The Dark Frontier

A Moonsea Adventure

Chapter 11

The Bandit Lair

They had done their best to hide their approach, slipping between the trees as they neared the caves, but the warriors' heavy armor made the task difficult. The lookout perched in the upper cave stood, squinting in their direction suspiciously.
Thaurlann looked around at the others, anxious to move ahead. He unsheathed his sword as quietly as he could, inching it out. He held his breath with dual purpose: first, to contain any possible extra sound that his heavy breathing might make; secondly, to avoid breathing in the stinking smell of dead fish still lingering on his blade.
"Our moment of surprise will not last long," Thaurlann whispered, holding his voice as low as he could. "Our allies on the other side are in a better spot to launch the first assault - and they can get closer than we will." He twisted his hand around the leather-wrapped hilt of his borrowed sword and licked his lips in thought. "I await your orders," he said to Gannon. His voice lifted just above a whisper unconsciously as he finished the thought. "May our hearts be worthy of Bane to allow us to be the instruments of justice on these criminals."
Softly, Rhia whispered. "If you think you can kill that man with a single arrow, I can make it nearly impossible for you to miss. But decide quickly."
Thaurlann shook his head in response. "I am trained in using bows, but I doubt my aim is good enough to kill, even with whatever aid you can provide. I would rather charge forth and let the sheer terror of our might drive fear into their hearts."
He thought for a moment, and realized he was not making his decision as quickly as asked. "But, if killing this one guard gives us the advantage we need so that we can take the rest by storm, I would be willing to put all my faith in Bane that it will strike true. And that faith will be stronger than any witching you cast."
The black armored Banite nodded his head in approval, though he said nothing to support the straw haired outlander. Instead he tried to peer into the darkness past the sentry, looking for the rest of the party he knew was there. Somewhere. Gannon glanced at Alethra and got a nod in return.
The Sharran whispered something to her familiar and Nut glided up into the night, avoiding the light of the cave mouth and flying silently out to circle around to spy out their fellow party members.
Seeing the bird take off, and having her Weaving declined by her allies, Rhia shrugged, then remained still. If the sentry was looking in their direction, perhaps the best thing to do was wait silently until he looked away. Assuming, of course, that the wait didn't take 'till sunrise.
In a quiet voice, Alethra finally spoke. "I, for one, could use the assistance of your spell, maga." She hefted the bow in her hands with an awkwardness that no one who had ever met an elf before could have expected.
The Banite unbuckled the shield from his left arm and held out his hand to Alethra, who gave up Rhia's bow with something akin to thanks on her face. Gannon nocked an arrow to the string with the air of a man who had done it many times before. "Alethra's eyes vill coordinate our strike. Vhen the bird comes into the light as if hunting down a mouse, ve vill all shoot."
Gannon looks at Rhia. "Can you cast your spell on all of us, vitch?"
Rhia looked at the atjets in some surprise, though it did not show on her face, she hoped. Softly, she answered his question. "With some variation, I can work this Weave four, perhaps five times this day."

Cold and wet, Aksana was starting to think this was a bad idea. She sighed, they were too far to turn back now. She made sure her crossbow was loaded and ready. She also checked her daggers knowing that the crossbow would only be good for one or two shots at best. "The sentry, he must go qvickly, vhile he is distracted by the others," she whispered as she hurried after Anya. She said a silent prayer that they were more efficient with this one than the last.
Uncharacteristically quiet, Spielos finished readying his crossbow and followed, looking right and left as he moved between the horses. We should have used our cover to our advantage, he thought. The Warden is over-eager.
There was a sharp sound of Anya's sword leaving its sheath, but what had startled her turned out to be Alethra's raven, a patch of night all but impossible to see and identified only by its even more startling speech. "Plan," it cawed softly, or at least as softly as a raven could. "Listen."

The attack was swift and deadly. Fluttering into the torchlight, Nutwolcnum pecked between the rubble strewn over the ground. Skewered by three shafts with his hand halfway to his lips to ward away evil, the lookout didn't even cry out as he toppled off his ledge and fell to the ground. The heavy snap when he landed assured that had he still been alive after the volley that took him down, he wasn't any longer. His head folded under his body in a sickening manner.
The cave mouth beckoned, a dark earthen tunnel worming its way under the cliff above. Sour rushes were mashed into the dirt, carpeting the center of the path within. There was no light coming from inside, but the muffled sound of voices could be heard.
A pleased grin spread across Thaurlann's face. The bow, while a sometimes-dishonorable weapon, could be used to even the odds in a time of great need, he surmised. Still, he longed to get beyond all the surreptitious sneaking and snares, and face their enemies head on.
Thaurlann moved forward through the foliage until he was even with Gannon. At the edge of the darkness, he spotted the others moving forward. Of course, he had guessed they were nearby when he saw multiple arrows hitting the sentry.
"Good," he said aloud. He strode forward confidently, sword at the ready and a grim determination on his face.
The fierce grin on Rhia's face showed her to be in agreement with Thaurlann, at least partially. As the group came together, she raised a hand in the signal for "stop," and brought them briefly closer together.
"If we're going in now, let me first make some preparations to help us. I can create a Weave to allow me to see any Weaving they might have in place as traps or alarms, though it will last only a few minutes. If we move quickly, it should suffice. Also, should we discover the enemy resting, or unawares, in a separate cave, I can Weave again the ability to be accurate in your first attacks. I suggest that if we can take them by surprise, we pause to allow me to do this, for the Weavings last only briefly, and every blow we strike needs to be as effective as possible - especially in these circumstances."
Though uncomfortable with the thought of a maga casting any kind of witchery on him, Gannon was willing to allow that it could be useful. He simply nodded at Rhia and glanced at Alethra, who would surely inform him if the other witch was trying to spin some sort of enchantment over the group.
Aksana waited nervously while the spells were cast, grateful that no one had tried to cast one on her. She reloaded her crossbow while they were still outside and she could see what she was doing.
Once Rhia was done with her incantation, Gannon got down onto his knees and put his hands behind his back with his head down. If his hands had been manacled, he would have looked like a slave ready for the block. "Oh Great Lord, Bane of all evil, shelter this unvorthy group in the palm of Your hand, protect us from the blades and arrows of Your enemies, tear down the infernal enchantments of those who vould curse Your name and harm Your humble servants. In Your name ve go forth to do battle vith Your enemies, for thine is the power and the glory. In Your name ve pray. Amen."
The Banite hung his head for a few moments longer, then climbed back to his feet and handed Alethra the bow before readying his shield and closing his visor with a solid 'clank.' A faceless mountain of a man, sheathed head to toe in black steel, a wickedly spiked flail in hand and palpably radiating the blessing of Bane, it was clear why Gannon was known as Bane's Hammer.
"Now ve are ready."

Once readied, the group followed Alethra into the darkness, Rhia keeping a watchful eye for magic behind her. One hand on the person in front of them, they filed into the tunnel. Aksana strained her ears to pick up any hint of the enemies ahead.
In the lead, Alethra found the cave to be lined with rushes and packed earth, reaching about a foot above her head. It widened into a chamber roughly twice her height, with a slab of stone and four small boulders forming a crude table and chairs to her left. To her right rose a roughly carved stairway, tucked behind a pile of rocks. Before her the passage narrowed once more, leading further down into the earth.
The wood demon cocked her head to catch the sound of conversation. Up or down? Alethra gestured to the right and mentally ordered Nut up the stairs to investigate. She presumed her companion did as bade- even her sharp eyes could not see the raven in the darkness.
Even knowing the raven was returning, Alethra was startled when Nut perched gently on her shoulder. It quickly passed as the familiar's whispers poured into her ear, and in only a moment she was directing the raven to search out the rest of the cave. As the uncanny bird glided down the passageway, Alethra turned back to the others and spoke in a whisper.
"Above - a lookout's shelter. The voices come from deeper inside the cave." She slowly moved forward, making sure the person behind her didn't lose her in the dark.
The darkness wasn't quite total, as Rhianna's eyes glowed a soft blue. The maga, placed where Gannon had directed, scanned the cave walls as best she could, seeking the tell-tale traces of her Art. Without realizing it, her hand kept returning to the hilt of the sword at her side.
With her sharp eyes, Alethra led the group on through the darkness. She whispered back over her shoulder as they crept down the passageway. "Another chamber ahead. Hug the vall on the right- the middle of the room is... suspicious. Beyond are bandits and a drekavac. Looks like guard room. Beyond them- more passageways."
Rhia looked to the center of the room - that part Alethra had described as 'suspicious,' examining the floor with her magically enhanced sight. The dead black of the tunnels was unrelieved; if there was anything there, there was nothing magical about it.
"How many?" She whispered to Alethra. "Can we rush them?"
A peek around the edge of the hanging horsehide revealed eleven men and women, counting the drekavac. They squatted or sat around a firepit, weapons close to hand, and they were discussing the light on the lake's edge. It seemed they knew of the lake monster, and some were laying bets as to whether it would finish off the interlopers or the force they had sent to mop up would. The cave was smoky despite the fissure in the high ceiling that vented the smoke, and the smell of unwashed bodies tore at Alethra's nose. Niches carved into the rock walls held bedding, though no one appeared to be sleeping there now.
The passage leading from the last chamber to the gathering of bandits was quite narrow; it would be impossible for more than one to enter the bandits' cave at a time.
Rhia motioned everyone to back up a bit. She had a plan. Perhaps not a great plan, but a plan nonetheless. Possibly two of them.
The black-armored hulk of a priest moved back from the curtain as quietly as he could in his heavy armor. Once Rhia seemed ready to speak, he leaned in to catch her quiet words. Alethra, with her sharp ears, didn't have to come so close but she, too, dropped back with the party to hear Rhia's plans.
The maga spoke softly, but quickly. "I think we have two options; we can charge them unexpectedly, and hope to kill them before they can call for reinforcements, or we can take advantage of the tunnel here, and try to get them to come to us. Both options have weaknesses, but it's what we have. If we charge in, I suggest sending the dogs first, with orders to attack someone further away from the tunnel, to get the bandits looking the wrong way before the rest of us follow. If we do this, I can Weave accurate attacks for your first few swings. Perhaps Alethra can Weave another of her shadow webs, which would hold the bandits in place while we charge - that would be best, I think.
"Otherwise, we'll need to set an ambush out here, and get them to come to us. If we do that, we should be able to cut them down one-by-one as they come through, but then they will know something is going on, and they may well be able to bring reinforcements. At worst, if we take too long, we might be crushed between them and the ones who left to fight the abomination - which they appear to know about." She ducked her head quickly to Gannon and Anya. "I leave the choice to you, who know more of battle than I."
The Banite nodded at the maga. "Ve rush them. Alethra vill hold them vith her shadows and ve attack them while they react to the trap. Magic our veapons, vitch, and ve vill crush this scum here and now."
Spielos made a small hand gesture to gain everyone's attention. "I can hurt them all at once, perhaps even badly, but it will ruin any surprise we have. If I do this, I would have to go first, and nobody could be in front of me."
Thaurlann shook his head. "No, I agree with the witch's plan. We must neutralize the demon immediately, before he has a chance to use his unnatural powers." The young warrior motioned at Gannon. "Let the elf cast her webs from cover of darkness, then I will rush in. I will plow through the bandits like a scythe through wheat, until I reach the demon and cut his black heart from his chest!"
Gannon looked at Spielos, the expression of surprise on his face unreadable behind the fierce black visor that hid his face. "Explain, gypsy."
Spielos knew that this was about as much respect as he could expect from Gannon, but that didn't stop him from trying to get more. "My name is Spielos," he reminded the larger man.
Nonplussed, he continued quickly and softly, "Given enough room to work, I can use my drums to create noise that will hurt our foes, one time, maybe twice. If I do this before the web is cast, we would be facing weaker foes and could perhaps finish them off easier. I can also help confound any..." he broke off as he searched for the right word, and failed, <"spell-casters> they might have." "Would it help if you were in the room? And invisible?" Rhia asked, her eyes glowing softly.
That would get me killed quickly, he thought. Spielos smiled widely. "It might, but I might also do harm to our fellows if they get in the way." He thought a brief moment, and then continued. "I could hit them from the mouth of the tunnel, and harm them. If the warriors rush in after that, I can make life very difficult for the bandits while we fight."
Totally out of her element, Aksana merely stood near the back of the group and fidgeted nervously. She kept glancing back down the tunnel straining to hear the other group returning. She kept jumping at small sounds, real or imaginary. A burst of laughter from down the tunnels gave her a nasty shock.
Thaurlann likewise was fidgeting, for a different reason. He had become impatient with the discussion. "We must decide quickly," he whispered harshly, "Before they hear us. If we catch them by surprise, both Spielos and Alethra will have time to use their special `talents,' and then the warriors can rush in and dispatch the bandits."
"But only if we hurry," he added sharply.
In truth, he would have doubted that anything other than steel would be useful, had he not seen the power of the shadow webs before. The idea that Spielos had any special combat abilities was almost unthinkable to Thaurlann, having only seen the white-haired man inspire good will with his music, not pain. And anyone turning invisible seemed a far stretch of the imagination.
Either way, he decided that he would allow everyone their chance to use whatever gifts Bane had granted them before he rushed headlong into the fray.
"You are right," Spielos agreed. "We must act quickly."
Turning to Gannon he spoke very rapidly at the larger man, "I have got everything to lose if this does not work, and a fair bit to gain when it does. By your leave, I'll cause the bandits suffering, and I will explain to you how I did it later. If Alethra casts her webs quickly, we can be on them before they even know what hit them. You will have to trust me, and everyone must rush into the room quickly. What say you?"
The words hung in the air for several moments, then several more. Incomprehension reigned among the faces of his fellows. Spielos quickly produced a drum from his pack and loosened his rapier in his scabbard.
"Right. Follow me, then!" he said before anyone could protest. Trailing his hand on the right wall, he made his way back down the tunnel to the curtain, where he readied his drums. Then he leapt through the curtain, drums roaring so loudly they made rocks fall from the ceiling. Blood burst from the bandits' ears, and they screamed in surprise and pain. A moment later Alethra followed Spielos, gesturing peremptorily at the gathered bandits. Immediately the room darkened as the shadows rose up around them, catching hold of the astonished men and women and seeming to swallow them; only above the firepit did the shadows melt away, leaving the far end of the room a horrifying bedlam of twisting shadows.
Ducking back out before the bandits could think, Alethra pressed against the wall to allow Thaurlann to thunder past. He crashed into the man standing before the firepit, and they struggled together as he tried to push the bandit into the flames. The man spat into Thaurlann's eyes, blinding him for a moment, a distraction just long enough for the bandit to shove the burly warrior back.
Thaurlann growled in frustration as the bandit thwarted his efforts. "Very well. We take the hard path," he said, readying his sword for a strike.
Now that action was upon them, Rhia did what she did best, Weaving the very fibers of the universe into patterns that benefited her and her allies. With a touch of his shoulder, she placed upon the giant priest of Bane a Weaving of preternatural accuracy. To her eyes alone, the threads of power wrapped themselves about the man, subtly guiding his vision, his hearing, and his reactions. Almost immediately after the Weave was finished, she began another.
As she worked, Aksana slipped through the darkness, her steps careful to avoid whatever it was in the cave Alethra had warned them of. Little crossbow ready, she took a deep breath and stepped through the curtain to the noisy, shadowy fight. Skirting the edge of the room, ducking easily past the distracted bandits, she joined Spielos and turned to fire a bolt that tangled in a woman's dirty armor. The woman yelped, jerking away from the writhing shadows that had captured the man next to her before realizing that the attack had come from behind her. "You?" she said to Aksana, eyes wide with astonishment.
Suddenly face to face with an enemy who spoke to her Aksana momentarily froze. The impersonal nature of fighting she was used to was shattered. She fumbled to get her dagger out in the close confines of the cave.
Gannon barrelled onto the scene, his flail whipping through the air to smash a man to the floor with such force that he bounced before lying still; the crunch could be heard over the shouts of alarm. Anya was close behind him, but at the sight of the bandits she jerked to a halt. Buried emotions played across her face, and the man closest her managed to draw his sword to ward her awkward attack off. Metal skirled on metal as he trapped it against the rock of the wall and gave it a hard kick; Anya barely managed to draw it back before the blade was ruined.
Spielos let loose another thunderous roll of his drums that echoed throughout the caverns and made their heads ring, and two men fell senseless, blood trickling from their noses and ears.
The drumbeats became softer and less explosive, but still filled the small cave with sound. Spielos looked around quickly. Some bandits lay on the ground, rolling and clutching their ears; others didn't move at all. Its work done, Spielos dropped the drum and drew his rapier.
Suddenly a man in leather armor and carrying a longsword stepped out from behind the second curtain and went running down the tunnels. It happened so fast that no one was able to react in time to stop him.
"Come! Ve have been vaiting!" The voice was joined by another man's light and cheery laughter, echoing through the passage.
Rhia's eyes narrowed at the sound of familiar laughter. That bloody elf dies tonight!
Thaurlann caught Anya's plight from the corner of his eyes and immediately shifted to the right. His face reddened with anger. "Spielos!" he shouted, without looking back. "You are the quickest. Can you cut off the runners before they bring reinforcements?" Before him the bandit staggered back, the leer gone from his face as he clutched at the deep gash in his armor.
As the voices echoed down the passage near her Aksana felt a panic start in the pit of her stomach. Thaurlann's shout had come too late in her mind. Closely following that thought was ones of Anya's injuries suffered at the hands of these people. The rock at her back and the foul shadows writhing in front of her made Aksana feel claustrophobic and trapped. She didn't want to kill but she did not want to be captured more. The fear in her face was replaced by the dangerous look of a cornered animal. The woman before her grinned. "Ve vill get as good a price for you this time, too!"
Spielos looked at the fleeing shape. As of right now, it was an unknown, and there were enemies close at hand. "Aksana, strike them while they are still dazed!" Spielos yelled as he stepped forward, stabbing at the bandit in front of him. Gannon came to her aid, striking down the woman who had spoken with a swift swing of his flail.
Anya felled her staggered opponenet with quick blow, then stood panting, an unreadable expression on her face. She slowly turned her head to Thaurlann. After a long moment she gave him a nod.
Rhia, seeing that the rest of the group had charged into the melee, ceased her Weaving and followed after, coming up behind Alethra, and looking for an opportunity to help without getting in the way. She was also careful to keep an eye out behind them, though it did little good in the darkness.

"Please, help me!" The bald man in the robes of a Talontar had torn loose of his shadow and now struggled toward through the grasping tendrils of darkness towards the intruders. "Do not kill me, I am not von of them!" Even as he spoke, another bandit ran up and stabbed at Thaurlann with her spear, cursing.
The grinning drekavac lifted its muzzle to howl, and everything seemed to stand still. It began as a low, moaning keen that spoke of despair, bringing to mind every defeat suffered, every joy crushed. Then it rose to a roar of savage glee, the heart-pumping terror that followed you alone in the wild and the dark, exultant in pain and blood and death, a sound of primal horror skirting the edge of madness. It trembled in their bones even as it faded, leaving them shaken with its unnatural evil.
The beast wasn't done yet. It drew a wand from the pouch it carried, a macabre collection of yellowed finger bones bound together, and it thrust the item in Gannon's direction with a snarl. Gannon took a step back, his helmet guarding his expression.
Thaurlann fought to overcome the feeling of dread now coursing through his body. Hoping the fear didn't shake his voice too much, he shouted at the dog-headed creature, "Save your breath, demon! The warriors of Bane know no fear from the likes of you!"
He glanced briefly at the sniveling man next to the drekavac. "And you, if you truly follow the Good Mother, then you will serve Her better by helping us now against Her enemies. Or, you can cower like a whipped dog, and once we slay the demon we will cause you to suffer greatly for your betrayal!"
"Please, there is nothing I can do!" the priest blubbered, trying to struggle away through the clinging shadows.
Thaurlann continued his assault on the bandits, slowly making his way towards the demon. His opponent fell back, wounded and wary of Thaurlann's long blade.
The Banite growled and charged at the beast, shield up to ward off any magical blasts and flail raised high to strike the beast down. "Your black magics von't save you, monster! The Bane of Evil is my shield!" The unnaturally dark shadows flickering in the firelight rose up to grasp at him, but not before he reached his target. Still, the shadows pulled at him, and the drekavac ducked away from his blow.
This close, the rank stench of its filthy fur was near unbearable. It grinned, tongue lolling as it made a short barking noise and flung something to the floor - and suddenly the firelight vanished, leaving the room pitch black. A moment later stars lit the darkness for Gannon as a blow struck his helmet, leaving his head ringing.

The darkness closed over Aksana with a suffocating grip. Her will to survive and Spielos' words had spurred her to action again but her resolve wavered in the dark. "Spielos," her voice cracked. Her grip tightened on her dagger, her other hand reached out for the man next to her. <"We have to stay together or risk killing one another."> Heedless of the possible danger she crowded closer to where she thought Spielos to be.
"Stinking limp dick bastards," spat Spielos, much quieter than the tone of his words suggested he wanted to. His plans were ruined.
<"Grab on and follow me,"> he replied.
He took a backwards step in the direction he last saw Aksana, offering his free arm as a handle while at the same using it as a feeler to find either the wall or Aksana in the darkness.
Following the sound of Spielos' voice, Aksana felt around until she found his outstretched arm. The feel of solid, warm flesh under her hand steadied her. Her other hand waved her dagger blindly in the dark, menacing her unseen enemies. Together they felt their way along the wall, stumbling over the loose bedrolls as they made their way deeper into the darkness... only to find that it vanished abruptly as they came to a passage that split into two, one leading on the way the bandit had run (and from which faint firelight flickered), the other sloping down into the shadows. The passage appeared to be used for storage, and an assortment of crates and barrels hugged the walls. Some were open and empty, others neatly stacked.

The darkness engulfed Thaurlann's spirit, swallowing up his heart and bringing up recent memories of stumbling around in the forest, pursued by horrible creatures that meant to tear him apart.
He shook away the memory and fumbled at his pouch. "The darkness will not avail you, demon!" he shouted. His hands gripped for flint and tinder to bring light back to the room, but though he could feel the heat of the flames, no light came.
Alethra pushed past Rhia and maneuvered to get a clear shot at Gannon's opponent, nocking arrow to string in a practiced motion as she did so. She was careful to avoid her own entangling spell and to stay out of the reach of any of the trapped bandits, but it was close quarters and the darkness in the middle of the room was impenetrable even to her sharp eyes, though the dark accentuated a faint reddish glow coming from behind the second curtain. The elven sorceress finally growled and pulled back the string of her borrowed bow and loosed an arrow at where she thought the drekavac was. The clatter of the arrow against the stone of the walls was loud in these close quarters.
Rhia snarled under her breath. This would be seconds - and possibly important Weaving -lost. She quickly began the incantation she had learned from Jarrow's books, seeking out and attempting to unbind the threads of the creature's Weave... but, still shaken by the drekavac's hideous howl, she fumbled the complex movements and the spell slipped from her fingers to dissipate in the Weave.
Rhia snarled again. Very well then, she knew something else she could do with her hands, whether they shook with damned unnatural fear or not... she hoped. Quietly, she closed her eyes and saw the Weave...
Despite the darkness, Gannon's wild blow struck true with a meaty thwock, and the drekavac yelped in surprise and pain. Anya smiled at the gruesome sound, kneeling to run her hand over the ground in search of her prey. Finding a fallen man, she quickly slit his throat, hissing a furious curse on him. "I vill not rest until you are all dead," she promised the dark.

Thaurlann could scarcely believe his eyes - what they did not see made no sense to him. A perfectly hot torch burned in front of him, yet he saw nothing. The noises around him assured him that he had at least not gone deaf.
It nearly maddened him to be unable to rush forward, even blind as he was, without the fear of hitting an ally. Thaurlann barked an order that he would have had a hard time following himself, but he hoped the others would listen, for their own safety.
"Fall back to the entrance!" Thaurlann snapped. "Gannon and I will take the beast, and any bandits still standing will crumble without its guidance."
Throwing words into the darkness, he added, "I hope for your sake, priest of Talona, that you take this chance to ask Her to reverse this darkness and spare your life from our blades."
"Please, I am praying!" The priest's voice came from nowhere, whining and tear-choked. "I beg you, spare me! I am a faithful servant of the Good Mother!"
Thaurlann knelt carefully in a defensive posture, praying silently for patience.

Aksana blinked in the dimness of the cave; so dark before it now seemed bright and welcome. She looked behind them and shuddered as her eyes were unable to penetrate the inky darkness there. Unconsciously she gripped Spielos tighter. "Shar protect us from such evil," she whispered under her breath. <"Vhat now?"> she said quietly to Spielos. <"There are at least three others before us."> She glanced down the passage with the barrels. <"They do not know ve have escaped the darkness, perhaps ve can hide and come up behind them as they come to see vhat is caught in their trap."> She let her voice trail off thinking that the brash man before her was more likely to charge head on down the passage. She took a deep breath and swallowed, steeling herself to follow which ever way he went.
Spielos took a look around him, searching for anything that might give them an advantage. A few bottles of oil would work wonders right now. He started to take a step forward towards the barrels when Thaurlann's voice stopped him in his tracks.
<"Your plan is sound,"> he replied softly. He again studied the room, looking for a place to hide. <"If we are attacked, let me take the lead. If any of the bandits start laughing, move in and kill them quickly, they will be defenseless.">
Aksana wondered why any of the bandits would be laughing, but nodded her head in agreement without asking why. She moved quietly behind Spielos, searching for a good hiding place.
The passage offered little in the way of a hiding place, apart from the dark tunnel leading down to their left; from it came the faint rumble of cascading water. A quick check of the barrels and crates turned up a handful of torches, several rolled furs, a beautifully painted lyre, two small kegs that sloshed when moved, a bottle of wine and a chest filled with copper coins. One crate held a jumble of clothing, while another contained an empty scimitar scabbard rigged to be drawn from the wearer's back lying atop a few books and a coil of rope. Mostly, though, the crates contained food. A number of spears and bows were leaned against the wall behind the rest of the bandits' loot.
Spielos quick search turned up nothing of use, and there was nowhere to hide. The sound of running water in the distance discouraged him from going any further. Out of options, he waited, back to the wall.

A second clatter of an arrow hitting the wall was heard, and then as suddenly as it had come, the darkness evaporated, leaving the room filled only with Alethra's clutching shadows. The drekavac gawped in surprise, and Gannon caught it in the ribs with his flail, making it yelp and jerk against the shadows holding it. It seemed to grin, its smoky teeth all bared as it snapped at Gannon in turn. Unmoved by the events around her, Anya crouched to slit another bandit's throat.
"El'Ubith! Do you vant to live? Throw it!" A woman's voice snapped from behind the second curtain, and with a snarl at Gannon the drekavac threw its grisly relic. It arced through the air to smack into the hide, and the curtain twitched aside, revealing... nothing. The wand vanished from view as the curtain fell back into place.
Thaurlann watched the object soar and then disappear, cursing in Chondathan at the trickery of the foes.
The fierce black visor swung slightly from side to side as Gannon shook his head. "Don't listen to her, El'Ubith. You're going to die here." The Banite swept his flail at the drekavac again, hoping for the solid crunch of a solid strike. He wasn't paying attention to the rest of the battle; all his focus was on his opponent.
His sorcerous slave, however, was paying attention to what was going on around her. She turned to follow the wand and loosed an arrow at the curtain before moving to see what was hiding behind it. A black shadow flitted across the ceiling to dive through moments before she got there. Perching on an altar set with a skull and chalice, Nutwolcnum found the room dimly lit by a brazier, and four men lurking by a neat pile of furs and bedding. A large crimson rug covered the floor, muffling the sounds of their nervous shifting.
Anger coursed through Thaurlann's veins like warm wine emptied into a cold metal chalice. "Spielos! Aksana! Get the two bandits still stuck in the webs!" he barked.
Forget it, they won't listen to you. A voice talked to him from the corner of his mind.
He responded, The enemy priest listened. He prayed for guidance and found the light, literally.
His mind countered, But he is a weakling easily influenced. Your so- called friends see you as a mindless tool, built only for violence. They will never accept you as a leader.
Thaurlann's cheeks reddened, and his eyes swelled. "Shut up!" Thaurlann shouted aloud, lifting his sword in his right hand. He moved past Anya, snaking his way around the bodies as he approached the demon. The shadows snaked up to hold him fast, but he stepped carefully over the bodies lying closest the fire, and they could not take hold until he stepped forward to slay the drekavac. Caught itself, it had no defense against his blade, and blood flew as he sank it deep into the monster's body.
Unseen by the valiant warriors, the hide curtain they had passed through was drawn aside. "Have you missed my company so much?" the elf who stepped through asked Rhia, twisting aside from her startled blow like an eel. Coming up behind the strike, he touched her arm with a tiny scrap of cloth. A cold feeling washed over her, a faint echo of the blinding despair she once had felt at his touch... but then it faded away. So did the expectant look on Emistil's smiling face, replaced by one of mild surprise.
A second bandit followed the elf, and this one held little in common with the rough commoners they had so neatly trapped. A lean man with a hard face, he wore leather armor rather than the ratty padding of his comrades, and a crossbow was slung across his back. In fact, it was the same man they had seen earlier, running down the tunnel. Grabbing Rhia, he jerked her into his arms with impressive strength, his serrated black sword at her throat. "Enough of this nonsense. Lower your veapons or the vitch dies."
Thaurlann turned back at the voice with surprise in his eyes. In one swift moment, their assault had been reversed, with the bandits now holding the upper hand.
Aksana cursed silently under her breath as she listened to the voices from the other room. She had no love for the witch but neither did she want to see her die. Still she hesitated, unsure; fear of her own capture weighing heavily on her. Not knowing if the bandits realized she was there or not she decided to stay put for now. She would wait and see how things unfolded.
The black armored Banite laughed. "Kill her, then. She can prepare your vay into the Neverending Dark. She may even be redeemed if she dies in His service. You'll be doing her a favor."
Gannon put his whole arm into it as he swung the black, spiked flail at his opponent again, sending the drekavac crashing to the floor, bleeding. He didn't even turn to look at the bandit leaders. His voice didn't even waver at the exertion. "Bane has sent me to send you to him for your eternal punishment and I vill be his strong right arm in this dark place. You vill meet your maker before this night is through."
Anya, less willing to risk Rhia's life than Atjets Gannon, slowly lowered her sword to the floor, then stood glaring at the lean bandit who held the maga. If looks could kill, the man would have been in the Nine Hells already. "Mandrake." She spat the word like it was poison, and he gave her a smile that brought blood rushing to her face.
"I am surprised to see you again, shalava," he said conversationally as a man in gleaming chain stepped through the curtain and picked up Anya's sword. Without expression he slammed the dragon-shaped pommel of his own sword into her head, and she staggered, blinking madly. "I vould have thought you vere back to servicing the docks by now. Lie down on the floor, now, and your friend vill live. You as vell," he called to Aksana. "Freemen! Take them now!"
At his call, several more men and women emerged from the tunnels, skirting the shadows twisting along the ground and walls. They shouted angrily on seeing their fallen comrades, threatening the intruders with their spears. As they surrounded Spielos and Aksana, the bard asked to sing a song before he died, but the bandits only scoffed. Then, incredibly, he drew out several tiny tarts and flung them at one of the bandits, who jerked back with a curse, then drove the butt of his spear into Spielos' stomach before he could speak. Alethra suffered a similar fate as she was caged by their jabbing spears, though her silver dagger scored one as he moved to shoot at Gannon. The arrow pinged off his heavy armor harmlessly.
Aksana's cursing rose in volume as more and more bandits came out of nowhere. The trapped sensation she had been feeling multiplied tenfold. She could hear the confused sounds and voices in the room behind her but could spare no time to look and see what was going on. Spielos' voice sounded beside her but somehow she could make no sense of what he was saying. Mostly she heard the roar of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart in her chest. Her breathing quickened and her body tensed, a coiled spring waiting only for the trigger to release it.
The air shimmered beside the bandit lord and a woman appeared where there had been none, clutching the drekavac's wand of bones and aiming it at Gannon, though to what effect was unclear. For his part, Gannon felt a chill grip his heart, the woman seeming for a moment more terrible than her appearance could explain.
Seeing the bandits charge out of their side cave, Alethra whispered a few words and calmly allowed the men to surround her.
Thaurlann would not be responsible for an ally's death. But, he had no stomach for negotiating with this sort of enemy, and he doubted they would be honorable enough to let them go if they did surrender.
He decided that he had no chance to hit with his sword, but perhaps a smaller object might make it there in time? The sword clanged to the ground. He reached into his sack, trying to keep his shield between his foes and the object he had just retrieved.
"Vhat are you doing?" Mandrake snapped, jerking Rhia to face him. A rill of blood ran down her neck where his sword touched her.
Thaurlann's arm swung in a forward arc with the quickness of a catapult. From his hand launched a silver horseshoe, spinning in a perfect circle despite the irregular shape. Thaurlann prayed to Bane for his aim to be true, even if it would only allow the briefest distraction for Rhia to get free.
The silver horseshoe took Mandrake between the eyes, and he cursed as he released Rhia, staggering back. She took the chance to stab the pale-haired elf as he began to intone words of some dread nature, but he kicked her away and finished his spell.
Suddenly it was all too much for Thaurlann. The unnatural magics being flung about, demons left and right, and the horror of his own shadow clutching at him - fear stabbed him and he struggled to flee even as the shadows held him fast.

Rhia decided to do something about the elf, and now. With a snarl that could have come from either her or the blade she ripped from the sheath at her side. Stepping out of Mandrake's easy reach, the maga aimed her blade at the elf's face and swung. The sword seemed strangely natural in her hand, as though she had used it for years, but the spry elf still managed to dodge aside with a laugh.
Anya took the opportunity to spring back to her feet, scooping her blade up on the way, but the man guarding her struck her another staggering blow with the flat of his blade as she did. Bleeding from a cut on her forehead, she squared off against him, trying to keep her eye on the men surrounding her. Still, time and again they landed blows with the butts of their spears, and her reactions were visibly slowing.
Aksana and Spielos were in a similar situation, though they had each other to guard their flanks. Spielos rubbed his stomach with his hand, and smiled.
"So you are the bandits I have heard so much about. The tales of your deeds have spread far and wide," he began. His voice grew louder, "Why, sailors coming into port in Westgate have told tales of the bandits led who held a northern lord's lands hostage. Mandrake is something of a folk hero among young lads who fancy themselves rough men. In the tradition of folk heros through the ages, you are making your rules and living your own way, beholden to nobody."
The men grinned at him, but it didn't stop them from whacking him again with their spears, one hard enough to nearly spin him around. Alethra, too, suffered hard blows from her tormentors, but her voice never wavered as she continued her complex spell. Emistil was likewise able to shake off the cuts he suffered from Rhia's blade, and Gannon and Rhia felt the faint grave wind of disquiet steal through them momentarily, but the feeling passed quickly, leaving the elf's smile faded and puzzled.
"Enough," Mandrake growled again, glaring at Rhia. Two blows with the pommel of his sword cracked through the room as he slammed aside her sword and felled the angry maga with easy grace and speed. "Take them down. I mean now!" he barked, and his motley crew of ruffians jumped to do his bidding.
Spielos snarled, readied his rapier and lunged at the man who had hit him. Instead of striking him outright, he feinted, dodged and rolled, getting behind the man before stabbing at him. The bandit gaped as Spielos' rapier emerged from his chest, then collapsed, and the others faced off against the bard warily - but not warily enough to escape Aksana's dagger. The woman cursed inventively as she spun to keep both of the two in sight, clutching at her arm where the scout had scored her.
The Banite turned to face the bandits holding Rhia. "You vill all face Bane's judgment tonight. The Bane of all Evil vishes you dead, so I vill send you to Him. The drekavac vas only the first to fall. Numbers mean nothing to a true servant of Bane."
He pointed the end of his spiked flail at Mandrake. "Ready yourself for the afterlife." Gannon's voice was matter of fact, as though he was describing the weather instead of threatening to kill close to twenty armed bandits.
War-hardened though he was, the bandit leader was clearly taken aback at the Atjets' calm certainty, and his unease spread through his followers like wildfire. More than one hurriedly spat through their fingers, murmuring quick prayers.
"He speaks for the Gods!" one cried, and the others swore fearfully.
"The gods do not bother vith such as you," Mandrake said scornfully. "He speaks only to frighten the veak - Malvira! I said alive!" The woman who had appeared from thin air earlier gave him a poisonous smile as she caught Anya's falling body, blood glinting on her wicked knife. "She is alive," she said, malicious humor in her voice.
"Keep your problems vith the voman for later," Mandrake said, anger tinging his voice for the first time. Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by Alethra's smooth voice as it rose to a crescendo. The shadows that covered the cave floor writhed in response to her command, flowing and bubbling weirdly until they broke into a thousand tiny pieces and swarmed up her black Sharran robes. The men they flowed between shouted in alarm, backing up with wide eyes. In moments Alethra was covered in a living cloak of night black spiders. The sorceress paused for a moment to let the effect sink in on her opponents, then walked confidently toward her master. The bandits shied away from her, spitting between their fingers and stumbling back to give her room. She kept close to the flames of the firepit where the clutching shadows melted away, and made it all the way to Gannon unmolested.
Mandrake stared at the elf, his voice tight with revulsion. "Vhat in Bhaal's black bowels is this?!"
"Another one! This is splendid!" Emistil exclaimed, actually clapping his hands together. There was something in his voice that was both eager and, to Alethra's sensitive ears, strangely off.

Seeing the spider-shrouded sorceress come closer only made Thaurlann more eager to escape the shadows tugging at his feet. Even the soothing words of the Banite could not sooth the fear in him. The constricting terror even overpowered the rage he now felt towards the woman dealing cruel blows to Anya only a few feet away.
The man in chainmail who had been trading blows with Anya stepped toward the sorceress with a sneer on his lips. "Trickery and lies," he said, aiming a blow at Alethra. Quick as she was, she had little room to maneuver, and his sword smacked lightly into her arm. Immediately the sword was covered by swarming spiders crawling up the length of the blade, more flowing across the floor to climb his legs. He cursed sharply as the tiny creatures reached his hands and legs, stomping and waving his sword recklessly. The other bandits backed away, exclaiming with fear and disgust as the shadows on Alethra spawned hundreds of the things, pouring from her mouth, nose, eyes and clothes.
"Do not touch him!" Mandrake's command was hardly necessary; no one was going near the man, who was now slapping at his armor with grunts of alarm. "You four, take these two in. The rest of you, stand your ground, you dogs!" But a quick strike from Alethra left another of the bandits frantically slapping at himself, dancing to avoid the shadows on the ground. The others didn't flee, but they made no move towards the sorceress, either.
Spielos turned towards the others, licking a spatter of blood from his lips. "You all die tonight," he grated, "the White Curse of the Outlands is upon you. I shall feast on your hearts and bind your souls with chains of song!" He then let out a fearsome, gutteral yell that filled the cave and echoed down its walls as he lunged towards the shaken woman with his bloody sword.
Taking her cue from Spielos, Aksana finally sprang into action. As her body moved and her blades flashed the fear started to melt away. Her training took over and she dodged nimbly without even thinking about it; almost like dancing. Realizing the danger of so many around her, she took a step to the side to gain better position, feeling the breeze from a spearbutt as it missed her by an inch. As it was with the boginki, once battle began, the blood hummed in her ears and filled her with a tingling warmth. She smiled at the bandit before her as she prepared to strike. The smile promised no quarter given, and none expected back. The bandits rallied to attack the two, but it was obvious that their hearts weren't in it, and the events in the main cave were doing nothing for their morale.
"Shoot her," Mandrake bellowed, pointing his black blade at Alethra. Fumbling with their bows, several of the bandits obeyed, sending arrows buzzing around her, but none struck the lithe elf. With a curse Mandrake sheathed his wicked sword and picked up a bow himself. "Emistil! Stop her!"
The grinning elf raised his hands, twisting them in the air as he spoke, his words conjuring from the air itself a bow of smooth, yellowed bone, and a shaft of the same in his hand. As the arrow shot towards Alethra it splintered in mid-air, but all the shards struck home, seeming to disappear into her body. She fell without a sound, the spiders crawling ceaselessly over her crumpled form.

Thaurlann's heart sunk a bit as he saw the sorceress go down, because it meant one less ally to help in the fight.
Strangely, though, it did not send the same wave of fear over him that he was expecting. In fact, the fear had completely drained away from his body, as if someone had tapped a keg and emptied it onto the ground.
He looked down at his discarded sword, then over at the bandits now dragging away one of his unconscious comrades.
He started to reach for his sword, but the sticky strands of the shadow-web held his legs fast. "We need to get out of this fast, before they take us all!" he told Gannon. He thought for a moment, and remembered what the sorceress had told him at the lake.
Thaurlann retrieved his other torch, and began desperately trying to light it.
The bandits were distracted by the spectacle of the two covered with Alethra's tiny shadow-spiders. The two shook and swatted at themselves like madmen, shouting with fear and disgust. First one, then the other sank to the ground, rolling and twitching, the less armored one yelping piteously. The bandits around them stayed well back, unwilling to attract the attention of the crawling vermin even as the last of them disappeared beneath the men's armor.
Spielos dodged the attacks that came his way, weaving like a snake. Aksana sank her dagger into the man between them, and he turned towards her automatically, jabbing with his spear. Suddenly Spielos snapped foward, lunging with his rapier before reversing his momentum and stepping back in the dim, flickering light of the passage. The bandit dropped to his knees, the spear falling from his hands as he pitched forward over his fallen comrade. It proved too much for the remaining man, and he scampered back to his fellows, cursing fearfully.
"Use your bows," Mandrake barked at the pale-faced huddle of bandits who stood watching their fellows twitch on the ground. Raising his own, the bandit leader grated, "Throw your veapons down and surrender. Ve vill not kill you if you do this thing." He smiled. "I give to you my vord." The grinning elf tore his gaze from the spectacle at their feet and raised his own bow, the other bandits slowly reaching for the bows leaning against the rocky wall. Malvira, however, only crossed her arms and smirked, though her eyes kept dipping toward the incapacitated men.
Thaurlann's torch dipped to singe his breeches and boots where the living shadows held him, and they shied away from the light. He quickly did the same for Gannon, and the Banite sprang forward with a roar, leaping over Alethra's vermin-ridden body to charge at the surprised bandits. Mandrake's arrow caught his arm, but didn't slow him as he crashed into Emistil, his flail smashing the elf against the wall.

After the short flurry of immediate battle ended around her Aksana stared around blankly searching for another target. As her eyes met Spielos' she slowly realized that, for the moment, there were no bandits near her. Her first instinct was to bolt but the thought of Anya somewhere behind her kept her feet rooted to the spot.
After a moment's pause, Spielos gave a low growl and set off after the man who had fled.
"If you run you will only die tired!" he screamed as he ran after the retreating figure. "The White Curse of the Outlands will have your blood," he continued, spittle flying from his mouth as broke into gutteral screams interspaced with insults and threats in Chondathan and Damaran. Aksana sucked in a deep breath and followed after Spielos quickly, before she could think about it long enough to change her mind. A woman stood in Spielos' way, having just pulled herself free from Alethra's clinging shadows. She quailed, but Spielos' rapier took her in the throat, and she fell to the ground gagging on her own blood.
Pressed against the wall he'd collided with, Emistil had finally stopped grinning. Clutching at his ribs, he hunched with pain; blood tainted the scales of his armor with red in the flickering light. Glaring at Gannon, he spoke a word that, unintelligible though it was, seemed to make the dark press in, the light dim. Then he turned and fled, pushing past Mandrake through the curtain that led to the outdoors. Mandrake stared after him, astonished. "Emistil! Vhat are- stop!"
The defection on top of the death chasing after them proved too much for the remaining bandits. They streamed after him, shoving Mandrake aside. "Stop, you dogs!" Mandrake yelled, livid with rage. "I vill kill any deserters!" But they were past him and into the dark of the tunnels, leaving him to his fate.
Malvira, seeing their numbers fall, fled into the tunnel the others had taken Anya and Rhia. Her voice echoed back, calling for the bandits who had taken them to return.
As soon as he saw Gannon freed, Thaurlann dropped the torch in favor of his sword.
He turned towards the dark corridor where the bandits had taken the two women, before stopping himself.
Without you, the Banite might fail, he thought. And the bandits will do nothing to the women without their leader's orders.
On this thought, his eyes shifted narrowly onto the bandit leader, his look boring past Gannon.
Raising his sword directly at Mandrake, he summoned a fury to bolster his voice. "All your dark magics and mindless henchmen will not avail you, feeble villain!"
The bandits' leader stared at Thaurlann, clearly taken aback. He dropped his bow and reached for his sword, backing up until he touched the curtain the others had fled past. Sweat gleamed on his face as he warned Thaurlann back. "Do not try me, boy. So far I have been kind, but I vill bleed you if I have to."
Gannon paid no heed to the words, throwing himself at Mandrake. The two crashed together before the tunnel opening, Mandrake favoring a bloodied arm while Gannon straightened his helm, ears ringing. Mandrake held his sword with easy grace, daring any to close with him again.

Spielos watched the bandits flee and laughed a deep, echoing laugh. Looking around, he paused long enough finish the mortally wounded woman on the ground before him with two more stabs of his sword. <"May you fare better in your next life,"> he said softly.
Thaurlann rushed from the firepit to aid Gannon, and though Malvira caught him on her dagger on the way past, his blow against Mandrake fell clean and hard. Mandrake bellowed with pain as Thaurlann's blade tore into his sword arm, circling back out of reach with a snarl. His eyes darted about the carnage in the room, and his face glistened with sweat. Glaring at Thaurlann, he rushed forward - but his sword darted out, quick as a snake, to stab between the plates of his armor. His inattention cost him, however; Gannon followed Thaurlann's strike with a crushing blow of his own. Of the three warriors, only Thaurlann stood yet untouched.
The blubbering priest tore free of Alethra's unholy shadows, falling to the the blood-soaked ground. Spielos scooped up a bow from the floor where it lay beyond reach of its dead owner, and behind him Aksana tucked her dagger away, drawing forth her hand crossbow. Taking aim at the lone man who remained caught in the living shadows, two shafts sprouted from his body, and he fell to the floor, motionless. With a shriek of terror, the ragged priest scrambled through the nearest curtain, arms raised defensively about his head.
"Kill the vomen!" Malvira screamed, ducking past Gannon and Mandrake to follow the fleeing bandits. The men who had followed her from the deeper tunnel hesitated, their eyes on the warriors blocking the exit. Mandrake slipped behind the curtain and vanished into the darkness along with Malvira, and Gannon followed. The remaining bandits swarmed toward Thaurlann - or at least, toward the tunnel leading outside. Thaurlann struck out at them, wounding two, but they kept moving and left him standing alone by the entrance.

Spielos nocked another arrow and took aim at another bandit, standing stone still among over his fallen comrade. How strange, he thought as he paused for a moment, controlling his breathing and steadying his pulse. Then, with a practiced hand, he released the missle. His target, however, had better armor than the last, and the arrow snapped against his fine chainmail. The attack seemed to snap the bandit out of his trance, and he blinked at the room owlishly.
Standing behind Spielos, Aksana was unwilling to risk touching the writhing shadows to try moving past him. Breathing deeply, amazed that they were still alive, she looked over his shoulder trying to get a good look at the situation in the room. She could see no sign of Anya; she had lost sight of the ranger during the battle. With bandits fleeing out two different tunnels she was not sure which way led to the other woman. Not touching Spielos for fear of spoiling his aim she leaned closer so he would hear her. "Did you see vich vay Anya vent?"
The last of the fleeing bandits fell to Thaurlann's blade even as he ducked through the curtain. The thrill of battle almost overwhelmed Thaurlann with exhilaration. The sweat poured down his face and into his eyes, but his sight was crystal clear. This time, he didn't even hesitate about his decision, despite his earlier conflict about leaving the women to their possible doom.
His duty now stood to the Church of the True Gods, and he was their exemplar. The innocent, though to be protected, might be sacrificed in the name of the greater good.
Thaurlann swung his sword to tear down the curtain and almost leapt through, into the dim corridor where the bandit leader had fled. His heavy armor weighed him down, and he considered for a moment shedding the extra weight to gain speed. His memory of the forest, though, quickly squashed that idea. Three men stood lined up in a row behind Gannon, blinking in the sudden light from the den. A moment later only two remained, as one lay, skull split, beneath Gannon's flail. The remaining two faced off against him and Thaurlann, jabbing with their spears.
Behind them, the two bandits who had fallen to Alethra's spell got to their feet, taking up their weapons and taking in the scene before them: over half their number slaughtered, the rest gone. The one in chainmail raised his sword grimly, brandishing it at Spielos and Aksana. "No more trouble. Ve vill go now. You stay vhere you are. No trouble!"
Spielos raised an eyebrow at the broken arrow. Armor that good was expensive; this might not be an ordinary bandit. Still, there were softer spots to shoot. He spoke out of the side of his mouth at Aksana as he drew an arrow. "I did not. We must help Alethra."
Aksana looked at the forest demon laying on the ground. She was repulsed by the spiders disappearing back under Alethra's clothing. The demon might be a representative from the church, but she frightened Aksana. However Spielos' request that she help swayed her. "Very vell," she muttered.
Addressing Octarov, Speilos bellowed, "You will never leave this cave!" Grinning, he loosed his arrow. This time the shaft was not turned aside, and Octarov snarled with the pain of it, his left arm wrapped close around the wound. Raising her crossbow Aksana loosed a bolt at the bandit standing over Alethra, but his armor proved too strong for her tiny bolt, bouncing off into the swimming shadows.
Octarov glanced at the tunnel where Thaurlann was dispatching another of his fellows, then back at Spielos, his face grim. Skirting the twisting shadows around Alethra, he rushed at Spielos, who twisted aside from his attack like an eel, too slippery to catch. Aksana fired around him, her bolt catching Octarov full in the arm this time, and the bandit redoubled his efforts to strike them down.
Despite the arrows piercing him, Octarov was a hard man to hit as well, his blade quick to parry and his armor hard to pierce. His skill with his dragon-pommeled sword was nothing to sneer at, and his blows fell with crushing force, as Spielos learned. His eyes slid behind Spielos to Aksana, and when he spoke it was to her.
"Is it you who brought them here, you who has come back for revenge? Give it up, girl - you are free again! Enjoy your freedom and live your life. Forget this foolishness." Aksana looked at the man, confused by his words. Did he think she was Anya? Or someone else entierly? Looking back to Spielos, he continued, "She is paying you for this, yes? There is money here, plenty of silver. Vhy risk your life vhen I can go and you can get the silver? You cannot spend it dead."
Spielos' blade didn't waver, though his vision swam and he realized he was having trouble breathing. He was no match for this man in his current state, and he knew it.
"Go, then." Spielos said as he backed along the wall, keeping his guard up. "Get the fuck out of here. I did not want you attacking our friends. We want Mandrake, not you. Go!"
When Spielos began to back up Aksana gave ground before him; his labored breathing worried her. Abandoning any further effort to shoot the bandit she drew her dagger and kept it between herself and him. Staying near Spielos she prepared herself for any treachery by the man.
Octarov wasted no further time on talk, turning and running from the cave. Spielos and Aksana were left alone among the bodies of the fallen and Alethra's weird magic.

A satisfied grin crossed Thaurlann's face as he saw at last a clear path ahead to Gannon. He ran forward, hoping that the bandit leader's injuries would keep him from getting too far away. Together with Gannon he forged on into the darkness of the echoing tunnel, the clanking of their mail loud in the confined space. The first hint of fresh air wafted against Gannon's face. Suddenly someone thumped into Thaurlann from behind, letting loose a strangled curse before pulling back.
Thaurlann growled back into the darkness. "If you value your life, bandit, stay put and don't make a sound. If I hear you behind me again it will be the last sound you make." After pausing only a moment, he continued blindly in the dark at the best speed he could. There was no sound behind him, and nothing poked him again.
It wasn't long before the clanking ahead of him faltered, then came to a halt. "Thaurlann, it is you?" Gannon queried, his frustration evident in his voice. "I cannot see the hand in front of my face! Vhere is the dog ve are after? Do you have light?" He made a disgusted noise. "How can ve find him in this?"
Thaurlann shrugged in the darkness, as if Gannon could see him. "I wasted my last two torches. I still have flint," he added hopefully, then dourly, "But nothing to light." After a brief pause, Thaurlann said, "The villain must come out of the front entrance eventually. Maybe we can follow the wind and head out there, then wait for him there if he has not already left."
"Shar save us from this darkness," Gannon muttered, but Thaurlann heard the clink of his mail as he began to move again. Thaurlann followed the cool breeze against his face, Gannon moving off to his left. Listening hard, Thaurlann thought he was able to make out labored breathing ahead, the sound soft but panting. A moment later Gannon cursed, his flail swinging with a heavy whup as he tried to strike someone ahead of him. Thaurlann was right behind him, but the rock pressed in on either side, and he was unable to move forward without crowding Gannon and risking being on the receiving end of his flail.
A man snarled triumphantly and Gannon let out a bellow, and there was a clatter as he fell, opening the path for Thaurlann to rush forward. It was impossible to judge where his opponent was, and his swings were mainly met with the cool night air, though now and again there was the skirl of metal on metal as his opponent's sword met his or a thump as one or the other hit armor - and then a searing pain struck him from behind. The force of the blow was incredible. A voice behind him said, "Step aside and let me pass, and I vill not strike you down. I have no interest in fighting vith you."
Ahead of Thaurlann came Mandrake's surprised voice. "Octarov? I thought the vitch had killed you. So, you who stands between us. Vhat he says is true - there is no point in continuing this fight. You are alone now. Your friends, they need you. Throw down your sword and leave us be, and ve vill not kill you."
Trying to erase the pain from his voice, Thaurlann snapped back, "No point? Why do you think we came here in the first place? I am useless to my friends if I return to them a dishonorable coward like the < sewer rat> behind me."
He sucked in air greedily. "I am Thaurlann, knight of Bane, and I make a counter-offer to you, bandit king. You will turn yourself over to the Lord Tjesnitj�rs for justice and I will not kill you where you stand. The offer goes for the < rat> as well."
He licked his lips invisibly, slowing his breath and focusing intently for the inevitable reply.
Octarov growled at Thaurlann's insult, but Mandrake sounded wearily amused. "A man of honor! You have a strong heart, knight of Bane. Your offer is kind, but betveen the two of us I think ve have the better option of freedom. You understand, I hope." A blade thrust into Thaurlann, twisting viciously as it withdrew. The pain was like a club to the head despite the numbing force of the blow, and a tiny part of him knew that his armor would need repair before being of full use to him again.
Mandrake's voice seemed tinny as he spoke again. "I brought this upon myself, I know. I ordered my men not to kill you. I underestimated your strength. I vill not-" He was cut off as Thaurlann lunged for him, crashing into him in a clatter of mail. The two men grunted and groaned as they strained against each other, but it was Thaurlann who gained the upper hand, locking his arm about Mandrake's throat.
Behind them Octarov called out. "Vhat is happening? Mandrake?" There was a scuffling noise as someone pushed past the two, then another. Another set of arms wrapped around him, trying to pull him away from Mandrake. Mandrake himself twisted like a fish on a hook, and managed to pull free of Thaurlann's grip, leaving him to contend with Octarov.
Thaurlann struggled against the other man's grasp, once again finding himself facing a very real certainty of death. "Curse the heathen goddess Tymora for turning our luck against us," he muttered under his breath.
His already useless armor felt as though it might tear to shreds at any moment. Mustering every ounce of strength he had left, he twisted around - not so much a display of dexterity but of sheer willpower. As his hand felt the sword hand of the one who had attacked him from behind, he increased his pressure to force the hand open.
The sword fell to the ground with a clang that reverberated against the stones, followed by Octarov as Thaurlann wrenched the bandit over his leg and dropped him. Octarov gave a surprised oath, and Mandrake spoke from nearby, moving away. "Leave us be now, you fool!" The bandit leader's voice was strained with pain. Thaurlann stabbed at where Octarov had fallen, but his blade was turned by the man's armor, sliding along the chain. Octarov grunted from the blow, but Thaurlann heard him rise and follow Mandrake's dragging steps into the open air.
Thaurlann at last paused from the pursuit, though he did not drop his guard. The immense pain in his back and side would still have to wait. "They will be hard to find in the open, with no moonlight to guide us," Thaurlann said quietly.
He knelt down on the ground and felt around for Gannon. "Spielos! Aksana!" he bellowed, emptying his lungs of their last ounce of air. "Bring torches!"
He could only pray that they would hear his voice so far away, and that they hadn't been killed or captured. For that matter, they might have fled the battle entirely, for all he knew - but his heart told him otherwise.
"Mandrake, you have not escaped yet," he whispered to the darkness.

"Gods, I ache," Spielos said to nobody in particular. He felt battered and bruised, but counted himself lucky that his injuries didn't seem to extend much further than that. He hoped with all of his being that one of the barrels in the cave contained wine. Good wine would be a bonus, but any wine would do.
The thought of not having wine today struck him as unthinkable. "If there is no wine in this cave," Spielos blurted, "then these would have to be the worst bandits ever."
Aksana couldn't help herself, despite her fears she grinned at Spielos lamentations for wine. "Vhen this, it is over, ve shall drink all the vine ve can handle, and then have another round." She replaced her dagger in its sheath and reloaded her crossbow.
He shook his head slightly, trying to make his breathing more regular. "We must help Alethra," he reiterated, using the words to pull himself back from the brink of collapsing. "You must watch that we are not attacked while I try to help her."
Spielos paused for a moment to make sure that the bandit was really gone. When Octorav didn't return, he moved forward to help his fallen comrade.
Standing near Spielos Aksana watched and listened for the sounds of anyone returning. As she stood guard she contemplated the bandit's words, trying to fathom what he had meant.
Blood soaked spots in Alethra's clothes under her heavy cloak, evidence of the power of Emistil's evil magic. Apart from that, her only injury appeared to be the dark bruises forming where the bandits had landed their blows. She slumped beautiful but unmoving in Spielos' hands.
Voices echoed back through the tunnel, slightly distorted but identifiable as those of their comrades. With the hide hanging gone, Aksana was able to see into the cave that fronted the larger cave they were in, catching a glimpse of Octarov before he disappeared from view. With more time to look around, she found that the room was topped with a narrow fissure that the smoke from the fire was drawn through, explaining why the haze wasn't thicker. Piles of bedrolls were stuffed into the niches tucked around the cave, and spears and bows lay scattered among the bodies of the bandits who had wielded them. Some of the dirty men and women moved slightly, unconscious and bleeding but not yet dead.
Blood soaked spots in Alethra's clothes under her heavy cloak, evidence of the power of Emistil's evil magic. Apart from that, her only injury appeared to be the dark bruises forming where the bandits had landed their blows. She slumped beautiful but unmoving in Spielos' hands.
Spielos felt for breath coming from Alethra's mouth or nose. He suspected that she was knocked out, since her magic effects did not fade at once. "Aksana, do you know any of the healing arts," he asked, hopefully as he looked for some obvious hurt for which he could give aid.
The deep wounds left by Emistil's magic seemed the worst Alethra had suffered, and when he held his hand to her face he felt her breath against his palm. Her raven had settled closeby, out of reach of the grasping tentacles of shadow. It watched him with beady eyes, seeming to vanish each time a shadow moved behind it.
Far down the tunnels could be heard the faint sounds of fighting, echoing along the rock walls - the sound of metal on metal and voices distorted beyond understanding. Aksana, who was keeping watch, caught a movement at the corner of her eye - a twitch in the hide curtain still hanging. She was fairly certain it hadn't been a stray shadow twisting along the wall.
Aksana had been racking her brain for anything she had seen Atjets Krel do that might aid the demon. "She is a demon. I do not think..." She trailed off as her breath caught in her throat. Her hand tightened on the grip of her crossbow but did not move it from where it was resting. "I do not think human healing vill vork on her," she finished up. Quickly before Spielos could say anything she whispered to him. <"Somevone is vatching us, behind the curtain.">
Just then, Thaurlann's shout for help echoed down the cave walls. Spielos glanced that way, making sure to steal a glance at the curtain as well. The flickering light made it harder to tell, but he didn't think it was moving now.
Spielos stood back up and sighed. He was in no shape to go running about in a dark forest. He knew Thaurlann and Gannon would be mule- headed about pursing the bandits into the night instead of staying here, with the wine.
"We can't leave her here, and blundering out into the night is foolish. We must also find the others." He drew his rapier. "You there, behind the curtain. Show yourself and live."
"Come back up here, Thaurlann," Spielos bellowed, not giving time for a response from whoever was behind the curtain, "the fight here is not over."
"Do not hurt me! Do not, I beg of you," came the high, frightened voice of the man in the tattered robes of a Talontar. The edge of the curtain was pulled carefully back, and the sweating man peered out at them. At a motion from Spielos he stumbled out, quaking and wearing an ingratiating smile that wilted around the edges when he looked at the rapier. His eyes skittered about the cave, flicking over the many dead and dying bandits, and he was quite pale under the grime he wore. He held his hands out defensively. "I am not von of them, I svear it. I am Atjets Paryev, Atjets Paryev. Please, your man of Bane, ask him - you cannot slay a man of the Gods!" His lips trembled as an idea struck him, and the look on his face slowly turned from fear to hope. "The Church has sent you? You have come to save me? Blessed Grandmother, praised be!"

The Second Cycle