The group had been so focused on the hallway leading to the courtyard that the heavy slam against the back door caught them completely off guard. The impact reverberated through the small room, rattling the door in its frame. All four of them jumped in fright, the terrified maid giving a squeak as she collapsed to the floor, her wide eyes fixed on the trembling door.
Vince reacted first, his body instinctively moving into The Hawk Chases the Hare, his sword angled defensively as he pivoted to face the threat. Another thunderous impact against the door made the sturdy wood groan and the hinges tremble. Vince swallowed hard, his heart pounding, but he kept his stance firm.
The twins moved into position, flanking the door, their daggers held in shaking hands. They exchanged a quick glance, their usual banter replaced by a grim nod. Vince shifted slightly, his free hand guiding the maid behind him. He fell into The Waiting Falcon, his sword held steady, its tip aimed directly at the splintering door.
"Be ready," Vince said, his voice calm despite the fear clawing at his chest.
The twins nodded, their knuckles white on the hilts of their daggers.
another heavy blow cracked the doorframe, splinters of wood scattering across the floor. The hinges buckled, groaning under the strain. With a deafening crash, the door was finally knocked inward, the wood splintering into jagged pieces as it hit the ground. The force of the impact sent shards flying into the room like shrapnel.
Vince didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his training taking over. The Stone Skips Across the Water carried him through the air, his feet light as he vaulted over the fallen door. A sharp sting across his cheek told him a splinter had nicked him, but he ignored it, his focus locked on the figure stepping through the doorway.
It was a large man, his face twisted into a triumphant grin that quickly turned to wide-eyed shock as Vince's sword came into view. The Wolf Snaps His Jaws tore across the man's throat in a single, decisive slash. Blood sprayed in an arc as the man staggered backward, his gurgling cry fading as he collapsed onto the cobblestones outside.
Vince landed in a crouch, but the next threat came almost immediately. A pair of swords thrust through the doorway, their steel biting into the shattered wood of the door where Vince had been crouched moments before. He threw himself into a roll, narrowly avoiding the strikes, and came up low, his blade ready.
Two more men stepped through the doorway, their faces twisted in anger.
"Fucking little shit!" one of them bellowed, his voice thick with rage. "Cut out Drav's throat, did ya?"
"You'll pay for that," the other snarled, his sword glinting in the dim light as he advanced.
The two men took several steps into the room, their focus locked on Vince. That distraction was all the twins needed. With practiced coordination, they sprang from their positions on either side of the door. Their daggers stabbed into the backs of the men's legs, slicing deep into their hamstrings. Both men let out pained cries as they fell to their knees; their swords swinging wildly behind them in a futile attempt to hit their attackers.
Vince didn't hesitate. The Fox Prowls the Hollow brought him close, his blade arcing downward in a clean, fluid motion. The Wolf Snaps His Jaws struck again, his sword slicing across the neck of the nearest man. The second man had barely turned to react when Vince spun, his boot connecting with the side of the man's head in a powerful kick. The impact sent the man sprawling to the floor, his weapon clattering away.
The twins were on him in an instant, their daggers stabbing down in a frenzy. The man's cries were brief, drowned by the sickening sound of steel meeting flesh over and over. When the twins finally stopped, both were panting heavily, their hands and faces streaked with blood.
For a moment, the room was silent, save for the labored breathing of the three boys. Vince straightened slowly, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm his racing heart. His sword dripped with blood, a crimson trail pooling on the floor beneath him. He exchanged a glance with the twins, their wide eyes reflecting both exhilaration and horror.
Vince turned to the maid, who was still huddled on the floor, her arms covering her head. Her trembling form reminded him that they weren't out of danger yet. She peeked out from beneath her arms, her tear-streaked face pale with fear.
"You need to find someplace to hide," Vince said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of reassurance.
The maid nodded shakily, her lips trembling as she tried to form words. "O-okay," she stammered.
Vince stepped forward, helping her to her feet. She leaned on him for a moment, her legs unsteady, before she managed to take a few hesitant steps on her own.
"You'll be safe," Vince said gently.
Vince moved to the doorframe, peering cautiously into the night beyond. The cool evening air brushed against his face, carrying the faint scent of the canal water. The wind rustled softly, a deceptively peaceful sound. The back of the Pearl appeared clear, for now.
"Looks like the back is clear," he called over his shoulder.
He turned to the twins, their faces still streaked with sweat and blood. "I need you to go and summon the watch," Vince said, his tone firm. "These look like some of Rorik's goons. We're going to need backup."
The twins nodded in unison, their usual playfulness absent. The maid joined them, her fear replaced by purpose after Vince's urging. Together, they slipped out into the night, their footsteps fading into the shadows as they made their way along the canal.
Vince lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching until the others were out of sight. Then, with a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the hallway leading to the courtyard. The faint sounds of conflict still echoed from that direction, distant but growing louder.
He stepped over the bodies of the fallen men, his sword still in hand. His grip tightened as he moved cautiously down the corridor. Each step carried him closer to the chaos, his heart pounding with both fear and adrenaline.
Vince stepped cautiously into the courtyard his sword already drawn. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of steel. The once pristine courtyard, with its elegant fountain at the center, was now a charnel ground. The fountain's waters ran red with blood, the lifeless bodies of Rorik's men and the Pearl's guards sprawled in grotesque poses across the flagstones.
In the middle of it all, Gallen stood like a fortress, his blade flashing in the dim light as he battled four undead warriors. Each of the creatures moved with unnerving speed and strength, their weapons cutting through the air with lethal precision. Their armor, though dented and marred, bore runes glowing faintly with the eerie blue energy that fueled their unholy existence.
Gallen's movements were fluid, almost beautiful in their precision; and his sword struck home again and again: but each blow barely seemed to slow the undead. Their bodies shrugged off his attacks as though his blade were a mere annoyance.
Vince's breath caught in his throat. He had never seen Gallen so pressed before. The veteran's strikes were precise and unrelenting, yet with sweat dripped from his brow, and his breathing labored; even Gallen, unshakable and seemingly invincible, was beginning to falter.
A flash of movement drew Vince's attention to the rest of the courtyard. The Pearl's guards were locked in a desperate struggle with Rorik's men. The clamor of steel against steel filled the air, punctuated by cries of pain and rage. Vince knew he couldn't hesitate. He darted into the chaos, his training kicking in as he joined the guards.
The Hawk Chases the Hare guided him through the fray, his sword arcing in precise strikes. He ducked and weaved, his blade cutting down Rorik's men one by one. His movements felt automatic, a blur of footwork and swordplay, but it wasn't without cost. One opponent, a wiry man with a cruel grin, managed to slice a shallow cut across Vince's upper arm. Another landed a glancing blow on his thigh. The pain burned, but Vince pushed through it: the pain fueling each strike.
When the last of Rorik's men in the courtyard fell, Vince staggered back, his chest heaving. Around him, only a handful of the Pearl's guards remained, their faces pale and streaked with sweat. The rest lay among the dead; their lives given to protect the House.
The surviving guards moved instinctively toward Gallen; but as they charged, the undead warriors turned with inhuman speed. Their weapons cleaving through the guards effortlessly; their rune-etched blades cutting through the men as if they were paper. The guards fell in moments; their cries silenced almost as soon as they began.
"Stay back!" Gallen roared, his voice a command that cut through the chaos. "This is my fight!"
Vince froze, his sword still clutched in his hand. He had never heard Gallen sound so desperate, so… he couldn't put it into words. Gallen glanced at Vince, his eyes narrowing as if weighing his options. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped back, bringing his sword in front of his face.
The air seemed to grow still. Gallen closed his eyes for a brief moment, reaching deep into himself. When his eyes opened again, they glowed with an otherworldly blue light, the same energy spilling from them like wisps of smoke. His sword began to shimmer, its edge radiating a soft, crackling glow.
Vince could only stare in awe as Gallen muttered something under his breath, too soft for him to hear. Are you watching, Father? I hope you can be proud of this.
With a yell that echoed through the courtyard, Gallen surged forward, his movements impossibly fast and precise. His sword blurred as he flowed through forms Vince didn't recognize; more advanced than anything he'd seen. The blue energy surrounding his blade tore through the undead like a hot knife through wax, severing limbs and heads in a blur of strikes.
The courtyard was chaos as the undead crumbled under Gallen's onslaught. Limbs and torsos tumbled to the ground, revealing rune-etched rods embedded along their bones, glowing faintly before the light winked out. Within moments, all four undead were reduced to broken, lifeless remnants.
As the last body fell, Gallen stumbled to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He used his sword to steady himself; his grip trembling as the blue energy faded from his eyes and blade.
Vince rushed to his side, dropping to a crouch to help steady him. "Sir, are you okay?" Vince asked, his voice filled with concern.
"Never better, lad," Gallen chuckled breathlessly, though his voice was weak. "Just… overused my inner energy."
Vince's eyes widened in shock. "You're a Blade Master?" he exclaimed, the awe evident in his voice.
"Master?" Gallen snorted, spitting a blood-flecked wad of phlegm onto the ground. "Hardly. Just an old man with a few tricks left. I won't be able to do that again."
Before Vince could respond, the ground beneath their feet shook violently. The air was ripped apart by the sound of an explosion as the second-story wall and roof of the Pearl erupted in a fiery blast. Flames licked hungrily at the edges of the destruction, sending a rain of debris cascading into the courtyard. Vince was thrown to the ground, his vision spinning as he struggled to regain his bearings.
When his sight cleared, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, coughing against the choking smoke that filled the air. His gaze lifted to the source of the destruction; a massive hole in the far wall where part of the Pearl's second floor had been. Hovering amid the smoke and fire was a figure cloaked in swirling shadows, its form twisting unnaturally in the flickering light.
A dry, rasping voice cut through the chaos. "Oh, it is an honor to finally meet you, Tower Master."
Vince's head turned as another figure emerged from the shattered wall, floating above the wreckage. Flames wreathed the second figure's body, flickering and pulsing in time with his breath. Kaelith Verdannis, the Tower Master of Maze City, glared at the shadowed figure, his face a mask of anger.
"What madness is this?" Kaelith demanded, his voice sharp and commanding.
The shadowed figure chuckled darkly. "Merely a greeting from my master, Malrik. Perhaps you've heard of him."
Kaelith's expression flickered with confusion before hardening into fury. "Malrik?" he repeated, his voice disbelieving. "That sick bastard survived?"
Kaelith's staff ignited, the flames around him growing brighter and more intense as they began to take shape; fiery wings spreading behind him. "It seems I must once again stamp out the evil in this city."
Another explosion rocked the courtyard as the two mages unleashed their power, their spells colliding in a blinding flash of light and heat. Vince was thrown to the ground again, his ears ringing as the world tilted around him.
When he managed to stagger to his feet, the night sky above the Pearl was lit with flashes of fire and shadow as the two mages soared into the air, their battle carrying them higher and farther away. The clash of their magic echoed through the city like distant thunder.
Vince turned toward the sound of footsteps descending the grand staircase. Emerging from the smoky shadows of the Pearl's upper floors came Baron Aldric Thornvale, his tall figure in the lead. His ceremonial guards flanked him, though the once-pristine uniforms they wore were tattered and bloodstained. One guard's left arm was missing, the stump hastily tied off with a length of rope to staunch the bleeding. His face was pale, but he carried his sword in his remaining hand with a sturdy grip.
Behind the Baron followed Kalahan, head of the Thieves' Guild, his usual roguish grin muted by the seriousness of the situation. His lean frame moved with an almost lazy swagger, yet his sharp eye missed nothing. At the rear of the group trailed Lisa, her fiery red hair damp with sweat, but her expression was without fear. She clutched a long dagger in one hand, her knuckles white around its hilt. Gallen stood beside him putting a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"You ok lad?" Gallen inquired.
Regaining his balance, Vince nodded. The survivors were few. Vince stepped forward, he didn't see Lira, but before he could speak, a chilling sound echoed through the courtyard; the guttural, hollow growls of the undead.
Two hulking undead warriors charged into the courtyard, their massive frames clad in armor etched with glowing runes. Each carried an enormous weapon: a spiked mace and a two-handed sword that seemed too heavy for even a living man to wield. Their movements were unnaturally fast, their glowing blue eyes fixed on the Baron and his group.
Kalahan was the first to react, a wicked grin splitting his face as he drew a pair of gleaming daggers. "Well, isn't this a party?"
The undead thundered closer; and Gallen moved to intercept, his sword already in hand. Kalahan darted to his side, flipping one of his daggers in his hand with casual precision.
"Careful there, old man," Kalahan quipped as he dodged a wild swing from the undead's mace. "Wouldn't want you to throw out your back."
Gallen barked a short laugh, his grin wolfish. "Still sharper than you, Kalahan," he retorted. "Watch this."
The undead wielding the mace brought its weapon crashing down in a wide arc, but Gallen sidestepped with a speed that belied his earlier exhaustion. With a single precise strike, his blade severed the creature's arm at the joint. The rune-etched limb fell to the ground with a heavy clang, its glowing blue light dimming.
"Not bad," Kalahan admitted as he ducked under a swing from the second undead. His daggers flashed as he darted in and out of range, slicing at the creature's legs in a blur of motion. "But let's see you keep up."
The undead staggered from Kalahan's strikes, but it wasn't slowing. Gallen stepped forward into The Wolf Snaps the Snare, parrying a blow meant for Kalahan with a grunt of effort.
"I'm keeping up just fine, thief," Gallen shot back, his blade deflecting another strike from the disarmed undead.
The undead with the severed arm didn't slow, swinging its remaining weapon with raw savagery. Gallen met it head-on, his blade a blur as he parried with The Cat Swipes the Mouse and struck back with unerring precision. Kalahan danced around the second undead, his daggers finding weak points in its armor as he wore it down piece by piece.
"Still think you're sharper, old man?" Kalahan called over his shoulder as he narrowly avoided a decapitating swing.
"Always," Gallen replied with a grin, his sword carving through the undead's remaining arm in a single stroke.
The creature swayed, its blue glow faltering as it stumbled backward. The Fox Prowls the Hollow brought him in with a final swing, Gallen drove his blade through its head, the runes along its bones flaring before dimming into nothingness. The undead collapsed to the ground in a heap of lifeless metal and bone.
Kalahan, not to be outdone, lunged forward, his daggers plunging into the eye sockets of his opponent. The creature let out a guttural roar before falling to its knees, its glowing eyes fading as Kalahan wrenched his blades free.
"Done and done," Kalahan said, flicking ichor from his daggers as the second undead toppled over.
Gallen straightened, resting his sword on his shoulder as he glanced at Kalahan. "Maybe you're the one getting old." he said, his grin returning.
Kalahan smirked. "You're just jealous I make it look good."
The courtyard fell eerily quiet, save for the crackling of distant flames and the labored breathing of the survivors. Gallen and Kalahan moved back toward the group, both bloodied.
"Everyone still in one piece?" Gallen asked, his gaze sweeping over the Baron and his guards.
"For now," Aldric replied grimly. He glanced at the fallen undead, his expression dark. "But this'" he remarked, motioning at the bodies, "isn't over."
Vince, still clutching his sword, stepped forward, his eyes darting toward the far end of the courtyard. "Sir," he said, his voice tense. "There's more There."
From the shadows of the Pearl's main hall, faint movements began to stir.