The Bloodied Shield

by Michael McKenzie

  They all fled, though one with some connection with the man Razzar had thrown had the decency to drag their comrade to their feet before the withdrew.

  The crowd scattered as well as Razzar scowled at them with his one, glowing blue eye.

  When the street had been cleared, Razzar hobbled into the Tavern and regarded Grigs and Dratin, who were both awed by the strength of a walking myth.

  "We were breaking into a Guild Hall weren't we?" Gray asked confidently as they crawled up Razzar’s body to perch on their shoulder. "Can we do this before Gorgreen realizes what we're doing and tries to stop us?"

  Grigs swallowed hard, and gave Dratin a helpless glance.

  "Don't look for me for help! I'm just here to hit things and I've been rendered useless!"

  "We may need you for back up," Gray replied as Razzar headed to follow after Grigs, "Something is off."

  "Right, back up for a Red?" Dratin questioned, not overly convinced."Despite all what is said about those who bear the title, we are little more than warriors. We bleed and we die. Razzar himself is riddled with scars and who do you think claimed his eye?" Gray shot back, and Razzar offered the Broodling a very irritated look.

  "Razzar had defeated Mortals and Gods, but each battle has left a toll. Just because a man in armor weighs nothing to him, does not mean he can shrug off an arrow to the back or fingers in an eye socket."

  "Something is off," Gray repeated again. "We should not have been in the Plane long enough to even know where we had been transported to it than out."

  "Why the Pantheon of Darkness?" Grigs asked nervously.

  "Because no one is watching it," Gray replied, then snorted some. "Shut up and let me think."

  "It was if we had passed through something else first. We've encountered it before, several times. But mostly in places where there had been Wizards at work trying to keep out others who do not belong." Gray continued to explain as Grigs started down a stairway that would lead them to a basement, then to the underground complex.

  "The are two questions, where is this barrier and who are they trying to keep out?" the Fox's tail swished. "Because they are obviously not trying to keep Razzar from going anywhere."

  "Why would they be concerned with you-" Dratin started then her expression slackened. "-never mind that would have been a dumb question. But why would you need me for back up?"

  "Razzar maybe a mighty warrior, but he is no fool," Gray grunted, looking displeased at the answer being relayed from the elf. "He admits that he is old, and his skill is waning. He appreciates the likes of you and Grigs being here with him."

  "Quiet!" Grigs shot, holding up their black-gloved hand as they approached a false wall. The Tiefling did not have to look back to feel the burning stare from Razzar, but they dismissed it.

  The Tavern had still been in disarray. The tables had been casually thrust to the side, toppled or broken from where they had been used as barricades. There was still blood, dried and so old that they stained the wooden floors black with rot.

  Going down the stairs, they could see that the false wall that hid the bulk of the Shadow Guild Complex from world had never been closed nor adjusted. It hung there on its hinges as if it have never been moved since the Raid a little less than a year before.

  Pulling both swords, the steel one and the one he had unfortunately named 'Bob', Grigs slipped closer to the partially opened wall.

  Everything should have been undisturbed and untouched. To lanterns long spent and never replaced, to the dust that clung to even the darkened blood stains on the for.

  Yet they were.

  There were fresh tracks leaving a clean trail across a room no one dared touched anything else. It had been more than just a few have come here for some reason or another, yet there were no scones lit. No light flickered out unto Grigs’ face. Just darkness, deeper than Grigs ever remember seeing before.

  There was something in the gloom. Something in the detail of the dark that appeared wrong. Something in the shadows that stared back.

  "Oh no." Grigs realized what he was seeing, then slammed the false wall shut.

  Something on the other side smashed into the wood with a thunk, followed quickly by, black, razor sharp claws that ripped clean through and visible for all to see.

  "Invaders!" Gray snarled, and Razzar readied himself.

  "Lots!" Grigs confirmed, scrambling away as the black things tore the false wall to shreds.

  They screamed, but it had been one that only the Invaders themselves could hear. Their maws agape with rows of impossibly thin, and wicked teeth in a permanent snarl. Their claws passed through the woodwork like little more than wet paper, and the scrambled nearly over each other trying to get through the frame.

  Dratin shoved Razzar into Grigs, knocking them both over as she rushed ahead, taking in a sharp breath.

  With an exhale, the air that rushed from her mouth had been a torrent of white mist, enveloping the mass of black, twisting limbs that emerged in a breath weapon that could flash freeze virtually anything in their tracks.

  Yet even as she finished exhaling, even as the black creatures with their elongated limbs stretched out for Dratin's neck. Even as they shattered in mid-stride, coating the floor with their frozen remains There were more.

  And they did not stop swarming.

  Two jumped at Dratin, and she caught one in a claw to throw it back as the other tore into her shoulder with its teeth. The Broodling screamed, dropping her hammer as her arm deadened beneath its jaws and she fell back behind Razzar.

  Grigs, once more scrambling to his feet, quickly parried and slashed at a few trying to pin the Tiefling to the floor. They could not tell how many at first, save that the claws flared at him mercilessly in a blur. More than one of the Invaders managed to drag their long digits over Grigs' leather breastplate, but took little more than leather scraps in their claws.

  Not having to actually cut with Bob, Grigs battered at claws that quickly became brittle against the sword that was leaving a very fine mist itself in its wake as it swept and parried.

  Soon the Invader's limbs shattered like glass, but instead of simply reeling or withering in agony, they snapped their horrific jaws, wildly trying to bite Grigs, who beheaded or stabbed them in kind.

  Razzar casually strode forward as soon as he was up on his feet, dragging their halberd up within the confined space to slice one creature in half, before bringing it down and killing the others that tried to rush him.

  An Invader came close, rushing right passed the pole-arm altogether by coming down its length. The Ancient Elf simply grabbed them by their skull as they got within arms reach. Before they could lash out at Razzar's outstretched hand, its head had been crushed like an eggshell and it died instantly between the Elf’s fingers.

  Letting the body drop, Razzar dove to block the ruined opening, knocking the impossibly thin, black creatures down before dispatching them with halberd, foot, or crushing grip. Every blow from him had been fatal, and it had been impossible to tell if the Invaders did any more damage to the patchwork armor Razzar wore.

  Dratin managed to pry the Invader digging into her shoulder off, then promptly hit the previous one she had flung with their comrade. Without adjusting her grip, Dratin flailed one Invader with another until they were both little more than black smears on the ground.

  And then it had been over.

  Grigs did not even have a scratch. Their prized leather armor was in tatters once more, with one of the straps to his shoulder having been split in twain, revealing skin that matched the leather in color and tone. Dropping one sword so he could run a black glove through his purple hair, the self-proclaimed Master Thief sucked in a few mouthful of air as he surveyed what lay before him.

  Razzar flicked the black incur that clung to his hand where he had crushed and smashed Invaders as if his fist had been little more than a mace. Their prized Halberd had been equally stained and dripping with gore had been planted like a grotesque flag within the mire o
f bodies at the Elf’s feet.

  The Fox shuffled amongst those bodies and had given Dratin a worried look, which in turn garnered the Elf's attention.

  Dratin, after having discard what very little else of the Invader she had hit the other Invader with, snatched her hammer up before she collapsed on the floor on her backside, offering another cry of pain. The female Broodling's breastplate was smeared in her own blood. The Invader did not just bite into her shoulder, it took both the shoulder pauldron, the chain link, and the flesh beneath.

  "Oh, sweet Gods that's bad." Grigs quickly rushed over to the Broodling, who swayed, gritting her teeth.

  "It fucking HURTS." Dratin snarled, trying to build the courage to look at it. When she could, the Broodling's face twisted in bitter disappointment. "Gods dammit, I'm out of the fight and I haven't done anything yet!"

  "Razzar wouldn't say that," Gray observed, dancing up the corridor, then returning. "You killed many of the Invaders with your breath attack."

  "Put it on my tombstone." Dratin vented, leaning heavily against her hammer.

  "You're bleeding bad."

  "I know that!" Dratin snapped angrily, "Either of you think to bring some suros?"

  "Razzar has some stashed in one of his pouches," Gray noted as the Elf had already started milling through an array of them around their waist.

  Bags of Holding. Portable pocket dimensions that were supposed to be rare, hard to come by items. Dratin had one that had been stolen from her.

  Razzar however, had a belt full of them in the guise of pouches.

  Eventually, they pulled out a brown looking liquid in a clear vial and uncorked it to give a wiff.

  "The good stuff. Der'doun brand." Gray noted as Razzar passed the vial to Grigs.

  "Difference?" The Tiefling asked rhetorically, quickly pouring the brown substance on Dratin's wound.

  Dratin smacked the ground with her warhammer and thundered a roar that echoed in their ears. The magic of the healing drought nit her flesh back together and staunch the bleeding.

  The sensation, however, was obviously not pleasant.

  "Potion!" Dratin barked, jumping to her feet. Snatching it from Grigs, the Broodling emptied the contents into her maw, swallowed with a grimace before coughing.

  "Gods it tastes of bile." the Broodling griped before rotating her wounded shoulder. Nearly coming to tears, Dratin let her arm hang loose before testing the weight of her hammer in opposing hand.

  "Good to go," Dratin announced gruffly.

  "Dratin-" Grigs started and the Broodling snapped her jaws in irritation.

  They were wounded and enraged, and Grigs backed away quickly.

  "-Someone light a fucking torch already!" Dratin growled in defiance, "And don't think I'm going to hold it! I'm down to one arm with a sixty stone hammer here!"

  Razzar offered a shrug, shouldering their own halberd.

  "That leaves you, Thief, best light one and take the lead before she gets irate at us both."

  "I don't have a-" Grigs started to protest.

  Razzar had already reached into one of those bottomless pouches, their arm disappearing up to their elbow before they jerked it out and passed a fresh scone to the Tiefling.

  "-shit end of the stick. Every time." Grigs muttered followed by a discontent sigh.

  The light revealed the truth of the little Fox's assessment. Dratin's quick thinking froze many of those creatures in their place. They had all crowded towards the one opening like a pack of starving, bloodthirsty dogs clawing at the only scrap of meat they had seen in days.

  What disturbed Grigs however, was that their own kind did not hesitate to rush through the brittle, icy remains of their kin. They just mobbed relentlessly right into the Razzar's reach.

  "How can they be so threatening?" Grigs questioned aloud.

  "Numbers." Gray explained, "If Dratin had not wiped a good portion of them out they would have easily overwhelmed us."

  “And they treat Mithril armor like tissue paper.” Dratin added with a painful grimace. “I am surprised our weapon survive the encounters.”

  "How did they get here?!" Grigs partially turned to regard the elf. "You don't think there can be one of those temples down here do you?"

  "No. They were brought here under the cover of darkness. Not many walk the streets at night." Gray theorized. "If there had been a temple, there would be more than the Invaders guarding it."

  "But why?" Dratin asked with a strained voice. "Why here?"

  "Even the enemy fears what the Shadow Guild may have left behind."

  Grigs nodded and turned to regard the front.

  They had walked passed the old Anchoring Chamber for the Teleport system of the Shadow Guild. The door was still open, and a room once filled with the glowing runes looked war-ravaged at but a glance. Chunks of the wall had spilled out into the hallway from when Islin had marred the runes and started a chain reaction that caused the magical lettering to explode.

  The corridor rounded, twisting downward into the earth. The wooden door that led deeper into the complex had been torn down. Grigs eyed it curiously before his nose curled.

  Death was in the air, and it belched from the door like a bellowing fire.

  "That's not good." Grigs noted as he came closer.

  Pausing at the door, the Tiefling inspected it before using the Bob to shove the remains open.

  "Wards have been destroyed, looks like, oh dear Gods." Grigs gagged, and turned away. "Looks like there were Guards and Guilders trapped down here."

  Razzar stepped closer, taking the torch from Grigs to thrust it beyond the door frame as the Tiefling turned away.

  The room on the other side may have been a secondary tavern room floor. There had once been long tables and chairs to seat a considerable group of men and woman returning from whatever adventure that entailed. There had been pillars supporting the earth above but rafters, more for show than anything, decorated the ceiling to provide a more natural, tavern-like decorum.

  However, the tables and chairs were shoved against the walls and occupied by something else.

  Bodies. What was left of them, torn to ribbons and flung about like fodder on a field. There were blood soaked half capes of varying shades of colors, mostly black. People who had worn leather jerkins and dark clothing with the all familiar thief dagger insignia.

  There were bodies of Invaders as well. Most of them had crowded at the door and spread through into what could have been a crowd of a hundred people.

  Now it was a gore-strewn charnel house that reeked of the aftermath.

  Even the Elf closed his eye and turned from what lay before them, before passing the torch back.

  "Razzar says that it is regrettable, but we must press on."

  Dratin peered in and curled her lip. "Fresh. Less than a week old."

  Grigs swallowed hard as Razzar returned the torch and the Tiefling stepped in, taking the lead once more, speculating within the deathly silence. "The other things had been left here to ensure no survivors or witnesses I guess."

  "Cleaning house." Gray agreed, their tone subdued and partially muffled. The little creature had jammed its face in Razzar's scarf. "Someone killed all these people to cover something up."

  "Looks like someone got chased," Grigs observed, motioning forward with the torch. "Some with either common sense or cowardice managed to get to the Guild Armory."

  "Is that where the Thief's Armory is located?"

  "No, it is in the Library. Dad like being there a lot." Grigs replied, and frowned as he lowered the torch. The Tiefling even stopped at the threshold to a door that had been flung open.

  "This leads to the Library." Grigs reported raising the torch and once more looking to the floor.

  "What’s wrong?"

  Grigs pointed with the edge of the frosty blade towards a string of soft glowing runes that across the bottom of the door's framework, then up high towards the ceiling here there had been more of the tongue twisting lettering of magic were
visible.

  "Wards are intact. I'm seeing some of those things dead on the floor." Grigs turned slightly to look back at them both. "Someone rearmed the traps."

  "Why is that surprising?" Gray asked the obvious.

  Grigs grunted his response, "Because I am the one who disarmed them."

  Chapter 13

  "So you disarmed them, and someone re-armed them. What is the problem?" Gray asked curiously.

  Let me put it this way. My Dad did as little as he could working for the Thieves Guild. Outside of him, only two of us who knew where to get the darts for the self-loading bows in the walls." Grigs started to explain, now shifting the torch to the stone walls next. "I stole all the darts, sold them to a merchant as high-quality crossbow quarrels in the Forest Gate District, used the money to build that cabin in the back of the Stone Samurai."

  "Long story short, I am seeing darts in a lot of bodies down here, with wards that have not been tampered with like the ones at the door we just entered." Grigs gestured behind them without real aim. "Someone has been down here before this massacre."

  Grigs sheathed Bob and pulled a dagger out from beneath his cloak. Checking its surface, he then presented the small weapon over the wards, which flickered and died. The small weapon had been a ward key meant to prevent the wards from activating and making an ungodly amount of noise.

  Stepping in, Grigs held the torch back to Razzar, who took it and held it aloft to give the Tiefling light inside the Invader filled room. He then noticed their intended victim. Someone who managed to make it halfway down the hall before the darts finally brought them low.

  There was a very loud click, followed by what sounded like rushing water. Razzar shifted into the door frame to see that Grigs had opened a piece of stone like a door and manipulated a complicated set of gears and pulleys with a thin instrument that quickly disappeared into the hem of the Tiefling's glove.

  "What did you do?" Gray questioned, perking their ears as Razzar and the Fox both had a look of child-like curiosity.

  Grigs offered the Elf and Fox a quick glance, surprised at the question.