“Do you know where we are?” Kre asked Henric when they had made it through the doors at the far side of the arena.
The former guard shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. They never really needed patrols to roam through here as seldom as it’s used.”
Kre turned to Gnore as Henric stepped back to glance through the doorway, probably checking for any pursuit. “Is Kersath able to… you know… uh… control rats?” His voice was a whisper, just in case this was some sort of secret known only to the Red Feathers.
Gnore chuckled, “Nah lad.” He gestured to the flickering shadows cast by lanterns mounted on the walls. “His kind, they dabbl’n shadows.” He twirled his fingers a bit while he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Clearly finding the right words wasn’t easy for this conversation.
“He can make shadows dance?” Kre asked, guessing at what Gnore was trying to say.
“Nay,” Gnore rumbled, clearly frustrated that he didn’t know the word, “more’n like smithin’, but with shadows.”
Henric spoke up from just behind Kre, “Like molding darkness into reality? Shadow illusion magic? I thought that was just fairy tales.”
Gnore grinned wickedly up at Henric, who towered a good two feet above the Dweorvkin. “Best be believin’n in fairy magic lad. S’all around ya.”
A scream startled the lot of them and it was Kre that pointed down the split hallway towards its source. “Beleg,” he hissed urgently.
The three of them were running down the tunnel before the last echo of the scream faded from the rock walls around them. They soon heard clanging metal and grunts that indicated a group of males fighting for their lives. They slowed as they came to a corner, drawing their weapons and prepped themselves for a melee.
Gnore waved the others back and peered around. He snapped his head back and nodded to the others, “S’a fight all right. ‘bout five and Beleg. Two others down.”
“Who are the others?” Kre asked.
“Don’t matter,” Gnore said with a shake of his head. “Red Feathers!” The last was said as a battle cry as he spun around the corner waving his blade over his head.
Henric looked nervous, as if he weren’t sure how this might go. Kre figured that for the former guard, serving as a guide and causing a distraction was one thing, but taking up arms was quite another.
Kre clapped Henric on the shoulder and smiled, “If you want to keep an eye out here, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Honestly, Beleg probably doesn’t need our help at all, but certainly less so with Gnore jumping in. We’ll probably just be in the way.”
Henric returned the smile, though his was weaker and slightly forced. “You’re a good kid,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be mixed up in all of this. You should be home with your family, learning a trade, and chasing down a wife.”
Kre shrugged, trying to play off the wave of homesickness he felt wash over him in that moment. “We all have our reasons,” he murmured, more to himself than to Henric. The guard simply nodded his own agreement and peered around the corner as the sounds of battle started to die off.
“That we do, kid…” Henric whispered softly. “That we do.”