Oliver came to the conclusion that this fight was going poorly for him.

  Aton, whoever she was, was remarkably skilled, and Oliver was fully convinced now that she was some sort of exiled noble, just as well trained–or even more so–than he was. Not only that, she had the gift of the fencer, which was far better suited for single combat. Her gift of the bandit only further tipped the scales–she had enough low cost special attacks to render Reinforced Defense irrelevant, while Oliver had to carefully hold Reckless Strike in reserve for when he was absolutely certain that it would hit. So far, Gust Blast had been the only thing that had allowed him to survive even this long, buying him critical moments to keep Aton from seizing the momentum of the fight.

  The bandit woman disengaged with a skillful flourish, and both of them took a moment to catch their breath.

  At the very least, Oliver reflected, she’s as tired as I am.

  “You’re better than I thought, pup.”

  Oliver’s lip twitched in a shadow of a snarl. “I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

  Aton mimed a flapping jaw with her free hand. “Yap yap yap.” She twirled that long, gracefully curved saber in a neat circle and set herself back into a ready position. “Sorry pup. But it’s high time I wrapped this up. I don’t know if you noticed, but the rest of the clan here doesn’t have much backbone without me to support them.”

  “Good.” Oli tried for a smirk. “Then once I kill you, the rest of them will break too.”

  “Yap yap.”

  The woman lunged forward, and Oliver was put entirely on the defensive as one special attack after another rained down on him, forcing a slow retreat even as their swords beat out a staccato rhythm.

  Finally, Oli decided he needed to make an opening of his own. His thumb flicked to the fully charged force rune at the base of his runeblade, the same trick he had used against Allid months before.

  Somehow, the bandit leader saw it coming. Her freehand batted out, the chain mesh gauntlet keeping the edge from ripping through her flesh as she slapped his blade aside as if it were no more bothersome than a fly. Dirt and leaves flew as the force blast went wide and slammed into the treeline next to the road.

  Then, still moving in one fluid motion, Aton’s own sword came around, glowing a malevolent purple. Oli managed only the sloppiest of blocks, barely keeping the saber from carving through his chest, but the purple glow continued on the same arc as the foiled attack. The phantom strike smacked him across the face–and the world suddenly tilted on its side.

  Oliver tried to shake away the sudden bout of dizziness, but the abrupt vertigo was crippling. By the time it passed, Oliver was on his knees, and Aton was standing over him, her sword poised to stab down into his neck.

  #

  Rose blew out a breath as she watched the specter fade into tatters. Just like last time, the incorporeal undead had been completely unable to resist the effect of her magic, with even her weakest healing spells tearing ragged holes in it. It had tried to flee, but Rose had caught it in a gale of Healing Wind before it could make good on its escape.

  In the meantime, Beryl had bulled her way through the bandits that had attacked in the specter’s wake. Their own blessings had been completely insufficient against the muscular young woman, and after she had laid out two of them with strikes of her earthen hammer, the rest retreated to a respectable distance–only to find that they hadn’t outdistanced her earthen projectiles.

  Still, they had left their mark. A special attack had cut through Beryl’s new armored tunic, leaving a deep gash in her side, and she had accumulated a few more cosmetic cuts on her arms and legs that, given enough time, could prove life-threatening.

  “Well,” the large girl grunted, her voice rough with pain, “that wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Come here. Let me give you a bit more healing, then we’ll go check on the others.”

  Beryl had only just turned towards her when Hugo’s voice, cracking with fear, called from behind, “Look out!”

  Both wardens jumped in separate directions as the merchant’s call reached them, but it did little good. A short, heavy arrow slammed into Beryl’s shoulder, as if her enchanted tunic wasn’t even there, then another into her hip. Rose’s Mantle managed to deflect a third that went for her heart, turning the lethal attack aside, where it left a bloody furrow across her bicep. Hugo wasn’t so lucky, and the fourth arrow took the plump merchant between the eyes. He toppled backwards into his wagon without a sound.

  Rose looked around wildly, trying to find the archer in the woodline, until Beryl, through gritted teeth, screamed, “Rose! Above you!”

  The red-headed young woman didn’t hesitate, lifting her staff to send a gust blast straight up in the air. Once again, her reflexes saved her life, the swirling winds fouling another shot meant to kill her, and Rose got her first good look at the assailant.

  He was in mid-air about twenty feet up, the setting sun behind him keeping her from making out any specific features, although the shape of two wings, flapping slowly to hold him aloft, proved distinctive enough.

  The sun glinted off another arrow, and Rose slammed another Gust Blast into the air at the man.

  #

  There was, perhaps, half a second between Oliver realizing that the bandit leader was about to kill him and her sword flicking up in a lightning fast reaction, cutting an arrow out of midair.

  Aton seemed as surprised as Oli–and then Cadence was there, their weird black-glass blade flashing in the orange light of the setting sun as they leapt at the exiled noble. That was bad. Oliver had fought both of them, and he knew from experience that there was no way the celestial could beat Aton. The bandit swordswoman was simply too good, and a higher level besides.

  Cadence, to all appearances, simply didn’t care what Oli thought. Despite their shorter blade and cruder skill, they rained cuts down on Aton faster than Oli had ever seen, forcing her to the defensive, keeping her from a potentially lethal counter. That kind of speed was inhuman–it could only be thanks to a boon of some kind, but Oliver had never seen any other indication of that sort of speed from the wandering girl before.

  As if realizing her suddenly disadvantageous position, Aton lashed out with the same special attack she had used to take Oliver down, and he tried to get his limbs working, to get to his feet before that malefic purple light could leave Cadence exposed the same way it had him. He only made it to his knees before the attack hit Cadence–but they didn’t even falter.

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  That got a look of surprise from Aton, and she finally made a mistake, letting Cadence’s sword leave a long line of blood through her chainmail shirt. A superficial wound, but far more than the odd weapon should’ve been able to do. Another special attack?

  Cadence grinned as the bandit leader disengaged. “That was a nasty trick. Let’s see how you like it.”

  There was another flash of purple light, dimmer this time, and from Cadence’s eyes rather than from either of their weapons. Aton faltered and took a half-step backwards, shock clear in her eyes–and then Cadence lashed out with a familiar combination. A low kick, a fast move forward, a stomp to Aton’s hand that sent her sword flying, and then the bandit leader was the one with a sword to her throat.

  “That’s… impossible.” Aton’s voice quivered with shock and, perhaps, a trace of fear.

  Oliver couldn’t bring himself to disagree with her.

  #

  “Oli!” Cadence called behind her. “Can you get up?”

  She felt her Soul Surge wearing off, and knew she had perhaps a minute before her will boon fled. Speed would go shortly thereafter.

  “Yeah, I’m up.”

  “Good. Please get over here before I pass out.”

  Hurrying steps, then Oliver was there, his own sword replacing Cadence’s at the bandit woman’s throat.

  Cadence immediately staggered away. She patted through her belt pouches wildly before she found Storyteller’s replenishing flask. She took three quick swallows, grimacing at the earthy bite of the energy potion as it burned down her throat.

  Before she saw the bandit about to kill Oliver, Cadence had never thought to use Soul Surge on multiple attributes concurrently. But it worked, giving her the jump in speed to close the distance and defeat the swordswoman before she could kill Oli, while retaining the will boost to ignore the bandit woman’s special attacks as easily as she had the Menacing Glares–the same ability Cadence had copied and used to defeat her.

  [Gift of the Bandit]

  [Menacing Glare] - Active, Psychic - Disrupt the target's thoughts and disorient them momentarily. Requires direct eye contact to work. Lesser focus cost.

  Unfortunately, Cadence knew what was coming now. When both of her Surges wore off, she’d take their combined stamina and focus costs at the same time. She’d be lucky to stay conscious.

  Frowning, Cadence shook the replenishing flask. Based on the splashing inside, she estimated she could manage maybe one more good swallow without emptying it, but even then, it would need most of a week to refill itself. She’d need to save it for after the fight–provided it ended soon.

  As if provoked by her line of thinking, a shriek cut through the air from the front of the caravan.

  “I’ve got her,” Oli told her, voice tight, “Go!”

  #

  “Well, well, well…” the man’s voice was a smooth baritone broken by jagged gravel, and it carried down to Rose clearly despite the altitude of his flight. “I’m starting to think this isn’t going to work.”

  Arrows littered the dirt around Rose, and more lay up the road, where the redhead’s wind magic had deflected the rain of projectiles from the wounded Beryl.

  Rose didn’t waste time replying, already channeling spell after healing spell at her wounded friend without taking her eyes off the flying bandit leader. Her wind powers had proven an effective foil to the bandit’s aerial archery, but she had little that could harm the man, and every moment she spent dealing with him was precious to her friend. The arrows hadn’t quite killed her, but even Beryl’s resilience was flagging in the face of the dangerous strikes.

  The man’s voice was self-satisfied as he realized that truth as well. “But you can’t actually hurt me, can you? You’re a good little healer, but that’s all.”

  Rose twirled her birch staff in a tight figure-eight as a final flap of his fifteen-foot wingspan sent the man to the ground. He landed heavily on all fours, and Rose got her first clear look at him. He was tall and well-built, in his mid-twenties, with the light tan and muddled brown hair common to the heartlands. His face, however, was twisted, as much animal as man.

  The man stood and slid his shortbow back into the quiver riding at his side. “This attack was a mistake,” he mused out loud. “I didn’t expect the fat little merchant to have such able helpers. Not that it did him much good.”

  Rose gritted her teeth, trying not to look at Hugo’s all-too-still body behind her. “Then perhaps you should cut your losses and flee while you can.”

  The man shrugged, the gesture making his hawk-like wings flutter a little. “Soon. If I can deny the wardens another of their little trainees, I think it’ll be worth it.”

  Rose’s eyes went wide, first with the implications of his words, then with shock, as fur sprouted from his arms. His very bones seemed to shift in place, his digits curling until they had been replaced by two massive feline paws, ending in razor sharp claws.

  “Two totem gifts… that’s impossible.”

  “You need to rethink that word,” the bandit said, self-satisfied. His wings fanned out behind him as he prepared to leap–and then an arrow struck him in the crest of his right wing.

  The man reared back, letting out a roar of pain too bestial to have come from a human mouth, then another thudded into his left arm. The orange sunlight glinted off striking amber eyes that focused behind Rose.

  Cadence paced out, her steps smooth and slow, the odd stride needed to keep her bead on the bandit leader with the arrow she still had pulled back.

  “Too slow!” Cadence shouted at him. “Aton’s down, your ghost is gone, and your minions are scattered. Do you really think you can still win?”

  Another roar was answered by a third arrow, but this time, the monstrous bandit surged into the air before the shot could reach him. He roared again, taking off and flying out over the woods in the same direction his men had run.

  Cadence watched him go, her face troubled–then she sagged to her knees, gasping.

  Rose took a step towards the celestial, her most powerful healing spell already coming to mind, but Cadence waved her away.

  “Dun worry, ‘m fine…” she insisted, her voice slightly slurred. “Jus’ tired. Take care of Beryl.”

  “Fuck! Beryl!” Rose turned and ran for her downed friend. Her hands were glowing before she even reached the tall girl, feeling for any spark of life left in her badly wounded friend. Her cloth-of-steel tunic had been rent to tatters, cut through by one of the bandits earlier and punctured by arrows from the flying archer, yet it had still likely saved her life. Without its protection, those attacks certainly would’ve killed her long before Rose could send her magic questing into her friend's soul. “C’mon… c’mon… YES!”

  Slowly, almost begrudgingly, a couple of Beryl’s smaller wounds began to close, Rose’s spell successfully finding the fledgling spark of life left inside of her and carefully fanning it, trying to strengthen it without extinguishing it all together.

  Behind her, Rose heard Cadence stagger to her feet, still panting. “That was… bad.”

  “Oli?” Rose asked, not taking her hands or attention from Beryl.

  “He’s fine,” Cadence said. “We took another leader hostage.”

  Rose shuddered, tears spilling helplessly from her eyes. “Hugo’s down, one of his assistants too.”

  “Last I saw, Derrik and Harriet are alive,” Cadence told her. “But they’re in rough shape. I don’t think anyone else made it.”

  Rose felt her hands tighten into futile fists, her spell’s light flickering. Too many people needed her help. Her mana was all but exhausted, and she knew what she had left wasn’t going to be enough to save even Beryl, much less the others.

  “Potions,” Rose said, her voice breaking as she tried to stay strong. “We’ve got some in our wagon, and I know Hugo had more.”

  “Right.” Rose wondered how Cadence could possibly be so controlled, her voice so even. “I’ll be right back. Do what you can.”

  Rose bowed over the broken figure of her friend and didn’t respond. She already was doing everything she could.