Chapter 118: 7.3 – The Gates of Tarin-Tiran

‘They know we’re here.’

Robin peered out the window of the former residential building he and the rest of the party were hiding in. Down there street, several lengths away, he could see a patrol of hobgoblins making their way carefully towards where he and his friends were hidden.

‘They know someone is somewhere in the area,’ Robin corrected Jhess.

‘They wouldn’t even know that much if we hadn’t tricked that last patrol into following us down Ruprecht’s gullet,’ the rogue snapped.

‘That’s hardly fair, and entirely untrue,’ Drev chided. ‘They have to have found the bodies of the patrol that attacked us as soon as we entered the city. And those corpses hardly bear the marks of an easy death from natural causes.’

‘Knives are perfectly natural,’ Jhess muttered, but it was clear she took the point.

So far the party has successfully lured only one patrol to the dungeon growing slowly around Ruprecht. There was not much there in the way of traps, enough for defence and a bit of challenge for the invaders, but that was about it. The party had had to contract with Ruprecht as sort of temporary dungeon monsters. There were a few benefits, and it meant they had an inherent mental connection to Ruprecht when within his boundaries, but even the assurances Jhess had negotiated into the magically binding contract were not enough to set the rogue fully at ease.

‘There’s something different about this group,’ Savra said suddenly.

‘They have a mage of some kind.’ Vance pointed to the slimmest of the advancing hobs.

The hobgoblin in question was dressed in simple cloth armour, with odd markings stitched into it. It wasn’t quite language; Robin couldn’t read any meaning from it. It held some significance, yes, but what was beyond his ken.

She also had some kind of wand in her hand. It was long and thin, but made of metal. It looked like the same metal as was used to make the spiked gorget around her neck. The material was brassy and etched with deep runes in some kind of black enamel that had a distinctly sludgy and corroded look about it.

‘Have you ever seen anything like that?’ Robin directed the question at Vance and Drev after his [Bardic Lore] came up empty.

‘No,’ each said in turn.

‘Could be some kind of magical focus,’ Drev offered, squinting as if to try and bridge the distance.

‘Or something that compensates for an inability to speak,’ Vance offered. ‘That gorget design is unusual.’

Robin had heard small bits about magical devices designed to aid those who lost their voice or hand, items which made up for the inability to fully execute the magical formulas and gestures that seems to control much of the sorcery of this world. This was his first time seeing even a potential example, however.

He hadn’t had a lot of time to explore magical markets, after all.

‘Either way it looks like a weak spot,’ Jhess said. ‘Less nattering, more battle planning. We need to separate them and lure them after us. How are we going to do it this time?’

‘Illusions, again,’ Robin said. ‘How else? It’s safest.’

‘You’re becoming predictable,’ Jhess complained.

‘You just want to get the chance to use your knives,’ Robin retorted. ‘You’re an adrenaline junky—you live for the thrill and the danger.’ Robin corrected himself before Jhess could ask after the strange word.

He caught Drev and Vance exchanging a glance. Damn. He’d need to be more careful. He likely didn’t need to be this paranoid, but too many questions into his past could be inconvenient.

Right. Time to play up the attention-starved bard, then.

Robin stood with a flourish.

‘To satisfy our bloodthirsty friend, then, I suggest we try something a little different. I’ll bait them with illusions, we skirmish, then I cover our retreat, again with illusions. We can play hit and run or cat and mouse games with them as we lead them to Ruprecht. That should keep them keen at least.’

‘It’s an unnecessary risk,’ Drev began.

‘Oh come on!’ Jhess wheedled. ‘Let me have some fun!’

The party bickered good-naturedly for a few minutes as they made sure all their gear was ready and that they each had a clear idea of the escape routes, should anything go wrong.

Then they slipped out of the building and down a nearby alley, angling across the way to intercept the hobgoblins from their left flank.

Jhess was practically bouncing on the toes of her feet.

Right. Robin needed an illusion that fit with the damage those knives could do. Might as well take advantage of the added verisimilitude. Something that looked like a worthwhile foe, not too dangerous, but potentially carrying something the hobgoblins would want. Like some juicy haunches or a pouch of gold coins.

So far as they knew, no hobgoblin had survived to report back to the hjuncta what Robin and his party looked like. Ideally they would keep it that way as long as possible.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t conjure up a convincing adventurer though. In fact, he had a model all ready.

Robin willed a [Visual Phantasm], backed with sound from [Lesser Phantasm], to dart from an alley across the street to a patch of shadow he could just see out of the corner of his eye by peering around the edge of the building they were hiding behind.

The sight of the slim rogue caused a shout to go up from the assembled hobgoblins. And if said rogue bore a seedy caricature of Khavren’s features, well, who would notice in the chaos? Being a rogue and an illusion? The knight would tear himself in two if he could see this.

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Not that Robin was advocating some kind of [Resurrection] spell or anything. No. Let Khavren keep his just rewards in the afterlife. No need to bring him back down here to bother innocent bards—errr, that is, to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Here they come, he signed to the rest of the party.

Jhess drew her dagger and, choosing her moment, sent it winging towards the lead hob. It took him in the shoulder. He screamed in outrage and pain.

He should have worn more (or better) armour.

Robin conjurd a mocking laiugh from teh shadows and sent a darting flicker of movement to lead the hobgoblin patrol along the route they wanted them to go.

‘I’m going to take Drev and cut past them, stay ahead and lead them on,’ Jhess said. ‘You. keep the illusion leading them to us, but from the rear. That way we can hit them from both sides if we need to.’

It was as good a plan as any. Robin and the others split up. The bard was left with the seeress and the sorcerous warrior.

Vance had conjured one of his paper blades but had yet to summon his armour or invoke any of the great legends to power his prowess. No point wasting magical energies if it wasn’t called for, and he could invoke his abilities quickly enough if he needed to.

‘You’re going to learn something interesting soon, Savra said suddenly, looking at Robin.

The bard felt his blood go cold. He hated it when she did that. On a deep, visceral level. Possibly right down to his shadeling DNA. If DNA was even a thing in this world.

‘I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,’ he said lightly, refusing to let her see how much she unnerved him.

Even though she had to know. She was a bloody seeress after all. One deeply beloved by her spying goddess.

They moved after the hobgoblin patrol. Robin kept his illusory rogue dancing in and out of the shadows, kept it laughing and mocking and urging the patrol on. It never seemed to occur to the hobgoblins that they might be running into a trap.

Though to be fair the rage quotient in this group seemed higher than average, and Jhess had pegged the leader pretty good with that first knife she had thrown.

The thing that caught Robins attention was the mage. It was hard to say for certain, but the bolts of flame she was flinging via that wand seemed to be hitting slightly harder than he would expect.

They certainly seemed to hit harder than his own [Lesser Witchbolt]s.

Though that could be her specialism. But something nagged at Robin, made him think that it had to do with the wand and gorget combo.

He wanted a closer look.

Was there some way to separate the mage from her companions? Possibly. It wouldn’t be easy though. Mages tended to stick close to the tanks and vice versa. Everyone benefited from the synergy.

And they needed them to make it to Ruprecht’s territory. The dungeon needed all the life force he could get to fuel his assimilation of the locking mechanism so he could open it and let them deeper into Tarin-Tiran.

Suddenly, the mage whirled and flung a bolt of fire directly at Robin!

Robin cursed and dodged. He’d let himself get distracted and gotten too close. He’d been spotted!

‘I’ll play rabbit,’ he said quickly to the others, throwing a [Visual Phantasm] around them to make sure they remained unseen. ‘Try to lead them back around and intersect Jhess and Drev.’

Then he turned and sprinted off down an alley, mentally calling for Rerebos to guide his path from above. It was almost as good as GPS.

It was certainly equally as snarky.

The hobgoblins gave chase. Some of them at least. Maybe they split up as well. But Robin could hear at least two sets of feet and two voices shouting after him as he ran, and from the bolts of fire he had to dodge it was clear the mage was among them.

Left! Now! Fast-fast!

Rerebos was all but shouting in Robin’s mind.

The bard did as he was bid, reacting almost without thinking. He trusted the little dragon would see him through this.

He pelted down the crooked little alleyway, wincing as sparks splashed against the stone wall near his ear.

At least the way was twisty enough to provide some cover. And the mage was not so skilled as to be able to control the path of her missiles.

Drev was working on that. Robin was not looking forward to needing to come up with a counter for that particular trick as he advanced in tiers.

Hurry! They are gaining! Stupid ape. Run faster!

Robin put his head down and did just that.

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