Do-Garin coughed some blood onto the dank floor as he came into full consciousness. Well, it wasn’t how he expected to get here, but it would have to do, he supposed.

He flexed his wrists to check the strength of the chains holding him to the wall. Sturdy enough that he couldn’t use brute force, but not well enough made that they were impossible to escape from. Still, it wouldn’t have hurt to have had Sheara’s remarkable ability for getting out of anything.

Do-Garin turned his right hand so that it was gripping the shackle encircling it. They might have thought to take his sword away, but they couldn’t take his other weapon.

The shackle began to glow a bright red, and the metal sagged a little as it softened. Do-Garin ripped it from the rest of the chain and shook the melted metal off his gauntlet of fire protection. He shook his hand once most of the metal had been poured on the ground; he might not feel the pain, but that didn’t mean it didn’t tingle.

Do-Garin turned to the other shackle, his brow clenched in concentration. He had to be careful with this one; his sword hand did not boast the same gauntlet of protection as his right. He risked a glance to the door. Careful, but swift.

The second shackle was off with slightly more noise than the first, but the fire wizard was moving even before the chains stopped clinking on the floor. Do-Garin rubbed his still manacled left hand and paused for breath, wiping some blood from his mouth before melting the lock off the metal door.

Now which way was it? His sword and armor were undoubtedly in a different part of the guildhouse than Sheara’s mystery artifact. And why hadn’t she been the one to be down here? Do-Garin shook his head as he chose a direction he hoped was the right one; there would time for that later.

Well, whether he found equipment or artifact, he would have to do it quickly. He could already hear the sounds of skirmish a floor or two above. Do-Garin smiled. Sheara was probably giving them more than they bargained for.

“Prisoner escaping!” A gruff voice sounded from a corridor to Do-Garin’s left. The fire wizard glanced quickly down the corridor to see a man about medium build clad in dark leathers. Sprinting ahead, he turned down the first side hallway he passed by, keeping an eye out for any marked doors or suspicious rooms, and one ear trained on the footfalls trailing him.

Let’s see, Sheara said it would be in a secluded and protected room somewhere down this way . . . Do-Garin ducked into a hallway with black doors. Breathing heavily, he spun on his heel and conjured a thick fire wall at the entrance to the corridor to give him some time. A protected room, she said . . . Do-Garin snapped his right hand, and sparks flew from his fingertips. He aimed at the first door and snapped again, the sparks flying for the door. As they met the black wood, the sparks quelled instantly without so much as a char mark, but nothing else happened. Do-Garin sighed inwardly; of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Shouts from behind him made his pause brief, but the fire wizard was banking on the hopeful guess that a Brigands’ Guild would not have many magick-users.

The shouts increased as he went along the corridor testing the doors for traps. It sounded as if more people were reinforcing the group behind the firewall, as if their combined shouts would be enough to dispel the flames. Well, that was a good thing, at least; why send a horde of lackeys to protect nothing?

Finally, his sparks erupted bright against a door halfway down the hallway. Do-Garin’s hands went to try the knob first, then he shrugged before his hand reached the door. After all, Sheara was the stealthy one. The gauntleted hand shot forth a fireball, engulfing the wooden door and any possible trap it could be hiding. She better have a good reason for not coming down here herself.

Whether it had been magickal or normal protection, it didn’t matter, for the blasted door fell to the ground nonetheless. Beyond lay a nondescript room with little light. With another snap, Do-Garin extinguished the frail darkness, a small flame dancing across his upheld fingers. Sweating profusely with nervousness eating at him, he tentatively stepped into the room. His left hand absently massaged his bruised stomach while his right was kept aloft. The shouts grew more distant as the fire wizard focused on his goal. There was only a single decoration in the room, a small table with a tiny, ornate box on it. Walking toward it with measured tread, his left hand hesitated as it reached for the box, but Do-Garin knew his time was running out. He snatched it quickly from the table and turned to leave, his mind already racing with alternate ways of escape.

None of them he entertained for long, as he bounced straight to the floor off of a tall, hairy mass.

Do-Garin shook his head and sprang back up, illuminating his obstacle. As he raised his torched hand higher, the fire wizard recognized two things he knew to be very bad: the slight shimmering in the air that indicated a summoning (so there had been magickal traps after all, Do-Garin reflected grimly) and the new presence of a nine-foot beast covered entirely in brown, shaggy hair and that boasted long, gorilla arms as thick around as Do-Garin’s torso. He looked up into the small, black beady eyes and gulped. A thalmuth brute.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a thalmuth named Boris, would you?” Do-Garin cracked his voice at the question. “He’s a friend of mine, you should know—”

The thalmuth cut Do-Garin off with a guttural growl and began to advance.

“Didn’t think so,” responded the wide-eyed Do-Garin, his voice laced with fear.

The thalmuth brute took another step and raised his massive right fist, the guttural growl turning into a war howl. Do-Garin swiveled his right hand into a fist, ready to unleash a fireball, but then the brute lurched forward, off balance. Surprised, Do-Garin almost missed his opportunity, but still managed to get around the thalmuth and blast his back point blank with the fireball.

“Well done. Now let’s go.”

Do-Garin jumped and nearly let loose another fireball, but he recognized Sheara’s voice and stopped short. Sheara stood impatiently in the doorway, the tip of her spear bloodied. Her dark tan body was covered with a few scratches, and she was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed fine.

“Your blade.”

Sheara proffered Do-Garin’s long sword before heading back the way he had come, and the way he assumed Sheara had as well. The familiar weight of his father’s blade again in his left hand visibly relaxed Do-Garin. He put the box securely in his belt and threw a look back to the shuddering thalmuth, who was now struggling to rise, before following Sheara. They certainly needed to be quick in getting out of here; even with the newfound confidence and his relief in reuniting with Sheara, Do-Garin could start to feel the acute strain of magick; he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, especially if he had to keep casting power punches like the fireball.

The two picked up the pace and passed the corridor where Do-Garin’s firewall had been, now replaced by bodies.

“How did you—”

“Wizard. I killed him. The others are unconscious.” Sheara didn’t even bother to look back, but kept weaving through the maze of the guild’s basement.

“You know, the next time you get to be the one they back to the secret base and torture.” Do-Garin remarked airily. When no response came back from Sheara, he continued, “How did you find this place, anyway?”

Sheara turned around and silenced him, gesturing that she’d tell him later. Do-Garin just shrugged and continued following her. He had been unconscious on the way here, he was counting on her to know the way out. Though from the lack of bodies, he judged this wasn’t the way she had come in. And his head was starting to hurt, and he could feel blood welling up in his mouth, and he had stomach pains, and . . .

Sheara yanked Do-Garin forward, making him stumble, and slapped him a couple times. He thought she might be trying to say something to him, but she must have been mumbling because he couldn’t hear a single word. After awhile she stopped and looked annoyed, then took one of Do-Garin’s arms and put it around her shoulder.



Sheara had to stoop a little under Do-Garin’s weight so that his shorter frame could reach the floor, but after a few more steps the warrioress could tell that her friend had passed out entirely. She didn’t know if he had been drugged or if he had merely passed out from the pains of his torture, but it didn’t really matter at the moment. She just needed to focus on getting them out of here in one piece.

Sheara swung Do-Garin over one shoulder, carefully sheathing his blade and making sure the box was still secure. Her pace was not quite as quick as it was when Do-Garin was conscious, but hopefully he wouldn’t slow her down too much. Hearing shouts and footfalls coming her way, she ducked into the shadows of an adjacent hallway and the brigands ran by her without a second glance. It had been good to procure the layout of the guild of her prisoner before she had come to her friend’s rescue; she knew Do-Garin would never have been able to get out the necessary information from the man. And if the man hadn’t lied to her, this way should lead to an exit somewhere outside of town . . .

A crash and splintered wood suddenly barred her way as the thalmuth burst through a door in the hallway ahead of her. How he had gotten in there she had no clue, but her spear never asked questions. The thrust was slower because of Do-Garin’s weight, but it still pierced the brute’s abdomen the same. The thalmuth roared and struck a downward blow at Sheara. She rolled to the side, ripping out her spear as she went, and deposited Do-Garin on the wall, then rolled away so the thalmuth would focus on her. She yelled curtly and aimed for the thalmuth’s calf this time, but he neatly sidestepped and swung towards the prone Do-Garin. Sheara leaped instantly, catching the blow full in the chest. She landed heavily next to her friend and was quite sure she felt some cracked ribs. Slitting her eyes angrily at the thalmuth brute, who was still focused on Do-Garin, the warrioress gripped her spear tightly and put her full force into her next blow. The spear entered the soft part of the thalmuth’s neck and traveled neatly to its brain. Sheara withdrew her spear and picked up Do-Garin before the massive beast could crash atop them both and sprinted down the corridor. The time for stealth and caution was passed.

The cracked ribs were slowing her down, especially with Do-Garin’s weight, and once she heard the crash of the dead thalmuth she knew the game was up. Pumping her legs as fast as they could carry her and pushing past the pain in her chest, Sheara’s face grimaced with every pounding step she took, her strides lengthening with every gasp.

Shouts behind her, but Sheara didn’t look back, had to hope against hope that they had no more wizards or distance weapons. Shouts ahead of her, but she merely readied her spear and when the first jumped out from a corner, grazed him along the side of the neck, sending the man sprawling into his comrades but not slowing Sheara down a bit. If the layout was right, the exit should be right up . . .

Dead end. Of course. Sheara dropped Do-Garin against the wall and assumed a defensive stance, each breath puncturing acute pain throughout her entire upper torso. Perhaps she had taken a wrong turn somewhere, but she doubted that; her memory was usually very good, and she had taken pains to memorize all pertinent parts of the guildhouse from the member. He was still most likely tied up in the basement of the warehouse she had used for questioning, but he had still managed to betray her. Sheara bit her lip until she could taste the warm blood. Stupid her, to take a risk like that.

Her moment of reverie was over. Her soon to be executioners were beginning to swarm her. None of them had anything more than a short sword, and she was bread like a warrior, but she had to protect Do-Garin and they were simply too many of them. Besides, she had no idea what other kinds of tactics they might have.

Suddenly Sheara saw a blur of black go by, and taking with it at least half of the brigands moving on her. From down a hallway a welcome sight indeed came: Boris, with his too small breast plate and goofy smile!

Sheara wasted no time, collecting the unconscious Do-Garin and fighting through the confused assassins to Boris. He covered her back as she fled with her burden away from the battle.

Boris’s loping gaits caught up once he was sure the remaining brigands had been dealt with. He places a massive paw on her shoulder and said in his rumbling voice, “Follow.”

Sheara only nodded wordlessly, too out breath to respond. They passed more unconscious bodies, but she could have sworn that some of them only pretended senselessness. The wooden walls faded to a dank gray stone, and the corridors became more lightless. Soon Sheara could pick out the sounds of running water and she wondered where Boris was leading her. Boris suddenly ducked left, and Sheara followed him, realizing that the thalmuth had ducked outside, under an outcropping that was heavily shadowed. Her booted feet splashed in ankle deep water and she could see a chunk of stone lying in a small pool not too far away.

“I got to where you wanted me, Sheara, but there was no thing there. So I went for walk and found this sewer and it looked funny, so I checked it out and it lead inside. Not too hard to find you guys—I just follow noise.”

Sheara smiled weakly and motioned for Boris to keep walking.



“So,” Do-Garin began, both hands massaging his throbbing temples, hoping that conversation might help to keep his mind off the pain, “did we survive?”

Boris beamed. “Yup, we all still alive. But maybe you two rest more, you pretty beat up.” The big thalmuth nodded knowingly.

Do-Garin rolled his eyes at him. “Thanks, Boris, your concern means a lot.” The fire wizard turned slightly to Sheara. “What was in the box?”

Sheara shrugged and looked at the fire. Do-Garin was rather proud he had managed to conjure the flame, especially in his condition; no one outside of one hundred feet could see its magickal light, and as far as they were from the town, they didn’t want to risk hoards of assassins coming for them in the night.

“Nothing. It is just a keepsake of my people that I did not want in the hands of brigands and thieves.”

Do-Garin’s gaze stayed on her face for a few moments before drifting back to the fire. Was it just the reflection of the fire, or did her eyes glint with disappointment?

“Do the jalha make lots of things like this?” Boris’s voice was subdued, as if he realized how tender the subject was.

Do-Garin noticed that Sheara didn’t take her eyes from the flame, but he glanced at Boris in unsurprised amazement. Boris had been brought up as a thalmuth brute by the smarter elites of his race, but he did not display the usual stupidity of brutes outside their simplistic language. And brutes were not usually known for their compassion. Then again, neither were the intelligent elites.

“Yes,” Sheara answered quietly after a few moments. “My people find beauty in fighting spirits, in determination, and in skill. This,” she held up the artifact, the light from the fire glinting off the detailed sculpts of indistinguishable design, “displays all three.”

Do-Garin was waiting for her to elaborate, but after she put down the box and fell silent again, he knew that it was best not to probe her. He cleared his throat. “Well, I we all might be interested in a good night’s rest. Sheara, get some sleep, I’ll take first watch. Boris and I will split it tonight.”

Sheara gave him a look that was half a glare, but she did not otherwise protest and walked over to her cot and curled up for the night. As Boris settled down, Do-Garin lowered the intensity of the flame so as not to disturb his companions and gazed up at the stars. Would those bright orbs lead him to Sheara’s painful past, or would he die trying to know her?