Chapter 31: A Prole’s Fate (Patreon)

I smacked the axeman’s chest—hard.

“Oow. What did you do that for?” he protested.

“Idiot! What were you thinking? We’re in the middle of a battle. I could’ve killed you!”

“I was thinking you needed help,” he retorted. “And we’re not in the middle of a battle, that’s an exaggeration. The fight is all the way over there,” he said, gesturing behind me. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he finished, with a self-satisfied smirk.

Despite his smug look, I pulled him into a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I was so worried. I didn’t know if…

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling away from him. “You’ve taken quite a beating, and like you said, the fighting isn’t over. Let’s get out you out of here before someone spots us.”

I had so many questions, but he was right. We couldn’t have a proper conversation here. Still, I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder.

My encounter with the half-orc had drawn me even further away from the main fighting, yet even from this distance, I could tell something had changed. Where before the Raccoons had appeared to have turned the tide, their numbers were dwindling fast. I sighed. All my efforts seemed to have been for nothing.

No, not nothing. I found Alon. Or he found me.

“Come, El,” he said, gently tugging on my arm. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, I followed after him.

Alon seemed to know where he was going, and in no time at all, we were out of the old council hall and in one of the adjacent alleys. “This is far enough,” I said, drawing to a halt. “Now, tell me. Where is Soren?”

Alon’s face darkened. “He’s alive, but I don’t know where he is. He and Eoman fled the battle when things started turning bad.”

“Soren fled?” I asked sharply. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Alon’s lips twisted sourly. “A strategic retreat is what Eoman called it. Vigil and a few others volunteered to stay behind and hold off the Devils while the rest of the Raccoons bailed.”

So, the Raccoons hadn’t been wiped out. Not yet. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “It didn’t feel right leaving. And it’s a good thing I didn’t otherwise I wouldn’t have been around to save you. How did the assassin find you, anyway?”

Ignoring his self-justification—Alon hadn’t saved me, I’d did that—I focused on what was more important. “Staying was stupid,” I said plainly. “You should’ve stuck with Soren and Eoman.”

Alon shrugged. “At least I got to kill a few more Devils,” he said weakly.

He meant it as a joke, but I knew it wasn’t that. I shook my head sadly. Alon might want to pretend otherwise, but we both knew killing Devils was the true reason he’d stayed.

Seeing my expression and correctly guessing the direction of my thoughts, the axeman changed topic hastily. “Shall I take you to Soren?”

I nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

Turning about, Alon strode out of the alley, with me by his side. “What happened to you, Elana?” he asked softly after a moment of too-long silence. “When you didn’t return, Soren and I feared the worst.”

“It’s a long story,” I said as we walked. “I’ll tell you everything when we have more time.” I paused. “I was worried about you too, you know. When I got back to the poor quarter and found the Raccoon’s base empty…” I shook my head. “I thought the worst had happened to you and Soren.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Alon said. “But don’t worry. Soren is as safe as can be. He took Eoman back to the bolt hole.”

I frowned. “The hideout? Why go there?”

“I’m not sure,” Alon admitted. “But I think Eoman suspects a rat. Someone from the Raccoons has been talking to the Devils. It’s the only explanation for how the Devils’ invasion caught us flat-footed. Somehow, Cantos knew the location of every single sentry Eoman had watching the gang’s borders and somehow, he managed to kill them all—without anyone raising the alarm. To have done all that, he must have a spy in the Raccoons. And if that’s the case…”

“… then the Raccoon safe houses are likely compromised, too,” I finished for him.

Alon nodded.

Bowing my head, I pondered what my friend had just told me. If the Devils had a mole in the Raccoons, it had to be someone highly placed. Who has that level of—

Alon jerked to a halt.

Startled, I stopped too. “What is it? Why did you stop?”

Raising his arm slowly, Alon gestured to the left. “Because of… them.”

Looking in the direction, he pointed I stiffened.

In the distance, just too far for me to see properly, I made out two figures walking toward us—no, not to us, to the council hall. One was unusually tall, and the other looked to be half his size.

“Cantos,” Alon hissed.

I didn’t know who accompanied the Devil leader, but I could hardly believe our luck. To find the Butcher alone…

I tugged on Alon’s arm. “Come, this is our chance. Let’s sneak around and ambush them.”

The axeman looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”

“No?” I asked, glancing at him quizzically. “But—”

“Going around will take too long.” He drew his axe. “We kill him here.”

“That’s an idiotic plan,” I said, punching him.

Alon shook his head adamantly, not even having the grace to rub his arm where I’d hit him. “I won’t risk him getting away.”

I stole another look at the approaching pair. They didn’t appear to have seen us yet. Relieved, I turned back to Alon. “We’ll kill him, I promise, but let’s at least be smart about it.”

But Alon wasn’t listening to me anymore. He had eyes only for Cantos.

“We don’t even know who the other guy is!” I protested. “Or what he is capable of!”

Alon snorted. “He doesn’t look like much threat—you can take him.”

I ground my teeth in frustration.

Alon’s cheeks puffed outward. “Alright, jokes aside, I’ll charge forward, attracting their attention. Then you hit them from the side. The two of you…” He glanced behind me. “I almost forgot. Where’s—”

Alon has been critically injured.

An arrow thudded into my friend’s shoulder. Yelping, he clutched at the shaft.

I stared at the bloody projectile. It hadn’t come from Cantos’ direction. Which meant… “Run!” I yelled, instinct taking over.

Turning left, down a side street, I bolted away. Alon followed, albeit slower than I would have liked. “Wait, El,” he protested. “This is only a scratch. We can still take them.”

“No, we can’t,” I replied grimly, not slowing down. “That arrow came from the right. We walked into an ambush, Alon. Maybe not one set for us, but that was definitely an ambush.”

But we ran for less than a minute before Alon called out to me again.

“Elana, stop.”

I looked back to see him grimacing in pain and clutching his shoulder. That’s no mere scratch, I thought, but despite the injury Alon had gamely kept up with me. The fool. He should’ve said something.

It wasn’t Alon’s injury that worried me the most, though. It was the Devils. My gaze darting past the axeman, I scanned the surroundings.

But to my surprise, no one was following.  We were alone; the Devils had let us go.

Why?

Frowning, I slowed to a stop and rushed to Alon’s side. “Looks like we got away.”

He nodded. “Take this damn thing out of me,” he said, his voice strained.

The arrow had pierced his shoulder, going all the way through. Grasping the front, I snapped off the head then yanked out the rest of the shaft. Alon grunted but didn’t scream. Removing a healing potion from my pack I handed it to him. “Drink this.”

Unclenching his teeth, Alon gulped down the contents.

The effect was immediate.

“Thanks,” he gasped his face clearing as the wound in his shoulder sealed itself. “I needed that.”

“Of course, you did. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I asked, staring at him reproachfully.

He smiled. “I don’t matter, El. Only you do. I couldn’t risk you getting caught.”

I felt like smacking him again but knew it would make no difference. It wouldn’t change who Alon was. Sighing, I turned around and oriented myself in the direction of Soren’s hideout. “Let’s go. I doubt it’s safe to hang about here.”

We didn’t get far.

No sooner than Alon and I turned the corner than we found someone waiting for us. An elf.

And no ordinary elf either.

This one was remarkably tall, armed to the teeth, and dressed in armor that glowed a magical purple. Everything about him screamed ‘rich.’ He wasn’t from the poor quarter, that was for sure. My eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion, I studied the elf more intently.

A Game message opened in my mind.

This entity bears a Mark of Lesser Light.

“He’s a player,” I whispered to Alon, my fears confirmed.

Nodding imperceptibly, he let his hands drift to the hilt of his axe.

The motion didn’t go unnoticed. “I wouldn’t,” the elf said casually. “Don’t fight and I’ll make this quick.” His gaze darted to Alon’s shoulder. “You’ve healed, I see.”

“You shot me?” the axeman asked angrily.

“A rare miss,” the elf declared.

There was a crossbow amongst the elf’s many weapons, I noted. He had been our ambusher. That was one mystery solved, but it only led to many others. What was a player like this doing working for the Devils?

“Who are you?” I demanded. “And why are you working for a thug like Cantos?”

“You can go, girl,” the elf said, keeping his gaze fixed on Alon as he ignored my questions. “I’m not here for you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I retorted. Drawing mana, I began casting.

“El, should I manifest? The debuff has almost expired.”

“Yes!”

The elf’s gaze finally turned in my direction. “You are a player, but a new one still if I am any judge. I detest unnecessary confrontation. Leave now and there will be no quarrel between us.”

You have cast ethereal bow.

“I’m not leaving,” I repeated.

The elf’s eyes hardened as he caught sight of the weapon. “Suit yourself.” His hands darting down, he drew two daggers, and threw them in the same motion.

Alon and I moved simultaneously, throwing ourselves out of the projectiles’ path.

You have evaded a hostile entity’s attack.

Rolling back to my feet, I drew my bow and fired. Sadly, my foe proved equally adept at dodging and my arrow sailed harmlessly past.

A level 22 elf has evaded your attack!

Alon was back on his feet now. Axe in hand, he looked about to advance on the elf.

“Wait,” I ordered. Alon hesitated but for a wonder heeded my instruction. Raising my bow, I sighted on our foe.

The elf was charging, drawing a pair of longer blades from his belt—shortswords by the looks of them. He means to close on us, I thought. Judging his speed, I took aim and fired.

Moving as smoothly as water, the elf sidestepped, and my shot went wide.

An elf has evaded your attack!

Undaunted by the miss, I drew back my bow again.

“Elana, let me—” an Alon impatient began.

“No,” I replied, not taking my eyes off my approaching target.

Plumes of smoke began to stream out of me. My companion was finally ready to join the fray—and that gave me an idea. “Ada, manifest as close to the elf as you can,” I told her, holding my next shot.

“Will do, El,” the celestial replied and, a moment later, manifested almost directly beneath the elf’s feet.

Startled, he threw himself out of the way—successfully. But that was of no import. This was the moment I’d been waiting for.

And I fired.

Off-balance and with his attention on Adalinda, the elf didn’t see the burning projectile racing his way until too late.

You have critically injured your target. An elf has failed a magical resistance check! Your target is burning.

The elf recoiled as my arrow struck his armor, the plated metal doing nothing to stop the magical projectile. Staggering back, he fell down with flames gushing out from the edges of his breastplate.

“Well done,” Alon crowed. Axe in hand, he bounded forward.

“Careful,” I cautioned. The elf had gone down more easily than I’d expected. “He’s not dead yet.”

But my friend paid me no heed as he rushed up to the still-prone elf. Bow raised, I followed more slowly.

Glancing over his shoulder, Alon flashed me a grin. “You got him, good, El.”

The fire wreathing the elf’s armor vanished.

Alarm shot through me. “Back!”

Confusion creasing Alon’s face, he began turning around. Too slowly.

Far too slowly.

Darting up as quickly as a striking viper, the elf attacked—first one, then the other of his shortswords punching through Alon’s midriff.

An elf has critically injured Alon.

An elf has critically injured Alon.

Alon has died.

For a heartbeat, I froze, struck senseless by the incomprehensible Game messages.

No.

No. No. No.

It couldn’t be. Not Alon. Not my sweet friend. Not him.

The elf withdrew his swords, the blades slick and wet with blood. “It’s over, girl,” he said warily. “Let it go and you can—”

Rage consumed me, and I fired.