Coll was still standing in the aisle, hammer raised threateningly once more. As the guards converged on him, Benin shook his head, muttered a curse at his companion's folly, then began to wind his way back through the outer aisles toward the now-clear doorway, making sure to stay low and keep his fiery little piggy-backer hidden from view. It was a mercy that the guards' yelling and the racket from the caged creatures covered up the emberfox's growling and Benin’s own lack of finesse; clearly neither of them were made for stealth.
As he reached the doorway to freedom, he couldn't help but glance back. All four guards were now surrounding Coll, shouting at him to drop his weapon. One of them was still holding a short sword, but the other three were armed with alchemical globes in one hand and what looked like small tubes or pipes in the other.
What, are they planning to serenade him into submission? Good luck. That idiot is likely as tone deaf to actual music as he is to everything else.
Coll glanced in his direction as though he'd heard him. Seeing Benin and his four-legged hitchhiker in the doorway ready to make their escape, his shoulders relaxed, and he let his hammer drop to his side.
Unfortunately, the sudden movement triggered the guards’ trained reflexes. Already on edge, they flinched back, and one of them instinctively raised the hand containing the strange tube to their face, cheeks puffed out.
The others shouted at him, and a second later he dropped the tube on the ground guiltily.
Coll looked around, confused. The guards seemed confused too. They started yelling at him again to drop his hammer. Coll yelled back, explaining that if he dropped it, it might cause another shockwave that could hurt them. All the while, he was jerking his head oddly toward Benin.
Belatedly, he realized Coll was urging him to leave. But he couldn't seem to drag his gaze away. Should he help Coll? Could he help Coll? It seemed unlikely.
The guards took the decision out of his hands. Apparently reaching the end of their patience with the big man's refusal to comply with their orders, another of them raised their tube—a blowgun, Benin belatedly realized—and blew a second dart at Coll. It stuck in his neck.
He swayed, but still didn't drop. Benin couldn't help but be impressed.
It sounded as though the guards were impressed, too. He heard one of them muttering about "Bloody constitution builds," while another speculated that their opponent had some advanced version of the Stone Body ability.
Then Coll swayed again and dropped his hammer. It didn't cause any more shockwaves like he'd warned, but it did make quite the racket. On Benin's shoulder, the emberfox flinched and dug its claws in deeper.
The guards, already jumpy, finally lost it. All three of those with blowguns raised their weapons to their mouths and shot simultaneously.
It seemed Coll's formidable constitution had finally reached its limit. The big man stumbled, falling against a hutch containing a giant neon-blue butterfly, but somehow remaining on his feet.
"Wha' d'ja do 'at for?" His words were slurred almost beyond recognition, and he sounded genuinely offended.
Turning around slowly to take in all four guards—who'd backed away again, though this time it was clear they were just making room for him to fall—he pointed a wobbly finger in front of him.
"You shouldn't've shot me, y'know. I wasn' harming 'nyone." He stared at his own finger, bringing it closer to his face in fascination as he teetered on his feet. "I was jus' causin' a dishtraction. Tha's all."
With that, Coll finally lost his battle with both consciousness and gravity. Without any change in his expression or posture, he toppled sideways and crashed to the ground like a felled oak.
The guards breathed heavy sighs. Then they—and Benin—registered the meaning of Coll's last words.
All four guards spun to face the exit, one of them already raising their blowgun. For a terrifying instant, Benin's feet remained frozen—an especially uncomfortable sensation for a pyromancer. Then the emberfox yowled and dug its claws into his neck. Heat and adrenaline surged down through his body and he twisted away from the doorway.
The dart hit the doorframe and bounced off, but Benin and his new familiar were already gone, leaving Coll alone and unconscious in the lair of the enemy.
Six
The Grotto
Corey
“’Everything’s fine.’” Ket sounded dangerously angry. “’Everything’s fine.’ That’s what you told me, Corey. In what universe is this ‘fine’?!”
The sprite sort of had a point. Though Longshanks was still alive—in other words, "fine," by my definition at least—he most certainly was not okay.
The other scouts had bound his injured leg with makeshift bandages during the journey back. But seeing as the limb in question was partially severed, and given that the gnomes were about as proficient in first aid as an ostrich was at arm-wrestling, they'd left a trail of blood all the way from the battle site to the Grotto, and now my wounded lead scout was looking dangerously pale. His head lolled senselessly over the crook of Ris'kin's left elbow, and his bloody leg dangled loosely over her right.
Even though I'd prepared Ket for what she was about to see, she'd shrieked in horror when the otherwise triumphant procession re-entered my Sphere of Influence. I'd endured her accusatory remarks about my definitions of "slightly hurt" and "a bit scratched-up" without comment, and I'd listened silently to her diatribe about my negligence in letting Longshanks get into such a state.
Now, though, she'd started on my lack of communication and the less-than-honest nature of my reports from beyond my SOI, for which I genuinely did feel a bit guilty.
At the escalating outrage in her voice—not to mention its rising volume—I'd fled higher up than our usual
