Korin sat atop his cushioned stool, hands clasped together on top of the counter. Armoured boots thumped across the tavern’s wooden floor as the City Guard filed in with their halberds. Chainmail armour reflected the light from the oil lanterns overhead, the eyes behind their visors fixed on Korin. They wore blue tabards with a red cross and gold five-pointed stars in each corner – the symbol of the Bizayn Empire. Twelve guards entered the premises, five taking positions to either side of the room with another two holding the door open. He caught glimpses of others outside but it was the nobleman entering his establishment that made him lick his lips, the door closing behind him.

  Maybe Korin should have left when the invasion began. Maybe if he had done that, he wouldn’t be here now, watching the nobleman taking a seat at a table and beckoning him over. He could almost hear his mother whispering in his ear that he should have listened to her. She’d warned him against leaving the Dwarven lands and seeking adventure, but the mines were never for him. Getting up at the crack of dawn with his pickaxe, spending all day chipping away at stone with calloused hands and screaming shoulders, earning a pittance for each nugget of ore he forced loose. Adventure was what he’d craved.

  He nodded in the nobleman’s direction and stepped off his stool to the ladder, glancing at the doll that sat on the shelf beneath the counter. Her small hands rested behind her on the shelf, as she waved colourful stockinged legs up and down. As he descended the ladder, she pressed a tiny finger to the pink stitching that passed for her lips.

  He jumped down from the ladder and ducked through the small door below the counter that led him into the tavern’s common room. He carefully made his way past the guards, making sure not to give them an excuse to strike – they didn’t need much. As he approached the table in the centre of the room, he kept his head down, showing the proper deference for his visitor. He bowed to the man, ignoring the pain shooting through his back, before taking a seat at his invitation.

  “Korin.” Lord Micah of House Casteres leaned back in his chair, a heavy deep-purple cloak around his shoulders displaying his house crest of an eagle soaring. He was a young man, clean-shaven with a strong jaw, but behind his green eyes lay a shrewd awareness and an astute mind. “I trust you know why I’m here?”

  Micah was Head of Security for the town. An unusual position. Most towns made do with a mayor and a volunteer police force, but with remnants of the Rhian army scattered throughout the Forest of Shadows, Tarnov needed special attention.

  “I can’t say I do, my Lord,” Korin replied.

  “You don’t?” Micah said, with a questioning tilt to his head.

  Korin remained silent, eyes on the man in front of him.

  Micah let the silence fester for a moment before he spoke. “I heard three adventurers came here. What did they want?”

  “They did come here,” Korin said. There was no point lying. “But they went on their way when I told them that we had no quests for them.”

  “You didn’t offer them a room for the night?” Micah asked.

  “They didn’t ask for one.”

  Micah’s eyes narrowed. “But you knew they’re foreigners, correct?”

  “Powerful foreigners, my Lord,” Korin answered. “How else could they have made it here without being apprehended earlier?”

  “That’s what I would like to know. But you know the rules, Korin. Even the Adventurers Guild is not exempt from our laws. You were supposed to report anything unusual immediately.”

  “I hardly had the time before you were already here, my Lord.”

  Micah leaned forward, placing a gloved hand on the table.

  “And you would have definitely reported them, correct?”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  Micah leaned back again, fingers tapping the table.

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “I don’t,” Korin said.

  Micah remained silent, shrewd eyes fixed on Korin as his fingers drummed on the table. Korin met his eyes as the silence hung in the air.

  Micah smiled then. A knowing smile. He waved a hand at the room. “I hear you still haven’t accepted an offer for your building.”

  The change of topic almost threw him. “Nobody’s made an acceptable offer, my Lord.”

  “Really? I heard Alessar made you a very good offer. Above market rate is what I was told.”

  It concerned Korin that Micah was running checks on him. There could only be one reason, though was it only suspicion or did they know? His heart beat a little faster.

  “Above market rate for a warzone,” Korin replied carefully, “but this isn’t a warzone so I was hoping to receive something closer to what the building is actually worth.”

  Micah continued smiling, but there wasn’t any warmth in it. Korin resigned himself to the fact that they must know.

  “It’s not because it affords you the perfect cover to help the criminals?”

  Korin stayed silent this time. It wasn’t in his interest to confirm nor deny. If they knew, they knew and his fate was already sealed. He laughed bitterly on the inside.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Did you think you could hide it forever? The tunnel under your building that leads to the forest. Did you think we wouldn’t know that you were taking food to the slums, and taking slummers back with you? Smuggling them out to aid the militants.”

  The corners of Micah’s lips curled in a cruel smile.

  “We’ve spoken to the Guild already. They renounced your membership as of yesterday. I came over personally to deliver the news to you.” He rummaged around in his cloak and pulled out a piece of paper which he pushed across the table to Korin. Korin glanced at it briefly.

  Dear Lord. Blah blah. Please accept our sincere apologies. Blah blah. Please could you ensure the attached letter is passed to Korin Bonefury, confirming that he is no longer an associate of the Adventurers Guild and has lost all privileges that such an association confers.

  Micah waited for Korin to finish reading before he spoke again. “Not even the Guild is willing to protect a traitor. They didn’t want the other realms knowing that their fabled neutrality was a lie.

  “But there’s a way out for you. We should thank you really. You helped us.”

  Korin’s eyes flickered.

  “Yes,” Micah smiled. “You helped us. We planted our own people among the slummers and you helped smuggle them out. Thanks to you, we know where each militant party is. Your help will allow us to end them once and for all.”

  Korin’s heart sank. The Guild were meant to be neutral. It allowed them to operate in all the realms. They didn’t get involved in any disputes, and they operated freely. Korin had broken that rule. Witnessing the treatment of Rhian citizens at the hands of the Bizaynians, how could he not? He felt dutybound to help the survivors. That’s what adventurers did.

  And now he was learning that that very help would be the cause of their end.

  “But now, three strangers appear,” Micah continued. “A mage, a rogue and a maid. Curious, don’t you think? What could these strangers possibly want? Powerful strangers, like you say.”

  Micah put his hands on the table and stood up, leaning in.

  “If you tell us who they are and where they are, I promise that you will only be exiled, not executed. We will give you safe passage across the Empire to your homeland.”

  A soft patter of footsteps sounded behind the counter, drawing Micah’s attention.

  “Do you have a pet?”

  “No,” Korin replied. Micah gestured with his head at one of the guards standing by, who walked behind the counter to find the source of that sound. Korin very deliberately kept his eyes on Micah’s.

  “What assurances do I have?” He didn’t know who the strangers were, though he could tell the truth about their location. That is if the peculiar man did head north. The sparkle in that man’s black eyes at facing Starforged monsters certainly suggested he would.

  “You have my word,” Micah replied. Korin knew how much the word of Bizayn nobility was worth. Dirt would be more valuable.

  A soft thud sounded outside the front door that drew their attention. The guard behind the counter returned with a slight shake of his head when several more thuds were heard from outside. All eyes turned to the door. Micah nodded at the guards standing there. One of them grabbed the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. He put his halberd against the wall and used both hands, rattling the door but it wouldn’t open.

  Another soft patter of footsteps came from above them.

  All eyes slowly looked up.

  Then a soft breeze passed through the room and took the flames in the oil lanterns with it.

  Darkness enveloped them, the sounds of their breathing loud in the silence. Leather creaked as the guards shifted nervously. Then that soft patter of footsteps. Above them but closer now. Someone tried the door handle again, rattling it on its hinges. A dull thud sounded on the floor near the counter followed by the strangled sounds of someone choking. The choking grew weaker and weaker until it was nothing more than a gasp.

  Then the sound ceased altogether.

  The footsteps drummed softly along the wooden floor.

  It was coming towards them.

  The door rattled harder.

  “Smash the windows,” Micah shouted out.

  Korin scraped his chair against the floor with a screech and took cover beneath the table as metal clanged against metal, guards crashing into each other in blind panic. The door rattled so hard on its hinges it was a wonder it hadn’t already splintered open. The metal blades of halberds bounced off the glass windows with dull thumps – like they were whacking balloons with wooden batons.

  “Where is a ma–” The question drowned in a soft gurgle. Then a moment later, a crash as something fell onto a table.

  That’s when all hell broke loose, when they realised they couldn’t get out and something was hunting them. Something they couldn’t see and couldn’t hit. Tables and chairs scraped and splintered as guards flung them out of their way, trying to get to whatever safety they thought they could find in the darkness.

  “My arm,” someone screamed.

  “My eyes,” another replied.

  Korin stayed huddled under the table when something brushed against his left shoulder. He almost let out a shout, when a hand reached out to his arm and he recognised the heavy fabric of Micah’s cloak.

  He tried to see in the darkness. Dwarves had excellent eyesight, but there needed to be some ambient light. There was nothing. All he could do was follow the sounds of death stalking the room in a rhythmic patter of footsteps along the floor, along the walls, along the beams across the roof.

  Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Pit-pat.

  There was a gurgle by the counter, the crash of a table. Another gurgle close to the first. Pit-pat. Pit-pat. Another gurgle in the opposite corner. The sound of metal smashing against the wall. Guards screaming for help before their shouts were cut short.

  There was no help coming.

  Korin closed his eyes, silently praying to the gods.

  Another gurgle to his left. A crash to his right.

  It was all happening so quickly.

  Another scream.

  He pressed his face to the floor with his hands on the back of his head.

  The shouts around him became muffled, the metal scraping against the floor became still, the dying gurgles faded to peace.

  Within moments, silence returned to the room.

  Korin was able to hear the sound of his own breathing.

  He was alive.

  Micah’s hand was still on his arm though it was trembling now. The Head of Security was realising just how secure he wasn’t, but neither of them dared to make a sound. Perhaps the doll would leave. Korin was sure it was the doll that had been keeping him company that had done this.

  When he had met the strangers earlier, he had a feeling they were different. He just didn’t know how. He’d thought the man was peculiar, stating there were four of them and pointing at the doll. Huddling in the darkness, listening for the pit-pat of her tiny feet, he was beginning to realise just how different the strangers were.

  Both Korin and Micah stayed under the table. Seconds passed. Minutes. He still didn’t dare to move, but Micah’s hand had stopped trembling.

  “I think it’s gone now,” Micah whispered. “Why don’t you go and try the door?”

  “Why don’t you?” Korin whispered back with venom. Maybe the doll had gone. Maybe it hadn’t. He was perfectly fine to stay huddled under this table until morning came.

  “I think you mi–” Micah began but his words cut off in a desperate squeal. His hand grasped on Korin’s arm, struggling to get purchase.

  Then Micah let out a bloodcurdling scream as his hand ripped away from Korin’s arm. The sound of fingernails clawing against the floorboards followed the scream as Micah was dragged back to the wall.

  “Korin,” Micah shrieked. “Help me! Help meeee!”

  Korin heard the door open behind the counter, but he dared not look. He kept his face pressed to the ground, hands interlaced on the back of his head.

  Then the lights came back on.