Chapter Twelve: Prey

Keyleth pushed herself as fast as her canine body could go, muscles straining, claws scrabbling on stone, desperate to put as much distance between herself and that room as possible. Pike had told her Lady Kaiya was dead; she hadn't mentioned she was… that Ripley had…

In her various animal forms, Keyleth was familiar with the smell of blood. She knew how a predator's brain reacted to it. When she'd transformed herself earlier, the wolf had breathed deep of the reek of goblin blood and smelled meat. Prey. The aftermath of a great hunt. The urge to bend down and feast had left her salivating. Tracking Vax and Percy, she'd smelled blood on them, too. Human blood or half-Elven, it was hard to tell from the faint traces left behind. But it was enough to know that at least one of them was hurt. Weak. Slow. Vulnerable. The wolf wanted to hunt.

And as she'd approached that room, the scent of human blood had become overpowering. A fresh kill. Something—someone had been torn apart. Her stomach had growled in anticipation. It had been all she could do to rein the wolf's instincts in.

But the sight of the body had given even the wolf brain pause. The wounds weren't natural. They were not the marks of teeth or claws. This wasn't a kill for food. These wounds had no purpose but to maim, to torment, to kill for the sake of killing. Keyleth's scream of horror had come out a piteous yelp.

Now, as she ran, following the scents of leather and gunpowder and blood back toward the entrance, Keyleth fought to shake the image from her mind, to not think about what it meant. If Ripley was capable of that kind of… of sadistic…

Gods, what was that monster doing to her friends at this very moment?

She yelped again as an explosion shook the tunnels, and redoubled her efforts. She had to get out of here, now, to a pack and safety.

The wolf brain concurred.

Something was coming up the tunnels.

"Stand ready, lads," said Hack. He readied his battleaxe in one hand and his flail in the other as he turned to face the opening, teeth bared as he prepared to face whatever creature was coming out to meet them. It was a big one, from the sound of it: heavy, snarling breaths echoing up from within, and the scrape of large claws on stone. It sounded like it was spoiling for a fight, and Hack would give it one. "Archers!" he barked.

The squad's two crossbowmen aimed their weapons into the tunnel, unwavering, not a hint of fear in their faces. Their fingers tightened on the triggers as the creature emerged, a huge gray wolf leaping out in a storm of teeth and claws and fur—

—and the half-Elf druid girl, Keyleth, collapsed on the ground at Hack's feet.

"Hold fire!" he ordered. He stowed his weapons and dropped to one knee to help the girl up. "Quite a trick there, lass," he said. "Are you all right? Didja find something?"

Keyleth took Hack's hand and let him pull her to her feet. Her slender, delicate fingers trembled, and she looked sick, coughing and retching as she gasped for breath. "Kaiya… found her…" she panted. "So much blood…" Her knees buckled, and she moaned as Hack caught her.

As he guided her over to the wall of the manor and helped her sit down, Hack gritted his teeth. It had been hard enough on the men, losing the Count. At least young Wesley seemed a worthy and reasonably well-prepared successor. But the Lady Kaiya had been well beloved among the troops, irreverent and wild and never too high-and-mighty to share a strong drink and a hearty laugh with them. They hadn't wanted to believe she was really dead. Losing her would be a huge blow to their morale, all the more so if they had to see her torn and broken.

The monster who'd done this, this "Doctor" Ripley, deserved nothing better than a slow, painful, and honorless death.

"There you go, lass," he said to Keyleth as she settled onto the grass. "You did good. I'll leave someone 'ere with you, and the rest of us'll 'andle the rest."

Keyleth nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay." She drew a deep breath. "It's kind of a maze in there. Y-you'll have to go left through the goblin barracks. Then right where the tunnel stops. Look for the blue light, and… and…" A shudder wracked her slight frame until Hack thought she might shake herself to pieces.

He patted her shoulder. "Not to worry. We'll take it from 'ere." He stood and pointed to one of the crossbowmen, then two of the younger guards. "Doren, stay with Lady Keyleth. Harken and Longhand, get the shrouds outta the cart. The rest o' you lot, grab torches. You're with me."

Vax skidded to a stop as the tunned ahead of him bloomed with fire in a shattering explosion. He threw himself backward, the flames of Ripley's Fireball singeing his armor, and barely managed to avoid being buried alive as the tunnel collapsed in its wake. The concussion knocked him off balance, and he landed on his ass in a puddle of cold water.

"Great, let's add insult to fucking injury," he muttered in disgust. He could just hear Vex's mocking laughter.

Well, it was better than picturing her screaming as Ripley—

No. Vax shook his head as he climbed to his feet, firmly putting the image from his mind. That wasn't going to happen. Vex was safe now.

Well, relatively.

Vax ran back to Percy and Vex just in time to see the last goblin fall in a spray of blood and brains. "We have a problem," he said.

Percy rounded on him, eyes flashing, pepperbox still in hand but pointed at the ceiling. Smoke curled from the barrel. "Where's Ripley?" he growled. "I told you not to let her get away!"

"She collapsed the tunnel," Vax shot back. "You'll have to forgive me for being unable to walk through stone."

Holstering his pepperbox, Percy swore under his breath. "Bloody hells."

"There must be another way out," Vex offered as she stowed her bow on her back. "These tunnels can't go on forever."

But Percy shook his head. "No, but we could wander aimlessly forever. It's a labyrinth down here. Our best chance is to try and clear the blockage." He bent down and picked up a torch from a slain goblin, and lit it from one of the braziers in the room beyond. "Show me."

Vax turned around to lead the others back to the cave-in, and as expected, he heard Vex giggle. "Having other problems, Brother?" she teased.

He flipped her the finger, but didn't look back. He didn't want her to see him smile.

Grog grabbed Pike and ran toward the sound of the explosion, and the light from Pike's mace soon found the edge of a cloud of dust and smoke. Someone coughed.

"Vax?" Pike called out. "Percy, is that you?"

But the figure that limped out of the smoke was neither. A woman, covered in blood and dust, dark eyes glaring, sneered up at them. "I should have known Percival would bring the rest of his little friends."

"Hey, who you callin' little?" Grog demanded.

Rather than answer, Ripley raised her left hand, aiming a weapon at Grog's face—a familiar-looking one. Pike gasped. Was that Percy's pepperbox? Had she—

Before Pike could complete that thought, Ripley opened fire.

Pike cast Shield at the last instant, covering Grog's head and chest as well as herself, and sending the first few bullets careening into the walls. But the fifth shot found Grog's arm, burying itself in his bicep in a spray of blood.

The pepperbox clicked.

Unfazed by the wound, Grog set Pike down, then drew his greataxe with a toothy grin. "My turn," he growled. He charged toward her and swung with all his might—only for his axe to crash into stone with a shower of sparks, through the telltale shimmer of a Misty Step.

Cursing, Pike turned around and found Ripley not ten feet behind her, already reloading. "Oh, no you don't!" Pike snapped. She muttered an incantation and closed a fist around an iron nail from her component pouch. Her Hold Person spell instantly rendered Ripley paralyzed, unable to move or speak, for as long as Pike could maintain concentration.

"Grog, tie her up," she said tersely. "And gag her, too. Quickly. I can't hold this spell for long."

"Can't we just kill her?"

"Grog!"

He pouted. "Okay."

As Grog wound ropes tightly around Ripley's wrists and ankles, Pike stepped closer to inspect the pepperbox she carried. It wasn't Percy's, thank the Everlight, but it was clearly based on his designs. Pike took it from her unresisting hand and tucked it in the Bag of Holding for Percy to examine later. Her fingers brushed against Grog's as he pulled something out at the same time: a ball gag that Pike was pretty sure belonged to Scanlan. It wasn't what she'd had in mind, but it sure would do the trick.

With Ripley finally neutralized—and looking absolutely ridiculous, to boot—Pike released the spell. Ripley immediately began to struggle against her bonds, blazing eyes promising painful retribution should she get free. Pike moved behind her and slammed the butt of her mace into the back of Ripley's head, and the bound woman slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Pike frowned. "That was too easy," she muttered. Studying Ripley's limp form, she found a deep stab wound in her leg that seemed to be the source of most of the blood. She knelt, held out her hand, and cast Cure Wounds.

"What'cha doin' that for?" asked Grog.

"She needs to stand trial for her crimes," Pike replied. "It's hardly justice if she bleeds out right here." She stood and looked down at Ripley, then up at Grog. "Take her and meet up with Hack. She can ride back to Castle Gildspire next to her own handiwork." She spat the word as if it were a curse. "I'm going to see if I can find the others."