Split the Party

by Drew Hayes

  “Wait, why? If they were going to kill and rob us, wouldn’t they do it when they had us surrounded?”

  “We were ready.” Grumph spoke softly as he jogged, wary of being overheard. “We were dangerous.”

  “These aren’t adventurers willing to risk their lives for some small score or thrill,” Gabrielle explained. “Time and terrain are on their side, so instead of trying to fight us when we might take them down, they’ll be patient and wait until we make camp. Even with one on watch, we’ll be far easier targets than we were back there.”

  Fritz let out a long, annoyed sigh. “Forgive me, but I fail to see the point in all of this then.”

  “It’s simple: they had an ambush for us waiting on the road, which we wanted to get past. Now, it’s our turn to be ahead. And if there is one thing that my tribe taught me well, it’s how to fight superior foes when they’re coming for you.”

  “I’m sorry, your ‘tribe,’ you said?” Fritz asked.

  Gabrielle blushed for a brief moment, then covered it with a heavy shrug. “It’s a . . . long story.”

  “Yet one I think would be fascinating to hear,” Fritz replied. “You know, assuming we live through the night.”

  “Consider it a deal. In the meantime, can you pull out your cart and switch horses with Grumph?” Gabrielle asked. “If we want to pull this off, we need to cover a lot of ground before they catch up.”

  * * *

  Timuscor pulled the door shut, barring them safely inside the blacksmith’s basement. Their ride back had brought them into town after sundown, but none had really been afraid of something overtaking them in the darkness. They’d watched the undead townsfolk slam the door for countless minutes, and nothing was distracting them. Whoever had bound them to their task had made certain to keep them working hard.

  Of course, knowing that also made their fortified base seem like something of overkill, but as Thistle pointed out on the ride back, knowing one threat was gone wasn’t the same as knowing all of them were gone. Given that a horde of undead was only a short ride away from where they were staying, prudence and safety were by far the smarter bets to make.

  “Does anyone have any idea of what we’re supposed to do?” Eric was pulling out leftover turkey from the prior day’s meal, all inclination to cook worn out of him by the day’s sights and travels. “Thistle, didn’t you have some experience with undead?”

  “I did, and they were awful,” Thistle admitted. Given that it was the tale of how he’d met his wife, hiding that expertise from his companions had ultimately proved impossible. “Horrid, mindless beasts, and that’s if you’re lucky. The most powerful of the undead actually retain their minds, or at least a dark reflection of them. They are by far the most dangerous enemy one can end up facing, and if you’re lucky, you only end up being killed by them.”

  “Wow, that is really depressing,” Eric said. “I was actually asking if you knew any ways to turn them back or drive them away. Glad to know we’re in a ‘hoping for death’ situation, though.”

  “Oh.” Thistle took a seat next to Eric while Timuscor began stripping out of his armor. “My apologies. Seeing them down there and being around such concentrated, evil energy . . . I fear I might be a touch off my game tonight.”

  “I forgot to ask you about that; did you get any more directions while we were inside the mountain?” They had explored one of the tunnels briefly, only to find it led to a dead-end. By that point, it was decided they had best come back the next day, as none of them wanted to be in that mountain full of undead once the sun had set. It might not have any effect on the monsters, but no one was particularly eager to find out for certain, not even Timuscor.

  “Sadly, no. Once we were inside, there was no sense of a place I should be going, only an increased intensity, like my sense was letting me know I’d arrived.” Thistle paused, thinking back to the show they’d sat quietly watching for part of the afternoon. “Were I to make a guess, however, I would think that whatever is drawing us to the mountain might lie beyond those massive doors.”

  “The ones the undead were trying to bust down?” Timuscor asked, slowly freeing himself from the silver container that kept him safe in battle. Nearby, his shield still cast the barest of glows. The enchantment Thistle had cast was apparently temporary, which was actually a relief as they moved closer toward trying to sleep.

  “Those indeed,” Thistle confirmed.

  “Great, so all we have is an army of undead and apparently impenetrable doors standing between us and whatever you have to do to get out of this town.” Eric took a bite of cold turkey and chewed slowly. “I think I’m starting to miss the demons.”

  “It’s not quite as bad as all that,” Thistle said. “The undead are trying to force their way through something that was clearly meant to be opened either by magic or mechanism. If we can figure out what actually grants entry, then we’ll be halfway to getting through.”

  “Sure, we’ll just have the hundreds of undead down there, who you described as ‘horrid, mindless beasts.’ And that’s assuming none are the more dangerous, intelligent kind,” Eric pointed out.

  “Fine, so we’ll be a quarter of the way there once we crack the doors.”

  “That’s all I’m saying.” Reaching around his back, Eric pulled his pack forward to serve as a makeshift pillow. “How do you plan on popping open those doors, anyway?”

  “Someone built that place, and given its proximity to the mountain, I’d guess that the person lived in Briarwillow,” Thistle said. “In fact, Briarwillow may have first sprung into existence as a place to shelter those constructing the caverns. Tomorrow, we raid every house for books, diaries, scrolls, the lot of it. If there are any records to be found about what’s down there, this is the town they would be in. With a little help from the gods, and a lot of reading, perhaps we can uncover some clues as to how those doors work, or even what dwells beyond them.”

  “You ever wonder how many other paladins out there prefer research to fighting?” Eric asked.

  Thistle shook his head and tore off a hunk of cold turkey. “Can’t say it’s ever crossed my mind. All I can do is be the best paladin I’m capable of, and I’ll take knowledge over a sharp dagger any day of the year.”

  Chapter 14

  The bandits were stealthy, by most definitions of the word. They moved carefully, with lanterns covered and feet sure. No telltale snaps of twigs gave them away. Any rustling they made could have easily been little more than the wind or some stray beast. Words were locked away in their mouths; only simple hand gestures were used to convey directions, and even those were infrequent. They had a plan, and these were woods they knew. Little correction was required as they skulked toward the smoldering fire that marked the campsite.

  What struck Gabrielle as she stood, hunched over, her axe gripped firmly in hand, was that even now, they still moved like predators. No fear clouded their movements, at least not the kind of terror that came from knowing dangerous things might be lurking just out of sight. Grumph had been right to walk them through the ambush point as predators, but now was the time to remember what it meant to be prey: to be quiet, and meek, and fearful. People often thought of prey as helpless creatures, merely walking meals for the beasts that hunted them. Too often they forgot that a herd of deer could kill a wolf. Being prey didn’t make them helpless, it just meant they had to fight smarter.

  Worried as she was for her friends—as well as herself—Gabrielle couldn’t help but feel a thrill of nostalgia as she watched the figures creeping through the woods. It reminded her of hunting with her tribe, when nearly every animal in the woods was more dangerous than the goblins that fed upon them. She’d always admired their coordination, how boldly each member of the tribe undertook their roles. They had understood what it was to be weak and knew that only by working together could they hope to triumph. Her tribe had taught her much, and as the bandits came within striking distance of the camp and Gabrielle eased up from her perch, she was tha
nkful for every bit of their education.

  Her first blow took one of the stragglers in the back of his neck, cleaving through his vocal cords before he could cry out. Gabrielle caught his body before it made any ruckus, laying it gently down onto the forest floor. Soon, the true melee would begin, but every bandit she could turn into a corpse before then would give them a better chance of success. Fritz was ordered to stay silent and still for as long as possible, and Grumph was waiting to start things off properly. Only Gabrielle could take a few of their enemies before things got going. It was her gift, and her burden.

  Another fell beneath her axe, though this time, she had to wiggle it out after putting the bandit on the ground. The damn thing needed sharpening—needed a complete repair job, if she were being honest with herself. As fine a weapon as it once might have been, her stolen axe hadn’t been made to deal with the caliber of foe she’d been up against. The demon scales alone had left several chips in the blade.

  Once she pulled her weapon free, Gabrielle realized the others were too close together for her to risk taking any more. It was all up to Grumph now; only he would know the perfect time to get things rolling. Angling herself carefully, with the fake campsite just at the edge of her peripheral vision, Gabrielle reached into her mind for the bubbling well of anger she’d inadvertently dug.

  All those years spent—nay, wasted—splitting herself between duty and desire had formed a central core of frustrated rage in her heart. It had simmered in there for years, building pressure against the bonds of self-control she’d placed against it. When her tribe was attacked, being shredded by demons before her eyes, the pressure had finally been too much. Her anger had burst forth, and ever since, there had been no putting it back in its cage. All she’d managed was to delay it, deter it, and direct it. Tonight, there was no need for holding back. Her world would turn into blood and battle the moment Grumph started things off. As much as Gabrielle hated to admit it, these were the sort of situations where she was most useful.

  Even worse, she was beginning to develop a taste for them.

  The blinding flash of light from her left was the final lock left to fall away, and Gabrielle let the rage pour out of her as she turned toward the site of the fire. Bandits were stumbling about, their night-adjusted eyes temporarily blinded by the massive blast of fiery light Grumph had conjured. They groped about, searching for each other or something solid to grip on to.

  Where they met Gabrielle, they found only death. Blood splashed against her armor as hard, blunt blows rained down on the bodies. Nearby, she could see Grumph crashing through those on his side, the pale blade of his demon sword flashing in the moonlight as he plunged it into bandit flesh.

  Part of Gabrielle had wondered if she’d be able to fight these people like she had the demons. After all, those were mere monsters, but these were fellow humans. As she turned her axe and slammed it into a bandit’s stomach, pulling wide to send his innards spilling out, she realized there was no hesitation in her strikes. Bandit or demon, human or beast, none of it made any difference. The bandits had made this a situation of predators and prey. Only living mattered. Everything else was nothing more than an afterthought.

  A sword turned her blade away, and Gabrielle felt a half-aimed thrust bounce off her armor. Twisting to strike back, she cleaved into a bandit’s arm, but failed to separate his head from his torso as he scurried backward. The effect of Grumph’s flare was fading, and their vision was returning. With a quick sweep of her area, Gabrielle could see there were four surrounding her and three cornering Grumph. It would be a hard, bloody fight, but ultimately, the bandits would likely come out victorious.

  Gabrielle smiled, joy and rage melding inside her as she looked at the sneering, confident faces surrounding her. All the corpses at their feet, and yet still they only thought like predators. She knew better, had been taught better.

  One of her favorite lessons, in fact, was how the best traps always sprang more than once.

  “Now!”

  * * *

  Gabrielle’s voice echoed through the trees, reaching the ears of Fritz, who stood waiting for the signal. There had been precious little time to work with when they finally veered back into the woods, and Fritz had been doubtful that they could make anything that would really turn the tide of battle. She’d been a bit more convinced when Gabrielle suggested Grumph use his fire spell to blind them, but it had been the second part of the plan that drew Fritz the rest of the way in. Besides, it wasn’t like she had any other choices for making it out of this alive; at least, none that wouldn’t be prohibitively inconvenient or expensive. Though this one wouldn’t exactly be cheap, either, if things went awry.

  Bursting forth from under the brush they’d used to conceal her cart, Fritz and the device barreled forward on a direct course for the cluster of bandits that had formed up around Gabrielle. She sped forth, unhalted by trees, for they’d chosen this clearing well. It limited places the bandits could hide, while allowing her to run over them with minimal obstacles to steer around. Of course, the cart wouldn’t actually do much damage to anyone it hit; the devices were made lightweight to minimize the magic needed for powering them, and Fritz herself was a slender elf that only added a few pounds. What it did manage to do was scatter them, breaking their formation as they leapt out of the way to avoid being smashed.

  That, in truth, was the core of the plan. Together, there was no question the bandits would overwhelm Grumph and Gabrielle, but fighting them one on one at least offered the adventurers a chance. Death was still a firm possibility; however, this method at least reduced it from being a certainty. Given their situation, that was an important step in the right direction.

  Fritz jerked her wheel to the side, lifting the cart up on two wheels for a moment as she reoriented and came speeding toward the bandits by Grumph. This time, they weren’t quite as taken by surprise, and one was clearly lining up his crossbow to take a shot at her. Grumph’s sword burst out of his chest as the bandit’s arms fell limply to his sides. Dangerous as a trader in an enchanted cart might seem, it was utter folly to turn one’s back on a half-orc brandishing a blade.

  Another hairpin turn put her on track for Gabrielle’s group once more, but just as she drew close, Fritz yanked the cart off-track, veering toward Grumph’s group and clipping a bandit’s hip. He went spinning off to the side as Fritz reoriented herself. If she wanted to stay alive and effective, she had to be unpredictable. Simply circling in a pattern would get her killed. If they never knew when she was coming, they had to split their attention between her and whichever member of the group they were fighting. Against Grumph and Gabrielle, that was showing itself to be a death sentence.

  This was proven by the pair of fresh corpses lying at Gabrielle’s feet. Her victory hadn’t come without a cost, though, a sight visible as she raised her axe at a new foe. That strange red armor was stopping the blades from cutting her, but the force of the blows was still taking its toll. By Fritz’s count, Grumph should be down to his last opponent, which meant Gabrielle needed help the most. One of the bandits, a man who she thought looked like the person they’d spoken to on the road, was too close to Gabrielle for her to try and ram. The other, thankfully, was shifting his position in the dark, trying to flank the axe-wielding woman. Fritz was having none of that, and set herself on a crash course with her fresh target.

  His reflexes were impressive as he threw himself clear of the charging carriage. Sadly, his legs weren’t quite as powerful as his reactions, and a sickening crunch filled the air as Fritz sped over what she suspected to be his arm. He let out a howl of pain and scrambled up from the ground, all thoughts of Gabrielle forgotten.

  Fritz glanced about, quickly realizing that both Grumph and Gabrielle were already fighting what seemed to be tough opponents. As the bandit advanced on her, blade gleaming at the end of his working arm, Fritz knew what she had to do. This too had been discussed and strategically accounted for, with everyone agreeing on a best course of
action should the situation arise.

  With a quick twist of the wheel, Fritz barreled out of the clearing, trying desperately to get somewhere safe. The bandit snarled in rage, and then raced after her. Her cart was faster, but outside the clearing, she had to deal with veering around trees and every detour cost her valuable seconds. A peek over her shoulder showed the bandit keeping up, racing through the brush like a man possessed. Fritz swallowed hard and turned her attention back to driving.

  This was going to be a close one.

  * * *

  Unlike the others, the bandit leader fought with a shield—at least, Gabrielle assumed he was their leader, given that he’d been the one to speak to them on the road and was proving to be the toughest opponent she’d faced. The man was nimble, dancing around like Eric, yet his blows were almost as heavy as Timuscor’s. Had she not spent so much of her time training with the both of them, there was a good chance this fight would have already ended, and it would not have been in her favor.

  “You’re better than I expected.” He twirled his sword effortlessly, moving it as naturally as he shuffled his feet. From what Gabrielle had seen sparring against Timuscor, she’d guess they had similar training. Probably a soldier once, one who had discovered that being a robber paid better than stipends from the kingdom.

  “You, too. Can’t say the same for your men,” Gabrielle sneered at him, trying to hold on to the anger that was beginning to ebb under the onslaught of pain and weariness. Having anger might be constant, but using it as fuel was taxing. She could only keep it up for so long, and they were drawing near the end of what she could manage. Her axe, handle half-slick with blood, was beginning to feel heavier with each passing moment. Gabrielle tried to force those thoughts out of her head. This was what she did; this was the role she served in their party. She had to be strong enough. There was no other choice.

  The bandit leader’s eyes darkened at the mention of his downed friends. “They were pups, nothing more than trainees I’d taken here to show the ropes. Hard to find a better training ground than a deserted road, after all. Pups though they were, they were still members of our outfit, and you’re going to suffer for cutting them down.”