"Look!" Tristan's voice was little more than a soft hiss emitting from the bush we were hiding behind.

"What do you see?" I shuffled into the bush next to her. Squinting, I could just barely make out the scene, but what I saw didn't look good. Beyond our hiding spot was a small clearing. It was filled with ten or so little green people—goblins, I realized—all of whom were on the far side of the clearing, looking equal parts irritated and bored. In front of them, there were three stone altars carved out of some blood red stone that glowed in the moonlight. A cart was sitting on the far side of the clearing behind the goblins. On the cart was a cage, and in the cage were our missing Templar friends. All but one of them. "Shit."

On the leftmost altar, Jorn was struggling against some thick ropes that kept him tied to the altar, his frantic shouting muffled by a piece of cloth tied around his head. On the rightmost altar, a man covered in ceremonial robes was rubbing some kind of thick black oil into his skin. That made my skin crawl. On the center altar, a wolf was strapped down. Each of its limbs was pulled toward one of the altar's four corners. Blood covered its fur, and it was panting and struggling against the bonds, to no avail.

Standing between the altars was a slender figure in a dark, hooded robe. From her shape, I was confident she was a woman. A thin, ornate rapier hung on her hip, and the same hand symbol from Uralt's ring was sewn into the front of her black robe. She was fishing a variety of vials and implements out of a sack and placing them on a portable table next to her. Even from this distance, I could see her hands moving with practiced precision, like someone who'd done this before. Many times.

"What do we do?" Tristan's voice was shaking.

"I'll rush in and take the heat. You back me up." I took a step forward, but her hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back.

"Don't be an absolute idiot! We can't take them all on at once."

"What else can we do? If we don't do something, they'll die."

"If we do anything right now, we'll all die." Her eyes found me. "I don't like it either, but we can't do anything yet. Can't you feel how strong that mage is?"

Looking back toward the hooded figure, I felt my skin prickle up everywhere.

She nodded. "See? Let's wait and see what happens first."

We settled back in and watched the scene unfold in front of us. Before long, the mage finished preparing whatever she was preparing and had started reading from a large leather-bound tome. As she did, the goblins entertained themselves by hurling insults at the Templars or throwing rocks at the wolf and Jorn, but as the minutes rolled by, the goblins started looking antsy.

After another ten minutes, one of the goblins jumped off the cart and marched up to the mage. Jamming a finger into her chest, he said, "Hey, we don't get paid by the hour. The Boss is gonna get real pissy if we don't get back soon, and I'm not about to get my throat slit because some dumb bitch took her time chopping up a puppy."

The mage answered in a strong, feminine voice, her words dripping with contempt, "Are you actually speaking to me that way right now?" She took a step toward him, pushing the smaller man backward.

The goblin grunted. "You think you're scary, but no one's scarier than the Boss." He pulled a knife from his belt, holding it out for emphasis. "If she finds out we've been taking these jobs, she'll kill us worse than anything you can do." He gestured at Jorn with his blade.

"Oh, really?" The mage sounded almost amused. "She's that scary to you, hmm?" She leaned forward and ran her hand up his arm. When she straightened up, she was holding his dagger in her slender fingers. Leaning forward, she placed the blade against his neck. "I'll tell you this once: Keep your fucking tongue behind your teeth, or you'll see how well I match up to that little boss of yours." Her voice had an edge that guaranteed death. "And you don't have a choice. You'll take this work, or you're dead. Understand?"

"You ain't that scary." He slapped her hand away.

The woman straightened, threw his knife into the dirt, and snapped her fingers. A spark of flame emitted from them. "Darling, kill the smart-mouthed one."

Out of the darkness beyond the edge of the clearing, a mass of fur and muscle appeared. At least eight feet tall, every inch of the creature bristled with barely contained rage. It looked like a man, but it was covered head to toe in thick brown fur and had the paws and head of a bear. With a loud roar that echoed through the forest, the creature leaped forward, then brought down one giant paw on the goblin.

"Bring it on, bitc—" The man's sentence was cut short as his entire body crunched.

From the cart, his fellows cackled and began shouting insults at their dead companion as the bearman began licking his paw.

"Excellent work, my dear." She lifted her hands and gave the bear man a performative round of applause. "I'll call you again if I need you."

The creature nodded and disappeared back into the darkness.

The woman turned to the goblins and swept her arm in a wide arc. "Anyone else have any opinions they'd like to share?"

The troupe of goblins cackled back at her.

"Never liked the bastard!"

"Fuck 'im!"

"Serves him right!"

She laughed for a time, then turned back to the altars. "To be honest, I don't have any more need for you." The woman picked her book back up and thumbed through its pages.

Kneeling, she pressed her hand into the gore that was the goblin before standing back up and pressing her bloody hand to the wolf's head. The beast yelped as she did and tried to get away, but it was no use. "Judging from your reactions, I assume you lot won't swear vengeance on me for killing your fellow, yes?"

The goblins roared in laughter and began hurling insults at their dead companion. One of them, a thin, ugly goblin man with thin, greasy grey hair, jumped off the cart and waddled up to her. "The Boss hated him. Slapped his hand away a half-dozen times this month alone. No one'll miss him."

"You goblins have such loyalty toward your friends."

"Loyalty gets you dead. You should know that." The goblin spat. "Only thing you're loyal to is yourself and a good mate if you got one. Everyone else is shit."

"Very astute observation," said the woman. "Though, I'd say even mates are good for little more than warming one's bed."

"May just be right. Yer a smart one, I think." The goblin looked up at her with an air of respect. "Speaking of warming beds, come visit me if you want to break one some night, eh?"

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The woman laughed again. "A tempting offer. However, I'm afforded little time off, I'm afraid."

The goblin smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "Find the time, and I'll make it worth your while."

She chuckled. "Perhaps I will." She paused for a moment. "Until then, I must beg your forgiveness. My patron has requested that you bring the subjects back alive this time. To Galden. Not Copperhill."

"Why's that?"

"Don't know. All I do know is that this job will be harder for you as a consequence."

The goblin shook his head. "We're cutting through the mines, anyway. No one'll even know we went and came." Reaching down, he plucked a small, dripping brown bag out of the goo that was the first goblin from a minute ago. The one that got smashed. "Double the money. The Boss don't like it when we take these kinds of jobs. She'll kill us if she finds out."

The hooded figure reached for a bag on her table and handed it to him. "Will that do?"

He untied the bag and looked inside. His eyes got big. "That'll do."

"Buy something for your boss. Maybe then, you just might get your hands on that good mate you were speaking of."

He laughed. "Money's not enough. Cold hard bitch, the Boss is. She won't take anyone's hand unless they're a cut above, and then some."

"Then buy yourselves a whore or three for your troubles."

The goblin grinned. "That I can do." Pocketing the bag, he whipped his head around and barked commands at his companions. "Alright, you sacks of shit! We're leavin' in five, so get yer asses moving."

One of the other goblins shot him a look. "Who put you in charge, Rutz?"

Rutz thumped his chest. "Kortez is dead. I'm in charge now. You got a problem with it, you can take me on. But aside from Kortez and the Boss, you all ain't got shit on me."

A few of the goblins grumbled, but none challenged him.

"Good. Now, the Boss's boss wants these bastards alive, and we'll bring 'em back breathing if it's the last fuckin' thing we do, yah?"

A chorus of screams followed, and the goblins sprang to action. In less than a minute, they were all loaded up on the cart and cackling as they poked sharpened sticks at the Templars. That made my blood boil.

"Be safe, friends. I'll call when you're needed again." The mage waved her bloody hand at the goblins.

"Think about it, yeah?" The greasy-haired goblin shot her a wink as he climbed up the cart. Sitting at the front, he flicked the reins across the massive ox strapped to the rickety wooden thing. The creature snorted and ambled along, down a thin dirt trail. A moment later, they disappeared in the dim morning light.

When they disappeared, the mage shook her head, then knelt again and pressed her palms into the gore. Standing, she walked to the man who'd been silently anointing himself with oil the entire time. Pressing her bloody hands to his head, she stepped back and held her hands to her sides. She snapped the fingers on her right hand. "Arise, brother."

With a shudder, the man rose like he wasn't in control of his limbs. His robes, now slick with black oil, dripped as he swung his legs down over the altar's sides. Tears began to stream from his eyes as he took a single step forward. A look of pure fanaticism was painted across his face. "Mistress..." He reached for her, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"No touching, Eliard."

The man froze. "S-sorry."

I could see her teeth glinting in the dim light. She was smiling. "The oaths. Then, you may touch."

"Mistress!" The man threw himself to his knees. "Please, forgive me."

She shook her head. "There is nothing to forgive. So stand, and take your oaths. Otherwise, I might grow impatient."

The man shot back onto his feet, but his head stayed lowered. "I am ready."

"Good." She walked to her table and picked up a long, wicked dagger. Returning to him, she held it against his throat. "Do you offer yourself freely?"

"I do."

She slashed his chest with her knife, opening up a thick red line across his chest.

The man groaned in pain but said nothing.

"Do you wish to serve without hesitation or defiance?"

"Of course! I humbly submit myself to your will! All I am is yours to command!"

She slashed his chest on the other side, opening up another bloody line.

This time, he stayed quiet.

"Do you offer all that is yours to the cause?"

"Everything! Everything is yours!"

She cut a line into his face, then reached down and picked up a piece of paper from the small table. "Sign. With your blood."

He dabbed his fingers in the blood on his chest, then scribbled on the page with his finger."

"You have done well, Eliard of Galden." She folded the paper up, and, in a puff of smoke, it vanished.

"Am I..." His voice wavered. "Have I been accepted?"

She nodded. "I am ready to accept your oaths and offerings, and I am ready to welcome you into the fold. You have only a single oath left to make."

"Anything. You need only ask."

"Swear that you will serve until your dying breath."

"I swear it."

With lightning speed, she thrust the dagger into his belly and wrenched upward. A sickening slorping noise followed as his guts fell out of the hole in his stomach. "Your oaths have been rejected."

"Wh... what?" The man gasped.

The woman reached forward with both hands and tore the hole in his flesh open further. "You're unworthy."

A look of absolute shock crossed his face. "But..."

She reached up and patted his cheek. "Do you know why you're going to die here today?"

The man began shaking violently. "B-b-but I-I-I-I w-w-was ch-chosen..."

"You've never been worthy, brother. We only needed your money." She carved across his skin with her dagger and began slicing his robes open. Yanking them off his shoulders, she threw them to the ground, then pushed him backward, onto the altar.

He began convulsing violently, clutching at his innards to keep them from spilling out more. "W-w-why..."

"Because you're weak." She stabbed downward, driving her blade into his chest. "So goddamn weak."

The woman's entire demeanor had changed. With the goblins, she'd been calm. Charming, almost. Now, I could practically feel the murder radiating off of her.

We couldn't wait any longer. "That's it. I'm going in." I tried to move, but Tristan held me back.

"Not yet."

Having watched everything happen, Jorn began thrashing on his altar, doing his best to get loose.

I did what I could to shake Tristan off, but she wouldn't let me budge. Whipping my head around, I managed to growl out a question: "What the hell are you doing?"

"Not yet. Trust me. The second she goes for Jorn, we'll go." I could see the fear on her face. It was as clear as day.

"Not a second later." I huffed and sat back down.

Before I could get settled again, the mage's head turned toward us. I was sure she was smiling at us, but when Jorn cried out again, she looked over at the Templar and shook her dagger at him. "Oh, shut up. You're not dying here today like this chump. I have better uses for you. But if you don't quiet down, I might just change my mind."

The dying man below her shuddered. He began crying loud, wet, gurgling sobs.

Looking back down at the man she was murdering, she said, "Pathetic. You're useless. Just another pretender clinging to the powerful. Another waste of space in this disgusting world." She stabbed him again, then again. "So, you'll die out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, a broken pissant little noble failson that no one will miss." She wrapped her fingers in his hair and wrenched his head upward. "And when you're dead, I'll use your essence to power my magic, and your body'll get thrown into a pit with all the other people I've killed trying to get this fucking spell to work again. Maybe one day I'll have a real use for you."

Copperhill. She was the one.

Her dagger flashed, and the man's head fell back. She'd opened up his throat. Throwing his body on the altar, she walked back to her little makeshift table and grabbed a vial. Marching up to Jorn, she tore the gag out of his mouth.

The second she did, he screamed, "This is a little more than I'm into, little lady! You might be real pretty under that hood of yours, but holy hell, are you crazy! Not my type! Donkey! Riptide! Sawhorse! Bananas!"

The woman chuckled. "What the hell are you going on about?"

Jorn stopped thrashing around. Looking up at her, he said, "I always say, when in doubt, you never know which safeword might work."

That made her burst out laughing. "Oh, you're going to be a fun one. I'm glad Uralt found you when he did. Please don't melt when I cast this spell. It would be a shame. You're funny."

"Maybe we could get dinner first? We're moving a little fast."

She laughed again. The sound was high-pitched. A little grating. And it tickled something in the back of my mind. "Drink. It'll make the pain go away." She uncorked the vial and began pouring the black liquid into his mouth.

He choked and gurgled on the stuff. Fighting against her, he managed to spit the stuff out, but that only pissed her off. She wrenched his head back, plugged his nose, and forced the stuff down.

That was it. I was done waiting. "Now!" I exploded out of the bush. My sword and shield appeared in my hands, and in a few strides, I'd nearly closed the gap between us.

"About damn time." The woman looked up at me right when the first rays of dawn cascaded down through the trees. I could see the glint of her teeth, could see the sparkle of her eyes. She knew we were there. She'd been waiting. Yet, when she took me in, her smile faded, and her eyes grew wide. "How..."

"Like this!" With all my strength, I slashed with my sword, aiming right for her neck.

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