The sky over Ashfall began to scream.

  At first it sounded like distant thunder rolling across the volcanic ridges. Then the sound deepened into something mechanical—angrier, sharper.

  The ash clouds above the valley tore apart.

  Fire punched through the atmosphere.

  The Drifting Ember descended like a falling blade.

  Its hull burned red as it cut through the upper air, retrothrusters hammering against Ashfall’s violent updrafts. Sheets of ash blasted outward in expanding spirals as the corvette roared low over the basalt flats.

  The ship did not land.

  It hovered.

  Engines howling.

  Dust and volcanic grit erupted outward in a hurricane of heat and pressure as the vessel stabilized twenty meters above the shattered battlefield.

  Inside the open cargo ramp, four armored figures stood ready.

  Captain Ironbelly stood at the front.

  Black fur hidden beneath heavy combat plating.

  Segmented armor reinforced his broad shoulders and chest, metal alloy etched with older scars from older wars. A wide belt carried spare magazines, grenades, two brutal-looking energy pistols, and a massive plasma-ion cutlass.

  Behind him, Karn Blackhorn checked the cylinders of his oversized mana revolvers. Lightning crawled faintly between the tips of his horns.

  To Ironbelly’s left, Thimble Cogsworth clung to the ramp harness, her anti-gravity boots humming faintly. A compact magitech rifle rested across her guantlets while a cloud of diagnostic runes flickered across the lens of her ocular implant.

  Beside her stood Nash, armored nearly head to toe in black space armor and carrying enough weaponry to supply a small rebellion.

  Every one of them had expected a fight.

  The ramp slammed open.

  Ash and heat blasted into the cargo bay.

  Ironbelly didn’t wait.

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

  “Move!”

  He stepped off the ramp and dropped.

  The others followed instantly.

  They hit the basalt flats in a staggered landing pattern, boots crunching into volcanic grit while weapons came up in smooth, practiced arcs.

  Above them, the Drifting Ember peeled away toward a safer landing zone.

  Ironbelly didn't watch the ship fly away.

  His eyes were already scanning the battlefield.

  The flats looked like a god had tried to tear the planet open.

  Jagged spires of stone jutted from the earth in violent clusters. Entire sections of ground had collapsed inward where molten rock bubbled just beneath the crust. The air still hummed faintly with the residue of enormous magical forces.

  And in the middle of it all—

  Bodies.

  Ironbelly moved first.

  The captain bounded in long, ground-eating strides, sword and a pistol drawn.

  Karn and Nash spread wide to either flank, weapons sweeping the shattered terrain.

  Thimble’s visor flared as it scanned.

  “I detect—oh no.”

  Ironbelly reached them first.

  Vaeris Grimleaf lay crumpled on the basalt.

  Blood soaked the black stone beneath her.

  Her left arm ended in a ragged stump just below the wrist.

  Ironbelly froze.

  For a single heartbeat the massive pantheran simply stared.

  Behind him, Karn stopped dead. The minotaur’s nostrils flared.

  Nash swore under his breath.

  Thimble rushed forward, anti-grav boots lifting her the final meter to Vaeris’ side.

  “She's alive,” the gnome said instantly. “Severe trauma but stable. Neural disruption likely from a stun or suppression device. She somehow managed a tourniquet.”

  Ironbelly knelt beside the fallen archmage.

  His massive hands moved with surprising gentleness as he checked her pulse.

  Still there.

  Barely.

  Behind them, a weak groan cut through the wind.

  Ironbelly’s head snapped up.

  A small shape twitched in the ash several meters away.

  Thorn Seven Hollow lay sprawled where he had fallen from the sky.

  One wing bent at an ugly angle.

  The demon’s eyes fluttered open.

  Ironbelly stood and crossed the distance in two strides.

  He crouched beside Thorn, shadow falling over the small demon. His paws were already pushing blue light into Thorn’s wounds.

  “Where is he?”

  Thorn blinked, disoriented.

  Then memory slammed back into place.

  Ben.

  The demon lurched upright.

  His eyes darted across the battlefield.

  “No—no—no—”

  He sniffed the air desperately.

  Searching.

  Ironbelly stopped healing for a moment and grabbed Thorn's shoulders with a shake.

  “Where. Is. Ben.”

  Thorn’s voice came out hoarse.

  “They took him.”

  The wind howled across the shattered valley.

  Ironbelly slowly released the demon.

  For a moment no one spoke.

  Then Karn asked quietly,

  “Dead?”

  Thorn shook his head violently.

  “No.”

  His hand pressed against his chest.

  “I can still feel him.”

  Ironbelly looked out across the ruined battlefield.

  The wind howled through broken basalt spires.

  Behind him, Karn’s revolvers slid back into their holsters with a heavy metallic click.

  The minotaur’s voice rumbled low.

  “Just say the word, Captain.”

  Thimble’s ocular implant flickered rapidly as data scrolled across her lens.

  “They had a ship,” she muttered. “Unknown drive signature. I might be able to reconstruct their trajectory if I—”

  She stopped.

  Because Ironbelly still hadn’t moved.

  Nash scanned the horizon through his rifle scope.

  “Tracks end here,” he said quietly.

  “Clean extraction.”

  The captain said nothing.

  For a long moment he simply stared into the ash-choked sky where the kidnappers had vanished.

  Somewhere out there, someone had just made the worst mistake of their life.