by S. R. Witt
There was no point trying to hide or sneak. Anyone in the manor had to have heard that and knew we were here. Bastion couldn’t move without making enough noise to wake the dead, so unless he stayed put while I scampered away, we were screwed.
The only way we were going to get out of the Wenderly Manor alive, and with the Codex, was to take the fight to them.
“New plan,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s kill ‘em and take their shit.”
A broad smile broke across Bastion’s face as he followed me out of the office. It was time for him to do what he did best, bust some skulls.
When we’d almost reached the stairs, I heard someone moving around on the floor below us. I held up a hand to halt Bastion, but he’d already stopped. For as much noise as my brother made, he was pretty observant, I’ll give him that.
While we held our position, the other burglars in the house kept moving toward the stairs. Whoever was on the floor above us was quiet like me, but whoever was closing in on us from the floor below didn’t care if we heard them coming.
A gravelly phlegm-clogged voice came from below. “Jarissa found the way they came in and blocked their escape. We’ll wait here, and she’ll flush them to us.
I couldn’t place the accent. It was thick and harsh, like the berserkers in the combat footage coming out of the Eastern European conflict states.
The voice that answered was higher-pitched but jagged with harsh, clipped consonants. “We have to catch them. They may have found the Codex.”
The first voice rumbled back. “If we couldn’t find it, what makes you think they have?”
“We’re taking no chances. We find them, we kill them. If they have the Codex, then we take it from them. If not, we won’t have to worry about them causing us any trouble once they’re dead.”
Screw that noise.
Bastion leaned in close, careful not to rattle his armor, and whispered, “They’re split up; one above, two below. Let’s head upstairs and kick that one’s ass, then we can deal with the other two.”
It was a sound plan, but it didn’t play to my strengths. “No. You wait by the stairs for the one above us to come down. You engage, I’ll ambush. Then we’ll do the same when the two below come to see what happened to their buddy.”
Bastion looked a little dubious about any plan that didn’t involve a headlong charge into the teeth of death. I, on the other hand, wasn’t budging. A little stealth and surprise would go a long way to saving our hides, especially since we were outnumbered.
Finally, he nodded and jogged toward the stairs, rattling with every step. His drawn longsword blazed with blue fire, filling the narrow hall with an azure glow. Whoever came down those stairs would only have eyes for my brother.
And that was just the way I liked it.
We reached the stairs before our enemies, and I pulled my hood down over my face and faded into the shadows.
Bastion struck a heroic pose, legs spread, weapon poised to strike. The longsword dripped fire and sizzled in the cold air. My brother looked mighty impressive. I could almost see him as the paladin he so desperately wanted to be.
He grinned and shot me a thumbs up. We had a plan. We were worked well as a team. We were going to kick some serious ass.
We had no idea what we were up against.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The first arrow screamed past Bastion’s left arm and drove itself into the wooden banister, where it vibrated like a struck tuning fork.
The second arrow punched through the armor covering his left shoulder with a sound like a ringing gong that echoed through the house.
The third arrow passed so near to his skull its barbed head snipped a handful of his hairs.
Bastion fell back, sword raised as a weak defense against the rain of arrows. My brother was always much better playing offense than defense.
Shit. The intended victim of my sneak attack had turned everything upside down and brought the ambush to us. I held my ground and hoped Bastion had enough sense to try and lure the archer down the stairs where I could spring my sneak attack.
Bastion ducked away from a fourth arrow, retreating from the stairwell and down the hall in the direction we hadn’t yet searched.
Our opponent pursued him, leaping down the stairs with bow drawn. She wore a robe of sleek leather that covered her from the top of her head to just above her soft, gray boots.
Her eyes glinted like green sparks inside her hood as she scanned the hallway for new threats.
VERBOSE HIDE IN SHADOWS SKILL CHECK
Hide in Shadows Skill (8) + Dexterity (15) + d100 (63) = 86
vs
Opponent’s Listen Skill Check Result: 64
Skill Check Result = 22
Degree of Success: 2
Activation Time: 5 seconds
Stamina Cost: 1
SUCCESS! You skulk in the shadows, unseen by your foes.
You have increased your mastery of the Hide in Shadows skill. (Rank 8)
Bastion’s retreat had carried him down the corridor to the south and into the thick shadows. The archer, assuming my brother was the only enemy, stalked after him. Her bow was drawn, and I had no doubt she’d turn my brother into a human pincushion the instant she saw him.
I wasn’t going to give her a chance. I concentrated on her for a moment, and a red placard appeared above her head.
Jarissa, Adept, Level ??
I’d hoped to learn more about her, but I guess I didn’t have the skill to accurately appraise my enemies. I added it to the running list of shit I needed to learn if I wanted to survive.
Jarissa passed by my hiding spot. She was so close I smelled the wet dog scent of her sweat and the oily tang of the leather robe. My eyes swiveled in their sockets, tracking her movements as I held my breath and remained as still as a statue.
Then her back was to me, and it was time to kick some ass.
Springing from the shadows gave me the drop on the archer. My stiletto punched through her leather robes and scraped along her ribs. It wasn’t the deadly assault I’d planned, but then…
BRACERS OF THE STRIKING SERPENT ACTIVATED!
The bracers gave me an instant follow-up attack with no activation time. The stiletto in my left hand plunged deep into Jarissa’s body just below the ribs on her side.
A barking gasp of pain escaped her as I wrenched the blade to the side. The blade ripped through her robes, splaying them open and spilling a curtain of blood from above her right hip down to her knee.
I didn’t need to read the combat messages to know that was a critical hit.
She didn’t stick around to let me follow it up with a coup de grace. Despite her wound, she was still quick on her feet and darted away from me before I could attack again.
The instant my combat timer had ticked down to 0, I threw myself into the pursuit. With my speed enhanced by the bracer’s triggered effect, there was no way she could outrun me.
And she didn’t even try to escape. When I’d closed to within ten feet of the archer, she executed a perfect shoulder roll and came up facing me with an arrow nocked.
The arrow was too fast, and the distance it had to cover was too short, for me to try to dodge out of the way even with my magically augmented speed. The archer’s shot drilled through the toe of my boot and into the wooden floor beneath.
CRITICAL HIT!
A barbed arrow has impaled your foot.
Damage: 10 Health
STATUS EFFECTS
PINNED: Unable to move until the arrow is removed from your foot.
STUNNED: You are unable to move or take any other action. All defenses reduced by 50%. (Duration: 10 seconds)
Status effects can be healed with proper medical attention, the correct healing herbs, or magic.
I was in mid-stride when my right foot became one with the floor. Off-balance and unable to stop my momentum, I flopped onto my belly and slammed onto my chin. Pain rocketed up my leg and ignited a fir
eworks display of agony in my brain.
The pain radiating from my foot in crashing waves made it impossible to focus on anything else. My eyes were clenched against the pain, and I found it impossible to make any sense of the sounds surrounding me.
A dog barked. Bastion roared like a wounded lion. Heavy footsteps hammered across the floor below me. A crow cawed.
After a few moments, the stunning agony caused by the arrow through my foot receded to a dull knife-edge of pain. It took every ounce of courage I could muster to rock the boat and risk stirring up more searing agony. But if I stayed where I was, the archer and her buddies were going to slaughter Bastion and then carve me up into bite-sized pieces.
Clenching my teeth and holding my breath, I rolled over onto my back. It was a painful slow-motion gymnastics routine. Every time my foot flared with pain, I stopped and adjusted my approach.
The sounds of battle continued. As did the sounds of approaching enemies.
Finally, I worked myself around into a sitting position. I opened my eyes and almost closed them again at the sight of my injury.
The arrow jutted from the top of my foot like a signpost. Blood welled up around the wooden shaft, not gushing, but bubbling steadily.
My stomach rolled over and tried to climb up my throat.
“Company’s coming,” Bastion shouted. In the short time I’d been out of it, he’d sprouted a third arrow, this one on the outside of his hip. The gleaming armor covering his leg on that side was streaked red with blood, and his health bar was below half.
I wasn’t in great shape, myself. A third of my health was gone.
If I didn’t do something, we were going to die.
Before the smarter parts of my brain could convince me otherwise, I snapped the arrow off just above the top of my boot and lifted my foot off the boards.
You are no longer pinned or stunned.
Your foot is crippled. -2 Speed penalty.
5 health damage.
It hurt like a motherfucker, but the pain was a small price to pay to free myself.
I hobbled toward my brother, who had seized the initiative despite his injuries. Bastion had his opponent backed against the wall at the far end of the hallway. He took another swing, aiming for her head, and she dropped almost prone to avoid decapitation.
Before she could get back on her feet and shoot one of us, I darted in with a wild dagger thrust. She rolled away from my attack and regained her feet.
Outnumbered, the archer opted for the better part of valor. She leaped into the air and tucked into a tight somersault. Her feet struck the wall, and she sprang off it, tumbling over our heads and down the hall like a damned circus acrobat.
That was a trick I had to learn.
Her bow was out, and an arrow nocked as soon as her boots touched the floor.
I grabbed Bastion’s belt and dragged my wobbling brother through an open door. Arrows streaked through the space we’d just vacated.
Bastion took up a position against the wall near the door, sword ready to lop the head off anyone stupid enough to charge in after us.
The small room we’d taken shelter in faced the city streets. The bars were still in place on the windows, preventing any escape in that direction, but the shutters and glass were long gone. Snow had found its way inside and formed shallow drifts against the street-side wall.
Light flashed through the windows from outside, accompanied by angry shouts.
“The hell is that?” Bastion cursed.
I scrambled across the room to get a look outside. “More company’s about to drop in.”
“You think it’s arrow girl’s friends?”
My heart sank as I recognized the shabby uniforms and crappy weaponry of Frosthold’s finest. “I don’t think so. It’s the city guard.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The guards gathered at the front of the house with their torches held high. Their voices were raised, but I couldn’t tell if they were yelling into the house, or arguing with each other.
They weren’t battering down the door to get into the house, yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they decided it was worth the damage to a nobleman’s house to apprehend some burglars.
Bastion swung the bedroom door closed and dragged a heavy barrel from the corner to block it. Something inside the barrel sloshed as Bastion moved it across the room, and the stink of stale beer filled the room.
“That’ll hold ‘em off for a few minutes, at least,” he said.
With the door secured, for the moment, Bastion leaned against the barrel and turned his attention to his wounds. He looked down at the arrows lodged in his armor. “Can you get these out of me? I won't heal until they're removed.”
The arrows had left clean round holes through his armor, which meant they were simple heads and not barbed. The archer must have different types of arrows for different targets. That was both intriguing and terrifying.
Without warning, I yanked the first arrow free of Bastion’s body. Blood welled up through the hole the arrow had left in his armor. His eyes rolled in their sockets, and he bit down hard on a scream.
“Sorry,” I muttered and plowed through the unpleasant task as quickly as I could. Bastion was a pain in my ass, but he was my brother. I didn't want to hurt him.
“Thanks,” he gasped. “That's better.”
I paced our improvised bolthole. There were some barrels along one wall, a small desk in the center of the small chamber, and a single chair stood before the desk.
The only way out of the room was the door we’d just blocked. There were no other doors, and the windows were barred.
And if by some miracle, I was able to slip between the bars I still wouldn’t be safe. The guard was gathered on the street below, and they’d brand me their least favorite kind of criminal as soon as I escaped the house.
We needed another way out.
Too bad there wasn’t one.
Bastion carried enough weaponry to outfit a small mercenary force, and I realized he had the key to our escape hanging from his belt.
“Give me that,” I said, pointing at the ax on his left hip.
Bastion smirked. “It’s kind of big. You sure you don’t want to stick to your little prickers?”
“Smartass,” I grumbled. I walked over to my brother and took the ax from his belt. “I hope I break it.”
And there was an excellent chance that’s what was going to happen.
We couldn’t go out to the window, and we couldn’t leave through the door. If we wanted out, we’d have to make another exit. Down was no use because that would put us on the ground floor and close to the guards waiting outside. But, if the mental map I’d made of the place was worth a damn, up could be very promising, indeed.
It was a small hope, but a hell of a lot better than no hope at all.
A heavy weight crashed into the door and Bastion’s heels skidded across the bare wood floor. He repositioned himself and leaned into the makeshift barrier. “If you’ve got a plan, you’re going to need to get moving on it. Our friends really want to pay us a visit.”
The ceiling wasn’t high, which worked in my favor. I clambered up onto the desk in the center of the room, careful not to put too much weight on my injured foot. The old furniture wobbled under me but held my weight. I took aim overhead and swung the ax for all I was worth.
Turns out, I’m not worth a great deal.
The ax chipped plaster away from the ceiling but didn’t even make a dent in the wood behind it.
I cleared more of the plaster away and swung the hatchet into the ceiling, managing to dislodge a few splinters in the process. After a solid minute of hacking at the wood, I’d created a hole almost big enough to fit one finger through.
Meanwhile, Bastion was doing his best to keep the door closed. Someone on the other side kept slamming what sounded like a small car into it. It wouldn’t be long before the door shattered.
This was not an excellent plan.
Bastion grunt
ed as the door jolted into him again. “Hurry it up! I can’t hold them forever.”
Brute force wasn’t going to get the job done. I needed something that would work on the wood without my having to apply muscle to it.
I hopped off the desk, wincing as my injured foot banged onto the floor. I stuffed Bastion’s hatchet back in his belt and pulled his precious sword from the scabbard strapped across his back. Blue flames lit up the inside of the room and crackled merrily along the weapon’s length.
Bastion couldn’t take his weight off the door to stop me from making off with his sword. “No!”
I ignored his protest and climbed onto the desk below the dinky hole I’d chipped in the wooden ceiling. “I’m not going to hurt your precious toy.”
Maybe.
I gripped the longsword’s hilt in both hands and raised it overhead.
“By the power of Grayskull,” I intoned and rammed the burning tip into the hole.
The wood around the edge of the hole blackened and smoked. Within a few seconds, orange embers flickered to life, and sparks bounced off my hood and showered the floor around the desk.
“It’s working,” I crowed in triumph. “Just keep ‘em out, Hodor.”
Wood cracked, and a blade emerged from the door in front of Bastion’s face.
“Won’t be much door left, soon,” he growled. “Time’s just about up.”
“Almost there,” I said.
The blade had chewed through the wood, and half its length was through the smoky opening. Glowing coals as big as my thumb rained down around me and onto the floor, where they burned smoldering holes in the carpet.