“Shit,” he hissed, his forward momentum carrying him into the face of a Naga who’d just rounded the corner of the support column.

  Their heads collided, bringing the familiar ringing to his ears, along with a burning sensation in his nose. The handle of the spear was jammed into his chest during the meeting, and a cracking noise sounded when they met the floor. Breaths were shallow and filled with pain, but he had to be the quicker of the two. After a quick

  glance, he Blinked toward the cells, then Blinked again to place himself within one.

  One touch within the dark cell said his nose was broken, and the pain shortening his breaths said the same of his ribs. As footsteps stomped the stairs in the distance, he kicked at the floor until he was within the shadows, prayed no one had seen where he Blinked, then fumbled in his pocket until he found the vial. The cork was pulled through gritted teeth, spat away, and he drank as quick as the pain would permit.

  “Enough fucking around,” he grumbled as he pulled the pistol from his belt. In his eyes, the weapon was a backup plan, which made it expendable. He charged more mana into it than he deemed safe, held the barrel between the bars, and pulled the trigger. The recoil sent his hand upward, slamming the barrel of the gun against one of the horizontal bars of the cell. There was a spark as metal collided with metal, but the little flash was pathetic compared to the resulting shot. The crackling ball of mana sped toward a cluster of Naga, struck one in the gut, and exploded in a brilliant blinding light.

  Shouts and screams echoed off the walls, and he started to channel another shot when he felt a jolting pain in his hand. At first, he thought he’d broken his hand when the gun kicked up into the bars, but leaning into the light showed the problem. The barrel had been dented when it struck the bar, and what he felt was his channeled mana snapping back at him. The pistol was useless now, so he cast it aside and shot his hands between the bars. When he found the angle, he channeled two bolts, though refrained from overloading this time. The twin shots zipped through the air. One crashed into the support column by the stairs, while the other found an unfortunate Naga’s face. Blood and debris scattered, but too many heads had turned his way. They had his location, and it was only a matter of time until his luck ran out. He Blinked out of the cell, then once more until he was hiding behind another support column, leaning his back against the stone.

  Despite his massive pool of mana, the overload of quick spending had taken its toll. He needed a rest, a distraction, and an entire pond of water. Nearly a dozen Naga were running to the cell he’d occupied across the hole in the floor, while the sounds of feet upon stone stated others were returning to the upper level. He kept his back pressed against the wall while he sucked in breaths, enduring the burning as the healing elixir worked its magic.

  “Are you done?”

  The low, growling voice shook him to the point that he nearly cried out. However, despite every inch of him jerking, he managed to keep himself pressed against the column while seeking the owner of the words. The result ended with two massive, light blue hands clutching at the bars before him, and a wide head drew into the light.

  “Not quite, just giving them a chance to regroup.”

  “Liar.”

  “Yeah, well, it made me feel better,” he muttered, hoping their conversation went unnoticed. “Say, would you mind stepping back to the wall?”

  “Humph. . .”

  The massive hands and face fell into the darkness, and he Blinked into the cell. His back pressed against the bars for a second, but a strong hand shoved him aside as the imposing figure took his place.

  “I’ll block their view,” he muttered.

  “You’re. . .you’re. . .an Orc?” he guessed. “I’ve never seen a blue Orc before.”

  “You’ve never been to the Blessed Peaks,” the voice countered.

  “Well, that’s true,” he breathed and let his bottom slide to the floor.

  The figure before him was massive, nearly as big as one of the Sharkala. Eight feet in height, he was certain, with impossibly broad shoulders, thick arms, and a wide back. Every inch was light blue in color, and white hair was braided down the back. The pants that threatened to tear over the thick thighs looked vaguely familiar, brown in color, but it was the fabric that drew his attention. When he saw the big black boots, he almost put it together.

  “Where do you hail from, Orc?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down while catching his breath at the same time.

  “Mountains, Sha’Kurian,” he grumbled, only turning his head slightly when he spoke. “Be quiet now.”

  Feet shuffled beyond the bars, and he turned so that his legs couldn’t be seen from outside. A shadow fell upon the front of the ice-blue Orc, and DeVante’s heart picked up its pace. All the Orc had to do was cock his head to the right, and all the Naga would come running. He’d half a notion to start channeling his wrist bows, but something told him to afford the Orc a chance.

  “You, monster,” a Naga spat from outside. “The Sha’Kurian.

  Where did it go?”

  “Didn’t see,” the Orc lied. “Just woke up. You mind keeping it down?”

  The blunt end of a spear shot between the bars, and the Orc let out a grunt when it drove into his stomach. Surely the brute saw it coming, but elected to withstand the blow, rather than step away.

  “Mind that tongue, or I’ll slice it from your mouth.”

  The Orc stood pressed against the bars as the steps grew quieter, then turned his head while keeping his chest against the metal.

  “Name?”

  “DeVante,” he breathed. “And I’m only half-Sha’Kurian, by the way.”

  “Don’t care. I’m Azuk,” he announced, one meaty hand slowly slipping DeVante’s way. The Sha’Kurian gave the massive hand a shake, all while remaining thankful the Orc didn’t put all his strength into his grip.

  “Look, I’m here to. . .”

  “Don’t care,” Azuk interrupted. “Killing Naga is good enough for me.”

  “Okay, fine, fine,” he sighed. “How did you wind up here? How does an Orc find his way to a Naga temple?”

  “Pirates,” Azuk replied, as though the word was a sufficient answer by itself.

  “Pirates? Explain, please.”

  “Took our ship. Came at night while we slept. Supposed to pick up passengers from the beach, but it was late. Only a quarter crew was out. They slipped on, somehow, killed those awake. Used some magic on the rest of us.”

  “Passengers from the beach. . .” he stammered, his mind too tired to put it together immediately. “Shit. Was their leader a blue

  Tiefling, or half-Tiefling, at least. Too big to be pure.”

  “With an eyepatch? Yeah, that’s the one with the magic.”

  “Shit on me,” DeVante hissed. “Now I get it. Zimeon. He’s the fuck that ratted us out to Ethryn.”

  “Don’t know about that, don’t care,” Azuk grumbled. “Can you get us out of here?”

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” he breathed, realizing this could be the distraction he needed. “How many are there?”

  “Five.”

  “Damn, just five? Are they all on this level at least?”

  “No. Rest are small. They’ll be down below.”

  “Okay, okay,” DeVante whispered, putting the plan together on the fly. “Where are the keys to the cells? Wait, never mind. That isn’t important. Describe your crew to me though.”

  “Tuzzezz. He’s a Nepton,” Azuk started, keeping a watch for the guards. “Blue/green skin, big tendrils hanging from his face. Can’t miss him.”

  “A sea orc?”

  “Call him that, and he’ll crush you,” Azuk groaned. “Gahna, a Folkaren. Long orange hair. All the way past her ass, but don’t get caught looking. Lotia, elf, blue hair, flower tattoo over her eye. Then Johzdr, half-orc.”

  “Oh, so it’s five, counting you,” he mumbled. “Crap, sorry. Didn’t mean it to sound like that. Okay, what weapons do you like?”

  “The kind you use to kill.”

  “Fair enough,” he sighed and withdrew the scrolls. He felt the Orc’s eyes upon him, but he hadn’t time to be discreet. Quickly he chose one of the ebon spears he’d picked up from the Sunken Temple, ignored the Orc’s gasps, and handed it over. “Have to do for now. I’ll be back. Might be easier to get your crew first, then come back for you.”

  “I can fight.”

  “I bet you can,” he chuckled, stowing the scrolls. “But there’s too many up here right now, and I don’t wish to hit you by accident. I’ll be back, but keep that spear hidden.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Azuk mumbled and twisted his grip. His arms were so massive that the length of the spear was easily hidden behind his frame, leaving him armed, but also preventing anyone from seeing the weapon from the outside.

  He was about to Blink out of the cell when a thought arose. He’d no doubt that Zimeon was the traitor, but he had to have gained the knowledge from somewhere. Pryn hadn’t been around when they talked about it, despite the Naga giving a fairly convicting description of her appearance. That left someone out there who ratted them out, and Osmorra’s blood was on their hands. Whoever they were, he’d make certain they died a painful death.

  He Blinked back to the column, already damning himself for not checking on his available points. But he’d already committed, and now wasn’t the time to stop for another break. A quick look to the steps, and he Blinked again, then once more to a column on the third level.

  The Naga were scattered about this level, leaving six to contend with. The cells looked just as big as the ones above, so he assumed the group was further down. He Blinked back to the stairs, then worked his way to the fourth level.

  “Now we’re talking,” he muttered as he looked about.

  The cell doors were far narrower, and there were only two guards to deal with. With his daggers readied, he Blinked behind one, jammed both blades into her neck, then Blinked to the other. One blade to his throat, the other to the gut, then back to the first one to finish her off.

  “That was impressive, handsome.”

  DeVante took a breath while cleaning off his blade on the side of the male Naga’s tunic, then turned his attention toward the sultry voice. It didn’t take a scholar to know this was the Folkaren Azuk spoke of. Curly orange hair grew thick between two dark ears, ran all the way down her back, with the curly tips viewable between her spread legs. Her eyes were wider than normal, dark blue, and looked him up and down as he approached. She was incredibly short, perhaps shorter than Jorja, with a tan jacket around her narrow frame that was cut off at the sleeves, and the bottom, leaving her firm stomach exposed. A pair of pants had been cut at the upper thigh, exposing a bit of tanned skin before the brown, knee-high boots took over.

  “Hey, I got his attention,” she teased, her wide face lifting in a smile that dimpled her cheeks. “You the one making all that racket up there?”

  “Yeah, and I think Azuk just sent me for you.”

  “Hot damn, he’s alive,” she laughed, clapping her small hands together. “I knew he was too stubborn to die. Well, come on, get

  me. . .”

  Blink +1!

  Blink +2!

  24/100!

  “Oh. . .damn,” she groaned, dropping to her knees. She’d turned while dropping, offering him an unobstructed view of her backside.

  The shorts were split at the middle, allowing a bushy, dark orange, almost red tail to be freed from the material. The tail and the hair were mixed together, leaving him to wonder how many times the two tangled when she moved about. “That’s as bad as my first time at sea.”

  “Sorry, don’t have the keys,” he muttered. “Okay, looking for three more of your crew.”

  She didn’t respond, so long as he didn’t count retching, but her finger was pointed to a cell just a few down from hers. He offered her a slight pat to her back, then hurried along while checking the stairs. No one seemed concerned about the sound of a Folkaren expelling her last meal, so he offered the cell his full attention.

  “Jailbreak?

  “Johzdr?” he asked, recognizing a fellow halfling when he saw one. The half-orc was tall, maybe an inch more than DeVante, with light green skin and a build matching his more than the hulking Orc above. He’d dark brown hair upon his head that was slicked back, the sides of his skull were shaven, and a trimmed beard clung to his chin. Two small tusks rose from his lips, but the rest of his features looked human.

  “Already heard you two, so just do it already,” Johzdr grunted.

  “Suit yourself, but I hope you skipped dinner.”

  Another set of Blinks, and another crewmate retching on the ground. The Folkaren had recovered and now jogged past him with her tail flicking side to side with each stride. He watched a moment longer than he should, all while wondering if this group would hang around for a few days.

  “Hey girl,” she called out before a cell down the aisle. “Come on, handsome. This one is next.”

  DeVante pulled by her side to find a female Elf within the cell.

  She’d shoulder-length, dark blue hair, a slight frame, with a sleeveless white top, a black cord around her thin neck, and black pants so baggy that he imagined it required a rope to keep them from falling to her ankles. Something was surrounding one of her eyes, but the shadows kept him from making it out.

  “Pucker up, Lotia,” the Folkaren teased. “Ride of your life coming up.”

  He Blinked in alone, then out with the Elf, who didn’t seem to mind one bit for the journey. In the light, he could see a flower had been tattooed over her left eye, but the details were quickly obscured by the dark hair that fell over her face.

  “See, Johzdr. Lotia took it like a real man.”

  “Fuck you, Gahna.”

  “I can see this group will be fun,” he muttered as he looked about for the last member. “Looking for the Nepton now.”

  “One floor up, handsome,” Gahna teased, twitching her brows at him.

  “Great, so let’s get you armed, I suppose.”

  25

  “Hey, don’t go hogging all the loot,” Gahna cried out.

  Johzdr had one spear in hand, and was stooping over another body to thief a second. When he stood up, he offered the Folkaren a shrug of his shoulders, then hurried toward the stairs.

  “Hey, we haven’t made a plan,” DeVante called out, hurrying to catch up with the half-Orc.

  “Been cooped up long enough, Elf,” Johzdr called back. “Time for some payback.”

  The half-Orc took long strides to the stairs, forcing DeVante to Blink in order to catch up. One of the women cried out behind them, likely Gahna since the other had yet to say a word. Johzdr was taking the steps three at a time, running with one spear tucked behind his left arm, the other hanging by his side to the right.

  Shouts sounded as the Naga caught sight of the escaped prisoner, seeing all six converge upon him until DeVante appeared from the stairs. Spears collided as two Naga engaged the half-Orc, who moved much like Lildrith in his fighting style. He’d lunge with the right spear, then sweep away the attacks with his left. The Naga grew frustrated as he continued to jab shoulders, parry blows, then thrust while only nicking body parts.

  Realizing he’d turned into a spectator, DeVante leaped into the fray. Three of the Naga had already broken from the pack and formed a line while charging in his direction. He figured they hadn’t witnessed the carnage, so he offered them a first-row view. With a carefully placed Blink, he fell upon the one in the center, using his body weight as a weapon rather than his blades. He slashed out with his daggers, catching thighs with each swipe before he Blinked to safety.

  “What’s all the racket?” a voice called out, sounding as though it came from the back of the mouth rather than the diaphragm.

  “Jailbreak, Tuzzezz!” Gahna called out from the stairs. “Just hang tight.”

  “Ain’t got time for hanging tight,” Tuzzezz called back. “Quit farting around and get me out of here.”

  He was already dreading their reunion, but opted to keep his focus upon the fight. Those with leg injuries had turned around to track his movements, but he was already driving his blades into the back of the Naga who elected to hang back. He waited until they were nearly upon him before he kicked the screaming Naga toward his allies, then Blinked behind them. While they caught the stumbling guard, he jumped in the air and slashed with both hands, catching the sides of their necks in the process. Their hands lifted to their new wounds, forgetting all about the stumbling guard who crashed into them. From that point, it was just a matter of stabbing critical areas to finish off the trio.

  “And just where the hell do you think you’re going?” Gahna laughed.

  DeVante turned around in time to see the Folkaren pounce upon the Naga he’d landed on earlier, smashing her tiny fist into the

 

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