Ostrik grunted at the burns all around him. He discarded his armor, its use gone with the flames. His teeth gritted and he wished he hadn’t charged in like that. All was fun and games until a bright flame ate your flesh.

  “Good mage,” said Ostrik.

  “He’s fleeing,” rasped Kasulta from above. “Let’s get after him. Press on!”

  Rend shook his head as he mended Ostrik’s more critical wounds. The ones that could turn lethal. And the ones that restricted movement. Too much too quickly, and Ostrik may not be mentally prepared for another round. Then again, this was Ostrik, and he might as well use it as some twisted motivation.

  Rend himself didn’t feel too damaged, but he’d used a significant amount of his Soul Source by casting all that Green.. Kasulta on the other hand could not face the mage alone. She’d taken a kick that had cracked her ribs. The thugs had marked her thrice with moderate gashes that now had dried and closed already. Her zeal would get her killed.

  “We press on!” she hissed.

  “We find Sigvali,” rasped Ostrik, panting still. “That is all.”

  “And the mage?” she asked.

  “We let him decide. We have a job to do.”

  ****

  Rend channeled Blue to search for where Sigvali might be hidden. The house had stopped burning, its stability still intact for a while. His own wind bursts were enough to do the trick, especially with the preexisting enchantments spun about the wood. This Shaenik must have been a rich criminal.

  Rend eventually found an opening inside which a cellar lay. He could hear breathing from there. “Target spotted,” he said to Ostrik who was behind him. Kasulta took Ostrik’s flank, nose sniffing for the mage, her eyes narrowed on corners and halls. She couldn’t let go of a grudge.

  “Let’s get him out?” asked Ostrik.

  Rend scanned for traps. He nodded.

  Kasulta slammed the lock with her fist.

  Inside the cellar, lay a stern looking man, reedy and pale. A large beard adorned his sickly face. The Vrodian’s eyes narrowed at the sellswords.

  “Greetings,” he said in a thick Vrodian accent. Rolling r’s and ice like t’s.

  “We’re here to take you to Asheevi,” said Ostrik. “Come along nice and calm.”

  “I’ve been passed around quite a lot lately,” mused Sigvali. “I suppose one more time couldn’t hurt.”

  “Let’s hope it’s just one more time.”

  “I believe the mage is on his way.”

  “How do you know?” asked Kasulta.

  Rend channeled Blue further and sensed nothing. “You’re a Devil?” he asked.

  “Had training in the Path. Left it for a darker one.”

  “Get ready then,” said Ostrik.

  Imrikas didn’t give them enough time. Fire burst into the room. Kasulta dove but the snapping tendrils caught her as rolled. Her scales burned bright as she skidded off to one corner of the cellar. Ostrik tried to cut through the flames, but couldn’t. His chest scorched as he was sent sprawling backward. Only Rend remained.

  “Push through!” he roared, charging forward, casting Green on himself. Behind, Sigvali watched with disinterest.

  Rend tore through the volley of fire arrows launched at him. They glance off harmlessly, sparks of red and green clashing from the casts. He caught a glimpse of the fire mage sprinting away. “Coward!” He charged after only to see before his feet a cluster of Red traps ready to spring. With the wave dread, he braced his body with Green for the impending doom. A fool’s hope, really. One met with incredible agony.

  Explosions rattled the foundations of the hallway and more chunks of the house clobbered Rend. He found himself packed under the rubble, gasping for air. Pain wracked through his body as pressure built up. This manor wouldn’t last long. And the fire mage had vanished again.

  Surely he wouldn't sacrifice Sigvali?

  Or did Shaenik order to kill the Vrodian if he were to be taken? It would make sense if he was so important as to warrant such a large investment. “Ostrik!” he cried, but his voice immediately caught in his throat as a wall of fire burned towards him like a red wave.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He channeled Green just in time to ward off the lethal effects. He could still feel his skin char under his attire. Rend shut his eyes, hoping he could still see when he opened them. “Ostrik!” he cried again, voice shrill, begging almost.

  He saw another wave approaching him. This was it. His Soul Source did not have the burst power to summon a defensive shield in time. All his decisions in life led him to this very moment where he would burn to death before being lost to the rubble.

  “I should have-” he started to say as his final words.

  Sigvali vaulted over the mound of rubble, and cut through the wall to part the flames.

  Rend gasped. A joyous scream erupted through his mouth. It wasn’t over yet.

  Sigvali was not in fighting shape. When he landed in front of the wall of fire, it had stripped him of much of his remaining strength. Now he staggered, barely on his feet. In his hand was one of Ostrik’s mundane scimitars. It had melted away, its remaining edge gleaming molten-red.

  Sigvali cursed under his breath in Vrodian. “Stop!” he snapped at the mage. “Just take me away.”

  “And spare them?” growled the mage.

  “I’ll come nicely.”

  Rend’s breath quickened. Why? What could he benefit from this?

  “Fine,” said the mage, grunting. “Let’s go. Enough blood has been spilt.”

  Rend almost cackled from the absurdity. Sigvali peered back and nodded to Rend. In his eyes, Rend saw not a plot or malice, not pride, but a genuine gladness that life had been spared.

  “Where to?” Sigvali asked the mage.

  “You don’t get to know,” said the mage. “You get to follow and stay shut.”

  Sigvali nodded as they turned the corner.

  The manor remained standing, but barely so. He had to grab his friends and get out. He pushed slowly, to test the stability of what trapped him. It seemed fine, but it would take ages. By then guards could have arrived, the manor could have collapsed. Worse, Kasar and his friends would have killed the mage, no doubt weary from all his channeling, and taken Sigvali for themselves.

  He tried to push again. A chunk of metal dug into his thigh. He pushed again, slower this time. It slid deeper into his flesh. How deep would it go? How far could he push? This would hurt more than anything he’d faced before, and he’d be the one causing it to himself. That was the best case. Worst case, the spike would drive deep enough to crush through his femur entirely.

  “Rend!” hissed Kasulta. “Where are you?”

  “Kasulta! Here!”

  “Oh, I see. What happened?” She gripped the large chunk of debris over him.

  “Wait! Stop!”

  “What are you barking about?”

  “If you pull that, I get speared in the leg.”

  “Just heal it.” She yanked the chunk off and Rend screamed in rage and pain. Kasulta snatched his collar and yanked him out of the pit of rubble. His cries didn’t stop until she tossed him aside.

  They both collapsed against the scorched wall.

  “Kasulta!” he roared. “I told you to wait.”

  “Hush! Just heal it.”

  “You think it’s fun to get impaled?”

  “In our profession, be grateful it’s just furniture and not someone’s blade.”

  “Fuck you!” Rend hadn’t yelled so much in his life. Not even in battle. “Next time you obey!” By the fates, his voice had never been so shrill.

  “If I feel like it.”

  “Fuck you!”

  Ostrik stumbled out of the cellar. “What the hell?”

  Rend trembled from his pain too much to answer.

  “What happened?”

  “I hear something,” said Kasulta. She was limping as she went around the corner to check. “Shit! It’s guards. Maybe Shaenik’s men.”

  “Damn it,” cursed Ostrik. “Where is Sigvali?”

  “He saved my life,” said Rend, voice quivering.

  “Where is he?”

  “He left with the mage. He saved all of us.”

  “Damn it! That snake.”

  “You didn’t hear me, Ostrik,” said Rend. “He saved us all.”

  “There’s a bloody army outside,” warned Kasulta. “We can’t take them all.”

  “We have to flee,” said Rend. “Out the back maybe.”

  “They have us surrounded. I can see them fanning more out and about.” She cracked her knuckles.

  “Then we make our stand here,” said Ostrik, gritting his teeth.

  “You’re mad,” said Rend. “We’re going to die.”

  “Any other ideas?”

  “Surrender.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  Rend didn’t muse on the irony. “Ostrik, please.”

  “You believed my madness before,” said Ostrik, with a glint of hate and blood in his eyes. It was his grin that made him terrifying. “Believe it again. No doubts.”

  “Ostrik, I have lost a lot of blood.”

  “Heal it then.”

  “I’ll be out of Soul.” That meant no more healing or enhancing.

  “Or you’ll be out of breath. You choose. We fight.”

  Kasulta hissed in agreement. “Let them come in droves. I want to see the bodies pile. When will they realize that they’ve lost more than the manor is worth?”

  “Impossible,” laughed Ostrik. “Their lives are cheaper than a shack.”

  The two laughed and Rend wondered not for the first time if he ever should have allied with them. He made that decision a while ago because it was a convenient and lucrative option. “Fine,” he sighed. He found something to bite on and channeled Green.