When Jarod saw Esther Foxlove’s cloak, lying in the heap of equipment outside the mine entrance, his thoughts immediately went to her kids. Last he’d seen them was back in town in Cleftshire, being held by Shelley as they burned Wilfurd’s memorial pyre. He hadn’t just failed Wilfurd, but he’d left two kids without their father, and perhaps without their mother.

  All he could think about now was descending into the mines, praying to the gods that she might still live.

  He gave a quiet shout (well away from the ladder that descended into the mine proper) and beckoned the rest of their group over to him. Basma and Filgrin’s eyes went wide when they saw Esther’s cloak, and Nikolao’s face hardened at the discarded surveyors’ armor. Tex’ana just stood there with cold, black eyes.

  “We have to go down there,” said Jarod. “To save them if they’re alive, or to get revenge if…” He couldn’t finish the rest of that sentence.

  Nikolao was lost in thought, his eyes unfocused and breathing shallow. “We need to get back to the king,” he sighed. “That is our first priority.”

  Jarod was livid. “We have the horses now! We have time to save them and still make it back.”

  He could see Nikolao was wavering. There was clearly a part of him that faltered at the prospect of leaving his men behind, but in the end, he stood firm. “No, our job now is to get back to the king. Giving that report and diverting troops to deal with the trifleys is what’s best for everyone.”

  “Not for whoever’s stuck prisoner down in the mines!” Jarod was nearly shouting now.

  Nikolao narrowed his eyes, and stood a little taller. “We don’t even know if they’ve been taken prisoner, nor indeed if we’ll even make it out of there alive. None of us are fully healthy, I’ll have you know.”

  In the back of his mind, Jarod noticed that the surveyor didn’t carry quite the presence he had in the alleyway when he instructed Jarod to hold the line.

  Filgrin spoke up now. “Let’s at least take a gander down there. We’ve got control of all the horses up here, so it’s easy enough to run if we need to.”

  Nikolao glared in Filgrin’s direction now, without even moving his head. Without further argument, he climbed atop his horse and looked at them expectantly.

  Jarod stayed defiant. “Well I’m staying here. I’m not going to leave Esther to be imprisoned or killed.”

  “I never wanted to go to the capital in the first place,” said Basma. “I’m staying with Jarod.” She and Filgrin took places on either side of him.

  The only one unaccounted for was Tex’ana. Jarod wasn’t sure which side the sight servant would take, but it was worth a shot at an extra blade. “Tex’ana?” he asked.

  Tex’ana responded quickly, without the roll of his head they’d become accustomed to. “Of prime importance for my concerns is securing a contingent safely to Chath. Whoever leaves, I shall join. If none do, I shall provide what assistance I can. Recall, however, that my fighting prowess is reduced, and shall be further if we take a fight among low ceilings.”

  “Up to you then Nikolao,” said Jarod. “If you want your witnesses, you’ll have to help us rescue whoever’s down in the mine first.”

  Observation (social) check (?)

  [1]+1

  The surveyor stared at them from atop his horse, scowling at their audacity. “Fine,” he said. He pulled on the reins and quickly swung his horse around to the rotting post the others had been tied to. He stepped out of the saddle and rounded on the group, fire in his eyes. “I’ll help, but we’re back on the road before the night is over. A short delay is all I can tolerate.”

  Jarod couldn’t help the grin that snuck onto his face. It felt like an accomplishment to get his way with the surveyor considering the power the man had wielded over him for so long. Power that he’d admittedly be giving into shortly to allow the surveyor to direct their rescue mission.

  Nikolao walked over the pile of loot that contained the plundered surveyor armor. His scowl deepened to a glower when he saw the signs of his men’s fate. He plucked a buckler from the mix and thrust it towards Jarod. “Here,” he said. “You’ll need this at the front.”

  Jarod accepted the shield, not put off from being consigned to maximal danger again. He had suggested the assault in the first place, so he would accept the risks of the task ahead. Besides, it gave him an opportunity to test out his “eye for protection” that he’d acquired from the Voice.

  Nikolao took charge over the group. “Jarod, you’ll go first, and I’ll follow close behind. If we’ve room enough to stand side by side, then I’ll take your left side, but I don’t know how narrow our corridors might be down there. Filgrin, you stay right behind us two. Be very selective with your shots, we wouldn’t want you to hit one of us from sudden movement if you spy too narrow an opening.”

  He looked to the other two yet to be included in the plan. “I suppose Tex’ana will take up the rear and Basma can follow in front of him. You two can handle anyone who happens to make a surprise entrance from up above. Perhaps we’ll find more use for you once we can see the situation below.”

  Jarod looked to Basma, double checking that she was okay with the plan. Her eyes were set, and she wielded a dirk taken from one of the fallen brigands. Nikolo had followed suit, ditching his unwieldy longsword for a shield and dirk.

  Jarod looked around at expectant eyes on him, and stepped into the stone hut to descend into the mine.

  The sounds of the stream and the stench of the cooked not-quite-moose meat vanished rapidly as walls of earth surrounded him on every side. The ladder was still in good condition, made of metal rungs that had been sunk deep into the earth for support. Some had started to shift over the years, but the path down was clear as it ever had been.

  He paused several times during the descent, listening for any sounds from below. At a couple stops further down, he thought he might have heard voices laughing, or chanting perhaps, but it was too muffled to tell. Not that anything he would have detected would have dissuaded him in his descent, but it would have been nice to have advance warning of someone directly below.

  They must have climbed for nearly 200 feet before they arrived at the bottom. They followed the trickle of light from above, or the orange haze from below. Dirt had faded into rock, and Jarod held his breath at each too loud echo from a heavy foot on metal. The rungs must have been either blasted or magically sunk in at this depth, but Jarod couldn’t tell for the dimness.

  Finally, the arrival chamber came into view ahead of them, surprisingly well lit. Still from 25 feet away, Jarod could see the stone floor had been well worked into a smooth surface. The brigands must have cleaned it up, for it showed no signs of dust.

  Jarod looked up at the rest of his group and quietly drew his blade, setting the example. He took two deep breaths, and then raced down the last few rungs, ready to spring on whoever might be lurking in the room.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  No one was there to greet him. He stepped out of the way to allow the rest of his group passage into the chamber. It was larger than he’d expected, with containers of supplies on racks along the walls. The room must have been nearly 50 feet square and very tall. Bedrolls were clustered around the corners of the room where piles of hay made for makeshift bedding. A torch shone brightly on the wall, but Jarod noticed there was no flame. A glowing haze emitted from the end of the stick that had been so enchanted, never wavering like a flame would, just casting the perpetual light about the room.

  Such magic was rare in Cleftshire, with only the two aging Ludericks with any real ability. Had these torches been glowing since the mine was first constructed, or had the brigands brought them in.

  Thoughts for another time, as they were confronted with their first choice. An entrance to a mineshaft lay directly ahead of them, complete with decaying wooden supports and piles of rubble strewn about the floor. To their left was another passageway of similar construction to the room they were in. Well-chiseled floors with sturdy walls and the magical torches lining the walls.

  “Which way do we start?” whispered Jarod. Either way they went, they risked alerting whoever resided in this underground base. If they only ran into half of the group, then the other half would likely be made aware of their compromised position. He looked to Nikolao to make a decision.

  “We’ll start in the mine,” Nikolao whispered back. “Just a short look though, as far as sound will travel back to this chamber.”

  Jarod nodded, taking the lead again. There was no telling how far the mines would go, so a full exploration could take them hours. A quick look would at least give them peace of mind they wouldn’t be ambushed. Unfortunately, the mines weren’t lit as the entrance chamber was, so Basma took one of the magic torches from a bucket by the mine entrance and carried it for light.

  Athletics (stealth) check (?)

  [4]

  Jarod led the group through the single-file passages as stealthily as he could. It was made somewhat difficult by the piles of debris that were scattered about, combined with the light that had to filter through three bodies before it reached the ground in front of him. He managed to not make too much of a ruckus, as they explored the mineshafts.

  The mines were sprawling and branching. They checked each side path off of the main corridor — first the ones to their left — but they found nothing but dead ends. Several times, they came across traces of the ore that had been mined, blue and translucent, but none of them recognized it.

  Each time they hit a dead end, Jarod grew more and more sure that there was nothing down here aside from remnants of history long forgotten. They were on their way back towards the entrance corridor, checking the branches on the opposite side of the main shaft, when Jarod saw a light at the end of one of them.

  Jarod glanced around at his comrades, making sure they had seen it too, but there was nothing to be done except proceed onward. If their group had seen the light glowing from around the bend, then so too could whoever was on the other side see them approaching. Their best chance was to keep moving forward, hoping that they would be mistaken for other brigands.

  Voices came from ahead, a pair of them, just loud enough to make out traces of phrases.

  “Can’t believe… that monster…”

  “And the smell… thought Ionda was gonna… then they found…”

  The group walked closer, hoping to act as though nothing was happening. The voices seemed to suddenly hear them.

  “... could be the boss. Better…”

  However the man was going to finish his sentence was lost to a hitch in his breath as Jarod suddenly turned the corner, sword outstretched, roaring a battle cry as he tore into battle.

  Roll to hit

  Shortsword: [6]+1

  Hit for [6]+1 damage

  The blade of Jarod’s sword drove through the flesh of the first man’s forearm, even as he lunged to reach for a weapon on the ground with the other man. He’d gotten the jump on them before they were able to react, and as he pushed further into the room, Nikolao was soon there to join him with Filgrin at the entrance to the room.

  Roll for initiative

  [5]

  Win initiative

  Jarod and Nikolao were on the men again before they had a chance to raise their weapons to defend themselves. They had each scrambled away from the table they were sitting at for weapons laid along a wall with a torch on it. Just to the right of that wall, were metal bars demarcating darkness beyond.

  There was no time to think about what might lay beyond those bars though, there were immediate threats to be dealt with. Nikolao stabbed into the same man Jarod had wounded, landing a blow that ricocheted off his ribs, leaving a bloody gash in the man’s leather tunic. Somehow though, he stayed standing, getting ready to bring his own dirk around against the surveyor, even as an arrow flew past his head.

  Seeing the resilience of the man, Jarod fell into a defensive stance and raised his buckler.

  Defensive stance

  [2]+1

  Penalty score: 2

  Ally penalty score: 1

  There it was, the extra “ally penalty score” from the “eye for defense” ability Jarod had chosen. It came just in time as well, because the injured brigand swung hard at Nikolao. Jarod was prepared for it though, and thrust his buckler forward, feeling the blow hammer hard against the small shield, but deflecting the slash from the dirk all the same.

  Defensive penalty applied

  Ally penalty score: 0

  Defensive penalty applied

  Penalty score: 0

  At the same time, the second enemy brought his sword to bear against Jarod. Jarod brought up his shield in time to deflect, but he was overextended, and the hit sent him off-balance. Rather than stopping his slash, the brigand followed through on his swing, cutting into Jarod’s shoulder.

  Hit for [3]+2 damage.

  Health: 1/10

  Grievous injury

  The cut didn’t even hurt at first, it just throbbed a dull ache. Even in the rush of battle though, he knew the cut was deep. He staggered back, feeling his sluggish response and the torrent of pain when he raised his arm too high. Seeing his buckler was now all but useless, he dropped it, and bore down with his father’s shortsword held at the ready.

  The man who had cut him called out loudly now. “Travis! Ionda! Come quick!”

  That was their warning that time was running short.

  Another twang from Filgrin’s bow released an arrow that thudded into the first man’s stomach, causing him to pitch forward in pain. Somehow, he was able to grit his teeth and keep going, ready for one final stand.

  Nikolao left the first one alone and called out commandingly, “Jarod, finish him off.” As the command left his mouth, he threw the dirk haphazardly at the second man. The brigand was able to duck underneath it easily, but the moment of distraction had been enough to open him up for Nikolao’s charge. The surveyor slammed into the man’s stomach, tackling him to the ground, and wrestling his weapon out of his hands.

  Jarod felt the same sense of resolve that had filled him that day in the alley, and he made his move against the first brigand. Seeing the man was on his last legs, Jarod feinted an overhead attack to bait the man into raising his own weapon.

  Roll to hit

  Shortsword: [6]+1-2+2

  Hit for [2]+1 damage

  Rather than bring his sword down though, he swung his shortsword in a quick arc backwards, and slashed upward across the man’s chest, ending with a viscous slice to his lower jaw. The brigand pitched backwards, and fell to the ground, not even a dying moan to escape his broken mouth.

  The group diverted their attention to the man Nikolao was wrestling with on the ground. Jarod leveled his shortsword against the man’s neck, even as he struggled under the weight of Nikolao. The fight went out of him, as he saw that he was beaten.

  “All right,” he said, still gasping for air from the wrestling match. “What do you want in exchange for my life?”