Rain had finally started to fall by the time Clay led Olivia out on her attack.

It wasn't an aggressive downpour. The sky seemed almost reluctant to start anything quite that violent; instead, it fell as a small, hesitant drizzle that did little to douse the smoldering flames that Clay's assaults had been leaving behind. In time, he was sure that the ground would be too soaked for fire to do much, but he wasn't planning on canceling the last of the attacks that afternoon just because of a little weather. Not that Olivia would have allowed him to, anyway.

She was currently marching through the broad-leafed trees and twisted undergrowth with a determined expression. Her hooded cloak was doing an admirable job of keeping the rain off of her, but it would only last for so long. Unlike most of the others, she was quiet, seeming completely focused on the task ahead.

It was probably a good thing. After all, the swinefolk were adjusting to the attacks on the bowl. When he'd arrived at the next barricade with Olivia, the camp was empty. There were signs that the monsters had pulled back, apparently abandoning the outer defenses in an attempt to avoid being ambushed even further. They had to follow the tracks the enemy had left behind, which led much deeper into the strange forest than Clay had expected to go.

At the same time, the silence was a little disconcerting. She hadn't shown quite this much dedication to stealth before, and if there was something else going on, he needed to know. Was the rain really bothering her that much? Or had he done something?

Still uncertain, Clay cautiously cleared his throat. She looked at him, and he spoke quietly. "Is something wrong?"

Olivia blinked. Then she grimaced. "No."

Clay snorted. "Olivia."

She looked at him again, her face still irritated. It didn't seem directed at him, though, so that was promising. "It's just… what if there aren't enough?"

He blinked. "Enough?"

"Yes. What if there aren't enough for everyone to reach the next level of [Swinebane]?" Olivia gestured to the terrain in front of them, where water was dripping in great quantities off the leaves of the trees. "They're already falling back towards the fort. What do we do if they start hiding inside it? Even if they don't, we might run out of the higher leveled monsters before—"

Clay held up a hand, and she stopped. "Hey, slow down. It's going to be fine." She gave him a look that was half-glare and half-plea, and he sighed. "If there aren't that many left, then it's going to make the attack on the Lair itself that much easier. It'll make it a lot less risky for us to continue fighting, too. The Guardians won't be able to send many out to hunt us."

Olivia shook her head, her hood sending water droplets in all directions. "But then we won't be as high a level as we would be if we killed all of them, right?"

"You'll hit sixth level today, and seventh tomorrow the way we are going so far." Clay sighed. "If there do turn out to be enough, you could easily hit eighth as well before we hit the Lair, but I'm hoping you won't. You all have [Defiant], and that extra bonus might really help you when we are fighting inside."

She studied him a moment, her eyes intense. "And then?"

"Once the Lair dies, you'll all be at least eighth. Maybe ninth level." Clay put an arm around her and gave her a side hug for a moment. The weapons on their shoulders bumped together. "You'll actually come out way ahead of where I was after the Tanglewood. It will be fine."

Olivia muttered something to herself and ducked her head. "I don't want to just be fine, Clay. I want to make sure we're ready for what's coming."

Clay tried to sound reassuring. "We will be. Trust me."

"I do." She gave him a half-hearted smile. "Still not going to teach me the [Chant] though, right?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "You can't blame me for trying. I just… it has to go right this time. For my family. For Zelton."

Clay started to give her a simple reassurance and paused. Then he looked down at her. "You've done everything you can, Olivia. One way or another, we're going to get this done. I know we will."

For a moment, she leaned into him. Then she pulled away. "Are we close?"

He checked his senses again. "Not yet. Another few minutes of walking, and we'll be right on top of them."

She shifted her war scythe, staring out into the forest. "Then let's get going. We have a lot of work to do."

Clay grinned and led the way further into the forest. Just three more fights, and they could get out of the damp, for a little while at least.

The screecher went hurtling across the battlefield, still filling the air with the sound of its terrible cry. Clay saw the rain distort and fly away from it as it came; he winced as the noise of it assaulted his ears.

Olivia, on the other hand, stood firm. She had asked him to let her fight this particular one; apparently she wanted her [Will] as high as it could go. He'd seen her kill a soul eater already, hitting it from behind with the Canticle of Ice while he'd distracted it. She'd been grimly happy about reaching level six. Her new [Experiences], [Determined] and [Valiant], seemed to satisfy her well enough, though she had hoped for more to do with her [Chants].

The screecher's sonic attack struck Olivia hard enough to rock her backwards, but she'd anchored herself with Firm Step, and miraculously, the [Chant] held firm. She leaned forward and put her whole body into the swing, sweeping the glittering blade of her war scythe across the screecher's course.

It tried to swerve out of the way at the last moment, but Olivia still caught it across on a meaty arm. The blade bit into its flesh, cutting through meat and bone with terrible effectiveness. Clay winced as the screecher screamed, its forearm nearly severed. At least the noise cut off a moment later as it nose-dived into the mud at the base of a nearby tree.

Olivia was on it a moment later, her scythe lashing out in two brutal, hacking blows that sent green blood flying into the air. A moment later, the screecher went still.

She lurched back from the corpse and looked around. "Was that… the last of them?"

Clay nodded, and she slumped slightly in relief. He couldn't resist needling her a little. "What, are we not going for another group?"

There was a little venom in her glare, but she shook her head. "No. I'll admit I'm tired—and one level in a day is enough. For now."

He laughed as he saw the spark in her eyes. Fighting three groups of swinefolk in the rain wasn't anyone's idea of a good time, but at least it was done. "Shall we head back then?"

Olivia nodded. "Sure. We're coming back tomorrow?"

Clay glanced upwards, wondering if the drizzle would ruin things. Then he sighed. "Yeah, I think so. Unless this rain gets much worse." She looked at him, and he gestured to where the tower rose over the trees in the distance. "I want us to come back as a group next time. All five of you, with me providing backup. We'll fight just as many groups, but you will be the ones taking down the advanced versions. It should give enough for—"

"At least three of each type for each of us." Olivia's grin was tired, but still enthusiastic. "That's seventh level at least. Almost halfway to eighth."

He nodded. "Yeah. It'll also probably clear out a good portion of the bowl, and it'll make it that much easier to get close to the fort. By the next day, we'd probably be able to start punching holes in it and getting ready for the main attack." Then he shrugged. "By the end of the week, it'll all be over. Too fast for any surprises, and too fast for the Lair to recover enough to stop us."

She seemed to think it over for a moment. "Good. This place has waited long enough." Then she smiled. "Now, shall we get out of this rain?"

They made good time moving back through the bowl towards their camp. The remaining monsters appeared to be so disorganized that they were no trouble to slip past; most of them were actually falling back closer to the fortress, as if hoping that its walls would provide them with more protection than the barricades and their alien forest had. Clay wouldn't have given them good odds, but there were still plenty of them left to cause trouble. For now, at least.

He let that thought warm his heart as they continued their trudge through the continuing downpour. The clouds above had only grown darker, and the fact that the sun had to be getting low in the sky hadn't helped with visibility. Olivia still seemed to be in fairly good cheer; her smile when they passed the broken, soot-filled remnants of the third ring of swinefolk towers was as bright as it should have been.

They were in sight of the camp not long after. The tents looked small and miserable around the Stone of Zelton, but at the very least, it was still there. No attacks from the Lair had leveled it, and Clay could see the rest of their companions darting between the tents. There was a campfire burning as well, sending a defiant, guttering light up and across the rain-soaked terrain.

Clay felt relief as he drew closer. Even with his particular advantages, the number of fights he'd been in had been… draining. He was looking forward to a simple meal and a decent night's sleep. Especially if he was looking forward to more of the same, and worse, the next day.

He heard the others calling out as they drew close. Both he and Olivia waved back at them, wearily glad that the day was finally done.

Then, just as the others left their tents to walk over to him, he saw a group of figures emerge from the long grass around the camp. The others had taken the time to cut back some of the weeds and hill grass to make a small perimeter, but there had been plenty of it left to hide in, apparently.

He frowned and gestured for the others to look. They turned, and frowns started appearing on their own faces. Andrew looked back at him. "Someone you know, Sir Clay?"

"I don't think so, no." If it had been his friends from Pellsglade, or the Ruffians, they definitely would have broken ranks and waved at him. These strangers were staying in a rough line, approaching the camp with a kind of patient stride that seemed uncomfortably familiar. "They might be from the King or the Guild. Stay back and let me talk to them."

The others murmured and shifted in their cloaks, turning unfriendly eyes towards the newcomers. Clay noted that they were armed, all seven of them, and not the usual kind of weapons that the King's [Guards] typically used. Given the danger of the area, he couldn't quite fault them for it, but it was still disconcerting.

Their attire didn't help things, either. All of them were wearing heavy cloaks with deep hoods that half-concealed their faces. They moved as if they were wearing some kind of armor underneath, and they carried their weapons with an ease that spoke of long experience. One had a longbow carved from some dark, unidentifiable wood. Another held a massive battleaxe, the curved blade as big as a man's torso. Two others had staves that reminded him of Master Taylor's weapon, and another pair held bare knives in their hands.

The leader, the man who was striding along in the center of their line, held a sword. It looked like it had been carved from red stone and glowed softly in the falling rain. Clay was almost surprised that he didn't see steam rising from it as the drops fell on it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As they drew near, Clay stepped forward and raised his voice. "Whoever you are, this area is dangerous. We are currently still in the process of destroying this Lair. Unless you were sent by the Guild in Crownsguard, you should leave."

The leader of the group in front of him paused. His face showed a rough kind of amusement as he glanced at the people on either side of him. "I see. You know that a lot of people might not want that Lair gone, don't you? I'd imagine your own King might have a thing or two to say about it."

Clay felt his hands tighten on the shaft of his spear. "If he does, then he can tell me directly. I said as much to the last of his [Guards] days ago."

The man gave off a rough chuckle. He shook his head. "Well, don't you worry. I didn't come here on King John's behalf. You have nothing to fear from a royal rebuke."

As unpleasant as the man's tone was, it still seemed somewhat sincere. If anything, the way he said King John's name seemed laced with contempt rather than reverence. "Are you from the Guild, then?"

The Baroness stepped forward before the man could answer. "Sir Clay, I do not believe they are. If they were, they'd have announced themselves immediately." She turned her attention to the seven. "Whoever you are, I am Baroness Janburg, protector of these lands. If you intend to commit acts of banditry, then I will give you one chance to surrender. Otherwise, you will face the punishment that you deserve."

Despite the rain and the depth of the man's hood, Clay could see his eyebrows rise. "Ah, Baroness Janburg! I didn't recognize you in this poor weather. Please forgive me." More contempt layered his words, even as he sketched an elaborate bow. It was almost too formal, as if he was mocking her. "But you have mistaken us. We have no intention of stealing anything from your dirty, unwashed [Commoners]. They do not concern us in the least."

Clay heard Andrew growl, and Mitchell put a hand on the young man's shoulder. He looked back at the man and smiled, letting his own words carry a hint of warning. "You're standing in front of a few of those [Commoners] now, stranger. You should watch your words. This place isn't just dangerous because of the monsters."

Some of the mockery seemed to drain from the man's face. He sized Clay up with a cold stare. "Is that so? I'd heard that there was a [Commoner] making themselves out to be an adventurer. Are you him?"

"I am." Clay lifted his chin slightly. "My name is Clay Evergreen, and you aren't welcome here. Leave."

There was a moment of tension, and the man smiled. He looked from Clay to the others, as if measuring them as well. "So. The infamous Commoner Hero, eh? We've heard a lot about you. You've done quite a lot in the world. For that reason, I'm giving you a choice. You can come with us quietly, and we'll leave these fine folks alone. Or you can fight back, and we'll make sure no one ever hears about it. What do you say?"

Clay frowned. He hesitated for a moment, still processing the words.

The man didn't give him any time to reply, however. Before he could say a word, the man with the sword lunged at him. Instinct and hard practice saved him as Clay threw himself back and counterthrust with his spear. Their weapons met with a brutal clash that lit the surrounding ground with a burst of sparks. He caught sight of a feral snarl on the man's features, and realized that whoever these people were, they hadn't been sent to bring Clay anywhere. They'd been sent to kill him.

It was also obvious from that single clash that these weren't simple soldiers. These were adventurers, ones that knew exactly what they were doing. Which meant that Clay had only one order that he could give before things got even worse.

"Run! Now!"

The others moved as he spoke, but it looked as if they might not have heard him clearly. Andrew had stepped forward, his hammer in his hand. Lana was already reaching for an arrow in her quiver, and Olivia was muttering something under her breath, her war scythe already coming back to strike. Even the Baroness was raising her hand, as if she intended to use one of her [Charms] against the strangers.

The strangers reacted instantly. Unlike most of Clay's friends, they didn't need to pause for lengthy [Chants]. Instead, the two with the staves both thrust their own hands forward, while one of the ones with the knives reached into a pouch to draw out a ball of some kind. The woman with a bow was reaching for her arrows as well, and the man with the axe stepped forward to challenge the Baroness without hesitation.

Clay felt his heart seize for a moment. If they fought, they would die. These weren't simple monsters, or even the terrible versions of the swinefolk that they'd been fighting. Adventurers were different; he'd learned that fighting at the Academy, and the way they moved reminded him more of Orn, Taylor, and Syr Katherine than any of the lower ranks. He hadn't even really trained them for it; Clay had hoped it would never be necessary.

So instead of backpedaling any further, Clay planted his back foot and shoved his spear forward. The man's eyes widened as Clay threw him backwards. Whatever his [Class] was, it had nothing compared to the [Might] that Orn could use. Clay began his own [Chant], the Refrain. His last spell had been the Flame-Tongued Song, not ideal, but it would help slow things down enough for him to make the others run.

As he started it, one of the staff-wielders jerked and started muttering something on their own. He ignored them; with his training, they had no hope of finishing before he did. Instead, he pulled his spear back and swung it in a wide arc, forcing back one of the knife-wielders and the man with the axe, who blocked his attack with a surly glare.

The swordsman came back in against him with a curse. "Why aren't you helping, you idiots?"

Clay blocked the second thrust, and shoved the man away, aiming to put him between him and the axe-wielder. Their archer was forced to dodge Lana's initial shot, but she returned fire and the [Minstrel] cried out and dropped her bow. She was clutching at her stomach while a knife-wielder darted in, but Mitchell stepped in and turned the attack aside with his shield.

The other knife-wielder yelped as the Baroness' [Charm] locked a trap around his ankle, but then a fireball shot out and knocked Lady Janburg flying, the front of her armor smoldering in the rain. Andrew stepped forward and swung at the brute with the axe, who laughed off the attack and caught the weapon in his hand. Clay saw the [Crafter]'s eyes widen, and then he was sent flying through the air with a brutal kick.

Clay turned aside another sword thrust, once again shoving the swordsman away. He staggered into the path of the other knife-wielder, the one who was trying to throw something at Olivia, and the sudden obstacle fouled the man's aim. When the object landed to one side, it exploded in a flash of light and sound. Olivia didn't even blink, still focused on her [Chant].

Then, just as the Refrain was finishing, Clay heard the other member of the enemy team finish their spell. His soul rang like a bell as the Unharmonious Discord blasted through the air. Olivia staggered back and almost fell, her concentration immediately broken.

Clay, however, had been forced to go against Syr Katherine, matching his [Will] against her for days of practice. He grit his teeth and forced the end of his [Chant] through the haze, putting every bit of his strength into it.

{Will increased by 1!}

Flame spouted from his mouth as he rocked his head back and forth. His opponents shouted and fell back, moving with practiced speed. The flames drove them away, but he doubted it did much more than singe the edges of their cloaks. Around him, the air filled with hissing steam, further blocking the view of the enemy.

Behind him, he saw Mitchell grab Lana and throw her over his shoulders like a sack of beets. The [Guard] was already moving before the [Minstrel] was fully supported, running across the mud as fast as he could. Andrew hesitated only a moment until Clay gave him the signal to retreat. Then the [Crafter] grabbed the Baroness and pulled her up, taking off in Mitchell's wake.

The only one left with him was Olivia, who was shaking off the mental fog from having her [Chant] canceled. Clay spread his arms wide and forced her behind him, still spraying fire as he backed away from the enemy.

A heartbeat later, he felt some of them complete the [Chant] of Extinguishing Ember, and the flames were forced from the air. He grunted as the shock of it hit him, but there was only so much he could demand from his own exhausted mind at this point.

The archer shot at him immediately, and he backpedaled to give himself time to block it. Both the swordsman and the axe-wielder rushed in shortly after, ready to press the attack. Behind them, the magic users were already starting again, and the woman with the pouch was fishing for another object to throw.

Clay stabbed twice at the swordsman and ducked a swing from the axe. He swept the spear through the axe-wielder's legs, dropping him on his back in the muck. As he did, another arrow glanced off his helmet, just a hair from his eyes. The ringing distracted him a moment, but he pivoted back around to block the swordsman again and shove him backwards.

The man staggered backwards, and when Clay made as if to lunge at him, he yelled "Blind!"

Suddenly, a red haze engulfed Clay's sight. He stumbled slightly, his perception of the world blocked out. The swordsman laughed, and there was a sudden impact that shoved Clay backwards. Some of the metal plates in his armor bent under the force of it, and he smelled a hint of smoke.

Then Olivia yelled the last lines of a [Chant] he knew—the Canticle of Ice. Her warning was clear. He ducked instinctively and felt the wind of a volley of ice spears passing by him. The swordsman swore and Clay heard Olivia starting a new [Chant]. Grimacing, he began one as well, hoping he'd survive long enough to finish it.

"She's got a [Chant]! Cancel it!"

"You'll lose the blinding!" Clay heard the hiss of another arrow and jerked blindly to the side. Another impact glanced off his shin, followed by a sudden explosion that threw him to the right.

"Do it now!"

The haze fell away from his eyes, and Clay saw one of the magic-users beginning the [Chant] of Discord again. In the meantime, the others appeared to be shifting their target. Olivia was driving the swordsman back, still running through the words of a [Chant] that Clay didn't recognize right away. The man with the axe was struggling to rise, and she spared a moment to bring her war scythe down on his back, dropping him back in the muck.

It was an instant she didn't have. That quickly, the swordsman was driving her back, the tip of his sword seeking her heart. Olivia's face went pale as she frantically tried to keep the man from getting inside her reach. Beyond him, the other magic-user and the archer were shifting their aim, preparing to take their own shots at ending things.

Then Clay arrived, his heart thundering in his chest. He slammed into the swordsman hard enough that the man went tumbling back over his companion. An arrow shot in at him, and he batted it out of the air with a jerk of his spear. The fireball that followed it shattered into shards of fire and smoke when he thrust the point of his spear through it.

With his spearpoint still trailing smoke, he stepped forward, intending to bring the spear haft down on the fallen adventurers to disable them. Once they were down, he'd be able to deal with the others at close range. There were only six, after all…

His thoughts trailed off, just as the seventh adventurer struck at him from the side. It was as if the man had come from nowhere; with the abilities available to him, perhaps he had. His knife struck at Clay's forearm, nearly knocking his spear from his grasp. Then the blade darted at his face, quick as an adder's bite.

Clay jerked away, and the blade drew a small cut along his forehead, just over his eye. He skipped back, forced to gain distance again. His vision grew a little clouded as blood began dripping down into his left eye; trying to blink it away did little good. Another arrow shot in, and he failed to block it. This time, it nearly took him in the throat, just barely glancing away off another armor plate.

The adventurers closed in, or rose from where they had fallen, their weapons ready. Clay's eyes darted from one to the other, still backing away. His [Chant] was continuing, and the one who had been about to try to cancel it had already given up. Instead, she was preparing to blind him again. He could see her arm raising, ready to strike at him with another [Charm]. If she managed it, he and Olivia were done.

Time seemed to slow as they closed in, grinning like human wolves. His [Chant] wasn't ready yet; he could barely see or move already. Their magic and weapons were closing in. Desperation clouded everything.

Then the adventurers paused. The archer's eyes tracked something above and beyond him; the axe-wielder snorted. "You might aim at us next time…"

Olivia's arms locked around him in a death grip; her scythe tangled with his limbs. Clay felt unreasoning panic as he struggled against her grip. With her grabbing him like this, he couldn't fight at all. What was she—

Suddenly, he felt her [Chant] activate, and they were airborne, soaring through the wind and rain. The adventurers looked up at them with expressions ranging from shock to awe, and the archer risked one last shot that failed to make contact. Everything was spinning around him. Their trajectory curved slightly back towards the earth, and a dull realization that things were about to hurt filtered through his addled mind.

Then they hit, and things went dark for a moment.

Clay came awake a short while later, but before he could move, a firm, calloused hand closed over his mouth. He looked up to see Olivia crouched over him, her face unreasonably close. He lay back down for a moment, and she released him. Her voice was the shadow of a whisper.

"We're safe, for now. I dragged us back into one of the ruined towers. They weren't able to track us very well through the rain."

He nodded slowly, laying back on what appeared to be a bundle of rocks she'd arranged for a pillow. It was not the most comfortable experience. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough that I had to use Mule's Dismay just to shift you." She glanced around their small, cramped refuge. Water was still dripping through the holes left in the ruins. "I think they were expecting a more obvious trail, but they are still searching. They haven't found us yet."

Clay nodded again and fought to sit back up. His head swam for a moment, and he suppressed a quiet groan. "How bad did we hit?"

Olivia grimaced. "I had to let go of you near the end. If you had landed on me…"

He shook his head, trying to ignore how painful an experience that was. "No, you made the right call. Better that one of us was still active." Clay paused, going over his memories of the fight. "Was that Pursuing Leap?"

She nodded. "That and a slingstone. Threw it as hard as I could. Turns out the extra [Might] went a long way." He chuckled, trying not to feel the pain behind it. "Clay, who were they?"

"Assassins of some kind." Clay wasn't entirely sure, but there was no point in feeling any denial about it. "I don't think they were from the King, or the Guild. They wouldn't have tried anything with a Baroness there watching."

A new worry washed over him. "The others? Did they get away clean?"

Olivia nodded. "Last I saw, they were already making their way back to Janburg. I don't think that the assassins would have tried to chase them far. They only wanted you."

Clay studied her a moment. "You should have run. You should have—"

Olivia laid a finger across his mouth. Her lips made a firm line, and her eyes were narrow. "No. Never. Not ever again."

He looked up at her for a moment. When she took her finger away, he grimaced. "I don't know how to protect you from something like this."

"Then you're just going to have to get stronger, Clay." Olivia snorted. "We both are."

The matter-of-fact statement made Clay snort as well, which sent a truly interesting spike of pain through his ribs. He shifted slightly, looking around the half-collapsed hollow in the dead tower. "Yeah, we will."

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