The trail was an odd one.

He could see why it had been so difficult for the others to follow. The tracks were easy to see at first. There had to be almost four dozen people traipsing through the woods, and not all of them seemed to be willing to keep their steps careful. Clay picked out plenty of signs that he was on the right path. Broken twigs, bent leaves, damp soil trod by numberless footsteps; it all formed a clear signal where both victims and perpetrators had gone.

Yet only a short distance into the forest, those clear signs abruptly faded. All of a sudden, about a dozen of the footprints vanished, as if they had been picked up. It wouldn't have been a problem, but a short while after, the tracks suddenly disappeared, as if they had never existed.

Clay had paused, then, his breath coming harsh in his throat as he stared down at the space. The trail was clear, leading to the small thicket of young trees. They hadn't doubled-back; it would have been a hard thing to manage with so many people, and he'd have noticed the increase in footprints. There was no stream to conceal their trail, either. It was as if they had stepped forward into the trees and simply vanished.

He stood for a long moment, still searching the ground for any further sign. Despite his misgivings, he started to turn back in order to look for a sign he'd missed.

Then he paused, his eyes fixed on a spot on a nearby tree trunk. It wasn't much of a mark, just a slight scuff on the bark where a boot had kicked the tree and dislodged some of the outermost layers.

The problem was that it was at about shoulder level. Unless someone had been practicing the type of kicks that very few adventurers tried, he doubted there was any reason for them to have made a mark there. Unless…

A vague suspicion quickly gathered strength in Clay's mind. His thoughts turned back for a moment to the struggle in the Tanglewood. He hadn't only tracked his prey along the forest floor, there. The spiders had used the trees just as much, and he'd grown used to seeing signs of their passage through bough and branch as well.

It wasn't something he'd have expected from a bunch of bandits, but there were Rogues among them. If one of the adventurers had exactly the right [Charm] or [Feat]…

Clay whispered the words of the Ladder, giving himself an easy path up into the branches. Once he reached the spot, he immediately saw what he'd half-expected: branches scuffed and scratched from dozens of boots, all picking their way along the branches. There were signs that the wood had been stretched and warped as well, before returning to its original shape.

His eyes narrowed as he followed the course of the marks. He wasn't able to reshape the branches to help him, but given his abilities, he scarcely needed to do anything of the sort. A few strong leaps later, and he had followed the path through the treetops to another spot where the marks vanished… and the trail reappeared along the ground.

He resumed following their path, alert for any further signs of deception. Charles and the others might have been fooled by the trick, but someone clever enough to hide their retreat that way wouldn't stop at just one strategy. They'd have something else up their sleeves, just in case.

Sure enough, the trail vanished again a short distance away, where the bandits had once again taken to the trees. He followed them for another stretch, until they descended near a stream, and their trail seemed to vanish yet again.

Clay paused, wondering which direction the bandits would have been likely to take. Downstream would be more likely to lead him closer to civilization, but he didn't think that a bunch of bandits would want to hide that close to other people. So instead, he turned upstream, heading a bit further into the hillier terrain in that direction.

He walked for a while, keeping a wary eye on both shores for signs that the bandits had left the water. Just as he was starting to question whether he'd missed it, he glanced at a tree with half its roots growing out into the stream. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the thick branches at its top.

Once again, he found traces of them in the treetops, though they seemed far less rushed than before. Clay didn't doubt that they were secure in their escape as they wandered through the trees once more. After all, following them once might be possible, but three times? It would have seemed absurd.

Their relaxation showed even more in their trail once they descended to the ground. He could see that the captives were walking again; more footprints joined the others, and they were no longer keeping quite so close together. Clay stalked after them, dividing his attention between their tracks and the forest ahead. He didn't want to run into a line of sentries or another ambush, after all.

Fortunately, he caught sight of their hideout long before he walked into it. The place was hard to miss, actually.

It was a fort of some kind, built in some other age. Stones half-covered in vines made up a crude wall, and an archway so ancient it had to be older than most of Crownsguard formed the front gate. There was only a single outer wall, with a tower at the back to form a watchtower or makeshift keep. He could see no sign that the main gate had survived; even the hinges were gone. Whatever it had been built to guard no longer existed, but the bandits appeared not to care. They had built a makeshift camp he could just barely see through the open gate, made up of tents that sprawled across most of the courtyard.

He caught sight of half a dozen of them patrolling the walls. They weren't especially attentive; most of them were looking down into the fort rather than looking around outside of it. Still, it would only take one lucky glance for Clay to be discovered, so he approached carefully.

There were noises from the inside of the fort. Clay could hear crude laughter and shouted jokes, sometimes accompanied by shared smiles from the sentries above. He could hear other noises, too. Half-muffled sobs and begging made a quiet, desperate counterpoint to the bandits' jovial discussion, but it was one that captured his attention far easier.

Clay studied the situation for a long moment. He glanced at the sky, trying to judge how much light he had left in the day. It hadn't taken him that long to reach the spot; he'd guess he had an hour or two to study the situation further before he needed to retreat and gather the others.

He'd promised not to attack the camp, after all. He hadn't said anything about spying on it, and any bit of information that he could gather would be useful.

Watching the sentries, he waited until there was an opening and moved quickly across a patch of shadow to shelter underneath the wall. Once he was there, he crept along the perimeter of the fort, staying well away from the main gate. The sentries seemed to be mostly worried about watching the front of the fort, and given how relaxed they all were, he thought the back of the place would be far easier to breach.

Fortunately, his guess was right. As he crouched in the shadow of the fort's western wall, he didn't hear any footsteps above him, or any muttered conversations. Clay waited for a while to make sure there weren't any surprises or random changes in patterns. His eyes traced a path upwards, traveling along vines and crumbling rock.

Then he started upwards, careful to avoid anything that looked like it would give way and make noise. His hands and feet found easy holds and crevices, and his [Stats] made the climb incredibly easy. It didn't take him long to reach the top of the wall and carefully peer over the edge.

He found the sentries right where they had been, casually loafing around the front wall. A couple of them occasionally glanced at the other parts of the fort, but never with more than a cursory glance, and never for very long. Again, it wasn't something that worried him too much, but all it would take was a little misfortune and he'd have half the camp after him.

Clay edged his way around the fort until he'd reached the tower. Once there, he clambered up onto it, taking the time to find the much less visible handholds on the comparatively smooth stone. None of the lookouts ever seemed to spend any time watching the tower, so he felt far more comfortable using it as a place to peer into the courtyard below.

The place was crowded with tents, which seemed to fill more than half of the space. Bandits and prisoners were milling about, talking and cowering and threatening. He saw children among the captives, clutching at their parents and staring around with eyes full of tears. Several of them had blindfolds still hanging loose around their necks; apparently that had been the tactic the bandits had used to keep them from knowing where they'd been taken.

It was fairly easy to tell the difference between bandits and captives. Every single one of the bandits was armed, swaggering around the courtyard as if confident of their invincibility. Some of them were amusing themselves by forcing captives to hop in place or repeatedly pick something up off the ground. Their laughter grated in Clay's ears, and he felt a bit of stone crumble beneath his grip.

He forced himself to relax and recited the Orison. If he was going to free the prisoners, he needed to know exactly what they were going to be facing.

The words came cleanly to him this time, unlike what he'd managed against the thunder toads. Part of him was slightly unhappy about that fact; he'd wanted to remember exactly what he'd done to change the spell. Now was not the time for experimentation, however. Not when he had people to save.

The [Chant] activated a moment later as he watched a man crouch down and point a dagger at a stunned, shaking child. He seemed to be lecturing them.

[Jed Tepard]

[Class: Commoner] {Level 1} (All Stats have a maximum of 16.)

[Subclass: Thug (Gain 10% when attacking.)]

[Stats] {Might: 16} {Fortitude: 16} {Insight: 12} {Memory: 10} {Valor: 14} {Will: 12}

[Monsters Slain: 0]

Clay felt his eyes narrow at the report, but he forced himself to continue. The Refrain brought the spell to mind far quicker, a fact that was useful as he continued to study the enemies below.

The next bandit was another [Thug], and the next was a [Farmer] who'd obviously decided to leave his crops. Clay found three more [Commoners] of various [Subclasses], all prancing about the courtyard, acting as if they were [Nobles] or adventurers in disguise.

Then he turned his attention to a woman who was speaking with a lookout on the wall, and his expectations changed.

[Abrie Semmard]

[Class: Mystic] {Level 4} Fortitude and Will have a maximum of 24. Other Stats have a maximum of 17.)

[Subclass: Hand (Gain 20% bonus when undiscovered.)]

[Stats] {Might: 15} {Fortitude: 23} {Insight: 16} {Memory: 14} {Valor: 15} {Will: 24}

[Monsters Slain: 49]

He nodded, committing both her name and appearance to memory. His next target was a [Fighter], at level four. Then two more [Commoners], followed by a level five [Mage].

The pattern continued as he kept repeating the [Chant]. He found another [Fighter], and then a [Calculator], of all the [Classes] to find in such a place. There were no less than three [Knaves], and a scowling man with an ugly scar and a massive sword was a [Dark Knight]. Two more were [Dragoons], and there was another [Mage] entertaining a pair of [Thugs] by threatening an old man with a glowing fireball.

Yet the biggest surprise was waiting for the final two bandits, the ones that left the tower and called the others over. Those who had been tormenting the captives left their games to obey, while only a handful of the lookouts stayed at their posts.

One of them, a woman in a dark cloak with a jeweled staff, was a level nine [Oracle] named Jenna Sarles. She looked around the camp as if she felt soiled just being there. The man by her side seemed only a little more comfortable. His armor was a burnished dark metal that reminded Clay of the spear that Orn had made for him; if that was the case, it had to be tough to wear such heavy plate. He didn't seem to mind it, however, and the sword he wore was made of similar stuff.

That one was a [Noble], one named Austin Rembark, and it was clear at a glance that he was the one in charge. The others obeyed him as he barked out orders, and they instantly gave way as he walked, part of which might have been because he was already at level ten. Rembark watched for a moment to make sure that they were completing the tasks he'd assigned, and then he strode back towards the tower, followed by the [Oracle] and the [Mystic].

Clay watched them for a moment and then made a decision. He tried to listen carefully as the [Noble] moved inside, trying to pinpoint the room they'd use. A scrape of boots on stone gave them away, and he shifted his position to get closer to the nearest window.

{Insight increased by 1!}

He paused long enough to nod the message away, and then concentrated. The bandits were already speaking.

"—this time, sure, but next time it might be a little different. We can't keep taking risks like this, Austin."

"And why not?" The [Noble]'s voice carried an arrogant smirk with it that Clay could sense through any amount of stone. "We've been at this for weeks, Sarles. They haven't come anywhere near us, and they won't do it now just because some [Commoner] has joined them."

"My lord, I would beg you to reconsider." The second woman's voice was less irritated and more respectful, for all the good it would do her. "This [Commoner] is not a simple tracker. He's already a threat all on his own."

"If he was that much of a problem, our allies would already have dealt with him." Rembark snorted. "Besides, there's quite a few more of us than there are of him. Or do you think that one man might be able to deal with our entire group?"

The [Oracle] answered again. "He might not, but he could lead the others to us. If he did, it wouldn't be just one man against all of us. He'd bring that entire group of adventurers along with him."

Clay heard the man snort again, this time with extra derision. "Ah, yes, the so-called Generation of Heroes. What a load of crock." Boots scraped against stone as the man paced. "If you ask me, we should have killed the lot of them weeks ago. Why bother waiting any longer, when we could have had them dead to rights half a dozen times?"

It was the second woman—the [Mystic], it had to be—who answered, her voice still calm and uninflected. "Our allies have requested that they be preserved, if possible. Killing them now will raise too much suspicion."

"Well, do they have that same attachment to this [Commoner] fool, or can I at least rid us of his presence?" There was a thump and a creak, as if the man had sat down on a chair. "Gods, you'd think I had nothing better to do than sit in some moldering tower and raid peasants. We were meant for more than this, Sarles. You know this."

"Have patience, Lord Rembark. If we stay the course, we'll receive everything that we were promised—"

"Hold." The [Mystic]'s voice was calm, but the urgency cut through their words. "I hear something."

Clay went still. Had he given himself away? Or was it some technique? Either way, it was time to be gone.

There was a scraping noise as the [Noble] stood from his chair. "Is it your allies, [Mystic]? Or should I raise the alarm?"

"I said hold, my lord." There was a pause, and then he heard her sigh. "They have contacted me. We are to depart the area tomorrow at first light." She paused. "Apparently, they share your concern about this [Commoner], Lady Semmard. We are to avoid him as much as possible."

"And if we cannot?"

"Then you are to kill him, Lord Sembark." She delivered the sentence as if she had Clay already at the executioner's block. He grimaced. "Either way, we should prepare."

Clay moved away from the window as they continued talking about the supplies they'd need. If there was a time limit, then he needed to get back to the others. He wanted to know more about this bandit and his supposed allies, but he could ask all the questions he needed to once they were captured.

He allowed himself a grim smile as he carefully clambered back down the wall and slipped into the forest. One way or the other, the bandits were going to have the surprise of their life in the morning. Clay just hoped that he wouldn't disappoint them.

Clay reached the meeting place long before the sun set.

He found the others there, but they weren't alone. The Count had followed them, along with at least two dozen [Guards], all apparently ready for war. They were moving among the ruined carts, clearing the wreckage and recovering the dead. An intact cart stood a short distance away, with its mules still attached; those who had been killed were being loaded into it, to be buried closer to the town.

Count Michford spotted Clay as he emerged from the woods. His face was pale with anger as he stalked over to him, his hands clenched into fists. "Sir Clay, have you—"

Clay gave him a look, and the Count recoiled slightly. He turned back toward Olivia and Charles, who had been speaking nearby. "They're about two hours from here. There are about two dozen hostages with them. The whole group is leaving in the morning."

Charles nodded; the Count looked shocked. Olivia spoke first. "What are we up against? More assassins?"

He shook his head. "No. It looks like most of the Rogues are lower level. The highest one I saw was at ten, and the next closest was a nine."

Olivia frowned. "The Crows weren't much stronger than that."

Clay nodded. "True, but none of Crows were below nine. Most of the ones I saw here were around five. Some were even four." He looked over as the others crowded in around him, their faces serious. "They have [Commoners] as well. About seventeen, with fourteen Rogues overall."

The Count muttered an oath foul enough that Amelia Evergreen would have been shocked. Clay glanced at him and continued, his voice still calm. "They didn't see me, but they do have sentries out. I think we can get close enough for an attack, but we'll need to move quickly." He gave them a crooked grin. "I don't think you can move as fast as me or Olivia, but we'll get there soon enough."

Count Michford finally found his voice. "Sir Clay, my soldiers and I—"

"Are not needed this time, Count Michford." The [Nobles] began to protest, and Clay shook his head. "Your soldiers are fine warriors, but they won't be able to keep up with us, and we will lose the chance to take them by surprise if we make too much noise. The seven of us will be enough to stop them. You can rely on us."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The Count looked back at the wreckage and the bodies. His expression hardened. "I wish that I could, Sir Clay, but the safety of these people is my responsibility. I will not abandon it. Not now."

Clay gave him a level look. "You aren't abandoning anything. You're just entrusting the right task to the right people." He looked at Charles, who was somber. "Are you ready?"

Charles nodded. "We're with you, Clay." The others nodded as well, their faces just as serious. Olivia remained silent, her stance already suggesting her willingness to resort to violence without the need for words.

"Then let's move." Clay looked up at the sun again, trying to judge how much time remained. He didn't think that the bandits would move immediately, but he didn't want to lose the little light they had left. "We'll return soon, Count. Be ready."

Michford looked as if he was about to argue again, but Olivia shifted slightly. He looked at her and blinked. The [Noble] stepped back a little, his posture uneasy. "As you say, Sir Clay."

With that settled, Clay turned and led the group back into the trees. Going straight to the camp, he guessed it would actually take them far less than an hour. He just hoped the bandits would not have done anything foolish before their time ran out.

Because if they had, he didn't want to know what he'd do to them.

Clay peered through the undergrowth at the camp once more, but this time he wasn't alone.

Both Charles and Olivia were crouched next to him, watching the sentries. He'd heard more shouting and crying from inside the camp, but it didn't look like the bandits were quite ready to leave. At least, not yet.

Clay glanced at Olivia. His hands flickered with Andrew's hand signs, and she nodded. They both withdrew, leaving Charles looking at them in surprise. The [Paladin] hurried to catch up after Clay gestured to him, making far too much noise for Clay's comfort. For all his training, Charles had never learned how to move in his heavy armor all that stealthily.

All the same, they made it back to the others without any alarms being raised. Clay crouched, and the others huddled around him. "All right. It looks like there are still five sentries on the walls, mostly around the front of the fort. Only one exit." He made a quick sketch of the fort in the dirt, with marks to show where the sentries usually stood.

Olivia crouched next to him, her voice a harsh whisper. "The hostages are all inside?"

Clay nodded. "It doesn't look like they are ready to move yet. Technically, we could wait until morning."

Charles shook his head. "I don't see why we should give them the chance to get a good night's sleep. I don't know that any of us would get any rest, anyway."

Enessa grinned, her usual cheer seeming a little forced as she stretched. "Then shall we get to the good part? If there aren't any other exits, we should be able to just charge in, right?"

Ned seemed to perk up at the prospect. "Sounds good to me!"

"No." Clay tried not to sigh as the [Dark Knight] seemed to deflate a little. "If we rush in without warning, they might try to harm the hostages. Or the hostages could just get caught in the middle of the fight."

Olivia nodded. "Besides, the adventurers among them are still dangerous, even if they aren't that strong." Maribel gave her a raised eyebrow, and Olivia shrugged. "A fireball is a fireball, no matter who throws it. I have no intention of lying around wounded for a month just because I underestimated some bandit."

Maribel's lips quirked. "I wouldn't let you get that bad." She hesitated and then sighed. "All the same, you're right. Even if they just broke our equipment, it will still be a problem. Better to be careful."

Clay looked around to see the others nodding. He reached out to tap where the tower was on the crude map below him. "I can probably climb up here, near the back of the fort. I got up there fairly easily already. From there, I can hit the bandits from behind."

Charles nodded, his eyes serious. "Will Syr Olivia be with you, then?"

"No." Olivia shook her head. "Clay's a bit more stealthy than I am. I would do better to hold the gate and make sure nobody gets past."

George raised his hand. "I can go with him, if no one else will." He gave Clay an uncertain grin. "I have a [Style] that can help with the jump, if you need me."

Clay nodded. "It'll be good not to be alone, then."

Enessa cleared her throat. She looked a little uncertain. "I can come too." He raised his eyebrow at her, and she grimaced. "I can be a little quiet when I need to be. Besides, you might need someone who can take a hit with you."

Charles frowned for a moment. His smile a moment later seemed a little strained. "Then I will hold the gate with Syr Olivia. We'll make sure that none escape."

Ned chuckled. "I guess that leaves me and you to jump the sentries, Maribel. What do you say? Feel like showing off even when Frensfeld isn't around?"

The [Mage] raised her chin and sniffed, though her cheeks abruptly seemed to glow red. "I don't 'show off', Sir Ned. I just do my duty." She looked down at the map and tapped the left side of the fort with her foot. "I will clear them from this side. You can have the other one."

He nodded, and Clay's eyes narrowed as he considered the plan. If they did it correctly, the enemy would be hit from all sides at once, right when they were bedding down for the night. With enough luck, he, Enessa, and George would be able to smash their way into the tower while Olivia and Charles got the captives free. Maybe the bandits would even be smart enough to surrender, once they saw what they were up against.

Then again, if they were that intelligent, they wouldn't have turned to banditry in the first place. He grimaced and stood, dusting off his hands.

"All right, then. Get into position, and stay alert. I'll send the signal once we are all prepared to attack."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, a smile obvious beneath her scarf. "A signal? Are you going to show some more lightning tonight, Clay?"

He gave her a level look, trying not to notice the way the others raised their eyebrows at each other. "No. I feel like bringing down the tower wouldn't help prevent things from getting out of control." Maribel muttered something under her breath, and Olivia seemed to snicker a little. Clay ignored her and continued. "Besides, we want to bring them in alive, if we can. Dead people can't answer questions, and I want to know who was paying them to be here."

Clay looked around at them. "Any questions?" Nobody spoke up, and he nodded. "All right. Time to rescue those people and put a stop to this. Strike hard, stay safe, and I'll see you when it's done."

The others murmured their own farewells, and Clay stood up. Olivia put her hand in his for just a moment; she squeezed it tightly. Then she was moving through the woods towards the entrance of the fort, not looking back.

He watched her go for a few moments, telling himself he didn't need to worry about her. She'd already fought far tougher opponents, with fewer allies to rely on. Besides, Charles would be with her to keep her safe, if it came down to it.

The thought made him look over at Charles, and he blinked as he saw Enessa talking quietly with the [Paladin]. There was a hesitant concern in the [Fighter]'s eyes as they talked; Charles reached over as if to touch Enessa's face, and at the last minute grasped her shoulder instead. Then they parted, with Charles striding off through the forest after Olivia, and Enessa staring after him, a clear longing in her eyes.

Clay felt a moment of secondhand embarrassment, wondering if he'd looked at Olivia the same way. He waited until Maribel and Ned had started towards their own positions, and then spoke quietly to Enessa. "So…"

The [Fighter] jumped. It seemed like she got far more height than she had before. She looked at him, and then blushed, redder than he'd ever seen. "What?"

He couldn't help but grin. "So, how long has that been going on?"

"Oh, since forever." Both of them turned to find George leaning on his spear, watching them with a grin. He shrugged. "Or I guess I should say it's been starting since forever. They never seem to talk their way around to it, though. Drives me crazy, honestly."

Enessa cracked her knuckles and started to advance on the [Dragoon], who abruptly looked alarmed. Clay cleared his throat and tried to save the man's life. "We should get to the tower. The others will be waiting."

His words did the trick. Enessa stopped, still glaring at George for another moment. Then she stalked off through the forest, muttering something unpleasant as she went.

Clay gave George an exasperated look. "You really shouldn't be teasing her about that."

The [Dragoon] rolled his eyes as he walked past him. "Oh really? Who else am I going to tease? The person who's supposed to heal me? Charles, who doesn't even want to admit it? Or no, I know, I can tease Olivia, of all people. Maybe she'd only kill me a little bit." He threw up his hands in mock despair, even as Clay had to bite his lip to avoid chuckling. "Seriously, it's not my fault that Ned and I are the only ones with good heads on our shoulders around here…"

Clay shook his head and followed after the [Dragoon]. He just hoped the possible romance was the only surprise waiting that night.

The others let Clay lead them around the edge of the fort, to the spot where he'd climbed it earlier that day. He waited for a moment, making sure that none of the sentries had changed their positions or taken a sudden interest in the rear of the place.

They hadn't. He could see the torches of the sentries still drifting back and forth near the entrance, occasionally peering out into the night. He shook his head over their sloppiness; keeping the torches with them made the fools easy targets, and probably didn't do their night vision any favors either. Then again, their bad practice would give his friends a better opening to strike.

Clay climbed the wall, pausing partway up to look back down to see if the others needed help. He found George clambering up after him without any apparent difficulty at all; the [Dragoon] had his massive spear tied to his back, but it didn't seem to slow him down or inconvenience him in the slightest.

Enessa seemed to have a little more trouble, if only because she was a little less used to scrabbling up the face of the wall. She'd never really liked climbing as much as the others back home; she preferred wrestling or running when it came to horsing around, and Clay had always suspected that she was a little more worried about heights than she admitted. Still, the [Fighter] didn't seem to have any trouble pulling herself up and over the edge of the wall to join him and George.

When Clay looked down into the courtyard, he found most of the tents quiet. It looked like most of the bandits were already sleeping, and the captives had been hustled into their own sleeping places as well. A handful of the bandits were standing around near the gates, but they weren't looking out at the forest. Instead, their eyes were on the places where the captives had been placed, as if they were making sure that none of their hostages tried anything. The captives, by contrast, had been shoved up against one of the side walls, where the stone hemmed them in and prevented any escape.

Clay watched them a moment, and then he gestured to Enessa as an idea occurred to him. He pointed down at the spot where the captives were encircled and then gestured to both her and George. The [Fighter] and the [Dragoon] looked at each other in the dark, obviously debating what he meant, and Clay abruptly regretted never sharing the hand signs with them. It would have made the process far easier.

Then Enessa turned back and pointed at him. When she pointed at the captives, he shook his head. Instead, he pointed at the tower—while they secured the captives, he could hit the tower directly and keep the bandits inside bottled up. She shook her head and pointed at him, and then at the captives. He shook his head in response and repeated his gestures.

They were still continuing the silent argument when George gave a resigned sigh and started to creep along the wall, heading for the captives. Enessa stopped, realizing that her fellow adventurer was abandoning her. She tried to get the [Dragoon]'s attention. When she failed, she gave Clay one last frustrated glare, and then slunk after George, her irritation shouting from every movement.

Clay watched her go with a flicker of amusement, and then turned back to his own task. Part of him wanted to sneak inside one of the windows and start the attack while it was all still quiet. He could probably get at least a few bandits while they were still in their beds. The problem was that the others would likely be able to rush outside before he could stop them, and then the rest of the group would need to deal with the enemy. Too many of the captives would get hurt, which meant that he needed to provide them a way to get out first.

So instead, Clay quietly let himself down on the inside of the wall. He crept along the perimeter until he was near the door of the tower. A glance told him that Enessa and George had already dropped in among the captives. Another failed to tell him whether the others were in position near the front of the fort. He frowned, wondering if he should hesitate for a moment longer.

Then Olivia's voice seemed to whisper directly in his ear. "In position. Waiting for your signal."

Clay grinned. Clearly, Distant Whispers had worked just fine for her. He had originally wanted to use something like Heart's Light or the Flame-Tongued Song to start things off, but his new plan had a very different possibility. Peering through the dark, he started the Canon of Rock.

It had been some time since he'd used the spell. There hadn't been very much opportunity while he had been hunting down escapees or fighting the croakers. The projectile was just a little too slow to gather, at least when facing things that could dodge.

A wall wasn't one of those things, of course, especially not one that had been built to resist attacks from the outside, but not the inside. The thought brought a smile to his face, even as he drew close to the end of the [Chant].

Above him, the boulder began to form. It hovered, silent, in the dark as Clay concentrated to sculpt it to a more compact, powerful shape. He looked from it, to the wall behind the captives. There was a spot along the wall that seemed just a little less stable than the others, where the stones had crumbled a bit more. Clay aimed for it, preparing himself to strike.

Then he unleashed the [Chant], sending the boulder streaking towards the wall. It struck with all the force of a battering ram, crashing through ancient stone and crumbling mortar in a roar of collapsing masonry. An entire section of the wall bowed and fell outwards, turning from a solid obstacle into a pile of rubble that anyone could scale, even as a cloud of dust engulfed that section of the fort.

For a single shocked moment, the bandits seemed to be paralyzed in surprise. The sentries had all spun towards the wall, staring as the last of that part of the wall tumbled down. Those near the gate had taken a single step forward, as if they were trying to stop the stones from falling. One of them had even reached out, as if trying to order the rubble back into place.

None of them were ready as the rest of the assault began.

A bolt of light struck two of the sentries, literally freezing them in place in a wave of ice that imprisoned their feet. Another was hit from behind as Ned launched himself onto the wall, bashing him to the battlement with a swing of his axe. The [Dark Knight] charged the others, who backpedaled as Ned's axe glowed with red flame. His manic laughter appeared to convince them that running was the better bet.

Below them, the cluster of bandits at the gate suddenly seemed to fall in all directions, their weapons yanked from their hands or their feet swept out from under them. Clay grinned as he recognized the Ballad of Air, especially as two of the men were dragged screaming back towards the forest. The others hadn't fully recovered when Charles launched himself among them. His shield glowed as he smashed a pair of them aside, bouncing them into the courtyard like dolls while he lifted his sword and shouted a war cry.

Neither of the remaining two men at the gate wanted to face him. They retreated, calling for help as their friends tumbled out of their beds. Only a handful answered their call, and they were still disoriented as Olivia joined Charles to face them. Some of the bandits were shouting and charging after the captives, all of whom were streaming towards the broken wall, desperate for safety.

Those who chose to pursue the hostages abruptly found themselves confronting Enessa. She emerged from the dust like an avenging ghost, punching the first bandit so hard that he crumpled instantly. The next two bandits didn't fare much better; she swatted them both aside like they were pests. When she yelled another warcry, the majority of the bandits fell back in panic, realizing that another threat had flanked them.

One of them, however, raised her hands, fire gathering in her palm. Clay recognized the [Mage] just before the [Charm] shot towards Enessa. There was no chance she could dodge; the spell moved too fast, and he was too far away to block it.

Then George was there, his spear glowing with power. The [Dragoon] stabbed the spell out of the air, dispelling it as if it was a puff of smoke. As the [Mage] recoiled, he hurled his spear at her directly. A glowing shield formed, but the spear smashed through it as if it were glass, and the bandit crumpled. He made a gesture, and the spear reappeared in his hand as if it had never left.

Shouts of alarm and panic sounded throughout the camp as the bandits tried to fall back. Well over a dozen of them were down, taken by surprise and overwhelmed before they could organize themselves. Ned met the bandit [Dark Knight]. His flaming axe met the bandit's sword as it crackled with lightning; the clash resulted in the bandit falling back in horror, his weapon chopped in half. Another trio of [Thugs] paused as ice imprisoned their feet, and Olivia danced through a pair of [Knaves], knocking their weapons from their hands and battering them to the ground.

A cluster of bandits had gathered to face Enessa, hedging her path with spears. She hesitated, as if deciding whether to crash through them. Then Charles arrived, smashing into their flank. As half of them tumbled off their feet, Enessa leapt on the remainder, snapping weapons and breaking limbs, her voice raised in a triumphant shout. The [Calculator] took aim at her with a hand crackling with lightning, covered by a [Dragoon] with a halberd, only to drop his weapon in panic as George knocked his defender aside and charged him, his spear still shining brightly.

Yet even as the bandits fell back, the targets Clay was looking for hadn't made their appearance. He turned his attention to the door of the tower, willing the [Noble] and his best warriors to appear.

They arrived a heartbeat later, charging out of the door in a rush. There were five of them, all Rogues that Clay recognized. The [Noble], [Oracle], and [Mystic] looked at the ruin of their camp with wide, incredulous eyes; the [Knave] and the [Dragoon] had both been a little less high-level, but they seemed competent enough, even as they stared, slack-jawed, at the heroes laying waste to their people.

Clay didn't give them the chance to recover. He launched himself at them out of the dark, coming at them from the side. The [Knave] had just enough time to flinch before Clay planted the butt of his spear into the side of his head with a crunch; the adventurer crumpled like a sack of stones, and Clay spun past him. The [Oracle] backpedaled, her eyes wide as he swung the spear at her, aiming to catch her head with the haft.

Then the [Dragoon] intercepted him, his sword glittering with ice. Clay jerked back as the Rogue struck at his face, aborting his swing to turn the blade aside. The [Dragoon] shouted in victory and slashed at him. Clay saw shock and surprise on the [Dragoon]'s face as he blocked the strike; magic flickered and hissed at him, but David's handiwork held firm. Before the Rogue could recover, Clay pivoted and struck him in the ribs with the butt of his spear. Bones crunched, and the man folded up around the hit.

He spent a precious heartbeat stomping down on the [Dragoon]'s blade, snapping it in half. The remaining three bandits had retreated, and the [Noble] had his sword out, ready to lunge at him. Clay saw desperation and anger on their faces. The [Mystic] had produced a pair of knives made from silvery metal. She darted forward alongside the [Noble], obviously hoping to attack him while he was occupied. Still retreating, the [Oracle] leveled her staff, magic already gathering along its length.

Clay's eyes narrowed. He smacked aside the [Noble]'s blade, sending a shower of sparks through the night air. A blast of brilliant flame lanced out at his chest, and he twisted to the side, putting the beam between him and the [Mystic]. She paused, momentarily stymied by the obstacle.

Then she vanished, her form fading into the shadows.

He reacted from pure instinct, punching the butt of his spear back behind him as he turned. Clay felt it make impact a fraction of a second later, and the [Mystic] was sent tumbling away. Before he could finish her, the [Noble] struck again. Rembark swung once, twice, three times in quick succession, even as the [Oracle]'s hand glowed with the green flare of healing magic.

Clay turned the [Noble]'s attacks aside, and then lunged in, his spear thrusting towards the man's chest. Rembark's eyes went wide beneath his helmet, and he tried to jerk backwards.

The reaction wouldn't have been enough, but the [Oracle] shouted, and a triple-layered shield rippled into existence just before Clay's spearpoint could catch the bandit leader. Clay grimaced as the spearpoint punched through each of the three layers in quick succession; by the time he had pushed through the last, his strike barely scraped Rembark's chestplate. Clay ducked a slashing counterattack, feeling the air from the swing, and then changed course.

The [Oracle]'s eyes were shocked as he lunged towards her. She brought her staff up, and it spat a rain of dark flame at him. Clay winced as the spell hit him, spattering across his chest, but the armor didn't give way. Before she had the chance to do anything more, he ducked inside her reach and swept his leg through hers.

She went over backwards, her head bouncing off the stones of the courtyard and her staff spinning away from her hands. The [Oracle] started to groan, but then she froze as Clay pointed his spear just in front of her face. Her eyes went wide and panicked, and Clay grinned.

He also drew his knife and pivoted, just in time to block yet another slash from the [Noble]. The Pell knife ground against the blade of dark steel, but neither gave way. Rembark, his face sweating with exertion, shouted. "Semmard! Kill him!"

Clay grimaced and looked to where the [Mystic] was crouched. Her knives were already poised to lash out at him; she'd somehow crept to within an easy leap of him, her blades already beginning to flicker with power. He didn't know what magic she had imbued her weapons with, but he was sure he didn't want to find out the hard way.

Yet she didn't leap. Her expression was locked in barely controlled fear; her eyes were wide with desperation. Clay realized that her limbs were shaking, almost as if they were straining against something. Slowly, the [Mystic] was forced to the ground, her arms locked behind her in an invisible hold. He started to grin as he recognized the telltale signs of the Ballad of Air.

Rembark didn't appear to have noticed. He glanced at her, still locking his blade with Clay's knife. "Do it! What are you waiting f—"

Then he, too, froze, for a much more tangible reason. Olivia's scythe seemed to materialize from nowhere, the crescent blade swinging into place beside the [Noble]'s throat. Rembark's expression suddenly froze as he followed the scythe's haft to Olivia's masked face. Her eyes, glinting in the torchlight, seemed to glow with malice.

Her voice was no less threatening when she spoke. "Tell me why you should live, bandit."

The demand seemed to sap all the strength from Rembark's arms. Clay shoved the blade away from him with ease; the [Noble] let the sword drop to the stones. He backed away from Clay slowly, with Olivia following him. Off to the side, the [Mystic] lurched to her feet, but stopped when she saw the situation. Her expression became one of shock and anger.

He looked down and saw the [Oracle] staring up at him in fear and horror. She whispered softly. "It's you. The Commoner Hero."

Clay nodded. "You were right. You should have run already, but it's too late now." He looked back at the [Mystic]. "Lay down your weapons and surrender. This doesn't have to end in blood."

The [Mystic] stared back at him, her stance still a crouch. He heard Olivia starting a [Chant] again, probably the Refrain. A part of him wished she'd kept the [Chant] going instead of threatening the [Noble], but at least she hadn't just killed the man, and he could defend against her if he needed to, now.

It seemed like the [Mystic] shared that assessment. She stepped back, her eyes narrowing. "It will always end in blood, [Commoner]. You've won today, but there will be a reckoning. Soon."

Before he could do anything else, she stepped backwards, and the shadows seemed to shift. When they went back to normal, she was gone, and he grunted in frustration. He'd wanted to capture all of the bandits, not just most of them.

Clay looked back at the rest of the camp and saw that at least the rest of the battle was already nearly over. Those bandits that weren't wounded or unconscious had dropped their arms. The whole force was being herded or dragged into a group in the center of the courtyard. Charles was ordering them into place, while Enessa and Ned were staring at prisoners menacingly. Maribel was already healing some of the worst injured; George had vanished, probably to keep the newly freed hostages from running too far into the night.

Even if the [Mystic] had escaped, they still had the [Noble] and the rest of them. He stepped back and gestured for the [Oracle] to pick herself back up. She did so reluctantly, wincing as she moved and glaring at Rembark. The [Noble] seemed entirely too preoccupied with the scythe at his throat to respond; his eyes were still fixed on Olivia, who was muttering something that seemed to horrify him.

All in all, it had not been a bad night's work. Now they just had to find out how much more work they had to do, and perhaps get some sleep as well. Clay grinned at the thought and then gestured for the [Oracle] and the [Noble] to join the other bandits. Not a bad night at all.

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