"What's Tethering?" Fate asked. He recalled hearing the term before but didn't know where from.
"It's a technique the shamans invented. A shaman that reaches about fifty years of age can break off parts of their Mage Reach and divvy it up among its subjects. If a Tethered imp dies, the shaman will know. And if the Tethered imp runs from the tribe, the Tether tells the shaman exactly where they ran off to."
"Didn't you say a few hours ago that shamans don't have any special powers?" Fate asked, confused.
"This isn't anything special, at least not according to the Sages of the Academy. They're convinced it's something a Mage can replicate; they just haven't found out how to do so. Either way, you should've just left the stupid drunk alone."
"We're going to kill them all anyway, aren't we sarge?" asked a red-armored Guard. "They would've learned about us eventually."
"Yes, but now we might have lost the advantage of surprise, which was the whole reason we had Gus cut off the sound and why we snuck in here with our heads down. If I had known this kid was going to jump in, swinging his sword, I wouldn't have even bothered with it."
A low buzz echoed through the cavern, coming down the tunnel to their left. The sergeant cursed, raising his sword. The others did the same. "Gus, drop the Spell."
Gus waved his arms, the edges of the bubble rippling as it ceased to exist. The low buzz turned into deafening screams, a hint of red emerging from around a turn in the tunnel before a tide of imps emerged, screaming and yammering with high-pitched voices that belied their lethality.
Many carried wicked pitchforks, and others carried spiked chains that dragged along the ground behind them, but all of them were the spitting image of demons from the stories Fate's mother would read to him as a child. Not a single one was below five feet tall and some towered as tall as eight feet.
Their crimson faces were contorted in a fearsome mixture of rage, excitement, and lust, the latter of which dimmed considerably when they noticed the Guard hadn't brought a single woman along.
A good move, to be sure. Fate didn't know this, but one of the few things capable of making an imp fight to the death was a chance to snag a woman. Imps didn't have women in their species, instead needing females from mammalian species.
This was why these imps had rectangular, yellow eyes and cloven hooves for feet. The mountain that the Golden Caverns was found in was home to hundreds of mountain goats, which these imps 'procured' to increase their numbers.
The tide was a full three miles down the tunnel, clamoring and clambering over each other, tripping and stumbling and occasionally getting impaled by the pitchforks of their fellow imps in their mad dash to their next meal. The sergeant's grim eyes darted to the two green-armored Guards Fate hadn't yet learned the names of. "Madds, Richard. Crush them."
The Guards nodded, sheathing their swords and stepping forward in sync, their feet digging into the ground until they were submerged up to their ankles. The Guard on the left threw his arms in the same direction, and the other threw his arms to the right before both of them let out a low shout and tossed their hands toward the other. The cavern rumbled as cracks raced down the walls and across the floors.
Down the tunnel, the many imps were stopped in their tracks as the walls became their enemy, extending outward and crushing the creatures to paste between the stone. When the Guards threw their arms back the other way and the walls retracted, all that was left of the hundred or so imps were bloody smears painting the tunnel and flattened sheets of metal scattered about. Madds and Richard dropped to a knee, panting heavily.
"We won't be able to do that again sarge," said Madds. "This stone is tougher than we thought."
"Go back outside, then. Guard our backs and recuperate your strength. The rest of us will go find the shaman and gut the fucker. When you feel up to it, come join us."
"Yes, sir!" The two of them dragged their feet as they walked out of the cavern, heading back to the hill they had used to spy on the cave mouth earlier. The sergeant took his helmet off and wiped his sweaty hair down, sticking the cap back on as he glanced at the five men he had left.
"Higgs!"
"Yes, sir!" A young, red-clad Guard snapped into a salute.
"You're the only Earth Mage we have for now, so you better be using that Skill of yours. I don't want to catch a single whiff of an imp's furry ass without you warning us of it beforehand, got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. I'll take point. Fate, you're behind me. Gus and Higgs, you follow behind Fate. Brent and Bregg will take the rear, got it?"
"Yes, sir!" barked the men in the cavern, Fate included.
"Great. And remember, be quiet. They know we're here, but if we're lucky, they don't know where we are." The sergeant stepped forward, taking the tunnel the imps came from. Gus threw his Spell back up, the air fifty feet in front of them growing slightly hazy as the only sound that was allowed to escape was that approved by him.
They passed the spot of the imp massacre, taking care not to step on the sheets of metal, which was all that was left of the creatures' weapons. As they rounded the turn, the tunnel started to slope downward, taking them deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain.
The Guards' feet were sore, made worse by the three hours of marching they had to undertake to get to the Golden Caverns in the first place. Not a single one complained, however. A little suffering on their part was worth the many lives they would save when they wiped out this imp tribe.