

That makes me frown, I can’t quite stop myself in time. “Whether our business here’s lawful or not, I don’t see how it has anything to do with folk like yourself, or your intimidating looking friends here. After all, if I were to just go off appearances, you look like your business is a good deal less lawful than ours.”

Wolf Mask cocks his head with a shrug, spreading his hands wide. His gloves are much finer than most of his gear, looking like well-made dark grey kid leather. Good grip, and flexible. Suitable for a fighter. As he spreads his arms I catch sight of weaponry under his cloak, much as I expected. Blades, and more than just a couple. “Might be you could win a bet or two on those odds.”

“So what is this? You here to warn us off? Scare us a bit first, so you can be sure it takes?”

“Oh no, reckon that’d be counter-productive. Don’t take a great mind just lookin’ at you that you three ain’t the type as scares easy. Not that we didn’t know that already anyways.” He shrugs again, just with his shoulders this time because he’s reaching under the cloak with his hands. There’s barely even the subtlest hiss of sharp steel on soft leather as he pulls a pair of wickedly curved knives out. “We’re just gonna kill you.”

Looking sidelong to Dumoli, I find he’s moved round my side, opening a gap between us while also putting himself between me and the nearest of the interlopers on my left. He’s holding his hammer quite casually, but I know he’s tense as a drawn bow right now.

Brung, on the other hand, is still stood somewhat forward of me on my other side. He’s not even making an effort to hide any more, having already thrown back his hood as much to make it easier for him to see as to intimidate any of this lot, and as I watch he reaches up to unpin his cloak, letting it fall at his feet. This reveals the shortsword strapped on his back, which might as well be a longsword for someone his size. His arms are long enough he can draw it from over his shoulder without difficulty, which he does now, not even seeming to care how anyone else might react to it.

Nobody tries to jump us though, which tells me they really don’t care if we resist or not, they’re going to attack when they’re good and ready. So I push my own hood off and sweep my cloak back so I can slip each of my handaxes from their loops on either side of my belt. I give each a casual flourish as I test my grip, roll my shoulders, crack my neck, give my back a little stretch in order to liber up. Finally I look at the man in the Wolf Mask again and give him my brightest fighter’s smile. “Fair enough. Shall we, then?”

That cocky smile falters a little, and it gives me a moment’s hope. I tighten my grip on my axes, scanning the surrounding group as subtle as I can, and shift my feet a little. “Du?”

“My pleasure, luv.”

I don’t need to see what he does next, knowing he’s springing for the nearest would-be attacker with his hammer already swinging. I’m cutting the other way in the same beat, whipping past Brung as he jumps out of my path while I unleash the most guttural howl I can muster as I wind up my right-hand axe. The one in front of me hasn’t even drawn yet, none of them have besides Wolf Mask, and that was a mistake.

Whoever or whatever they are, my target reaches for the sword under their cloak as they see me charging, but they’re much too late, still drawing when I’m on top of them. The point barely clears the lip of the scabbard, I swing before they even have a chance to defend, jumping up so I don’t have to reach while unleashing a savage backhand. It catches them high in the chest and I tear across, splintering bone as I yank it loose again before barging them bodily aside. They’re stumbling like a drunkard trying to clasp the wound, but it’s too big to plug and their heart’s ruptured, they have moments before passing out from blood loss.

The others scramble for their weapons now, but we’ve already caught a hell of a lead on them. Through the corner of my eye I see another stumble back, alarmed as Brung hounds them, snarling viciously as he swings his shortsword in vicious haymakers, and there’s already another down behind him. They’re still alive but out of commission already, their hands full as they desperately try to stem the gushing flow from their severed knees. I clearly see they didn’t even have time to draw their sword.

Movement to my left catches my attention and I skip back in time to duck a swing clearly intended to decapitate me while I was distracted. I round on my new attacker as they recover and bring both axes up in time to stop a hard downward chop. Gritting my teeth I look up into their eyes as they attempt to force the tip of their broadsword down into my face, and the deepening amber of their eyes tells me there’s some orc blood in them, corresponding with their strength. If I just try to wrestle with them they’ll likely beat me, so I change tactics.

Turning both axes, I hook them around the blade and snap both tight before twisting. The half-orc’s forced to go with the turn as I yank them aside, and they grunt in surprise as they stubbornly fight to hang on, but I’m already moving. As I turn I unhook the axe in my right but keep the left locked on the blade so I can twist one last time, turning the sword a little more and forcing a stumble. Now I unhook my bearded blade as I come up on their vulnerable side, swinging for the back of their neck before they realise they’re about to die.

“Fuck …” Wolf Mask spits as I chop the half-orc’s head from his neck and turn to him before the body can finish crumpling. Behind I see Dumoli’s already floored two and is making short work of a third, so their leader’s the only one left, still stood where he was when this all began. His knives are hanging at his sides, he hasn’t even struck up a ready position yet. He’s rethinking his plan and likely coming up short.

Cocking my head, I spread my arms wide, giving my bloody right-hand axe a little flick as I do it, then take a step towards him. “Still going to kill me?” I flash my feral little smile again.

He tries his own smile, spreading his arms wide in another shrug, but both actions seem desperately uncertain. “Uh … right …” He turns on his heels and starts running.

It happens so quick I don’t quite have time to react, he’s already full-on sprinting down the street for the Watch Bridge. His legs are long and he’s in great shape, I have no chance of catching him so I don’t even bother trying. Instead I give my axe one last swipe to get rid of any excess blood and slide the clean one back through its loop before stooping to wipe the last of the blood away with the cloak of the half-orc behind me. I’m already slipping the axe back into place on my hip as I survey the scene.

They’re almost all dead and we’re not even scratched. Wow … somebody really underestimated what they were up against. Dumoli’s taking a moment to mop the head of his warhammer clean with the cloak of his final kill like I did, while Brung must have already cleaned his sword since it’s sheathed on his back again. He’s whipping his cloak back around his shoulders as he approaches the lone survivor, although how much longer they’ll be a survivor remains to be seen.

They’ve already yanked down their cloth mask so they can breathe better, and I can see now they’re a human woman, fairly young too, gasping in fresh gulps of air as she desperately tries to tie off the second spurting stump with torn strips of her own cloak. She’s managed with the other severed leg, but her fingers are starting to fumble now, the blood loss making her light-headed and messing with her finer motor-skills. She’s not going to make it.

“What to do with this one?” Brung turns to me as I step up, his face no more expressive now than it would’ve been when he was killing the other I can clearly count to his name.

The girl looks up from her fumbled efforts at the words, looking first at Brung with wide eyes and then me. “Please, please … help me … I can’t …”

“Well now that’s interesting, isn’t it?” I stop just in front of her and drop into a crouch, leaning forward as I let my hands rest loose across my knees, keeping my expression cool and casual. “After you were so set on killing us just … Brung, how long did all that take, exactly?”

“Can’t even be a minute. Over very quick indeed.”

“Wow, that was fast, wasn’t it?” I cock my head. “You were so willing to leave the three of us bleeding out on the pavement, surely you don’t expect us to show mercy instead?”

“I … I was … it was just …” She swoons a little, slumping where she’s sat, but recovers herself in time. Even so, she looks really pale now, her eyes starting to glaze.

“Oh yeah, I get it. Just following orders, sure. That’s how it always goes, isn’t it? It’s never your fault, is it?” I lean a little closer now. “Who gave the orders? Who are you working for? Why do they want us dead in the first place? Most of all, where the fuck are our friends?”

“No, I can’t … I can’t –” For a moment I think she’s just decided to play dumb, but then she starts gasping, her enfeebled hands trying to claw at her throat as she begins to choke. For a few moments I wonder if this is just some kind of reaction to blood loss I’ve never seen before, but then her throat starts to swell and she’s writhing about, wide eyes rolling up white in shock.

I’m so surprised I step back, I can’t help it, this is seriously wrong and I don’t know what to make of it but it’s scary as hell. I’m already scrabbling upright as her face bloats out too, suddenly getting quite red which I wouldn’t have thought possible since she already lost so much blood. Then she lets out one last rasping gasp of an abortive scream, and her back spasms once more before she just drops again, now remaining still. One last rasping breath slowly hisses from her gaping mouth but it’s nothing more than escaping air.

All I can do is look at the body, unable to make sense of it. Brung’s eyes are wide at my side, about the most shock I think I ever saw on his face before. That was … fucked.

“Thorin help me … what in the names of all the gods was that?” Dumoli’s on my other side now, surprising me, looking as shocked as the rest of us.

“She … she just … died.” It’s all I manage to get out.

“Happens with blood loss.” Brung’s voice is startlingly level compared to his face.

Shoving my hands back through my hair, I take a step back, gritting my teeth as I try to look anywhere other than at this particular body. The others are dead as her, but all died of comparatively natural causes. Not like … oh. Right. “Fuck … that was magic.”

“You think?” Dumoli turns to me, looking incredulous.

“Well how else would you explain it? Just as we start questioning her she chokes on nothing and carks it right in front of us?” I shrug with wide arms. “Sounds like magic to me.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see a mage. I would’ve thought if they had a spell-slinger they’d have used magic against us.”

“Not with them, no. This was more like … some kind of insurance, maybe? In case we got the upper hand and one of them was still alive enough to potentially spill the beans …” I make a rasping noise through my teeth while drawing my thumb across my throat. “No more problem.”

Dumoli grimaces with what seems the most disgust I think I’ve ever seen him convey. “Gods … I hate magic. That’s fucked up.”

“For once I agree with you.” I let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “And now … shit, we’re right back where we started, but worse because now we’ve got a bunch of dead bodies on our hands.”

“Not if we book it before anyone discovers them.” Dumoli looks around, wary now. “If we’re not here when the townsguard turn up, who’s to say what happened here? It’s not like anyone was watching. They all had the good sense to scarper before it started. Just because this is a fancier neighbourhood doesn’t mean folk are any more willing to mess with the Law than the dregs.”

Yeah … Du has a point there. Still, we really shouldn’t linger any longer, just in case. I look up at the Sentinel, and it’s almost like that great carven stone face is frowning down at me over what just happened. It creeps me out. “Yeah, we better get lost. Brung?”

The goblin looks my way, seeming to have shaken off the shock now. “Yes. Definitely. Leave.”

“Right. That’s that then.” I start walking now, not even looking to see if the other two are keeping up with me. A glance upwards tells me we’ve got minutes before it’s fully dark, not a lot of time left to get to the Watch Bridge now. I pick up my pace, not breaking into a run but walking fast enough that hopefully I can cover the ground in time, and finally I hear the other two catching up behind me. I set my jaw and flip my hood up again, focusing on the pavement ahead now and hoping all the way that nothing else goes wrong.