They’re coming.

  S?ams?a?dur wiped the beads of sweat off his brow and cursed his bad luck. He’d known from the moment he’d stepped outside the flooded auditorium and seen the Fey city that exploring it was a bad idea. A place like this simply didn’t get abandoned, not unless something awful had happened.

  But it wasn’t like he’d had much choice. The mysterious orb had shown itself to be more than powerful enough to hold their forces hostage, so he’d prayed he was wrong as he set out into the city. But as soon as he’d sensed those foreign minds, minds full of hatred and rage, he’d known he’d been right. Not that it mattered.

  With a grunt, he rose to his feet and reached for his bag. He pulled out his axe, planting its long shaft against the ground, and turned to the others. “Best be prepared,” he said briefly.

  “Are-are they coming?” The scout sprung to his feet, bouncing nervously as he stared off down the tunnel, though there were no enemies in sight yet.

  “They’ll be here soon,” he replied. He grimaced as a distant boom echoed from the darkness. “Sounds like they reached the mines.”

  “Damn it,” Erin cursed. “And, of course, this place has hardly any wood.”

  Ignoring the mage’s muttering, the prince turned his attention to their newest recruit. She’d propped herself on the edge of the inverted pyramid, leaning against a fallen boulder as she stared into the darkness below. He wasn’t sure if she could actually still see the others, or if she simply didn’t want to engage with him and Erin, but he didn’t care. “Going to need your help,” he grunted, “And it would be nice to have some idea of what you can do.”

  He grew impatient as the seconds ticked by without a response from her, and hoisting the axe onto his shoulder, stalked over. The shadows shifted unnaturally as he approached, extending far beyond her form until they touched his feet. He struggled forward as the shadows latched onto him, but it was like walking through quicksand, and his temper boiled over. “Is that how you want to play it?” His essence quickened as he readied a mind spike, but Nissila?t seemed to sense it.

  “Honestly?!” As she rose to her feet and twirled to face him, the shadows lessened their hold on his feet. “Were you really going to attack me?”

  The prince didn’t release his hold on his essence, but he didn’t cast the spell either. “You attacked first.”

  “I was answering your question.”

  “What question?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “You asked what I could do to help in the fight.”

  “I didn’t mean to use it on me,” he spluttered.

  “Oh, please,” Nissila?t smirked, “It’s not like it hurt you. Besides, I was occupied.”

  “With what? Staring into the abyss?”

  “Making sure they made it out of the trap,” she countered, more seriously. “There was a nasty mind trap on the ritual site that ensnared them, but I think they’ve broken free now.”

  S?ams?a?dur growled in frustration, casting a glance over the shoulder at the still-empty tunnel, before turning back to her. “They were caught in a trap and you didn’t tell me? We should have gone to help?”

  “How long did you sense the coming foe before you told us about it,” she replied calmly, leaning over and pulling a brace of daggers out of her bag.

  “That was different. I-”

  “Didn’t want to worry us? Knew that there was nothing we could do about it?” she interrupted him. “I didn’t tell you about the trap, because we couldn’t have gotten there in time to help them. Now,” she fastened the daggers to her belt and straightened up. “Instead of arguing, let’s find some wood for the scout to use. We don’t have much time to prepare.”

  “Why. won’t. this. bloody. break.” Jasper slammed his glaive against one of the glyphs Tsia had pointed out for what felt like the fifteenth time. He had managed to damage it, leaving a dozen long scratch marks along the formerly pristine surface, but the glyphs around the anchor remained brightly lit..

  “Nothing I’m doing seems to work either,” Ihra’s voice was wreathed with frustration as she sawed the misericorde back and forth across the glyph’s face.

  “Same here,” Tsia spoke up, yelling above the crack of lightning that leapt from her hands and licked the surface of the glyph.

  Another cry from above caught his attention, and Jasper’s frustration boiled over. Flames flickered off his hand as he slammed it into the glyph, a decision he immediately regretted as he felt the bones crunch. Damn it. But as he drew his fist away, already summoning the essence for Circle of Forgiveness, something caught his eye. Surprisingly the anchor glyph appeared to have taken damage from his blow, and the lights in the surrounding glyphs seemed a little dimmer.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Unsure if he was just imagining it, he willed more essence into his hand and, gritting his teeth, hammered the glyph again. This time, there was no mistaking it; most of the glyphs had gone dark, with light only clinging to a few of the deepest crevices.

  “Tsia,” he called out, “Try hitting it with a weapon - I think it needs physical and magical damage.”

  “I don’t have a weapon,” she protested, and Ihra shoved her aside. “Let me try.”

  The misericorde raked across the surface of the glyph Tsia had fried, and the lights dimmed. She struck fast again, delivering a flurry of blows that quickly rendered it inert. A quarter of the platform was now dark, but as the light fled from the damaged anchors, Jasper noticed the other glyphs were glowing brighter.

  If it’s anything like electricity, it’s going to end up overloading them,” he realized. He moved onto the next anchor, attacking it with both his glaive and his spells and as it dimmed, the lights in the center glyph continued to increase radiance. “Pretty sure it’s going to blow at some point,” he warned. “Ihra, can you shield us?”

  “Got it.”

  She flew down a dozen feet and waited as he and Tsia finished hacking at the anchors. When they reached the last glyph on the perimeter, the anchor in the center had grown as bright as a nascent sun. Tsia reached for the glyph, but Jasper shoved her aside. “Go, get behind Ihra,” he ordered, “And Ihra, activate your shield.”

  “What about you?” she objected

  “I’m fireproof, so I’ve got the best chance of surviving the blast. Now, go.”

  He pushed her away again and waited until she had retreated behind Ihra before striking the final anchor.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ihra activate the runes carved into her lower leg, popping a shield around the pair that even the undead priestesses had been unable to breach. Then the world exploded.

  S?ams?a?dur had promptly agreed once Nissila?t explained her plan. While there wasn’t much wood to be found in the underground city as there were no trees to shape and the homes had been carved directly out of the bedrock, she had pointed out furniture was rarely made of stone.

  They spread out quickly, searching through the abandoned homes and storefronts for anything made of wood, and the pile of furniture they’d found had grown faster than he’d expected. They had about thirty minutes before S?ams?a?dur called them back, sensing that the enemy had nearly reached them.

  They clustered at the edge of the inverted pyramid, placing the chasm at their back as Erin used about half of the wood to wall them off, while the rest was saved for a different purpose. Then they waited.

  It was only a few minutes after Erin had put the finishing touches on the wall, providing an elevated platform for them to attack from, when the first of the foe appeared. From the madness inflicting their minds, S?ams?a?dur had expected the enemies to be little more than savages, a wild throng that attacked with little care for themselves or tactics, but he’d misjudged them.

  The light of the enchanted orbs bounced off well-preserved armor as they marched out of the gloom, their steps locked in perfect formation. This was no mob, but a coherent army unit, he realized with a sinking feeling. In the major scheme of things, it wasn’t a large force; as he had originally guessed, it was little more than a hundred, but he hadn’t expected them to be organized. “Really wish Jasper and Tsia were here now,” he muttered grimly.

  “We’ll manage,” Nissila?t replied. “Just don’t forget the plan.”

  Who died and put you in charge? S?ams?a?dur ground his teeth as the woman took over, but he did what she said - survival was more important than his pride.

  Taking his stance at the top of the hastily erected barricade, S?ams?a?dur shoved his mind outwards. It was the weakest mind spike he could create, optimized for width rather than strength, but it did the trick.

  As the armored troops locked their gaze on him, he struck again - this time with a spike aimed at a man in the front he hoped was their commander. Pain wracked his forehead as his spell connected, and Nissila?t grabbed his legs from behind as he struggled to remain standing. The man was higher-leveled than him, significantly so, but S?ams?a?dur couldn’t afford to lose. He pushed more essence into the spell, ignoring the pain splitting his temple, as he breached through the enemy’s protections.

  The man spasmed and as he collapsed to the ground, his helmet rolled off, revealing a face S?ams?a?dur hadn’t expected - the long black hair and pale green skin of a Child of St. Martin. He had no time to ponder what that meant, though, as the enemy forces, outraged at the loss of their commander, raised their weapons and charged.

  Unfortunately, despite their wrath, the charging enemy ranks remained steady as they surged toward the small wooden outpost. His head still swimming from the effort of the main spike, S?ams?a?dur panicked, reaching for his essence to strike them again, but Nissila?t grabbed his arm. “Easy,” she warned and slipped a potion into his hand. “Wait till they’re halfway.”

  His head cleared as he sipped the sickly sweet liquid, and the plan came back to him as he wiped away the blood that was dripping from his nose. S?ams?a?dur focused his attention on the bits of broken furniture strewn across the road fifty feet from their little fortification, before shifting his gaze to the scout. Erin was pale as a ghost and his hands trembled, but the determination in his eyes and the set of his jaw reassured him. He’ll come through, even if he doesn’t like killing.

  Satisfied, he reached inside himself and began to prepare the spell Kas?dael had given him. He’d had a hard time choosing. Ultimately, most of the best spells for his class ended up tapping into mind control, but that was a skill the prince wasn’t willing to accept - partially, for his own security, as mind mages were barely tolerated in the best of circumstances - but mostly because he didn’t trust himself.

  It would be too easy to tell himself that he wasn’t doing any harm when he convinced the barkeep to give him another beer; to tell himself that he was doing a good deed when he persuaded the local drunk to stop abusing his children; to tell himself that he was only doing what was necessary when he forced his father to call off the invasion against the empire. No, no matter how good his intentions might start out, S?ams?a?dur knew he would eventually succumb.

  Fortunately, Kas?dael had had few alternatives, spells that affected the mind without outright controlling it. He only hoped it was as good as its description.

  “Now.” He blinked as an elbow caught him in the ribs and saw the enemy had reached the wood. He raised his hands hastily and the three cast in concert.