Page 126 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

“We have no way in through the fog, though,” Fenric objected. “Lirion’s still figuring that out.”

“Actually,” Lirion said, pointing to the nearest corpse, “they’ve given us a way in. All we need is something of theirs—say, a vial of their blood—and we should be able to blast right through the fog. All wards, even odd ones such as this, operate on the same basic principle. It’ll register a person’s blood to give people access. A simple vial in our pockets will let us in and out with ease.”

There were glances all around and people perking up as they realized he was right. Hapi didn’t say a word, just turned toward his bag again and pulled out a needle and two ceramic bottles with cork lids. He immediately bent and went to work drawing out blood.

Maxie untucked his shirt from his pants, gingerly tugging it from his skin with a finger and thumb. “Um, I think I should change first before we go in. This is already sticky and uncomfortable.”

Malfas lifted his club and pointed it at Maxie. “Purify. Mend.”

The blood vanished from the shirt and the material knitted itself together cleanly, as if it had never been damaged to begin with.

Lirion shot him an exasperated look. The man had purify and mend spells, but no healing spells? Wasn’t his priority entirely backward? Unfortunately, those spells didn’t work on living flesh.

Belstrom looked from face to face as he asked, “How are we proceeding? Stealthy or charge?”

“Charge has my vote.” Fenric lifted a hand as if calling for a physical vote. “I think we’re past subtlety if they’re sending goons to ambush us.”

He made a valid point there. Lirion also lifted a hand. “Charge.”

Several hands went up. Seemed to be a unanimous decision. Good, Lirion didn’t like group conflicts on a normal day, but he especially didn’t like them when heading into a battle.

“As I said before, I can support you in battle. I have a particular spell, Hymn of the Soldier, which will give you a strength and stamina boost. It’s a twenty percent increase in both and will last for one hour,” Lirion said.

“Use it,” Rain said promptly. “Can you recast it after it ends?”

“Up to a certain point, yes. I can cast only three major spells in a twenty-four-hour period, of which this is one. The minor healings—like what I did for Maxie—are a cantrip, I can do those all day. I’ll reserve one spell slot for greater healing in case anyone’s mortally wounded. I know you like to rely on Hapi, and Hapi, I’m not dismissing your skills. But if you go down or are hurt, who helps you?”

“I’d prefer to be the backup option,” Hapi assured him even as he handed a vial of blood over. “No one enjoys killing a friend for a raising, and honestly, raising someone on an active battlefield is a pain in my ass.”

“Then I’ll cast it as we’re charging in. It takes only a minute for me to do so. I can also cast minor healing spells from some distance, so remember that you can call me for help if you’re hurt somewhere. They just take a bit more energy than a cantrip, so I need to cast those sparingly.”

“Good to know,” Rain stated with a broad smile. Then he loosened both sabers in their sheaths. “I’m all for going now. Straight to the manor?”

“Straight there.” Fenric’s expression turned feral and hard. “Don’t show any pity to the lord or his family. They’re all rotten to the core.”

Oh, Lirion had no intention of doing so.

Lirion kept a lyre strapped to his hip and a drum with him for this fight, along with a short sword he’d borrowed. For Hymn of the Soldier, while it was best played on a war drum, he improvised and used his hand drum, starting up a firm beat.

And that drum let everyone know the fight was on.

Hapi reassembled various broken skelebabies with little more than a wave of his hand and smeared some finfolk blood across their white foreheads, bringing them into the fight. Malfas cast a small glowing orb to hover in the air and light their way through the darkness, while Rain stepped to the front of the group, one of his sabers raised.

“Tighten your belts and draw your swords, you dogs! Let’s go fishin’ in some dark waters!”

Without the magical fog barring their path and confusing them with every step, the trek through the sparse trees and shrubs only took a few minutes. The entire way, they expected an attack from the finfolk, or at least a sign of sentries and guards to block their path. He soon understood why they’d been left alone.

The second they crossed through the last of the fog barrier, they were faced with moonlit water. A lot of water.

All the water that had disappeared from the river now formed a vast lake around Lord Mire’s manor and the adjacent village of Dunley, all previously farmland. The finfolk were aquatic creatures and wouldn’t attack on land unless they had no other choice. Why not let the stupid humans come to them so they could more comfortably attack from water?

A rock of dread sank into the pit of Fenric’s stomach. This was not going to be an easy fight, but they had no choice. They had to continue forward. Fenric paused for a heartbeat, trying to gauge how deep the water might be. They weren’t too far from the newly formed shore—it couldn’t be more than a few feet—but he’d wager it got much deeper in some sections, creating places where the finfolk could easily swim and hide. The tops of the bushes were still visible where the group was. He tightened his fist around his sword and plunged forward.

Icy water closed around him as it instantly rose to his knees. His boots sank into the soggy earth, sucking at his feet with each step he took, turning their valiant charge into a slog.

“Quickly! Quickly! Quickly!” Malfas chanted, holding the club over his head.

A wave of water surged up to Fenric’s waist as Belstrom charged past him with Maxie tucked under his arm like a spear. The water barely reached his calves thanks to his prodigious height.