Clay looked up as a shadow fell across the notes he was reading. He blinked in surprise and then smiled, getting to his feet in front of his tent. “Lady Janburg. What can I do for you?”

  The Baroness peered at the notes curiously, but Clay didn’t think they would be much use to her. They contained at least two [Chants] that he had so far failed to understand. He’d been taking the time to read through them before the next day, seeing if he could uncover a new set of spells to go along with his increased level, but so far, he hadn’t been all that successful.

  She frowned. “Sir Clay. I hope I am not interrupting you.”

  He shook his head. “No, my lady. Just trying to see if I can find a few more tools to use before we get started tomorrow.”

  Janburg nodded slowly. “You really intend to lead them against the greater swinefolk, then?”

  “I do, my lady.” Clay smiled. “With the bonuses I now have from [Swinebane], I should be able to eliminate most of the dangers and give the others a chance to kill a few of them. At their level, they’ll probably be able to reach a new level by the end of tomorrow, and another a few days after that.”

  She tilted her head, considering him. “You aren’t going directly for the Lair itself, then?”

  “Not unless we have to, my lady.” Clay shook his head. “It might still be necessary, but unless it is, I want to give them every chance to earn new levels. If they decide to join the Guild after this—and I hope they do—then they’ll need the skills for their next mission, wherever that might be.”

  “I see.” She hesitated, something that seemed odd coming from the [Noble]. He hadn’t interacted all that often with her, but his experience so far had suggested that she was a fairly decisive person. Seeing her pause felt almost completely off. “May I ask you a favor, Sir Clay?”

  Clay felt his brow furrow. “Of course. As long as I’m able, I’ll do my best to help.”

  The Baroness studied him a moment before continuing, as if she wanted to measure his sincerity. “I would like to accompany you in your assaults tomorrow. And every day after as well, until the Lair is done.”

  He blinked. If he’d been honest, he’d been expecting her to ask him to take care of Olivia or something to that effect. Perhaps seeing Olivia in battle personally had changed her opinion? “You… don’t mean just in the fights outside the bowl, do you, my lady?”

  “I do not.” The Baroness shook her head. “For well over a decade, I’ve been fighting these things, but I’ve never managed the kind of success you’ve achieved here. I want to see how you do it, and how you’ve managed to make it so that the people under you survive.”

  Clay grinned at her. “So it’s not just about them getting to level six before you, Lady Janburg?”

  She paused and then returned his grin. “I’ll admit to having it be partially about that. A Baroness is not the most impressive title, and I’ve won my levels through fighting almost as much as you all have. I suppose I don’t want to allow them to pass me by without at least making the attempt to keep up.”

  Then she looked away for a moment. “More than that, I want to be there when this ends, and not to be a burden when the fight comes to a close. I’ve expected them to kill me, you know? At some point, as the place grew worse and worse, I fully thought that one of those things would get me.”

  She looked back at him, and Clay recognized a bit of his own stubbornness in her. “I fought anyway, of course. My people needed me, and I couldn’t afford to fail. Not with so many lives on the line, and my own responsibility too. Others might have run, but I have not.”

  Then she laughed. “And now here you’ve come, with a mad plan and the last daughter of Zelton at your side. The monsters I’ve expected to kill me are being driven back into their little hole in the foothills, and one way or the other, I think you’ll finish them off for good.”

  Janburg paused again, and her expression went serious. “I want to be there when you kill it, so I can laugh while you do. And then, once I’ve learned how to do the same thing you’ve done here, I want to pass it on to some of the others like me. The ones who’ve been staring down a grim fate for decades, and might just need to hold out a little longer. Just long enough for you, or one of these mad [Commoners] you’ve gathered, to come and put a stop to it.”

  Clay stared at her a moment. “You know the Guild will probably not like you doing that.”

  “Then a few extra levels might be helpful in… negotiating with them, wouldn’t you say?” Janburg’s smile looked all the more menacing with her scars. She took in the expression on his face and chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t intend to say anything about the [Chants], or about however you plan on killing the Lair. The Guild’s always been very secretive about that, and I don’t expect you to trespass against them that far. I do expect that you might receive quite a few letters pleading for help, now that you’ve answered mine, however, and I’d like for the first ones to belong to those in the direst straits. As long as you don’t mind, of course.”

  It was hard to argue with her, especially considering the help she’d already given. Besides, how could he justify taking Mitchell, but not his liege lady? Clay sighed. “You can come, but I’ll be in command. You won’t be treated any differently than any of the others out there. Like I told them—”

  “Where you say fight, I fight. Where you say run, I run.” The Baroness’ smile had grown several times more sincere, and quite a bit wider as well. “I agree, Sir Clay. I just hope that I will not disappoint.”

  He snorted. “I doubt you would, my lady. Lord Pellsglade and Sir Frensfeld were both [Nobles] that I’ve fought beside, and they were both very capable. I’d expect the same from you.”

  She froze in place for a moment, her eyes going wide. “Sir… Frensfeld?”

  Clay nodded. “Yeah, we were in the Tanglewood together. A lot of my friends are currently following him on a mission of their own, actually.”

  Lady Janburg chuckled again, shaking her head. “You may not realize this, Sir Clay, but Sir Frensfeld isn’t just any old [Noble]. He’s a cousin to the King.”

  His eyebrows shot up. For a moment, he ran back through everything he’d ever said to the man. Then he sighed. “That… makes sense. Or at least, a lot of things I hadn’t thought about now make sense.”

  “I’m sure.” Lady Janburg clapped him on the shoulder and moved away, still chuckling. “I look forward to tomorrow, Sir Clay. May the swinefolk fear our coming!”

  He made a noise of agreement, and then stood for a moment, wondering how much of King John’s plan to use him had happened because his cousin had mentioned Clay to him. Had Frensfeld known what would happen, or had he just wanted to make sure that the Guild didn’t try to bury him before the King could find out?

  The questions chased each other around in his head for a moment, and then he went back to the [Chants] with a sigh. Here, at least, was a puzzle he would be able to figure out. If only he could decide why the phrasing seemed so odd…

  They woke to a sky full of clouds.

  It wasn’t the best omen, and it certainly didn’t help that many of the villagers predicted it would rain soon. The occasional gusts of summer wind held promises of a warm rain, but Clay had no intention of delaying their departure. Janburg had waited long enough for safety, and Zelton’s justice had been ignored for too long as well.

  The others felt the same, apparently, because there were no complaints as they packed up their gear and started across the bridge. If anything, they were all enthusiastic about fighting their way through the bowl with him, even though he’d warned them repeatedly of how dangerous it was.

  Then again, they’d been in danger more or less continually over the past few weeks, so why would this time be any different? At least, it seemed like that was their implied response as they nodded away his concerns and went back to talking about the [Chants] and tactics they intended to use.

  Olivia started chuckling quietly as they walked along, and Clay gave her an exasperated look. She rolled her eyes. “Can you blame them for being excited, Clay? We’ve worked hard for this, and we’re getting close to being a part of a story they’ll tell here for a hundred years. Everyone hears about adventurers killing a Lair. Who would ignore a story about [Commoners] doing the same?”

  “[Commoners] and one [Noble], Syr Olivia.” Lady Janburg’s voice carried only amused reproach in her tone. She wagged a mocking finger at the former Novice. “I won’t have my part in this journey forgotten.”

  Clay snorted. “If anything, we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t end with you being the heroine of the story, my lady.” Olivia gave him an incredulous look. “Before this, would you have believed a mere [Commoner] could have killed this place? Or would you have given the local [Noble] the credit?”

  She grimaced. “A good point. Maybe we’ll have to enlist a [Minstrel] to make sure it gets told correctly.”

  Olivia had raised her voice loud enough to make herself heard over the others’ mild bickering, and Lana laughed. “I can do my best, Syr Olivia, but even my talents might not be enough.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve a fine voice, and a good head for it.” Mitchell looked at the Baroness. “Would you agree, my lady?”

  Lady Janburg gave him a surprised glance, and then shrugged. “I’ve not heard her play myself, but I’d imagine her talents will only be that much more impressive now. The magic alone would make it a performance to see!”

  Lana laughed again, and Andrew tapped his hammer’s shaft against his shoulder. “You know, I could probably make a few things you could use. It might take a little while, but it could probably help out.”

  Clay chuckled. “As long as you don’t mean the ear plugs, Andrew.”

  Lana gave the [Crafter] a glare full of false offense, and Andrew recoiled. “I didn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t…”

  Mitchell gave his bark of a laugh, surprising the Baroness again. “Oh, let the poor boy alone, you mongrels. We’ve already enough trouble ahead.”

  Lana grinned, and Andrew slumped with relief. She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Don’t worry, Sir Andrew. When I make up the song, I’ll make sure to only describe some of your bad features.”

  He grumbled something under his breath, and they were back to bickering in a heartbeat. Clay shook his head and turned his attention back to the trail. A bit of thunder rumbled overhead, and the next gust of air smelled wet with rain. It was going to be a long day.

  “You’re sure you want me here first?” Mitchell glanced back to where the others had made the camp. “Why not Lady Janburg?”

  Clay glanced at him. “Lady Janburg isn’t planning on being a traveling hero, Sir Mitchell. You are.”

  The [Guard]’s face twisted. “That title still doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Believe me, I’m not a big fan of it either.” Clay shook his head. “Still, you’ve earned it. You, and all the others.”

  A question appeared in his mind a moment later. “Though I guess you might need to wait until you talk to the Guild before you really start calling yourself by it. Do you intend to join the Guild?”

  Mitchell blinked. He looked almost disbelieving. “The Guild? No, Sir Clay. At least, I’ve never thought about it.” At Clay’s raised eyebrow, he shook his head. “I mostly was doing this to help the Baroness and free the village, but once that’s done, I don’t see myself being a traveling hero any more than she would be. Besides, I’d feel… unhappy when not by her side.”

  There was a depth of feeling in those words that seemed to go beyond mere fealty. Clay felt his expression soften slightly, and he nodded. “I see. I think I understand.”

  The [Guard]’s face grew shockingly red. “Not that I wouldn’t object to helping out from time to time, you understand. I’d never want to leave a neighbor in danger, especially not with all you’ve taught me.” He started adjusting his armor, almost like a nervous habit. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you, Sir Clay.”

  Clay smiled. “Don’t worry. Even adventurers retire, you know, and protecting the people you care about is a fine thing. It’s why I got started on this in the first place.” Then he chuckled. “Well, that and a few misplaced dreams of adventures, I guess.”

  “Not so misplaced from where I stand, Sir.” When Clay looked back, Mitchell shrugged. “At the very least, according to me, you’re doing very well so far.”

  “Let’s hope the Guild and the King share your view.” Clay sighed and looked back to the passage through the hills that led to the bowl. He’d destroyed the barricade that had waited at the end of the pass, but he had no doubt that the monsters were already there waiting. With Mitchell with him, he doubted that sliding down the cliffs was really an option. This time, the only way to attack them would be from the front.

  At the very least, it would be a new approach. Maybe it would take them off guard. He sighed again. There was only one way to find out.

  “Well, that went… well.” Clay looked around the wreckage of the camp. Sure enough, the monsters had rebuilt the place, but they seemed to have been expecting an ambush from behind. He doubted they would have managed to catch him, not with the abilities he had now, but it definitely hadn’t helped them when Clay had smashed the barricade—along with half a dozen minor swinefolk—and charged through with Mitchell on his heels.

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  Mitchell turned around to look at him with a bleary expression. “I think you and I have a different definition of ‘well’, Sir Clay.” He looked down at the roasted screecher corpse in front of him. “I only killed one of the things, and that was because it was focused on you.”

  Clay made a dismissive gesture. “Not true. You killed plenty of the lesser ones just fine.” The [Guard] opened his mouth to protest, and Clay overrode him and continued. “You’re also forgetting what you’re up against, here. These things are nearly twice your level, and under the right conditions, they can give me plenty of trouble. Killing one is not a small thing.”

  The [Guard] grimaced. His armor had several more scratches now, but he didn’t seem like he was ready to give up quite yet. “All right. So what’s the plan? Do we pull back?”

  Clay’s senses twinged, and he shook his head. “Not yet. You’ve only got one. We want you to take down at least two more today.” When Mitchell gave him an incredulous stare, Clay shrugged. “The next group should be here in about five minutes. We can either run, or we can get ready for them. Which do you want to do?”

  Mitchell stared at him a moment longer. Then the [Guard] came to his feet with a sigh. “We’d better burn the bodies, at least. Maybe it’ll hide our trail a little while we get around behind them.”

  Clay nodded, and they both started the Flame-Tongued Song. A short while later, what was left of the barricade was burning, and he and Mitchell were finding a place among the trees to wait for the enemy. It wasn’t the worst start.

  A handful of hours later, Mitchell staggered back with him to camp, having reached level six. He’d also taken a battering that the others didn’t seem enthusiastic about enduring, but the [Guard] had shrugged aside Clay’s concerns and pointed out that his [Harness Expert] [Experience] gave him a bit more durability than most people would have expected. That fact was doubly true with his newest [Experiences]. Clay didn’t know what [Sturdy] and [Dependable] did, but it sounded like a good fit for the man, and despite his fatigue, he seemed ready to stand watch while the next person went out.

  They had set their camp around the Stone in the middle of what had been Zelton. At first, Clay had wanted to avoid showing Olivia her destroyed home, but she had insisted on going there, and even more so, demanded that they place their camp in the same place where her people had lost their last stand. The Baroness had quietly agreed, and so they had set down their supplies on the spot.

  He’d worried that they would attract attention from the swinefolk, but the truth was the monsters had pulled back again. The destruction of so many of their towers had left the third ring of their defenses in tatters, and the creatures had seemed to realize what it meant to have so many of their elites fall. It seemed like every swinefolk that could still breathe had retreated back into the bowl, milling about under the command of their greater brethren.

  Not that it would help them. One way or the other, their Lair would fall, very likely within the week. Then these things would be gone.

  “So was it like this, Sir Clay? When you were fighting in the Tanglewood?”

  The question made Clay blink. He looked over at Lana with more than a little incredulity. “Is now really the time to ask?”

  Lana shrugged, a small smile on her face. She was crouched down beside him in a copse of the strange trees inside the bowl. A hundred or so strides away, the burning remains of a broken barricade were busily sending a column of smoke. Unlike the one he’d destroyed with Mitchell, that one they had destroyed using an ambush from behind. The swinefolk hadn’t been able to repair or reinforce the one he’d destroyed already, so when Lana had come with him, Clay had just slipped past the still-smoldering corpses and slunk along to the next barricade.

  The [Minstrel] had been more than fine with launching an ambush. She was the one who was closest to being as stealthy, after all. Their first attack had gone near perfectly, with both of them using the Canticle of Ice and arrows to slaughter the swinefolk. Lana had nailed the soul eater with a near-miraculous shot while it had been distracted by Clay’s headlong charge into the ranks of the rest.

  Now they were waiting for the horde of reinforcements that Clay was expecting to arrive from the west, where they were usually patrolling. They’d likely be a bit wary, considering that he and Mitchell had already ambushed two sets of them at the last barricade, but the first set here shouldn’t be looking too closely at the situation before they charged in.

  Still, it wasn’t exactly the best time for a casual conversation. Clay shook his head and turned back to studying the surrounding forest. “It wasn’t exactly like this, no. The need for quiet and patience was definitely the same, though.”

  Lana seemed to be completely impervious to the hint he’d tried to deliver. She frowned and tapped at her bow with her fingers. “Really? What was so different?”

  “Lana.” Clay struggled to keep his voice low. “We’re in the middle of trying to ambush the monsters here. Now is not the time for me to tell you a story.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “With an attitude like that, you probably shouldn’t complain when people really do get your story wrong in a few years. Have you even actually told anyone about your first adventures, aside from your friends?”

  Clay rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “No. Not really. There just hasn’t seemed to be a really good time for it. Like now.”

  He gave her a stern look, but Lana rolled her eyes. “Sir Clay, you know as well as I do that they’re just going to stomp right past us. These creatures are strong, but they aren’t exactly that bright.”

  With a noncommittal grunt, Clay turned his attention back to the incoming monsters. There was another group approaching. They were moving exactly as expected, and they were alone. He relaxed slightly. “So you’re planning on singing all our stories? I’d have thought that was just a joke.”

  Lana gave him a glare that he wasn’t sure was entirely unserious. “I’ll have you know I love to sing. Music’s important.” Then she smiled. “Besides, it wouldn’t be such a bad way to make a living.”

  Clay remembered the many bards and minstrels in Crownsguard, and how many of them looked down on their luck. “Well, as long as you find yourself a decent patron, I suppose it could work out.” Then he glanced at her, feeling a tremor of uncertainty. “Unless you’re only planning on doing it between missions for the Guild.”

  She nodded. “Oh yeah, of course. The Guild isn’t going to try to take over my entire life, I’d hope. After all, they let someone like you out.”

  He tried not to take offense to the statement—especially since he was well aware that the Guild had only let him go because they had no other better choices about what to do with him. “So you are planning on being part of the Guild?”

  “Well, yes.” A shadow of concern stole over her face. “Would they not want to have me?”

  Clay hesitated. “I feel like the Guild is still trying to get used to the idea of people like us. [Commoners], and what we can do.” It felt a little dishonest to not tell her the laundry list of complaints he had against the Guild, but at the same time, it wasn’t the time or the place. “If it is what you want for yourself, then I’ll be sure to put in a good word.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Sir Clay.” Lana smiled. “Though I would like to hear the story of what happened in the Tanglewood just as much. Maybe when we get back to camp?”

  He drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh. Then he caught sight of movement in the trees and gestured for Lana to fall silent. She nodded and put an arrow to her bowstring. Clay tried to ignore the triumph in her eyes as the enemy trampled past them, their eyes locked on the burning ahead rather than watching the sides.

  Clay drew an arrow back, sighting on the soul eater; Lana was already aiming at the screecher. At least some things were allowed to be easy here.

  When Lana returned to camp, she was practically skipping along after reaching level six. The [Experiences] she’d received, [Warsinger] and [Stalker] were definitely part of the reason for the smile on her face. Her other reason, of course, had been the fact that she’d somehow found the time to hound him into agreeing to tell her about the Tanglewood and Rodcliff once they got back to Janburg. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but at least her heart seemed to be in the right place.

  Lady Janburg herself was next, and she shouldered her war scythe with a steady air that spoke of years of combat experience. He nodded seriously to her, and then they set off together. The monsters were waiting, after all.

  Fighting alongside an adventurer again, even a [Noble], was a different experience.

  Clay had forgotten just how focused adventurers were, as a rule. Lady Janburg had only one [Charm], of course, and her range of [Chants] was limited to only what a [Commoner] could use at first level. The rest of her abilities were bound up in [Styles], and while they gave her an enviable range of physical abilities, all of the elemental [Chants] that the others could wield were out of her reach. It also seemed like she had trouble getting used to fighting alongside someone at her own level; if anything, she had an ingrown habit of trying to defend him that was probably born of repeatedly saving [Commoners] under her authority.

  Of course, that didn’t keep her from putting her many, many years of disemboweling swinefolk to very good use.

  It was hard to keep from snorting as she dodged around a burst of spikes sent at her by the shaker in the group, and respond almost immediately with her [Charm]. The shaker looked betrayed as the ground sprouted a crystalline spear, impaling it through the leg.

  As it went down with a howl, Clay finished the Canticle of Ice and cut down half a dozen swinefolk between her and the wounded shaker. Janburg gave him a brief nod before sprinting forward, her speed giving her the chance to reach her opponent before it finished pulling itself off of the spear. It had just enough time to look up before she delivered a blow across its other knee, hard enough to knock the shaker down in its face.

  Before it could rise, she was on top of it and stabbing downwards. The curved blade of her scythe punched about halfway into its neck before she ripped it back out. Three stabs later, and the thing went still.

  By that point, Clay had more or less finished with the rest of the group. There hadn’t been many left; he’d finished the soul eater first, and dealt with the screecher when it had charged him. The rest of the group had been fairly simple to clean up as Janburg dueled with the shaker.

  He paused for a moment to search out the nearest batch of reinforcements. They were some distance away, so he shrugged. “Well done, Lady Janburg. Are you still ready to go after the next batch?”

  Janburg looked back at him with a satisfied grin. “Of course, Sir Clay! We [Nobles] are known for our [Fortitude], after all.” Her smile grew larger. “Not only that, but I’ve reached sixth level! After so long.”

  Clay nodded. It was their first fight, but he’d assumed she’d reach it quickly enough. “Does that mean—”

  “A new [Charm]! And a new [Experience]. I assume you know what [Defiant] does?” When he nodded again, she chuckled. “I thought so. Well, at least I can rely on [Earthjaw] to give me an edge over you [Commoner] heroes. You won’t leave me behind quite yet!”

  He snorted. “I doubt there’s much chance of that, Lady Janburg. Without you, the entire area would have fallen, after all. No matter what we accomplish here, we can only do it thanks to your tireless efforts to defend your people.”

  She shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m glad you appreciate it, Sir Clay. I’m told not many adventurers actually do.” Then she looked around and sighed. “This wasn’t always how I saw my life progressing, you know.”

  Clay blinked. He started to drag some of the corpses together, hoping to burn them all at once rather than setting half the strange trees on fire. “What do you mean?”

  “Not every [Noble] has to fight monsters, you know.” Janburg grimaced and started to drag some of the bodies closest to her in the same direction. “In fact, the grand majority of us live fairly peaceful lives. When I inherited the seat at Janburg, it was considered a peaceful place. The barony at Zelton had the Lair mostly contained, and my family believed the most I’d ever have to do was point adventurers in the direction they should go.”

  It made sense. He nodded as he dropped another eater corpse on the pile. “And then Zelton was gone.”

  Her expression grew grim. “And then Zelton was gone. And the monsters were spreading towards my new home, and my people needed someone they could rely on. Someone who could protect them.” She fell silent for a moment, tugging at a pair of shriekers. “I did what I could.”

  Clay glanced at her. “Your people noticed. Sir Mitchell has been very impressed.”

  The comment brought a brief smile to her face. “I am glad. Still, I am grateful you decided to come to this place, Sir Clay. I didn’t get to enjoy much of the peaceful life before all this started. It will be good to find out what boredom unalloyed by fear feels like again.”

  He chuckled. “It might be a long time before I get to enjoy that wonderful future, Lady Janburg.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Sir Clay. You may only be a few years from that same grim fate.” When he raised an eyebrow at her, she laughed again. “I’ve been thinking, after all. About how they’ll probably move to stop you from causing so much trouble.”

  Clay grunted. He felt a hint of unease as he dragged the next batch of smashers to the pile. “And what have you come up with? In case there’s something I missed.”

  “Well, the easiest way is to give you a title of some sort. You know, once you’ve finished with the Guild.” Janburg’s grin grew a little malicious. “I’ve heard some retired adventurers are given that kind of reward when their time is done. They go to some countryside seat, perhaps far from any Lairs, and live out their days listening to [Commoners] argue about sheep.”

  He snorted. “And you think they’re going to be generous enough to give me the same treatment? The other [Nobles] might object.”

  Janburg shook her head. “I don’t know about that. After all, if you don’t get a title, your children might be [Commoners], right? That means you could raise up a whole family of [Commoner] heroes. Not a lot of [Nobles] would be excited about that. If you do have a title, though…”

  “My family would be born [Nobles].” Clay blinked. It was a trick he hadn’t considered. “I… don’t know how to feel about that.”

  “Well, just don’t be surprised when the day comes, Sir Clay. I’d hate to have them take you by surprise.” She chuckled again, before turning to drag the next body. “They might try for a marriage match too, right off the start. I wouldn’t want Olivia to get… involved.”

  Clay suddenly felt hot under the collar. He suddenly grew very, very interested in the crusher he was hauling. A change of subject might be called for. “That would be… bad.” He shook his head. “Is this something you’ve had to deal with? How would I turn them down?”

  Janburg fell silent a moment. “I wouldn’t know, Sir Clay. After all, a small barony on the edge of a dangerous Lair is not well known for its marriage prospects.” Her next tug at a crusher’s arm had a little more force behind it. Then she laughed again. “Maybe I’ll find myself some young suitor once this is done. Poor lad won’t know what hit him.”

  Despite himself, Clay snorted in amusement. Then he started the Flame-Tongued Song. They had lingered long enough, after all.

  “I just don’t know if I want to be part of an adventure, is all.”

  Clay gave Andrew an incredulous look. The [Crafter] was now level six, having gained both [Hammer Expert] and [Warsinger] after an assault on one of the few remaining barricades. They’d already killed another group of swinefolk reinforcements, and were looking to hunt down and kill a third. “You… might be in the wrong place then, you know.”

  Andrew flushed. He glanced at the sky, where the clouds were still glowering and pillars of smoke marked the places the continuing war in the bowl had touched. “I didn’t… I mean a story. I’m not sure I’d belong in the type of tale that Lana wants to tell.”

  “Oh.” Clay gave him a brief look of confusion. “Why do you say that?”

  The [Crafter] shrugged. “I’m just not the same as most of the rest of you. Mitchell is as tough as they come, and he can face down just about anything. Lana is careful and silent, the kind of threat the creatures don’t see coming. And Olivia…” Andrew shook his head. “She fights like she was born with the [Chants]. It’s like watching the world come down on the enemy. Then there’s me. Just someone along for the ride.”

  Clay rolled his eyes. “Andrew, you’ve already done just as much as the rest of them to help defeat this Lair. You fight just as well as any of the others, and you’ve been coming up with plenty of things to help. I’m still learning that hand-signal stuff from you! If anything, they’re going to be telling stories about Andrew the Kill-Crafter for years.”

  It didn’t seem possible, but the young man grew even redder. He muttered something under his breath before he responded. “It just seems like Lana could spend her time talking about any one of you and have a lot more to…”

  With a gesture, Clay cut him off. His senses were telling him the next group was close, and he didn’t want the sound of their conversation to carry. Andrew nodded, his eyes serious. To Clay’s surprise, he knelt on the ground and drew out a bag of something, which he tossed into the trees on the opposite side.

  When Clay gave him a look, Andrew gave him a bashful smile. “You know how those screechers can smell magic? I thought about how when you soak a thing in sweat or soup or something, the smell kind of persists. So I spent a couple of hours using Autumn’s Grasp on that bag of rags. Maybe some of the magic smell will stay on it and distract them. Worth a shot.”

  Clay blinked, and then Andrew was already stuffing his ears with the plugs and getting his hammer ready. They took cover behind a pair of the strange trees and waited.

  Sure enough, the swinefolk appeared a short while later. The entire group was trampling along towards the site of the last battle their comrades had fought, and they seemed nervous, glancing in all directions as they stomped through the underbrush.

  With his prey in sight, Clay started the Refrain, and prepared himself for the screecher to pick up on his presence. Instead, the thing paused and turned towards where Andrew had thrown the decoy. It snuffled a couple of the times at the air, taking a few tentative steps in that direction.

  Despite himself, Clay glanced at Andrew, who was in the middle of his own [Chant]. The [Crafter] gave him a look that could only be described as smug. Clay rolled his eyes and gave the man the signal they had come up with for an attack. Then he began counting down with his fingers as the [Chants] neared completion.

  The swinefolk, looking in the wrong direction and completely unaware, never knew what hit them.