3rd Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj
There really wasn't much Argo could do to make himself less conspicuous as he skirted the ring of hobgoblins surrounding Yanigasawa Tojo, en route to the stone statue of his party leader. He was in full plate mail, carrying a glowing sword, and moving quickly.
Think invisible, the ranger thought to himself.
At least sound was not an issue for the moment, Argo having just re-entered the silence field. The nearby hobbies continued their overwhelming assault on the samurai. Argo couldn't see Tojo anymore, but the humanoids were still flailing away, so he must still be alive in that hell somewhere.
Somehow.
Bigfellow frowned as he looked to the southwest, towards where the statue of Elrohir lay. There was a hobgoblin lying on the ground about halfway between them. It was mortally wounded, but still writhing and moaning.
The big ranger continued west, hugging the gatehouse wall for a bit, and then stopped abruptly just short of the opening of the portcullis tunnel. Sound had come abruptly back to him, and he waited a moment to reacclimatize. He took a deep breath, and then dashed across the archway.
Two arrows came whizzing past, but both went wide. Argo spared a quick glance and saw several hobgoblins on the far side of the gate motioning to someone outside of the ranger's line of sight.
Slowly, and with a screeching of metal upon stone, the portcullis began to rise. The hobgoblins behind put away their bows and drew their swords.
Not what I needed, Argo thought as he continued on, turning left to approach Elrohir's body from the northwest. He could see the goblin female astride her wolf was no more than thirty feet away from him at this point, but she still made no move to attack; only glaring at the ranger will hostile, pale yellow eyes. The other goblins around her uplifted their faces and raised their spears to their leader, perhaps hoping for an order to attack, but she remained as immobile as Argo's current quarry.
As Bigfellow approached the statue from the far side of the dying hobgoblin, he risked a glance south, inside the inner courtyard.
Smoke was issuing from the archway. Argo could see several hobbies inside, dipping buckets into the fountain's reservoir and throwing their contents at the sections of flora that were still ablaze.
Argo caught his breath. Lying off to one side was a body, burned beyond all recognition.
His eyes went wide.
Cygnus?
He stared for a moment, not really seeing anything more, and then looked away.
You knew he was gone, Bigfellow. You never saw him after that half-orc grabbed him and dragged him away.
The ranger gritted his teeth as he bent over the statue and slowly brought it back to an upright position. He was relieved to see that the two pieces which had broken off of Elrohir seemed to be part of his backpack and his bow- not flesh.
"I've never been one to listen to my conscience before," Argo muttered to himself as he wrapped his arms around his friend and strained, keeping his back straight and pushing off with his legs. "It's impossible to make me feel guilty. I've already screwed up too much for that."
Trying hard to suppress a groan of exertion, he hoisted the statue about a foot off the ground. "I've been making bad decisions since I was six and traded my lunch to Gastar for that purple frog he found," he growled. The ranger bent backwards slightly, leaning the weight against his body as much as possible. "That body could just as easily be the half-orc."
Then where is Cygnus?
"Shut up," Bigfellow whispered to himself and began to slowly head back towards the east tower.
A burning pain suddenly shot through his left shoulder. Argo cried out and tightened his grip on the statue. Through tears of pain, he glanced upwards just in time to see another arrow shoot down, this one bouncing off the ground at his feet.
The hobbies on the gatehouse roof, no longer concerned about striking invisible allies, were opening fire.
As more shafts like the one partially embedded in Argo's shoulder sped down, the ranger spun around and ducked his head. At least two arrows bounced off Elrohir's petrified features. Small chips of stone flew off.
Sorry about that, old friend, Argo thought. Consider it payment for my having to lug your lazy-ass carcass around.
There was no more time for even an attempt at subtlety. Argo set off on a direct line for the east tower, stepping on the chest of the mortally wounded hobgoblin still lying on his back in the dirt. Bigfellow heard ribs crack with a snap that left him feeling uncomfortably satisfied.
Arrows continued to rain down, but no others struck him.
Argo caught another glimpse of the wolf-rider out of the corner of his eye. She was talking to a hobgoblin, her position currently astride her mount allowing her to more-or-less look it in the eye. The ranger saw the goblin turn to eye him again, a frown tugging her black lips downward. She pointed Argo out to the hobbie.
The humanoid turned to stare at Argo for a moment, and then turned back to the goblin. Bigfellow couldn't understand him of course, but it seemed plain to the ranger that the creature didn't seem inclined to rush off into battle.
Well, what do you know? thought Argo. Perhaps being hip-dead in the bodies of their friends is finally starting to have an effect on these bastards.
The goblin, apparently using more vinegar than honey, screeched and gestured wildly at her larger kin, then pointed repeatedly at Argo. The larger humanoid looked back at Bigfellow again.
Argo smiled at them. He would have waved, but he didn't have a hand free.
The hobgoblin turned back to the female, said something that sounded not-at-all nice to her, and then slowly began to head towards the ranger, drawing his weapon as he did so.
I love you too, sweetheart.
Bigfellow would have shouted it out to the goblin, but he had reentered the silence field once again. Argo staggered on as fast as he could with his burden, hoping that his remaining allies would be able to deal with this new pursuer.
He certainly wasn't going to be able to without dropping poor Elrohir once again.
Zantac kept looking around the parade grounds.
The Willip wizard was again breathing heavily, but this time it was from grief, not exertion.
Please, Cygnus, he prayed. Show that pale, skinny, ugly face of yours. I swear on Boccob's staff, I'll drink an entire gallon of green goop when we get back to the Brass Dragon, just show yourself. I know you're out there, somewhere.
The mage looked down at the ground beneath him, the tears filling his eyes not stopping him from seeing Cygnus again, if only in the past. The tall mage sitting across from him in the common room of the Brass Dragon, toasting him with a mug of ale.
Happiness and long life, my friend.
Zantac looked up again, trying to concentrate on the approaching Argo Bigfellow and his hobgoblin pursuer, but he just couldn't shake his thoughts.
You can't be dead, Cygnus. You're too much of a sneaky, manipulative bastard to be dead. All these people here may know you longer than me, but I know you only as another wizard can. You always have an angle.
For what seemed like the thousandth time in the last two minutes, Zantac wiped his eyes clear again.
You can't be dead.
Nesco and Talass were readying weapons, but it proved not to be necessary.
A hobgoblin suddenly lacking a right hand ran away from the circle of humanoids surrounding Tojo, its screams of agony lost in silence. The creature half-heartedly chasing Argo cast a quick glance at the trail of blood its fleeing compatriot was leaving, then at the two humans standing ready to meet it, and then changed course to join its allies in their relentless assault on the samurai.
Argo set Elrohir down by the tower door with a thump.
"Whew," he said, wiping his forehead. "No more rich foods for you," he admonished the statue, while trying to favor the others with a weak smile.
It was completely ignored.
"Argo," said Nesco softly. "Cygnus. He-"
Bigfellow nodded, while deciding not to mention the charred corpse he had seen. "I know, Nesco. I know."
Argo bit his lip. If he stopped to think about any of this, he was going to collapse, so he didn't.
Yeah. Simple as that, he thought sourly.
"Whether Cygnus is alive or not, he's beyond our help now, and we don't have the time to grieve. Not yet." The big ranger swung open the door and then winced at a fresh stab of pain.
Talass frowned as she examined the arrow she had just pulled out of Bigfellow's shoulder. Fortunately, it had only penetrated just enough not to have fallen out immediately. The cleric sighed, tossed it aside and then stared at Argo with a look he had trouble reading.
"Argo," she said. "Thank you for getting Elrohir. You'd better get him up those stairs before the strength spell wears off again." She turned to the others. "Nesco, Zantac. You cover him." She then turned back to face the parade grounds.
"I had a vision," she stated, "and it's come true."
The priestess turned around to look at her friends. "We've lost one of us. We have no idea where his body is, so we can't even try to bring him back to Chendl."
Argo said nothing. Even if the body he had seen was that of Cygnus, there was no way he was going to have anyone else throw their lives away trying to retrieve it.
The cleric's eyes blinked rapidly. "He's… not coming back. The vision has come true. Everything else is up to us, though. We're not going to be magically saved just because Cygnus is gone. That's why we're going to keep moving. We're going to get into the gatehouse, find a spot we can defend, and we're going to hold out until Aslan comes back. No one else is going to die. Do you understand that?"
She looked sternly, coldly, at her three remaining companions.
"No one else is going to die," Talass repeated, her voice rising. "I swear to Forseti, no one else is going to die!"
The priestess again turned back to the nearby battle. When she spoke after a brief pause, her voice was level again, but it had fully regained that icy demeanor that they all knew so well.
"I'm going to get Tojo," Talass said.
And she was gone.
"Talass!" Argo screamed after her, but she was already halfway towards the battle.
Damn it!" Bigfellow yelled to no one and everyone. "She's going to get killed! Tojo is past saving! You'd have to be a fool not to see that!"
"Or a Zeus worshipper," Nesco said.
Argo looked over at his fellow ranger. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the amazement off of his face.
Cynewine eyed him with a neutral expression.
"She must be hanging out with the wrong people," she said, then drew her sword and charged off as well before Bigfellow could say anything.
Argo turned to Zantac, only to find the red-robed wizard digging through his spell component pouch.
"No point in dying with one coin in your pocket, is there?" the mage muttered, not looking up at the ranger.
Argo Bigfellow looked again at the two women about to throw their lives away.
He thought of Caroline. Lord, how he wanted to be with her right now. A nasty but very present part of the ranger whispered that if it were a proven fact, he'd sacrifice all of his friends and companions for his wife.
In a heartless instant.
I guess I have one more decision to make after all, he thought.
The hobgoblins picked up the pace of their attacks on the lone human in their midst even more. Despite their frustration at the magical silence denying them the almost bestial passions of hearing their own battle cries, they knew that the end of the long battle was at last in sight.
It would, of course, be safe to say that they never heard it coming.
Two bloodied, berserk women hurled themselves into the midst of the group, slashing and smashing with their weapons. Two hobbies went down almost immediately.
As the humanoids dropped, Nesco and Talass got one good look at the samurai.
Their eyes locked, for just one second. If there was any expression left in that blood-drenched, corpse-like face that was Yanigasawa Tojo's, they couldn't read it.
The silence field prevented them from hearing his battle scream as he shifted back to an offensive posture one last time.
It prevented them from hearing the sound of his katana slicing through the air.
Or the sound of a suddenly decapitated hobgoblin head tumbling down to hit the packed earth.
The only thing it didn't prevent was them seeing a hobgoblin's blade slide into Tojo's momentarily unprotected abdomen and plunge out his back, covered in fresh crimson.
And at that moment, the silence expired, and an explosion of unanticipated screams of rage, sorrow and pain flooded into the larger sounds of chaos that was the slavers' stockade this night.
Talass and Nesco targeted the hobgoblin that they had identified as Tojo's murderer simultaneously. The creature's brain and heart ceased functioning together in a sudden shower of gore.
The remaining four hobbies finally broke and ran, but more were now pouring in from the outer courtyard and heading for the cleric and ranger.
"Move!"
The women whirled around.
Argo Bigfellow Junior, still the proud possessor of superhuman strength, literally leapt at the onrushing mob of hobgoblins, hurling himself sideways at the last instant. The hobbies in front went down in a heap with the ranger, and those behind wound up tripping over the pile and sprawling on the dirt, as well.
Talass dropped down to her knees over the fallen samurai and slammed her hands down on his chest.
The power is not mine, Forseti. It is yours.
The priestess literally grunted with the effort at forcing all other thoughts from her mind.
Only the healing power that she channeled mattered now.
Tojo's body jerked, and his last and most severe wound closed up.
There was no other movement, however. No breathing.
No sign of life at all.
Nesco stood guard as Talass continued to work on Tojo. She couldn't bear to look at him, so she looked at the samurai's backpack, its straps cut loose, lying on the ground.
She looked at a ring of two dozen hobgoblin bodies lying in a circle around the cleric and the samurai.
She looked at Argo, wreaking such havoc on his foes that they were already starting to lose morale and flee.
And then she looked back at the east tower.
Zantac had opened the door to the tower wide open, and was standing in front of it, looking up the staircase.
Guttural, inhuman voices were issuing from inside.
Shadows of figures rushing down the stairs filled the walls.
But Zantac was casting.
The crack of the lightning bolt made Nesco wince. A bright light seemed to flash on and off, again and again, within the confines of the staircase. The thunderous boom seemed to reverberate endlessly within those narrow walls.
From inside, she heard screams that died off to whimpers.
Zantac took a step back from the open door. A hobgoblin body tumbled down the stairs and landed by his feet.
It was followed by another.
And another.
The mage dove into the pile of corpses, pushing and kicking some aside to the left and others to the right. He seemed to be clearing a pathway into the tower, perhaps for Argo carrying Elrohir. Then, a snarl still on his face, he ducked into the staircase and was lost to sight.
More hobbie corpses came tumbling out.
"You are not going to die, Tojo Yanigasawa! Do you hear me? You are not going to die!"
Nesco looked back at Talass, who was apparently throwing another healing prayer at Tojo.
She wondered how many the cleric had left in her.
The samurai's body jerked again. Some more of his wounds closed. It almost seemed to Nesco that she saw Tojo's right hand twitch.
And then his body went limp again.
"Talass," Nesco began, and then stopped.
Lady Cynewine had no idea what she would say, even if her brain could make her mouth form the words. She felt like she was enveloped in a thick fog. Terrible things were outside, but they wouldn't find their way inside if she'd only-
Nesco blinked. It was odd, the things she was noticing now.
"Er, Talass?" she asked. "Don't you have his name-"
The priestess jerked her head up to stare at the ranger. Nesco flinched. That steely gaze Elrohir's wife had just recently found was gone again.
Now she just looked like a rabid animal. Her nose, broken recently by Tojo, had started bleeding again. Blood dripped down the priestess' face and over her lips.
Still glaring at Cynewine, Talass jabbed her finger into Tojo's unmoving chest.
"I've never met Tojo's family, or his lord. This man," and here the cleric had to pause to keep her voice from breaking, "this man is the most honorable man you or I will ever see in our lives, Nesco, and he can't even see that! If his family, who are so important that they put their name ahead of his, if they look at this young man and all they can see is dishonor," she swallowed hard before continuing.
"Then the Abyss can take them all. They don't deserve his loyalty. We certainly don't, and yet he gave it to us."
Talass turned back to Tojo and again placed her hands on his chest. She leaned in close over the samurai's face and murmured something.
Nesco looked around again. Argo was limping back towards them. The big ranger was sporting a new gash on his left thigh, judging by the blood seeping through the leg coverings of his plate mail.
"Yes!"
Nesco spun back around. What she saw made her want to both to jump for joy and gasp in alarm.
Tojo lay on the ground, trembling slightly and breathing erratically. He was still unconscious, but he was alive.
He was alive.
Talass, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of losing her mind.
"I KNEW IT!" she shrieked as she stood up, her light blue eyes looking at something in the night sky only she could see. "I KNEW HE WASN'T READY TO GO, NO MATTER WHAT HE SAID!"
Is it going to make any difference? We're all going to be dead within ten minutes, most likely.
Nesco was ashamed of her thought. She wanted to share Talass' optimism, but the cleric's view was shaped by faith and apparently, near-insanity.
The former was something Nesco was in desperately short supply of at the moment.
Insanity however, certainly had its own appeal right now, Nesco thought as she listened to Talass' too-loud laughter slowly trail off.
Argo was back. The ranger took in the situation at a glance, but no elation showed on his face. He continued on to the statue of Elrohir, and again lifted it a few inches off the ground, the effort sending fresh tears of agony squeezing out of his auburn eyes.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Bring him!" was all he said before disappearing into the tower. Zantac, who had apparently finished his gruesome work, was standing by the door again.
Talass and Nesco looked at each other for a moment, and the latter kneeled down by their fallen friend.
"I'll take him," Lady Cynewine said as she slowly pulled the samurai crosswise over her shoulders, grimacing in pain. Her knees shook wildly, but the ranger managed to stand with her new load. She managed to toss a whisper of a smile at the priestess.
"Just paying him back for the help he gave me in Highport. I hope this won't offend his sensibilities."
Talass nodded. The excess emotion was already fleeing her face and leaving it pale and tired. She was now as subdued as any of them. The cleric glanced down at her feet.
Tojo's katana and wakizashi lay there, every square inch of their silver blades covered in blood.
The priestess took a deep breath, picked them up and headed towards the door, slipping past Nesco. "That's a narrow staircase. Keep in the rear," she murmured to the ranger. "We don't know how many hobbies are still up there."
Zantac made a wry face. "Aslan had estimated three to four dozen in the fortress total before we entered." The wizard's face didn't hide his disdain. "I'd say it was probably twice that."
"Doesn't matter much now, does it?"
Argo's voice was muffled, his face pressed against the back of Elrohir's stone neck, but it still carried downstairs all too well.
The Willip wizard was about to retort, but then just shook his head.
"Suppose not."
Nesco was entering the tower now, trying to avoid knocking poor Tojo's head against the doorjamb. The ranger's eyes noticed a glint of metal on the door. She looked up to meet Zantac's gaze.
"That's right," the Willip wizard said, actually managing a real smile. "This door has a lock on it too, and it locks from the inside." The mage looked back at the pile of dead bodies where the samurai had made his last stand. "I guess we can be glad they left the door open in their rush to get to Tojo. Hopefully, it'll take them a while to find someone who's got a key."
Nesco grimaced. "I guess," she said softly, as she slipped inside.
Zantac took one last look around. The wolf-riding goblin was now in the center of the parade grounds. She was yelling and screeching at the hobgoblins that had just fled from the wrath of Argo Bigfellow Junior. They were standing around nervously for the most part, looking around for a face of recognized authority.
Apparently, the goblin didn't qualify on that score. The small humanoid was yelling and pointing at Zantac, but the hobbies would only look at the mage, and then turn and mumble amongst themselves.
The wizard's eyebrows rose. Had enough of us, have you? he thought. The feeling's mutual.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Oh, lord!"
The exclamation was forced out of Argo's lungs as the ranger finally emerged from the staircase.
It had nothing to do with the content or appearance of the guard room that he had just emerged into the middle of. It was unexceptional, perhaps thirty by fifteen, with a cup-shaped sconce on the west wall holding a small amount of burning oil, now getting low. No furniture or other objects were visible, only a thin flight of wooden stairs leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling, and a door in the midst of the north wall.
The cry had been from the expiration of Talass' latest strength spell on Bigfellow, which had allowed him barely enough time to deposit his burden just past the top of the stairs. Elrohir had swayed alarmingly upon the rough landing, but Argo had managed to steady him.
The ranger grimaced at the pain in his arms and shoulders. He felt certain that his arms had grown several extra inches in the last twenty minutes or so. It hurt to move either one though, so he just stood aside and concentrated on taking deep breaths as Talass came up, followed by Nesco, still carrying Tojo, and Zantac.
Argo had to admit, none of them looked like they were feeling any better than he was.
Zantac walked over to the door and examined it. "Damn," he muttered, turning back to look at Argo. "This door opens outwards." He pressed his ear to the wooden surface for a few seconds.
"Faint voices," he said as he shrugged and looked at Argo again. "Can't make 'em out. Hobbies, I'm sure." The mage looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've got a wizard lock, Argo, if you think-"
"Why are you asking me, Zantac?" Bigfellow snapped at him. "Do I look like the leader here?"
The wizard was silent for a moment, and then continued.
"As a matter of fact, right now you do, Argo."
"Then we're dead for sure!" Argo shot back. "In case you haven't realized, my friend, I have neither the aptitude nor the desire for leadership. If I did, I'd still be back at the Lone Heath with my father!" He jerked his head over at Nesco. "Ask Lady Cynewine here. She's worked with the Knights of Furyondy. Or Talass," he added. "She's always the one for law and order."
Argo watched as the two women exchanged glances, and then looked back at him.
"Well?" he said, exasperated.
"Argo," Nesco said tentatively. "We're asking you to lead us."
This would have been the perfect time for Bigfellow's pained smile, but right now he didn't even feel like that.
"Nesco," he said slowly but with as much patience as he could muster, "you're just as good as I am. You-"
"No, Argo, I'm not," Lady Cynewine interrupted. "I wish I was, believe me, but I'm not."
"I don't lead, Nesco!" the big ranger shouted back. "I just go my own way! Elrohir knows that! Even Aslan knows that! It drives him crazy that he can't change me- a fringe benefit sure, but that's not why I do it! I just do whatever I have to do at the moment, and-"
"Then right now what you have to do is lead, Argo Bigfellow Junior."
Now the famed smile made a cameo.
"You too, my good lady? I thought you'd be the last one to ever take an order from me."
Talass matched the smile.
"The gods have their own ways, Argo. We just follow and endure. You told me you'd give us one percent. Well, you did, and we're still alive. That's a sign to me if ever there was one. Now please hurry. Nesco won't say anything, but I'm sure carrying Tojo is hurting her, and we need to know if we're going to stay here or not."
Argo looked over at Zantac. The wizard's face was devoid of even a trace of humor.
"I could care less, Argo," the mage said. "I know as well as you do that we're dead no matter what, so tell me which door you want the damn wizard lock on, and let's get on with it."
Bigfellow closed his eyes.
I don't believe this. I actually wish Aslan was here.
He opened them again. The faint image of Caroline that was starting to form in his mind's eye again faded away like a wisp of smoke.
The big ranger walked up the stairs and examined the trap door. There was no bolt on it, at least from this side. Argo squinted. He could just make out a faint flicker of light coming through the seam, but he could hear no noise from above.
He turned back to the others. "One more strength please, my good lady. I want higher ground, if possible."
Five minutes later, the four active remnants of the party lay gasping for breath.
It had taken Argo, Zantac and Talass' combined efforts to push Elrohir through the trap door. The ranger's petrified posture did not allow for an easy fit, and in the end the frame in which the trap door sat on the floor had been damaged, so that the door no longer closed securely.
They were now in a larger room, about thirty by forty. This space, lit by torch sconces on the north and south walls, appeared to be some kind of officer's quarters.
"The half-orc?" Nesco had asked.
Argo had looked towards the sconces, and then back at his fellow ranger.
"If so, he's sharing it with a human," he'd said.
A desk with two chairs sat in the western half of the room, perhaps ten feet from the door. Nesco had laid Tojo out on the table while Talass went through the boxes that were stacked in the room's southwest corner. The cleric had been pleased to find that they contained bandages, various foodstuffs, small tools for armor and weapon maintenance, and so on.
"Private stash for the officers," she'd guessed.
Zantac had cast his wizard lock on the room's eastern door, while Argo had just managed to wedge Elrohir up against the door opposite before the strength spell wore off again.
Bigfellow wasn't happy. Elrohir was not in a position to keep the door totally closed, but he should be able to stop an intruder long enough for the others to secure it.
Now Talass was bandaging up the worst of Argo and Nesco's wounds as the two rangers sat in the chairs, eyeing each other over the samurai's unconscious form. Zantac had pulled one of the two cots lying in the room's eastern half over, and was sitting slumped over, staring at the floor.
All four of them had taken additional food and water. As Zantac had pointed out, there wasn't going to be an overland return trip anyway.
"We're going to make it, Zantac," Talass told him.
The red-robed wizard looked up and gave the priestess a sour look. "Aslan won't be back for hours, Talass, even if we assume the clergy of Heironeous didn't kill him on the spot. And besides," he shrugged, "so what if he does come back?"
Talass looked at him curiously, as did Nesco. Argo, who had been idly looking over a supply requisition form he'd found in a desk drawer, now buried his gaze in a mug of ale he had found on the desk. He knew exactly where Zantac was going with this.
"The sooner Aslan comes back, the less Talent he'll have in reserve," the wizard pointed out. "Even at full strength, he can't teleport all of us out of here." Zantac looked over at the stone statue and took a deep breath, not wanting to look Talass in the eye now.
"And there's no way he can help Elrohir."
Talass glanced over at her petrified husband and then back at Zantac, frowning. "He doesn't have to do it himself, Zantac. The Valorous Church in Chendl will-"
Argo couldn't let this go on any longer.
"Talass," he cut in.
The cleric looked over at him.
Argo's face held that sad expression that she knew meant he was ahead of Talass on something, and she wasn't going to like it.
"How much weight can Aslan transport, Talass?"
The priestess stared at him for a moment, and then her face went chalk-white. Her hand flew to her mouth. and she sat down so heavily on the edge of the desk, that Nesco reached out to steady her.
Talass didn't seem to be looking at anybody. "My Lord," she whispered. "Please- provide for your faithful." Her blue eyes shut tight. "Please."
Zantac got up and walked over to the southern wall. It contained an actual window. True, it was small and was barred, but the mage could see some of the parade grounds from here. He stayed about a foot back from the window, not wanting to make himself an easy target for some hidden archer.
He could see the wolf-rider down below, and her attendent goblins. There were perhaps a dozen hobbies visible as well, but they seemed to be engaged in clean-up tasks such as piling bodies together, grabbing a quick drink or bite to eat, or cleaning their weapons. There seemed no sign of an imminent attack, at least from the surface.
Then he heard the voices.
His head snapped towards the western door just as the others did likewise.
The voices were indecipherable; the language, goblin.
But one voice rose loud and clear above the others, and suddenly there was the sound of armored boots running. Running directly towards them.
Argo, the closest to the western door, exploded out of his chair. Just before he reached the door to brace it, the door started to fly open. It stopped quickly when it hit the statue, but before Bigfellow could slam the door shut again, the blade of a sword slipped through.
Nesco's first thought was that the weapon was glowing, but that wasn't right. Not exactly. The blade seemed to shimmer as if- as if it were reflecting sunlight on a bright day. Cynewine actually looked over her shoulder for a moment, as if she might see the sun somehow, even in the dead of night.
Groaning with the effort, Argo pushed against the door, but his exhaustion was now overwhelming. Talass joined him, but she had no more left than he did. The blade rotated so that it was now positioned horizontally. The edge of the weapon bit deeply into the wood of the door's edge. Suddenly, a solid kick sent the door back hard enough to tip Elrohir over. Talass shrieked and managed to guide her husband's fall so that he hit the wall first, slowing the statue's descent so that the impact with the floor knocked no additional pieces loose.
Without Talass' aid, though, Argo was unable to completely hold the door. A second kick opened it just enough for the sword's wielder to start squeezing through.
He was human, perhaps thirty-five or so, Nesco thought even as she was coming around to confront him. The man was either pure Oeridian or close to it, with a tanned, circular face and dark brown hair, cut straight with short bangs. He wore banded armor, nearly identical to that of the half-orc. His left hand held a small metal shield, but it was on the far side of the door and little could be seen of it. The man's dark brown eyes registered each occupant of the room.
The tactical glance of a warrior, Lady Cynewine knew. This man was gauging each potential opponent. Their possible capabilities, their current health, their numbers. Perhaps even subconsciously, this man was making calculations without numbers and within seconds, would be coming to a conclusion.
This wasn't a man given to idle boasting. Nesco just thought he didn't have the face for it. If he felt this was a fight he couldn't win, this man would withdraw. Even if he had but a small doubt, he would withdraw.
If on the other hand, he was certain that he could kill them all, Lady Cynewine didn't think he'd have any hesitation in doing so.
The man's face carried a lot on it. His expression showed mostly a grimace as he threw his weight against Argo's. It was at least some relief to Nesco that his strength seemed to be at best, equal to Argo on his worst day.
There was anger on that face too, though it seemed to have been there even before he attempted to crash through in on them.
Disappointed in his troops? Nesco thought suddenly.
But then the man caught sight of Nesco as the ranger came up to intercept him. His gaze traveled from her shield, to her sword, and then to her face.
He made no move to retreat.
"Well, well," the man said with a cold, angry smile, staring straight at Lady Cynewine. "And what do we have here?"