Finding my way to the basement is harder than I thought it would be. The house is bigger than it looked from the outside and the passages inside seem to be designed to be confusing. And my progress is made more difficult by the minions in my path. Kalanthia’s efforts to stop the rats escaping have been almost too successful – instead of making for the normal escape routes, many have decided to go out the front door instead, crossing paths with the three of us.

  I hate the delay each time, but I can’t let them overwhelm Fenrir and Ninja. We kill them quickly and move on. Such ruthlessness – especially in the face of surrender – sits uncomfortably in my stomach, but I remind myself why I’m here.

  Some are too panicked to even try to engage. Them, I don’t waste the time chasing down – but I do warn my companions and the guards about their approach. Hopefully they’re too frightened to fight properly.

  “Markus, it’s here,” Layton tells me sharply as he pokes his head back around the corner he’s just rounded. He dropped the ‘lord’ somewhere between the third and the fifth fight – I’ve done the same.

  Bastet and I share a glance, then quickly join him. He’s standing at the top of a small flight of stairs which lead down to a landing below ground level and another door. I nod – he’s probably right.

  Bastet tenses next to me.

  There’s a fight, she warns me. I frown and turn my head, listening closely. Sure enough, the sounds are muffled but unmistakable.

  “Layton, get ready for a fight,” I warn. He nods, his face going hard. We start walking down the stairs when suddenly the door in front of us shifts. We freeze.

  The sounds of the fight echo in the corridor as the door opens. I flinch as I’m suddenly hit by a slap of fury, outrage, and stomach-clenching fear. It's still significantly more distant than it would normally be, but after having felt nothing for so long, it’s startling all the same. The familiar cries, growls, rumbles, and snarls just confirm that my missing Bonded are indeed down there – and fighting.

  A moment later, the sensations and sounds cut off. Looking towards the door, the reason why becomes clear – someone has come through and shut it behind themselves.

  Although I’ve never seen the black-gauze-wrapped figure in my life, I somehow know what they are – an assassin. Shadow, drifts through my mind – because they look like a moving one? It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that they’re standing between me and my Bonded.

  But even if they will let us pass in exchange for their own freedom, I suspect that they would be worth questioning.

  I know the moment the figure realises we’re here as they freeze in place. I take advantage of the moment to send an Inspect at them. They flinch but don’t immediately attack.

  When the pulse returns, my lips draw thin – it's very limited in information. But I can tell that the figure is a Classer – and one of a level fairly similar to my own. They feel a little weaker though – perhaps their Skills are lower level. Enough to be dangerous to my companions, though.

  “Markus?” Layton asks quietly, his lips barely moving.

  “Help my Bonded,” I tell him crisply. “I’ll deal with this one and then come and join you.” You too, Bastet.

  I see Layton send me a glance in my peripheral vision.

  “Are you sure?” he asks uncertainly.

  “Completely,” I answer, flicking him a reassuring glance. The fact is, the last few fights have proven that though the lord might be competent, he certainly doesn’t have any true talent in fighting. He fights with none of the viciousness I’ve developed over my time in the other world. He would be a weak link in this particular fight, but useful reinforcement for my Bonded below.

  When I look back at the door, I curse. The figure has vanished. I send out a general Inspect. Nothing.

  “Go!” I order and the two spring forwards. I keep a careful eye out for any sneak attacks – I know now that my Inspect isn’t infallible. If common bandits had a way of hiding themselves from it, an assassin is almost guaranteed to have a method.

  No one attacks the two as they head for the door. This time I’m braced for it so the reconnection with my Bonded doesn’t disturb my concentration. Instead, I stay in place, blocking the corridor. If the assassin wants to leave, they’ll have to come past me.

  Unless….

  I dart a look upwards and, barely thinking about it, extend a wave of fire that strikes the ceiling.

  As if out of nowhere, the black-wrapped form flickers back into view, clinging to the ceiling like a spider. Realising they’ve been found out, they release the ceiling, dropping down towards me. Twin daggers gleam in the dim light, striking at me faster than I can dodge.

  But physical movements aren’t my only defence – my wall of fire sweeps forward and wraps around the form. The figure flinches enough that the daggers embed themselves into the ground instead of me.

  As quickly as they land, the figure leaps away. Their footsteps are utterly silent, their movement full of lethal grace. They make a gesture and the flames wreathing their form are snuffed out, my connection with them lost.

  In the split-second of my surprise, the assassin strikes. One moment they’re several paces away; the next, they’re inside my guard, both daggers plunging towards my ribs like the teeth of a beast.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  I push backwards on my front foot, avoiding the strike by millimetres. It scrapes along my armour, but does minimal damage.

  While avoiding the strike, my hand flashes up instinctively to catch my balance, but I use it to grab the figure’s gauzy clothes. They pull away from my hold, but I whirl and slam them into the wall.

  Their head knocks against the stone hard and they seem dazed for a moment. I choke up on my spear and slam it into the figure’s left shoulder – I’m not aiming to kill, but crippling is another question.

  The figure lets out their first sound of the fight – an almost-silent pain-filled gasp.

  “Who are you?” I demand. “Who paid for my Bonded to be kidnapped?” I expect the answer to be Torrent, but maybe I can find out who their co-conspirator is. As of when I left Whalehost, Valence still hadn’t had any luck – many nobles left the capital after the ball so I’m losing hope in him succeeding.

  The figure remains silent. I twist my spear in their wound. This time, they remain silent.

  “Answer me!” I snarl.

  White-hot pain stabs into my left side; it’s my turn to gasp. I unintentionally release my grip on the assassin as I pull my hand down to feel the dagger buried hilt-deep in my side.

  Fiery pain radiates out from it – too much for a simple wound. Poison, of course. What else would an assassin use?

  The figure takes immediate advantage of my moment of distraction; they pull the spear from their wound, fighting against my hold with surprising strength. I curse and grab at them again but I’m left with a handful of gauzy fabric as they twist free.

  Their escape comes at a price, though – their chin and mouth are revealed. Daintier than I was expecting – a woman? Or just a very effeminate man?

  The only way to find out is by removing more of the gauze.

  The poison slows my reactions and sends increasing amounts of fiery pain through my veins. But they’re not the only one with fire at their command.

  I send a billow of flames at them again, but they just duck and roll under it, heading for the stairs. Sending magic into the stone below us, I try to catch their feet, but they’re too quick. Cursing the fact that I have no tentacled Bonded I could borrow the limbs of, I use a far less-practised magic – Water-Shaping.

  Sending a whip-like tendril of water at the assassin, I manage to catch them around their waist. They fight my hold, but I just concentrate and send more magic into it.

  Then they make the same gesture as earlier. Like what happened with my fire, I instantly lose connection to the water touching them. The whip falls to the ground and my prey dashes away, their movement almost a blur.

  I blink and they’re gone.

  Cursing, I pull the dagger out and get working on the poison suffusing my system. I don’t have the time to go chasing after that assassin when my Bonded are in danger. Especially since I’m not certain I’ll be able to find them – they’ve clearly got impressive movement and concealment Skills.

  Instead, I send a picture of the person and a sense of what they’re capable of to Mathis and Aingeal – perhaps one of them might spot the assassin on exit. I do warn Aingeal about their apparent ability to nullify magic – as an elemental, he’s practically nothing but magic. And I don’t want to lose him.

  Mathis receives the information with alarm, but cautious relief and promises that the guards will keep an eye out for the shadowy figure.

  I tuck the dagger into the pouch normally reserved for Aingeal – maybe I can get some information from it later even if the assassin escapes. Thinking for a moment longer, I wipe my spear blade off with a strip of cloth from my Inventory and put it with the dagger – Nicholas’ words about blood when we did the ritual at Titanbend manor make me wonder if I might be able to use that too.

  The poison is a bit of a blighter – designed more to disable than to kill, but difficult to cleanse. I finally win out after a couple of minutes. They feel long when I know that my companions are still fighting behind the basement door. But I won't be any good to them while injured.

  Finally ready, I pull open the door and send an Inspect through the dimly-lit space.

  It’s a mess. Boxes everywhere restrict movement and break the fighting into little groups, preventing my companions from bringing their full power to bear. And worse, the enemies seem to be perfectly comfortable fighting in such close quarters. Though none of my Bonded have been killed, several are far more injured than I would like.

  I send mana through the Bonds to Artemis, Pride, Blaze, and Spot who are all heavily injured. The distance makes actual healing difficult, but I’ve practiced enough with Flesh-Shaping to be able to at least encourage their bodies to take the mana to heal themselves. I’ll be able to do a better job when I’m closer but this should be enough to keep them in the fight. While I do that, I take in the rest of the information Inspect told me.

  There’s a mountainous man with six smaller fighters – all Classers – battling against the two Warrior samurans, Happy, Pride, and the three younger raptorcats. Layton and Bastet haven’t got far into the room – only to the bottom of the stairs – but they seem to have taken some of the pressure off the group; they’re occupied with three other fighters and seem to be holding their own. Two of the thugs seem to be on their last legs and the third is struggling to hold onto his weapon – Layton’s probably heating it if I can judge from previous fights.

  Lathani, River, Artemis, and Orion are all battling with two thugs guarding a mage. He’s in the only clear spot, setting out ingredients and chanting. A temporary teleportation circle – I don’t know how I know, but I do.

  I grind my teeth – I’ll be damned if I let them escape through something like that.

  Keeping the mana flowing to my companions, I send them a sense of reassurance that bolsters their spirits and lets them know I’m here. I’d better focus on using magic, I decide, given the melee below.

  Growing my air-aligned wings, I fly through the large space towards the teleportation circle – flying allows me to avoid all the altercations happening below. I have to circle around Layton – the way he drastically changes the temperature of things in his environment causes odd updrafts.

  I hover near the ceiling – no one has spotted me yet. Preparing a large fire grenade, I warn my companions the moment before I drop it right into the centre of the ritual site.

  The fire explodes outwards and sets light to the various ingredients. The mage screams in what sounds like a mixture of fear and rage, and tendrils of water expand from him in all directions, like he’s a sort of octopus. They quickly douse what has been ignited. He dives for one item in particular – now blackened. Chunks fall off it as he picks it up with shaking hands.

  He looks up and spots me.

  “You’ve ruined it!” he screeches. “How am I supposed to teleport us without a teleportation scroll!”

  “That’s rather the point,” I tell him with a deadpan expression. Well, that was easier than I thought. Now I just have to stop them escaping out the door when they realise they’re beaten. The water mage actually glances that way and I wonder whether he’s going to try to run.

  Then I see his expression change. His tendrils of water coalesce into one massive hand which swipes at me. I dodge out of the way, but he just attacks again.

  Alright – fine by me.

  here!

  here!

  here!

  here