The Beginning

Ander crouched in his selected hiding spot. The time was almost here. He would have to be quick this time and it had to be done perfectly. His vantage point offered him a clear view of the mansion across the street. It was why he had chosen it, after all. Everything had been planned out, and the place had been cased and studied extensively. There was no room for mistakes.

Ander had the best of his crew with him tonight. Directly across from him, he could barely make out Raetch, waiting patiently in the shadows by the front door. Raetch was a master of hiding; Ander doubted he would see him at all if he didn’t already know he was there. Blont should be by the back entrance waiting for his cue. Blont was the biggest of their group, “The Bruiser” they called him. Weighing in at 255 lbs. And seven feet tall, all muscle and only fifteen years old, the name seemed to fit. The last of their group, Tengir, was also the newest recruit. Ander was still unsure of his loyalty but they needed him for this job. He seemed to excel at everything he took up. He was their wild card. If anyone else failed to carry out their individual job, he would fill in for them. Tengir was perched on the roof by the third-story window, trying his best to stay out of sight. It wasn’t that difficult to do. Ander had picked the darkest night of the month and all four of them were dressed in sack cloth pants and hooded shirts, rubbed down with soot until they turned the blackest black. Black boot polish, supplied by their scrounger, Filliad, covered every last inch of exposed skin. Including their bare feet. Filliad was back at base, these jobs were not for him. The rich sector had never before been successfully robbed. Ander knew this. Everyone knew this. Which was exactly why they were here tonight. If they pulled this off, they could be set for life.

So far everything had gone as planned. The couple, Mr. and Mrs. Grenouis, had arrived home from the Opera at eight p.m. as they did every Friday night. Their personal carriage driver had gone home for the weekend an hour later, followed soon after by the gardener. It was now ten thirty and all they waited for was the light to go out in the master bedroom on the third floor.

Ander began to believe for the first time that this whole scheme might actually go off without a hitch, so he quickly went over the plan one more time to dampen his growing excitement and keep his mind focused.

When the lights went out, Ander would move across the street to the door. He had seen the butler set the ward on the door numerous times and had practiced opening it till he was positive that it would pose no problem. That would take up to twenty minutes, plenty of time for the Grenouis to drift off into sleep. After the ward was disabled, Ander had to knock on the door, then walk far enough away to give Norman, the butler, a sense of security while keeping his own identity in question. When Norman moved one inch of his body past the doorframe, Raetch would be there to slam him with a board, hopefully taking him out of the picture. Ander hoped he didn’t have to kill the old guy but he wasn’t going to take any chances, for Norman was also the house bodyguard, equally proficient in martial arts, the arcane, and butlering. Surprise was their only chance. The thud of Norman would be Tengir’s cue to enter the window and immobilize the soon to be not so happy couple, by whatever means necessary. Opening the back door for Blont they would strip the place of anything valuable and hightail it out of there. The big prize was the safe of course and they needed to clean that out before they left. Something unexpected might always happen, but growing up in SouthWind was no free ride. This was his chance to make it out of there and he was not going back. He knew the others felt the same.

Sub Chapter Tella

Tella lay as still as he could under the bed. He fingered his brace of daggers, his most prized possession, and couldn’t hold in a shiver of apprehension. He wanted to check the time with Gel, but he couldn’t risk even that small distance to the hole they had cut in the floor for fear of being discovered. The couple had arrived at around eight or so and they were now settling in for the night, right above him. Gel was on top of a cabinet in the dining room, waiting for the right moment. Gel was their leader. It was she who had come up with this crazy idea. “No one else had ever been able to knock off a toff’s crib, so why shouldn’t they give it a go?” Sure, it all made perfect sense to Gel, but Tella was still a little unsure of how he had been talked into this score. The smarmy butler alone was a deathtrap, not to mention the alarms all over the house to summon the Night Patrol. One wrong touch to any of those and they could all kiss their butts goodbye.

Part 2 Gel's Story Part 1

Gel lay motionless behind the curtain on top of the dining room dresser. They had snuck into the house at twelve and had been waiting nearly twelve hours now. Getting in had been the easy part. Using the slightly less well-off neighbor’s basement, who couldn’t afford warrior butlers and magical alarms, they had tunneled through to silently arrive and take their places that afternoon. Gel had heard the chauffeur and gardener leave hours ago and now she listened to Tella shift impatiently above her. He sounded like a herd of elephants to her raw nerves but she knew she was overreacting. Her only wonder was that the two above them both didn’t hear a sound. Maybe they thought it was mice, everyone had them after all. They were rich, but this wasn’t exactly the Queen’s Palace. Sten must be enjoying their company in the basement where they had left him as rear guard. He was their warrior and the plan was for them not to need him because she didn’t think he could match the butler of this household. But worse come to worse….and they were gonna need his muscle. The odds were overwhelmingly against Sten, should that happen but he wouldn’t need odds if luck stayed with them. Gel took out the poisoned dart that would take care of the butler. The poison had cost their profits from an entire year’s work and would paralyze the target almost instantly after entering the bloodstream. The rest was downhill from there for the poor guy, resulting in a painless sleep and then death. Gel didn’t pay extra for the painless sleep effect, it just happened to come with the package. The guy would be dead either way, so it couldn’t matter less to her.

She held her breath as the man of the hour entered the living room. Or at least, she assumed it was him. It had better be him, no one else was supposed to be in here. Peering through a slit she had prepared in the drape, Gel was reassured when he passed slowly into view. Perfect shot. Gel silently pulled the cloth back and wound back her arm, sighting in on the man’s back. She only had one chance at this. Ready, hold breathe…………<KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK>

Gel almost fell off of the edge in surprise as the three quick knocks sounded from the front door. Tucking herself back behind the drape, Gel prayed the butler didn’t notice the slightly off angle of the cloth as she held it firmly to stop any further movement. He walked by without incident. That was too close. And who could that be at the door? At this time of night?? Well, as long as they left quickly and didn’t wake up the owners, it would be alright. Otherwise, she would have to add them to the body count. Gel tried to keep calm, keep her mind steady. She couldn’t panic! Everything could fall apart in seconds if she didn’t keep it together. The other two looked up to her, she knew that. She had to do this for them. But she couldn’t just wait here either. She might have already lost her chance in the dining room. Climbing down from her concealment, she quietly made her way towards the front door and nearly jumped out of her skin when Tella poked his head through the hole in the ceiling..

“What are you doing!?!” Tella looked close to panicking, himself.

“Shut up and get back up there! I’m trying to cope here. Unexpected circumstances. Just keep it together!” She was trying to keep her voice level but it was steadily rising in pitch, ending in a squeak. She was losing control. Tella must have picked up on that as well, as a look of uncertainty crossed his face before he disappeared back through the floor. Silence.

Gel started to move once more. She had wasted too much time! CRACK! She heard the sound of splintering wood from the direction of the front door, followed by a muffled thud. A thud like a body hitting the floor, hard. What was going on here?? Abandoning caution, she hurriedly crept forward.

Sten paced nervously back and forth in the enormous cellar. A quick search of the room had turned up nothing of value. A strange face-shaped icon had caught his attention though, so even useless as it no doubt was, he popped it into one of the secret pockets in his jacket. Thumb-sized and carved out of some type of wood, it was really quite ugly. As soon as it was out of sight, he forgot about it. Killing rats to pass the time, he finished off the tenth one, quiet as can be, of course. Nine others were stacked in the corner, huge things that looked more like mutated cats than rats. Sten hated rats. He didn’t much like waiting, either. What was taking so long up there? It was definitely past time for the signal. Had something gone wrong? He was just about to ignore his orders and march right up there to see what had happened, murderous butler or not when he heard it. A body hitting the floor. Good, now he didn’t have to disobey his orders. Turning towards the stairs he prepared to charge up and do some serious damage - to someone’s bank account, that is. But instead, he stopped at the bottom of the stairway. There was someone standing there, right in the middle of the steps and Sten did not recognize him. .

“Your time is over, thief. Submit quietly and we may go easier on your friends. No promises though.” The man grinned and as he came downwards into the circle of light, Sten could see the royal insignia of the Queen’s Step. How did they get here…was this all a set-up? Sten backed quickly towards the entrance tunnel they had dug. Looks like he’d be using it a bit sooner than they had thought. He felt a little guilty about bailing on his friends upstairs…. but he had to look out for himself now, as he was sure they were doing as well.

“I do not think so, boy. There is no escape for the likes of you.” Whirling around Sten saw his escape route blocked by yet another Queen’s Step. They had sent two just to deal with him alone? They must have sent out an entire squad. Who was left to protect the Queen? No time for that, it was two on one, they had him flanked and Sten doubted they would come at him one at a time. Drawing his shortsword, he charged the one blocking the tunnel with some thought of feinting, dodging, and then slipping by to his sweet freedom.

Sten actually knew very little about fighting. He had told Gel that he was a professional mercenary when she had recruited him. An outright lie, but she hadn’t demanded any further proof and those skills had never been required of him, until now. It must have been the sword that convinced her; a magnificent blue-hued metal that was very rare and Sten didn’t even know the name of, he had been left it by his grandfather when he died. His only known relative at that time, he actually had been a mercenary and a very successful one by all the stories that Sten now used to make himself seem great. Stories don’t pass on skill however which was why Sten had no idea that either one of these men ridiculously out-matched him and his opponent calmly held his ground.

Sten had not been expecting that, but he barreled on regardless. There looked like there was just enough room to squeeze by on the right, or there had been, well, Sten had no idea really. He was going for it.

Part 1 Section 2

The light switched off without warning, rousing Ander from his mental check. It was time to separate the boys from the men. He stood up and proceeded to stretch the kinks out of his stiff limbs. Sitting there for hours, almost every muscle needed waking up. No need to rush. Rushing always caused mistakes and they couldn’t afford mistakes tonight.

Strolling across the cobbled lane Ander tried his best to look inconspicuous while still keeping a steady pace. As he came closer he saw Raetch stick his face out of the shadows with his lopsided grin in place. Raetch had been one of the first to join up with his crew. They had been friends for a very long time and he had a sudden misgiving about getting them all into this. Brushing it off he kept going. They all knew the risks and wanted this as much as Ander did. There was no going back now. Raetch faded back into the darkness of the shadowed porch as Ander ascended the steps and got to work on the door. This was an expensive ward but more importantly, it was extremely effective. Anyone trying to enter while it was still active would be reduced to ashes in seconds. There was no visible sign if it was active or not but luckily, Ander had picked up a few tricks here and there and after observing Norman do it many times, disabling it was simple for him.

Every ward is activated with a command word. Different kinds had varied words and the same word is used to both activate and deactivate it. It was the gestures that got complicated though. You could use virtually any motion or combination of movements to complete the ward but to disable it, you needed to duplicate it exactly. Most people kept it simple to ensure they could remember and reproduce it later. Norman was not one of them but Ander was certain he had it down perfectly.

“You’re gettin slow in your old age, Ander”. Ander ignored the jibe and kept the flow of movements steady. This was no time for levity, but Raetch never seemed to take anything too seriously. Someone was gonna get hurt one day because of that, but not today.“I bet that big lug, Bronte, could even do it faster than you.”, As Ander finished he couldn’t hold back a grin. Bronte had been the worst at ward breaking. The one time they were forced to mix him with wards had almost been disastrous. When Bronte was unable to remember the very simple motion they had given him, he had just pulled out a sledgehammer and smashed the ward with all of his might. Luckily for them, the ward had been nothing more dangerous than a slow ward. That memory always brought a smile to Ander’s face.

Stepping back and focusing on Raetch, he could finally relax for a moment. “Yeah, and I’m sure he could hide as well as you too.” Raetch’s only answer was a wink and a questioning look at the door. “It’s safe, I’m sure of it.”

“How you can know for sure, I can never tell.” Then after a slight pause, “ but I’ll always take your word for it. You know that brother.” Lowering his voice even further, Raetch looked down the deserted street. “I don’t know Ander…. I just have a bad feeling, about something.”

Ander knew what he meant, but the plan was perfect. Besides, they all needed this. “Just one more, Rae, then we can retire.” Brothers in all but blood, Ander knew Raetch would always back him up, no matter what. “The others are waiting, we’d better go.” The two of them just looked at each other for another moment, then Raetch grinned his biggest grin ever, his eyes almost disappearing behind his crooked teeth, before stepping back into position and hefting the board into readiness..

Knocking loudly several times, Ander turned and walked back down the path at a leisurely pace. Wouldn’t do to alert Norman by undue haste. But that butler must have been walking just as slowly because Ander had to turn around twice and start walking away again not to get too far away. He was still halfway down the path when the door finally clicked open. “Yes, what may I do for you, Sir?” Norman spoke slowly and with complete control but his eyes took in everything in the area.

Affecting the nasal, high-pitched tone used by most modern officials today, Ander turned back around and offered his most winning smile. “My good man, I was knocking forever before you decided to show up. I was about to leave and declare this domicile derelict. I am here on official business of the HRPM and will be needing to take a look inside the premises.” Just a mention of the Human Rights Protection of the Maligned never failed to make people more accommodating. Several homes on this very street had already been confiscated on grounds of human rights violations over the past few years. Ander had done his homework well and had every intention of using every bit of it possible. There was no telling who they would come after next, but if he was expecting a big reaction from the butler, he was doomed to be disappointed. He stood like a stone in the doorway, emotionless, immovable.

“I will need to see identification, of course.”

A rare breed was Norman. Ander could see he was going to have to pull out all the stops to get him out of that doorway. “Naturally, my good fellow, naturally. Just doing your job, though you could be indicted just for questioning me, I understand perfectly. I’m just doing mine, you know.” Moving towards the door while fishing in his pocket, Ander kept a steady stream of talk tumbling out while he planned his next move. It would have to be done soon too, as he had no “identification” prepared. He doubted the other pants excuse would fly. “I hope there are no hard feelings if I have to have your entire household incarcerated for your impertinence. The job is rough but I shall do as I must, you know. Give an example to the people, you know.” Reaching the bottom of the steps, Ander had run out of things to say, but thankfully, he didn’t need anymore. Letting his face relax into a satisfied smile as if he had finally found what he had been searching for he slowly withdrew his hand from deep in his pocket, while suddenly tripping over the bottom step. Sprawling out across the steps in an ungainly descent to the ground, he made sure a tightly bound package was sent tumbling towards Norman’s feet. Any well-trained butler would immediately move to offer his assistance and this time Norton was no exception.

“Oh, Sir, let me help you with that!” Norton hurried forward to retrieve the supposed I.D., only to pause halfway out of the doorway, eyes widening ever so slightly. He must have known somehow that the ward was inactive. Now, NOW! Ander screamed in his mind. Then saw the board swinging out of the concealed corner, only to be swiftly blocked by Norman’s elbow, cracking it in half, splinters flying everywhere, the remainder trapped firmly in the ninja butler’s grip.

Before either of them could react, Norman wrenched the rest of the board out of its hiding place, with Raetch still firmly attached. With blinding speed he kneed his captive in the gut, following with some sort of judo-looking chop to the side of his neck, then sent him sailing through the open door. Norton frowned slightly at the door before remembering that it was disabled then turned toward Ander. A sickening crunch came from inside as Raetch landed out of sight. Ander hadn’t even had time to react..

Then all of what just happened registered. Raetch could be bleeding out in there or worse. That crunch could have been his neck snapping There was no telling how injured he could be from that fall, not to mention that wicked chop administered by Norman. Norman laughed and nodded, “You can forget about that one, the council cares nothing for him.” For the first time in his life, anger overwhelmed Ander. And he let it. His skin started to glow a light orange but only Norman seemed to notice, and with great interest too.

Drawing his twin short swords, Ander charged forward with an inarticulate cry of fury echoing in the late evening’s stillness. In retrospect, that cry sounded like a dying calf, but that wasn’t really important to either of them. Norton retreated back into the house, forcing Ander to follow at a sprint. Forget stealth now, just get Raetch out of there, was all he could think. Ander could see him, laying in the corner of the foyer, at an odd angle. There was blood all over his face, but that was all he had time to see as Norman readied his own weapon, causing Ander to shift his focus. Norton’s weapon was a shimmering rapier, beautifully crafted and possibly holding some sort of enchantment by the look of it. His own pawn shop blades were no match in value, but they would serve just as well to kill.

Sub Chapter Tengir

Tengir crept cautiously through the second-story window. He had heard the signal he now moved to neutralize his targets. He would not fail on his part. Pausing just inside the room Tengir made sure the two were both asleep before moving in for the kill. Gliding forward effortlessly he drew his katana and readies his mind. He would not let his new companions down like the last ones. One quick slice to each neck should suffice. His mind was detached, removed from the situation, void of compassion. He raised his arm to deliver the killing blows and then hesitated in confusion.

The husband’s eyes were open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling, a look of pain and almost comical bewilderment etched into his features. He looked like he was already dead…or on the way to being so. Tengir hadn’t even done anything yet!! Then the woman’s eyes suddenly snapped open and she began to thrash frantically in the bed, kicking off the bed sheets before suddenly going limp as well, her mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish out of water. Tengir’s brain couldn’t grasp what was happening here. From the wife’s brief struggle, a pool of blood was now visible spreading out across the sheet underneath. There were also several holes through her chest as if something had pierced through her from underneath.

Not waiting for whatever it was to make its presence known, Tengir sprang forward onto the bed, reversing his grip on his blade, and stabbed downward through the mattress three times in quick succession, covering as much area as he could. He tried to spread his attack to wound whatever was down there, but his first and second attacks seemed to hit nothing. His third attempt sank down through the mattress, all the way to the hilt of his weapon bringing him face to face with the still gasping but soon to be dead woman. And then a shrill scream erupted into the night and Tengir thought he might be sick.

Sub Chapter Blont

Blont lounged by the back door. He didn’t bother hiding because he was so big, there was no point in trying. The attempt would only attract more attention. They were taking an awfully long time in there, but Blont was told to wait, so he waited.

His boredom turned to concern when he heard some noise coming from the front and then a bloodcurdling scream that chilled him to the bone. “There wasn’t s’pose to be no screamin”, he mumbled. He was done waiting. Backing away from the door he prepared to ram it, started out at a slow lumbering gait but quickly gained speed. An alarm sounded suddenly, in his head maybe, as he realized he was no longer going towards the door, but plummeting straight into the ground. Skidding face first into the dirt, Blont vaguely remembered an explosion of pain in the back of his head before falling. It was all too confusing, but he had no time for such thoughts. He was sinking in an ocean of darkness and he thought belatedly, "I never did learn to swim."

Sub Chapter Tella 2

Realizing he had waited long enough, Tella was both relieved and anxious. No helping it, this had to be done and the sooner he got it over with the better. Laying on his back under the bed he selected his longest knife from his collection and gripped it tightly in both hands. Squeezing his eyes shut he whispered, “I really am sorry”. Tella didn’t know if he was talking to the Gods or the couple above, but as soon as he said it he plunged the knife through the springs and into what felt like mattress and then flesh. His skin crawled at the contact and he hurriedly yanked it out and continued to jab through again and again. Six, seven.. ten times. A drop of blood dripped right into his eye and the panic turned into frenzied hysteria. Losing conscious control Tella spasmodically jerked the knife up and down, in and out countless times. Hopefully, he got the woman as well. What must have been the thirtieth-something stab passed when he finally heard her flailing about. Two more stabs in that area and she was still… relatively. Blood was seeping out of every puncture in the mattress by then and Tella simply lay there paralyzed in his physically and emotionally drained state. That’s when the blade sliced through from above and stopped mere inches from his face. Before he could consider it strange it withdrew and reentered slightly to the left, scoring a shallow cut on his shoulder. New panic and adrenaline surged through his veins as a completely different concern fought for prominence in his exhausted mind; Survival.

Rolling away from the instrument of his fear and whoever was wielding it, Tella frantically low crawled towards the hole in the floor with only escape in his mind. He was either too slow or incredibly unlucky, for a few feet away from safety the mysterious blade came rushing down once more. His flight had moved him right into its path of descent and agony exploded into his mind as it punched into his hip, stopping only when it hit bone. The scream that was ripped from Tella sounded like nothing that anyone in that house had ever heard. Wondering briefly what inhuman sound that was, Tella didn’t even realize that it was his own voice. Through the rolling waves of pain, he once again remembered the hole and his friends below. The smallest movement nearly cause him to black out, but they would help him, he needed to get there. One final roll sent him to the edge and then… falling. He was really falling. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Sub Chapter Sten 2:

Moments before a head-on collision the Queen’s Step dropped into a crouch and drew his very, very long sword. It looked to be a claymore at least to the panicking Sten. With casual contempt the wielder flicked it at Sten’s head, causing him to frantically dodge further to the left to avoid the blade. Unable to stop his momentum, he continued forward to crash head first into the cellar wall with a dull smash, immediately falling to the floor in a heap afterward.

“Well… that was disappointing. Here I was, hoping for a little exercise at least.”

Sten heard the words floating far above his head in a hazy fog. Somehow he had managed to keep hold of his weapon, but he couldn’t feel his hand at all. From his cramped position on the floor, he could see two blurry figures swimming above him. Swimming? That wasn’t right. Oh well, swimming it was. With a sudden jerk, Sten stabbed upward with all of his might left in the general direction of the closest blob. He felt his sword pierce something, which was actually the speaker’s armpit, and continued clear through to exit his neck on the opposite side. For a frozen moment, all three just hung there in shock. Sten had caught them completely unaware. Thank the God’s for arrogance. Then the blood began spraying and time resumed.

Sten clumsily yet quickly rolled away from the wall, in case any attack he couldn’t see was incoming, but nothing came. Standing up he squinted over to see the remaining opponent crouched over his fallen comrade. “Do not worry Dorl, you will be alryt. Hayng in there, you will be alryt”. Frantically ripping open one of his pouches to get to a shiny metallic orb, he muttered a couple of words and they both disappeared from view.

Sten winced as he felt a huge bump already formed on his forehead and growing bigger by the second. His whole body felt like it has been through a grinding mill. He was alive but he knew his victory had been pure luck. Glancing longingly at the escape tunnel, the youth felt the urge to run and save himself yet again, but now that he had time to think, he remembered his friends, what they meant to him…and he could hear a commotion on the floor above. Gel and Tella were most likely in trouble, both of them knowing less about fighting them himself. Sparing one last thought about the tunnel, he realized there was also the possibility that there were more Queen’s Step stationed in the basement next door..which he certainly would never survive alone. His luck had been stretched to the limit for this day. Really having no other choice, Sten resolutely faced the stairway, raising his sword to a guard position, and went barreling upwards, full-tilt into the unknown. .

Part 1 Section 3

Charging forward again, this time Norman made no attempt at evasion and met him head-on. Ander worked his swords furiously, left, right, cross, under. He wasn’t that bad of a swordsman, "has promise" was how someone had once described him and he actually seemed to be gaining the upper hand here. That was what he was thinking, sweat beginning to drip from his forehead until he noticed Norman was smiling. He hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. Placing one hand on his hip and raising an eyebrow, he looked decidedly unbuttlerish. “Don’t fight so hard, little man, they want you alive.” He casually swept aside Ander’s weapons and scored a light hit on his shoulder. “I, on the other hand, do not particularly mind if you…. accidentally kill yourself. In fact, I prefer it that way.”

Ander didn’t have time for any more small talk. He resumed the attack, driving forward, desperately holding nothing back. Even then he was hopelessly outmatched but despite Norman’s words, the butler was obviously hesitant to cause any real harm to his opponent. That might be Ander’s only advantage and he was going to exploit it fully. Then he saw the girl.

She had crept around the corner from the adjacent room and was watching the fight with apparent confusion. Not one to waste an opportunity, it seemed, she was aiming a small throwing dagger in their direction. The only problem being, Ander didn’t know who she was aiming for.

Part 2 Section 2 Gel

Gel rounded the corner to the sounds of a fight where she was confronted by two figures, one of whom was Norman, of course. The unknown boy seemed to be fighting for his life, sweat pouring down his face and his arms visibly tiring with each swing. Norman, on the other hand, had a bored look on his face while he effortlessly fended off the clumsy attacks.

She didn’t know who the kid was, he looked to be not much older than herself, but the butler was still enemy number one. The new one she would deal with later. Getting her dart out once more, she popped off the poison cover and threw it before hesitation could thwart her chance a second time. The boy saw it coming but offered no warning, why would he? Norman certainly did not need it. Producing a second weapon from some hidden pouch he smoothly half-turned and knocked the poisoned dart off course without missing a beat with his one-armed fight to his other side. The dagger sunk deep, harmlessly embedded into the wall below the window. He appraised this new assailant with a knowing smile. He was always smiling!

“So, you have come to join the fray. I was ready to go looking for you myself if you took much longer. Shall we finish this now?” .

It didn’t seem much like a question. Gel drew a long thin dagger that looked like it has never been used before. At least she looked determined. Ander wondered who she was. Everyone froze as they heard a pounding noise drawing steadily closer. As they turned towards the sound the cellar door was smashed open with such force it nearly came off of its hinges. Norman tried to dodge beyond the swing radius but it was too fast and too far even for him. The door caught him solidly on the shoulder and sent him stumbling back into the adjacent room. A lesser man would most certainly have been stunned at least, but Norman was merely forced to relocate to the dining room.

The dining room again….Gel had a bad feeling about this. Gel, Ander, and now Sten moved quickly after the butler.

“Come to let you know it was a trap”. Sten looked worse for wear as he tried to keep up with the other two. “Who’s that?” He glanced at Ander.

“I have no idea who this is. I know it’s a trap. Thanks. Where were you??” Gel’s voice was flat and she looked distraught, her well-laid plans crumbling around her.

“Was a bit busy…more than rats down there.”

They both glanced at Ander as they spread out, trying to surround Norman.

It was obvious these two knew each other, but Ander kept his silence. The less they knew about him the better. And he didn’t want to know anything about them either, besides why they had ruined this plan. But that would have to wait. Norman was patiently waiting for them to move.

“Children, this is getting-” A blood-curdling scream rent the night air, cutting off whatever was about to be said. Gel recalled Tella. There were probably more upstairs! How could she have been so stupid…

Norman raised an eyebrow, “ I had no men upstairs-”, he was interrupted once again as a body come tumbling down, materializing from the ceiling and heading straight towards Norman. Norman spun about in surprise. Raising his weapons in defense he caught the body on his sword, spearing him right through the chest. Tella hung there suspended mid-air with a lost look on his face. His eyes found Gel in the room, focused for a second and his expression brightened briefly. “I found you”, he managed to whisper. Then his eyes closed forever.

Part 3

“Brack!! He was not supposed to die…” Norman stood there with the young boy held up by his sword, looking not at all in control for the first time that evening. Sten was not so hesitant.

“I’ll kill you for that.” Coming forward, Sten slashed at the butler, who Ander was beginning to suspect was no butler at all. Norman used the limp body as a makeshift shield and Sten drew back. How could he chop into the body of his dead friend? Tella’s sightless eyes stared out at them all with a look of impossible hope stuck on his face. Norman stayed in a defensive crouch, not willing to initiate anything further. He looked bewildered and fear was starting to creep into his demeanor. Gel was just staring. She had fallen to her knees and was staring at Tella in horrified shock. No one could have survived that wound.

Ander was no longer in the room. He had taken the opportunity offered by the confusion to slip back out into the hallway. Reaytch had still not moved an inch. He didn’t even appear to be breathing. As Ander hurried forward there was a popping sound, right before a man appeared out of thin air directly in front of him. Now what?

“This has gone on long enough. Now you will come with me.” He was clothed entirely in a baggy, brown robe with his face completely swallowed up in a deep cowl. The affected speech and tone sounded similar to Norman. Ander noticed in passing that his arm looked green. Though his arms felt like lead, Ander readied his swords once more. However many to rescue his friends, he would go through them all. This man, however, had a few new tricks up his voluminous sleeve.

Mumbling something under his breath, the man pointed at Ander and flicked his fingers rhythmically. The man must be some type of mage or lunatic, but the type of spell was totally alien to Ander. Preparing to step forward anyway, Ander was seized by an extremely violent sneeze that nearly lost his grip on his weapons. After a moment it was followed by another and another, propelling him backward in the wall. Feeling woozy, his vision blurring, he noticed two more men dragging Blont in from the back door. In the other room, more men were appearing to deal with the others in like fashion. Norman was indeed their ally, as they left him alone. How would this end…killed by a sneezing attack? His rapidly numbing mind found that entirely hilarious but further contemplation was abruptly cut short as he blacked out and fell into the waiting arms of his captors.