Paladins held the line, no matter what. Thistle’s eyes narrowed as he whispered a prayer of blessing, causing each dagger to glow briefly. Maybe he could at least take one. He hoped it would be enough.
Grumph and Gabrielle had left a pen full of adventurers idling in a state somewhere between curiosity, confusion, and boredom. They arrived to a chorus of metal scraping against leather as weapons were drawn, armor refastened, and arrows nocked. Adventurers were, on the whole, loud, disruptive, and often boisterous to a point of spectacle, but no one could deny that, when shit hit the fire, they were always ready to charge in head-first. None of the normal folk truly understood this brazen attitude, to dive into dungeons and unexplored depths as though their lives weren’t on the line if things went poorly. Whether or not they understood it was irrelevant at the moment, though. All that mattered was focusing it.
“The demons are smart!” Gabrielle blurted, mouth moving before any sense of eloquence could make its way into her words. Most of the adventurers ignored her, but a few of the nearby ones turned their heads. After a dismissive glance, those heads went right back to whatever they’d been previously occupied with. A familiar bubble of anger tried to rise inside her; however, she was able to push it away. Now was not the time to let her fury bubble forth. That would come all too soon as it was.
“Listen to me!” Gabrielle called again, forcing herself to project her voice while maintaining a calm tone. “My friends and I fought some of these monsters three days ago. They were organized, cutting off escape routes, and splitting our forces. If you go in expecting them to be dumb beasts, you risk being taken by surprise.”
“So, you say you fought these things before, yes?” The voice came from a dwarf encased in a dented set of old armor. A thick axe was clutched in his right hand while his left held an aged mace.
“We did,” Gabrielle confirmed.
“And how many of you did they kill?”
“My party all made it out, but dozens of nearby goblins were slain before the demons were stopped.”
“I see,” the dwarf replied. “Given the way you grip that axe, I don’t take you for much of a fighter, so if all your people made it out safe, then I doubt we have much to worry about. If the only things these beasts are a threat to are goblins, then I say we let them run wild.”
Grumph started to step forward, but Gabrielle was faster. In a whirl of motion, she jammed the butt of her axe’s shaft between the dwarf’s legs, shifted her weight, and spun the weapon around and upward. This knocked the dwarf’s legs out from under him and sent him tumbling the, admittedly short, distance to the ground.
“These demons have claws that can cut through thick leather armor like it’s a gossamer web, they can leap clear across a camp in one jump, and their flesh is as thick as a dwarf’s skull,” Gabrielle said, her voice only a few shades above a whisper, yet clearly audible to the many people who were now paying her very close attention. “The ones we fought were half this size, and still soaked the ground in blood before they were done. If you want to take this lightly, then so be it, but I’d see every warrior here forearmed with knowledge before the killing starts.”
“You certainly know how to draw attention,” said a copper-haired man adorned in silver armor that shone in the midday sun. The ornate handle of a longsword jutted out from his scabbard. Gabrielle was sure he’d been much further away when the dwarf made his wisecracks. To cover such ground quickly was quite impressive. “I, for one, would like to hear what you know.”
“Might as well listen,” the dwarf agreed from the ground. “It’ll take me a few minutes to pull myself back up, anyway.”
Gabrielle nodded, waited for as many others as could fit to gather around, and then began to speak.
The trick to getting guards to listen was to put yourself outside of a situation where protocol could be followed. There were rules for messengers, procedures for other guards, and general bureaucratic bugbearshit designed to make sure that any information accepted came from a reliable source. Of course, that was only viable if the person giving the information knew anything beyond the initial intelligence.
Eric found the circle of armored guards speaking in fast tones just where he’d expected they would be and immediately sized them up. The captain was clearly the man farthest away, with a few scars visible under his helm and an aura of command. Instead of approaching him, Eric dashed toward a guard close by whose helmet had a plume on top.
“Captain,” he gasped, this part somewhat genuine due to all the running. “I was sent with information for you.”
The plumed guard looked surprised, then uncertain, and then scared once the real captain began walking over.
“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was rough like his face and the scowl across his brow did nothing to make either less severe.
“I was told to come find the captain of the Appleram guards, and to pass on a message,” Eric replied, eyes darting between the actual captain and the guard with the plume.
“Who sent you?”
“I don’t know,” Eric replied. “Tall man, dark hair, simple clothes. Grabbed me, gave me the message, told me it was a matter of life and death.” Based on those he’d seen walking around Appleram, that description fit around thirty percent of the men, more, if one had loose opinions on what constituted being tall.
The captain stared at him, scowl deepening. His training made him want to ask verification questions, but his choices were limited when Eric was stating outright how little he knew. “Why didn’t this man come himself?”
“I don’t know.”
“What made you so willing to do it, then?”
“Because the monsters were in the other direction,” Eric replied.
This was enough to satisfy the captain. If he’d claimed noble intent, Eric would still seem suspicious, but the captain knew that when danger came from nowhere, most folks were hell-bent on getting away.
“What’s this message, then?”
“He said these things were demons, that they were smart, and that they would work together. Said their claws can cut through armor with ease and that blessed weapons are your best bet.”
The captain nodded, no expression besides the scowl, which Eric was beginning to suspect was a permanent fixture on his face. “Anything else?”
Eric shook his head. “That was it.”
“Fine. Thank you for your service. Now get clear of this arena, quickly,” the captain ordered.
Eric nodded, slipped out of the circle, and ran toward the exit. Once there was enough room between him and the guards, Eric doubled back and made for an entrance to the main part of the arena. He’d nearly run away the first time and that knowledge still haunted him. This time, he wasn’t leaving without his friends.
The first dagger had taken a demon in the shoulder. There was a howl of pain, and the demon reeled on impact, revealing a blade sunk all the way to the hilt in its flesh. Definitely an effective blow, though it was not the explosion of bone and muscle that had come from the last time Thistle had thrown a dagger at one of these things. Well, Grumble had said the first one was a bit special.
Careful steps brought the demon closer to Thistle, the other three directly behind. Its red eyes stared at the other blade in Thistle’s hand, wary, but also able to do enough math to understand that one blade wouldn’t stop all of them. Logic told Thistle that as soon as he let the second fly, the demons would rush him. He really, really needed to start keeping more of these damned daggers on him. It was a mistake he was unlikely to get a chance to learn from.
The second dagger struck the demon just below its red throat, prompting a wet gurgle of pain. Left unremoved, Thistle was certain that dagger would force the demon to bleed out. He wished the kill had been cleaner, but hopefully, this would make a difference.