As Barin marched them the final few yards towards the gate, Delores strained her ears, trying to catch any snippet of conversation from the guards ahead. Their initial shock was giving way to a low, conspiratorial murmur.
"...another one so soon," she heard one guard mutter to the other. "First that snooty, blue-haired merchant shows up offerin' trades, now this. Place is gettin' busy."
Blue-haired merchant? The description was specific and unusual. Delores filed the information away as Barin came to a halt a respectful ten feet from the guards, pulling slightly on the illusory chain to stop her and Rael.
"Hold it right there," the taller of the two guards called out, his spear held a little more steadily now, though his eyes kept flicking greedily towards the chained-up Rael and Delores. "State yer business."
Barin held his metal plate up towards the guards before letting it go and speaking. "Barin Strongsunder, independent bounty warden," he stated, his voice a low growl. "Got myself a pair o' valuable assets here." He gave the chain a theatrical tug, making Rael and Delores stumble forward slightly. "Magic-users. Caused a whole mess o' trouble near the Citadel's foothills. Got a high-value contract to deliver 'em to the dungeons in Elarvain."
He let out a heavy sigh, expertly playing the part of a long-haul guard. "Been on the road for a week straight. Me and my posse," he gestured vaguely towards Rael and Delores, "need a place to rest our heads for the night before we push on. Heard this was a place a man could find a roof and a hot meal without askin' too many questions."
The guards exchanged a skeptical glance. A bounty warden traveling alone with two magic-users seemed unusual. But the sight of Barin's heavy armor, the ancient-looking plate on his chest, and the chained, horned tiefling were compelling evidence. Greed won out over suspicion.
"Valuable, ye say?" the second guard asked, eyeing Delores's fine, if practical, dress.
"Elarvain's lords pay well for rogue mages," Barin grunted. "Now, are ye gonna let me in, or am I takin' my business elsewhere? Just need a secure spot to lock these two up while I rest. Happy to pay for the trouble."
That seemed to be the right thing to say. The guards looked at each other again, then the taller one nodded slowly. "Reckon we got a spare cage or two," he said, his eyes still assessing the 'prisoners'. "The Ram will want a word with ye, though. He likes to know who's sleepin' inside his walls."
"Figured as much," Barin replied.
"Right then. Follow me," the guard said, turning to push open the flimsy wooden gate, its hinges groaning in protest. He gestured for Barin to follow him into the small village.
As they stepped through the gate, Delores felt a mental nudge, a familiar flicker of warmth from her side. "Is this part of the plan, little spark?" Ozin's voice echoed in her mind. "These people smell of desperation and old blood. Allowing them to lead you deeper seems unwise."
Delores kept her face passive, her head bowed like a proper prisoner, but sent a quick, reassuring thought back. "It's going smoothly, Ozin. This gets us an audience with the leader. Stay calm, stay hidden. We'll call if we need you."
She felt a mental equivalent of a feline huff, a flicker of reluctant compliance, before the presence settled back into quiet observation. The interior of the settlement was just as Barin had described: a collection of crude wooden shacks and hide tents clustered around a muddy central path. The people they passed were gaunt, hollow-eyed men and women in ragged clothes and mismatched, rattling armor. They stopped to stare at the newcomers, their expressions a mixture of fear and dull curiosity. The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, unwashed bodies, and a pervasive sense of hopelessness. This wasn't a thriving bandit stronghold; it was a refugee camp teetering on the edge of collapse, ruled by a single, brutal force.
The guard led them through the muddy thoroughfare, past the sullen, watchful eyes of the villagers, towards the largest and only remotely well-constructed building in the settlement. It was a long, single-story hall made of rough-hewn logs, likely serving as both the leader's quarters and the communal feasting hall. Crude iron cages, large enough to hold several people, were placed around the building's perimeter like grim lawn ornaments.
One cage was empty. Another held a tall woman who immediately drew Delores's attention. She was powerfully built, a human warrior with wavy, medium-length brown hair matted with dirt. She wore a simple but functional set of light leather armor, though it was scuffed and torn. Her lightly tanned skin was covered in a lattice of fresh bruises and cuts, and she sat leaning against the bars, her expression a mask of defiant fury as she glared at their approaching group.
In the cage next to the warrior woman, however, were the most unexpected prisoners: two children. They couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, huddled together for comfort. They were clearly twins, a boy and a girl, both with wide, frightened eyes. The boy had pale skin and dark hair, and Delores noticed a subtle, almost vampiric sharpness. His twin sister looked entirely normal, her face smudged with dirt, her small hands clutching her brother's arm tightly. But as they got closer, Delores felt a strange, almost imperceptible hum in the air around the girl, a faint thrum of power that didn't quite fit.
The two guards who had been at the gate nodded to the one leading Barin. They then roughly unlocked the empty cell. "In ya go, trash," one of them grunted, gesturing with his spear.
Barin gave the illusory chain a tug, nudging Delores and Rael towards the open cage. They stepped inside, the heavy iron door clanging shut behind them with a sound of grim finality. The lock clicked into place, and for a moment, despite knowing the chains were fake, a very real sense of being trapped washed over Delores.
"Wait here, bounty warden," the lead guard told Barin. "I'll go get The Ram. He'll want to see yer catch and decide if you can stay." The guard then turned and entered the longhouse, leaving the other two to stand watch over the cages.
Delores's attention was immediately drawn back to the other prisoners. The fierce warrior woman met her gaze with a challenging glare, clearly sizing her up. But it was the twins that held Delores's focus. The boy stared back with a mixture of fear and defiance, while his sister simply watched her with wide, unnervingly still eyes.
It was then that Rael, standing beside her in the cage, let out a strange, gasping croak. Delores turned to see him staring, not at both twins, but directly at the girl. His golden eyes, no longer hidden by his hood, were wide with a look Delores had never seen before. It was a look of pure, unadulterated awe and a significant amount of terror.
"Baroness…" Rael stuttered, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned closer to Delores, never taking his eyes off the girl. "That… that child…"
"What is it, Rael?" Delores whispered back, her gaze flicking from his stunned face back to the seemingly normal little girl in the next cage.
"Her magical presence" Rael breathed, his voice trembling slightly. "It is overwhelming. It's not the focused power of a mage, or the granted power of a cleric. It's elemental. Primal. Like staring into the heart of a raw, untamed magical storm. It is intense." He swallowed hard. "I have never felt anything like it."
Delores looked at him in confusion, then back at the child. To her, she just looked like a scared little girl, huddled with her brother. She felt a faint magical hum, yes, but nothing like the overwhelming storm Rael was describing. Before Delores could question Rael further about the girl's overwhelming magical presence, the relative quiet of the camp was shattered. A muffled roar of pure, drunken rage erupted from within the longhouse, followed by the sickening crunch of splintering wood and breaking bone.
The next instant, the guard who had gone inside to fetch The Ram was violently ejected from the doorway. He flew through the air in a crumpled heap, tumbling and skidding across the muddy ground before slamming into a random pile of crates with a final, wet thud. He didn't move again.
Delores gasped, her hands instinctively gripping the cold iron bars of the cage. Beside her, Rael flinched, his awe forgotten, replaced by immediate alarm. Outside the cage, Barin took a heavy step back, his hand falling to rest on the hilt of his sheathed falchion, his knuckles paleing.
A massive figure now filled the doorway of the longhouse, stumbling out into the open, swaying slightly. This had to be The Ram. He was a giant wall of muscle and fury, not quite as unnaturally tall as his son had been, but broader, denser, radiating an aura of brutish power. He wore a set of ill-fitting, stained leather armor that did little to conceal the thick, corded muscles of his arms and chest. A colossal, two-handed war hammer was holstered on his back, its iron head scarred and menacing even at a glance.
Strolling nonchalantly out of the longhouse behind him, as if entirely unbothered by the casual display of lethal violence, was the blue-haired merchant Delores had heard the guards mention. He was tall, slender, and elegantly composed, though still a head shorter than The Ram. His hair was a striking, vibrant shade of cobalt blue, cut short and neat. It framed a face with sharp, angular features, unmarred by scars, and his round eyes were a piercing, intelligent ice-blue. He wore simple but well-made traveler's clothes and had no armor, no visible weapons, just a calm, observant demeanor that seemed dangerously out of place in this den of squalor and violence.
"Disturbin' me!" The Ram bellowed, his voice thick and slurred with drink and grief. He gestured angrily back at the longhouse. "While I'm with a guest! After I just lost my boy! My son! And his whole damn camp!"
He turned then, his bloodshot eyes finally focusing on the scene outside. He saw Barin, standing ready, then his gaze swept over the cages, lingering on the warrior woman, the twins, and finally settling on Delores and Rael. He squinted, his drunken mind slowly piecing together fragments of information he must have gleaned from the probably dead guard.
He took a stumbling step forward, pointing a thick, unsteady finger at Delores. "Wait a minute," he muttered, his voice dropping to a confused, drunken growl. "The report… my son's camp… weren't they beaten by a gnome, a half-orc, and a tiefling…?"
His eyes flicked from Delores's small form, to Barin's obvious mixed heritage, then to Rael's horns and grey-burgundy skin. The pieces clicked into place with dawning, furious realization. The valuable prisoners and their bounty warden were a sham. They were the people responsible for his son's death. Delores felt the air grew thick with a new, far more personal and volatile brand of menace.
The Ram's drunken, furious realization washed over the clearing. He let out a low, animalistic growl, his hand moving to the massive war hammer on his back. "So… you're the ones," he snarled, taking a heavy, stumbling step towards Barin.
"Wait!" Barin shouted, raising a hand, his other still resting on his falchion. "You got it wrong, Ram! We're not—"
"Barin's right!" Delores suddenly yelled from the cage, her mind racing, latching onto the first desperate idea that came to her. "He caught us! Me and the tiefling! We were on our way to see a powerful associate, someone named Val! He was just bringing us in as prisoners!" It was a flimsy lie, but it was all she had.
The blue-haired merchant, who had been watching the scene with a detached, analytical air, suddenly stepped forward, his composure shattering for the first time. His ice-blue eyes widened in genuine shock and something akin to fear. "Valerie?" he interjected, his voice sharp and incredulous.
The Ram, who had been about to charge Barin, paused, raising a confused eyebrow at his guest. "Whatcha talkin' about, Bastian?"
Delores saw her opening. This merchant, Bastian, clearly knew the name and, more importantly, feared it. "Yes, I believe that was her name, Valerie!" she lied with as much confidence as she could muster from behind iron bars. "A very powerful, very particular individual. We had an appointment." She was hoping he was drunk enough to buy this.
Bastian's face went pale. He looked down at the ground, mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for The Ram to hear, "Oh no… no, no, this is bad." He looked up, his expression now one of urgent, almost panicked warning directed at The Ram. "You need to let them go," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Now. You do not want to be on her bad side. No one does."
Before The Ram could process this, or even question it, Bastian snapped his fingers. It was a simple, crisp sound, yet it carried an impossible weight of authority.
The heavy iron door to Delores and Rael's cage swung open with a violent shudder, the lock shattering as if struck by an invisible hammer. Simultaneously, Rael whispered the trigger word and the illusory chains binding him and Delores dissolved into harmless wisps of shadow. The guards and The Ram stared, utterly shocked, as Delores and Rael stepped calmly out of the now-open cage.
The Ram let out a bellow of pure, frustrated rage, less at them and more at the whole confusing situation. "FINE! GET OUT!" he roared, waving a massive hand dismissively towards the main gate. "All of ye! Get the hell out of my village before someone else dies and I have to clean up another mess!"
Barin immediately moved to stand near Delores, his hand still on his falchion, ready to cover their retreat. But Delores wasn't moving. Her gaze was fixed on the other cages, on the fierce warrior woman and the two terrified twins. This was their chance. The guards were all distracted, trying to calm their furious, drunken leader.
She turned to Rael, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Can you blind them? All of them? Just for a few seconds. Give us a clear escape."
Rael's face scrunched up in concentration as he quickly assessed the energy required, then he gave a firm, determined nod. "I can create a concussive blast of disorienting light and dust. It will be brief, but effective."
Delores looked back at the cages, locking eyes with each of the prisoners. She mouthed the words as clearly as she could: "Run when it happens. Run fast." Their eyes widened in understanding, and they gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod, the woman already moving to shield the twins with her body.
The Ram was still shouting, preoccupied with his guards, who were trying to make sense of their leader's drunken, contradictory orders. Bastian, however, was looking directly at Delores. As their eyes met, the blue-haired merchant gave her a strange, sidelong glance, then followed it with a slow, deliberate wink.
That was all the confirmation she needed. This was their only chance.
"Ozin, I need you! NOW!" Delores projected the thought with all the urgency she could muster.
Simultaneously, she shouted to her other companion, "RAEL, NOW!"
First, an explosive flare of heat and light erupted from Delores's side. With a low roar, Ozin burst forth from his tattoo anchor, materializing in mid-air in his full, magnificent flame leopard form. He landed silently on the packed earth, a four-foot-tall beast of living fire, his green eyes burning with cold fury. The bandits who weren't focused on The Ram let out shouts of pure terror at the sudden appearance of the monster from their legends.
In the exact same instant, Rael slammed his open palm into the ground. A massive wave of force erupted outwards, kicking up a blinding, choking cloud of dust, dirt, and debris that completely enveloped The Ram and his stunned guards, filling the air with curses and panicked shouts. The chaos was perfect. Ozin didn't hesitate. He ignored Delores's cage for a moment and bounded towards the one holding the woman and twins. With a single, powerful swipe, his claws, wreathed in intense, white-hot flame, tore through the crude iron lock. Metal hissed, glowed cherry-red, and then dripped away like molten wax. The cage door swung open.
"GO!" Delores screamed to the freed prisoners, pointing towards the main gate.
The woman was already moving, her warrior instincts taking over. After Ozin destroyed the lock on the twins' cage, she grabbed each one by the hand and bolted into the swirling dust cloud, heading for the now-unguarded exit. Ozin then spun, a blur of golden fire, and returned to Delores and Rael who were now exiting their cage .
Barin was already at the main gate, his falchion drawn, ready to cut down anyone who tried to stop them. "MOVE, BARONESS!" he bellowed.
Delores, Rael, and Ozin sprinted through the dissipating dust cloud, joining Barin and the others as they plunged out of the gate and back into the relative safety of the surrounding woods, the enraged roars of The Ram echoing furiously behind them. They ran, fueled by adrenaline, not daring to look back. The enraged shouts from The Ram's village faded behind them, swallowed by the dense woods. Ozin loped easily alongside Delores, his presence a comforting warmth against the growing evening chill. They didn't stop until they had put at least an hour of travel between themselves and the settlement, finally collapsing in a sheltered ravine to catch their breath.
Well, that went… smoothly, Delores thought, leaning against a mossy rock, her heart still hammering. Smoother than it had any right to, anyway. Could have gone a lot smoother if I hadn't nearly gotten myself captured.
After a few moments of ragged breathing, she pushed herself up and looked over at their new companions. The warrior woman and the two twins stood a little apart from her group. They were watching them hesitantly, their expressions a mixture of gratitude, exhaustion, and deep-seated caution. The woman stood protectively in front of the children, her hand resting on the hilt of a worn shortsword at her belt she must have picked up in the scramble somehow.
Delores cleared her throat, forcing a warm, reassuring smile as she approached them. "I don't believe we've had a proper introduction. I'm Delores Von Pixieheart." She gestured to her companions in turn. "This is Barin Strongsunder, Rael D'Gar, and this," she patted the magnificent flame leopard, who sat calmly at her side, "is Ozin." Ozin offered the newcomers nothing more than a slow, regal blink of his burning green eyes, choosing to remain silent for now.
The warrior woman visibly relaxed her defensive stance, her shoulders slumping slightly with weariness. "Amiri," she said, her voice rough but clear. "And these are Thorn and Rose." She placed a gentle hand on each child's shoulder. The boy, Thorn, gave a small, shy nod, while his sister, Rose, simply watched Delores with those same wide, unnervingly still eyes from the cage. "We… we thank you," Amiri added, her voice thick with genuine gratitude. "We owe you our lives."
Barin, ever blunt, stepped forward, looking Amiri up and down with a professional soldier's appraisal. "Ye look like ye can handle yerself," he grunted. "Strong. How'd a warrior like you end up in one o' The Ram's cages?"
Amiri's expression tightened, a flicker of pain crossing her features. She sighed, running a hand through her dirty, wavy brown hair. "We were traveling from Cerindor," she explained. "Trying to get away from the headaches of that kingdom. Looking for somewhere more remote, quieter, where I could take care of them." She hesitated, her gaze softening as she looked down at the twins. "My younger brother and sister."
Delores immediately clocked the lie, or at least, the convenient simplification. She'd seen Thorn's features up close now, the subtle sharpness of his canines, the faint, almost translucent quality of his pale skin. He wasn't fully human and his sister, Rose, showed none of those traits. They couldn't be biological siblings. And that still didn't account for the overwhelming, primal magic Rael had sensed from the girl. There was a story there, one Amiri was clearly not ready to share.
Delores decided not to press. They were traumatized, exhausted, and owed them nothing more than their thanks. "You were just traveling through?" she asked instead, keeping her tone gentle.
Amiri nodded. "We were careless. Made camp too close to the river. The Ram's men ambushed us in our sleep. Outnumbered us ten to one. Woke up in those cages." She shuddered slightly at the memory. "We heard them talking. The Ram was planning to sell the children to some unpleasant buyers who traffic in the exotic."
Delores felt a surge of cold fury. Whatever The Ram's motivations, trafficking children put him squarely and irredeemably in the category of "scum to be dealt with." Her anger flared. These three had nowhere to go, no one to protect them. And now, thanks to her, they were fugitives from a vengeful bandit lord. She had to figure something out.
Delores looked at the three refugees. Leaving them to fend for themselves in these dangerous woods was simply not an option. A plan, decisive and born of her newfound sense of responsibility, formed in her mind. She reached into her satchel and pulled out the worn but accurate map she'd been using, the one Faelar and Oleg had contributed to. Without hesitation, she offered it to Amiri.
"Here," Delores said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "This will guide you. If you follow this path," she traced the route back the way they had come, "you'll eventually clear the woods and find a homestead next to the Green River. It's owned by a man named Oleg."
Rael stepped forward, offering a reassuring, if still slightly awkward, nod. "He is a good man," the cleric added, his soft voice a comfort. "He will offer you shelter. Just tell him Delores sent you. He will understand."
Amiri looked down at the map, then back up at Delores, her expression a mixture of surprise and profound gratitude. "You're just giving this to us? But aren't you coming with us?"
Delores shook her head slowly, a strange, intuitive feeling settling over her. "Not yet. We need to stay here a while longer. Something," she couldn't explain it, it was just a gut feeling, a subtle whisper at the edge of her senses, "tells me our business in this part of the forest isn't quite finished."
Amiri hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave her rescuers behind, but the safety of the children was paramount. "I… I don't know how to thank you, Baroness."
"Just get them to Oleg's safely," Delores replied, her gaze softening as she looked at Thorn and Rose. "That's thanks enough."
With final, heartfelt thanks and a promise to head directly for the homestead, Amiri took the twins by the hand and, after one last grateful look, disappeared into the brush of the forest, following the path Delores had shown her.
A few hours passed. The sun had long since set, and a deep, star-dusted darkness settled over the woods. Barin, demonstrating a surprising skill for tracking in low light, had managed to hunt down a pair of plump woodland rabbits. Ozin, with a casual flick of his flaming tail, had ignited a small, smokeless fire, and the scent of roasting meat soon filled their small clearing.
Delores sat staring into the dancing flames, lost in thought, when she jumped, startled. A faint whoosh, like a sudden rush of displaced air, whispered through the trees nearby. It was gone as soon as it came.
"Did you hear—" she began to ask, but before she could finish, her question was answered.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps, moving at a brisk, purposeful pace, crunched through the underbrush, heading directly for their camp. Instantly, the relaxed atmosphere vanished. Barin was on his feet in a heartbeat, his falchion drawn, its polished steel gleaming in the firelight. Rael shot up, his hand clutching the tome at his side, his golden eyes wide and alert. Ozin rose silently from his haunches, a low, menacing growl rumbling in his chest, the flames on his pelt flaring brighter.
The three of them moved as one, instinctively forming a protective wall between Delores and the approaching sound, much to her immediate and profound annoyance.
"Hey! I can't see!" she grumbled, trying to peer around Barin's massive armored frame and Rael's dark robes. All she could see was their tense, ready backs. "Would you two move? I'm not a delicate flower!"
With a huff of irritation, she pushed her way between and past the two of them, emerging just in time to see who had entered their clearing. She stopped short, her own complaint dying on her lips.
It was Bastian. The blue-haired merchant stood at the edge of the firelight, his expression a strange mixture of relief, worry, and intense intrigue. He still wasn't armed, his hands held up in a placating gesture, but he was breathing heavily, as if he had run a great distance.
"Thank the First Wyrm, I found you," Bastian panted, his ice-blue eyes locking onto Delores. "I was hoping you'd have the good sense not to run too far."