Valor: Chapter 5

            Despite Michael prompting a couple of them to help with the watch during the night, Gustav had none of that. If he was forced to sleep on a pile of rough blankets, outside, in a swamp, he was going to need as much sleep as he could get.

            The next morning, sipping at the poor excuse for coffee the Taskurr elves had, Elias cocked an eyebrow when passing by him. “Sleep well?”

            Gustav frowned, and slapped at his arm, killing another one of blood-sucking insects that had plagued him during the night. Elias and Ildun, being elves, were treated somewhat more kindly than the humans, and Elias in particular had seemed to enjoy himself. Gustav had seen him talking to a platinum blonde elven girl a few times during the night.

            “As well as could be expected,” Gustav grumbled. As much as part of him wanted to smack Elias for his preferential treatment, it wasn’t as though Elias hadn’t seen his fair share of prejudice at the academy, which was made up of mostly humans. “You?”

            “Not really,” Elias said, but he grinned as he said it.

            Gustav’s face contorted with anger for a moment, but he took a breath and gave an exasperated laugh. “Well… good for you.”

            Ildun came walking over, and he honestly didn’t look much better than Gustav. Worse, perhaps. He grumbled over the coffee as he poured it. Gustav gave Elias a questioning look.

            Grinning still, Elias said “good morning Ildun! Have fun last night?” Gustav jumped slightly at how loud Elias said it.

            Ildun winced, and glared at Elias before walking off. “Ildun partook of some of the ‘swampshine’ the locals had, and though he seemed to enjoy it last night… well, he’s certainly regretting it now.”

            Looking back after Ildun, who was putting a hand to his head as he sat down on a stump, Gustav gave a somewhat slight smile. Seeing someone else miserable did wonders for his mood.

            Michael walked by Ildun on his way out of Ormakin’s home, and got a weak wave and irritated grunt in return. “What’s his problem?” Michael asked, and Gustav knew Michael shared his thoughts that the elves should be the most relaxed of those here.

            “A little too much to drink last night,” Elias said.

            “Hmm.” Michael frowned, and glanced upward, trying to gauge the time from the sun. Not that the treetops allowed much of an answer. “I don’t want to wait too long to get moving. Hopefully he’ll be fine by then.”

            “He’d better be,” Gustav said sharply, setting down his empty coffee cup with the spiteful flavor still on his tongue. “I appreciate the hospitality,” what little there is, “but I’d like to get moving to Tagen Rynns as quickly as possible.”

            Michael’s eyebrows rose, and he turned to Elias. “That reminds me, Elias… Ormakin was rather flustered whenever I called it Goldbottom, and when I asked, he told me my translation was ‘wrong,’ but wouldn’t tell me how.”

            Gustav bristled somewhat. After all, he’d provided the translation. “It’s a somewhat nuanced language, Mike.”

            Michael laughed softly. “I mean no offense, Gus. I’m more curious than anything.”

            Elias scratched at his chin. “Well, uh.”

            Gustav sighed.

            “What?” Michael asked.

            “He does then whenever he has something he doesn’t want to say. Um uh bluh scratch scratch.” Gustav moved his hand up and scratched at his scalp, pursing his lips and crossing his eyes. Then his face went cold and he leveled it Elias. “Out with it Elias! We’re grown men, damn it.”

            “Alright, spirits alive.” Elias sighed, and said “I suppose a more accurate translation would be something Dregs of Gold Soaked, and though it’s not described in the name, the gold is implied to be soaked not only in the swamp’s mud, but blood as well.”

            “Well isn’t that cheery.”

            “You asked me to tell you,” Elias said to Gustav. “That said, call it whatever you want Michael. Most elves just get ill-tempered when Elven proper names aren’t used.”

            “I agree it’s not pleasant sounding,” Michael admitted, “but it’s nothing we weren’t already aware of. Like you’ve both said, it’s contested ground.”

            “Did Ormakin know anything more on that?” Elias asked. “Last I had scouted, hobgoblins had the place under guard, fighting off undead.”

            “All Ormakin could give me was that a war party of orcs had been spotted going in that direction, about two days ago.”

            “Well, we’re in luck then,” Gustav said, standing.

            “How in blazes is an orcish war party lucky?” Elias countered.

            “They’ll probably break whatever’s holding Goldbottom, and still be recovering, right? We’ll hit them at their weakest.”

            Michael frowned. “Or whatever was holding it broke their own camp after the undead attack, and now we have a very fortified orc position.”

            “Okay, yes, but-”

            “Or spirits forbid, if it was hobgoblins holding the camp, maybe they teamed up against the undead,” Elias added. “I’ve heard of it happening before, brief alliances between orc and goblin tribes.”

            “Now that is a horrifying thought.”

            “Yes yes yes!” Gustav said, trying to stop them from saying more. “Or perhaps an arcane rupture between our realm and that of water occurred, and the entire fort is held down by an elemental lord! But we certainly won’t find out waiting around here!”

            “No need to shout Gus,” Michael said as he tried to calm his friend down. Gustav certainly didn’t think he needed calming down, but he did admit, sitting around not working on some task or another made him… anxious. “We’ll be leaving as soon as everyone’s found their feet, trust me.”

            “Good,” Gustav said, taking a breath. “The sooner we take Tagen Rynns, the better.” As if to help remind him of why, he felt a pinch on his neck, and his hand slapped at instinctively, killing another miniature blood-sucker.

            Yes, the sooner they got to some place without bugs, the better.

            William found a part of himself greatly disturbed by what was happening before him. He heard Ildun say something in Elven he didn’t recognize, and cocked an eyebrow. “Déjà vu?”

            Ildun tilted his head a little. “Basically, this is very familiar.”

            It took William a second to realize why, but then he remembered that when the elves had first burst from the forest, pursued by undead, the undead had originally been fighting orcs. He imagined it invoked for the elves much the same feeling it was for William now, age-old hatred aside.

            The scene before them was what remained of Tagen Rynns. Time had taken its toll, and the war that seemed to rage around it did little to help. For the time being, it seemed to be a sort of siege being waged by the undead soldiers of the fortress, which was currently occupied by what appeared to be orcs.

            “Well, this certainly complicates things,” Michael said sourly.

            William nodded along with the rest. Michael probably meant tactically, but William felt it morally. Both the orcs and undead were their enemy, but the undead were far more opposed to them. The bone and iron soldiers moving around the fort, going through the motions of war with none of the fire or passion of life, was disturbing to watch. They coordinated silently, and didn’t break under pressure of attack.

            “Are we aiming to wipe them out, or merely get into the fort?” William asked.

            “Perry, do you have a count?”

            Tresbos conferred with the elves for a moment, and nodded. “About two dozen, with about half focused on the primary push through the gap in the southern wall. It’s hard to get more of a read than that… the orcs will strike one down, but he may not stay down for long.”

            “What about the orcs?” Michael asked.

            “Harder to tell,” Perry admitted with a grumble. “I spotted about six holding the frontline. Occasionally a few more may try to break the undead lines, but they don’t last long.”

            Michael didn’t seem too disturbed by the lack of information. William supposed he didn’t expect the scouts to know everything.

            “An orc war party would have at least thirty combat-capable men in it,” Ildun offered. “Between taking the fort and what they’ve got now, plus what we’ve seen…” he shrugged, “probably somewhere around twenty, give or take a few injured, but not yet dead orcs.”

            William frowned. The thought of the dilemma of an injured-yet-alive orc came to him. Would he heal him? Kill him while he was down? Or merely leave him? In a strange way, he hoped that none of the orcs would ride that line, and that they would either be dead, or living and trying to kill him.

            “Too many for us to all take at once,” Michael said, still facing the fort. “I think our best bet is to try to divide up the undead, and let the orcs try to push out. It may even the odds a bit.”

            “A bit, yes, but not enough,” Gustav said matter-of-factly. “Assuming you’re relying on some magical firepower to break through the orcs, I can only get off two, maybe three fireballs in rapid succession.”

            “Save your energy Gus,” Michael answered immediately. “You know a sleep spell, yes?”

            Gustav blinked in surprise. William almost smirked. He clearly hadn’t expected Michael to remember that. William had honestly forgotten himself. William had seen Michael in action before, and he had a fairly decent tactical mind, even if he was a little headstrong at times.

            “Yes, I do… and so does Elias.”

            “Excellent. Alright… Ildun, Elias, which of you is better with a bow?”

            “Ildun is,” Elias volunteered quickly. “I’m not bad, but Ildun’s had more training.”

            “I’ve downed my fair share of fast-moving meals,” Ildun added.

            William cocked an eyebrow at Michael, but Michael gave no sign of noticing. William knew there was a difference between shooting at a fleeing stag and a charging enemy, though.

            “Alright, Ildun, you, Perry, and William are going to take up position to the east of the main undead lines. Draw off some undead. William, you think you can handle turning them?”

            William nodded. He had only turned undead the first time a day before, but these looked to be the same manner of creature. “I have no doubt that the power of heaven will free these souls.”

            “Good. Hopefully the orcs will make for the undead lines at that time. If you can, Perry, Ildun, try to score some hits on the orcs. I don’t care which group is more injured, only that they’re weakened.”

            “What then?” Elias asked.

            “If there are any undead left, we’ll have to cut them down,” Michael said.

            “They aren’t men of flesh and blood,” Elias countered. “They don’t go down easily… my mashaat was nearly useless against them.” He brandished the cleaver-like dagger lazily to make a point, and then pointed it at Michael’s own sword. “I doubt that would fare much better. We’re poorly equipped to fight the undead… we’d be better off with hammers and maces.”

            “We’d also be better off with more men,” Michael responded, finally tearing his eyes from the undead and looking to everyone. “I’ll be leading the attack, as I’m fully aware that this is not something easy to do. But we’ll get through this.”

            “Damned right we will” Gustav said hastily. “I haven’t suffered this swamp to be turned back by a few corpses.”

            Elias sighed. William shook his head. Although he agreed with Michael, he thought Gustav was underestimating the task before them.

            Tresbos spoke up, saying “we’re behind you, Master Michael.”

            “Aye, Michael,” William said, hefting his mace to his right hand. “At your order.”

            The elves agreed, if somewhat more quietly. Michael smiled, and then motioned to where he wanted William, Tresbos, and Ildun to go.

            Ildun lead the way, with William and Tresbos following behind. Glancing him over, Tresbos said “you’re certain you can handle them, brother Morund?”

            William smiled at Tresbos’ formal tone. “I have faith that God will protect us, don’t worry Tresbos.”

            Tresbos grunted, but seemed sated by that… for a moment. “I ask because once they close with us, I doubt we’ll be much help. I’m better from horseback or with a bow, not fighting up-close on foot. And neither my arrows nor my spear will help much against these bags of bones.”

            Ildun grunted in agreement before hissing for them to be quiet, and William looked over himself. Indeed, he was wearing slightly heavier armor than the other two, and aside from their bows, they had cutting and stabbing weapons. Useless against the fleshless undead.

            His fingers tightened around his mace, and he took a few calming breaths. As they moved into position, he tried to remember his martial lessons from school. Aim for the joints. If you break a man’s arm or leg, you defeat him without killing him. This works just as well against most lesser undead. Usually all they have left are joints. A grim, violent lesson, but one he was glad to recall.

            “Alright,” Ildun said, and began to stamp down a small area in the grass. “We’ll fight them here. William, wait here. Tresbos, we’ll move ahead, and pull them back.”

            “Be careful,” William said hurriedly as the two crept off through the brush. He took a few breaths, doing his best to calm himself. It was a somewhat frightening prospect. Before, he hadn’t had a choice. He either had to confront the undead, or people would’ve died. The heat of the moment had empowered him.

            Now, though… certainly, people were dying from the undead, even if not this very moment. Orcs were dying as well. Which still seemed an awkward gray area for him. His thumb worked idly over his cross as he waited.

            Swift footsteps broke him from his thoughts, along with at least one more soft snap of a bowstring. He rose from his position, taking the cross from his neck once more and facing the undead.

            “Now William!” Ildun yelled as he and Tresbos turned, and William held up the cross. “By God and his divine light, I cast thee to-” ch-TUK! “ngh!”

            William staggered backwards, biting down a scream, and his left hand rose to his right shoulder. A crossbow bolt had punctured his armor. He forced his arm up to block the blow of a war hammer, but this only proceeded in his vision swimming as his muscle tried to move around the bolt.

            “Hellfire, William!” he heard Tresbos yell as his spear helped deflect the blow further. He rammed it into the skeleton’s mouth, pushing back with everything he had. Another crossbow bolt flew from behind, ripping through the air.

            William panted, his body doubled over for a moment before he could focus again. The cross glowed in his hands, and in a swift motion he tried to rip the bolt out. He yelled out as he did so, and took that moment to try and scramble away, off to the side.

            Tresbos pulled back his spear, and the hammer-wielding skeleton came at him again. He saw Ildun fire off a beam of arcane light from his hand, trying to return fire on the crossbowman.

            “God forgive the impur…” he gasped at the pain from his shoulder, and tried to ignore the warm blood running down his arm, “the impurities and weakness of flesh. As my soul is whole, please… please…” damn it, what are the words?!

            He was distracted by fighting between Tresbos and the skeleton. Tresbos’ advantage was the spear’s length, which he was using to keep the skeleton back more than he was to injure. It was a cavalryman’s spear, and meant for thrusting into a foe with leverage, or speed. Close quarters combat was not ideal, and so even if Tresbos hit around the armor, all he met was hard bone.

            Bone. “Please restore my mortal form!” he finished, and there was a flash of white light from his cross and hand. A soothing warmth filtered over the wound, and a strange tugging as his skin knit back together. He could hardly pay that or the soreness that persisted any mind though. He jumped to assist Tresbos, moving in from the side and swinging his mace down against the back of the skeleton’s head. The age old helmet flew off to the side, and the skeleton whirled to strike at William.

            William parried the blow, his teeth grinding as the blow’s forced seemed to snake up his arm to his sore shoulder. But Tresbos took the opportunity to assist. His accuracy with a bow was clear, but it appeared he had an eagle eye with his spear as well. After taking aim, he thrust forward, forcing the spear into the eye-socket of the skeleton, and then tried to bring himself down while pushing up, jerking the skeleton awkwardly. William grabbed the skeleton’s weapon hand with his free arm, then smashed down on the elbow, snapping it off like a tree branch under an axe blade. His next blow was at the skeleton’s head again, but this time, it shattered.

            The skeleton fell, but still kept moving. He heard Ildun yell for assistance, and grabbing his cross, yelled “by the light of God begone!”

            The intense light was not the same as earlier, and didn’t obliterate the undead soldier, but it was enough to force it still, allowing William and Tresbos to assist. “Tresbos, grab that hammer, go after the archer!” William yelled as he headed towards what was attacking Ildun.

            Rounding a tree, he got a good look at the creature. It was undead, but not of the same sort as the rest. It was an orcish skeleton, with thicker bones, a heavy-set jaw, and overall rougher appearance. It also seemed fresher, though the scraps of skin still clinging to its frame were old and gray.

            More fearsome, perhaps, was the claymore it was swinging around one-handed. Ildun fired a blast of arcane light at the creature from close range, which caused it to stumble backwards. William charged forward, hoping to seize the moment. He swung his mace at the creature’s knee, but it parried immediately. Its mouth opened in a silent roar, and it slammed a gauntleted fist into William’s face.

            William staggered backwards, his face more or less unprotected. The creature aimed to swing its sword directly at him, and William saw in his mind, with startling clarity, just how little his chainmail armor would due against such a direct blow.

            Ildun’s saber, small by comparison, clanged against the great sword. It snapped almost immediately, and Ildun flew backwards, but it gave William the moment he needed. He ducked under the sword swing, and swept a leg out to trip the creature. It worked, and not bothering to rise, he thrust his cross into the air, shutting his eyes and yelling “by God and his divine light, I cast thee to thy eternal rest! Begone!”

            The burst of light swam over the area again, and William swore he heard a strange, deep roar as it hit the orcish skeleton, which unlike those from the day before, twisted and distorted for a moment, seemingly in pain, before crumbling. William laid back roughly, taking a deep breath.

            “William!... Saints, Ildun!”

            Tresbos had rushed back over, but instead of moving to William, he moved to Ildun. William jerked upright, his hands and knees scrambling across the brush as he saw exactly what Tresbos was concerned about.

            Ildun’s saber had snapped off and flown directly into Ildun’s eye. William put a hand to his throat, and felt his heart still beating. Thankfully, Ildun was seemingly unconscious.

            “Can you heal him?” Tresbos asked, glancing over his shoulder.

            “Yes, I-” the sudden sounds of combat echoed from nearby. Either the orcs were attacking the undead, or Michael had begun his attack. William suppressed a curse. “I’ll do my best,” he said, focusing for a moment.

            He said a healing prayer, though for a deeper, more complex wound such as this, it took a moment longer. As his hand and cross rested on Ildun’s face, he carefully slid the blade fragment from the eye. Even when the prayer was complete, Ildun looked somewhat poorly.

            “That’s all I can do for him,” William said quietly. He stood, and looking to Tresbos, said “he needs a medicus. One of us needs to get him out here, perhaps back to Zabraska.”

            A loud, inhuman roar came from nearby. Both of them glanced over before locking eyes. William didn’t want to leave Michael and Gustav, but he likewise couldn’t let Ildun rot here…

            “Go join them,” he said, reaching to grab Ildun.

            With a frustrated growl, Tresbos smacked his hand away. “No, damn it, I’ll do it. Your magic will be better suited than my bow. Now go, I’ll get him out here!”

            William hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He stood and ran for the battle…

            Michael hated waiting as much as Gustav did, though he was far less vocal about it. Especially now, when they were so close. Part of him sincerely wanted to wade into the fray like an invincible paladin or horrifying barbarian, cutting down all who stood in his way. Luckily, a different part of him knew that was a rather unlikely scenario.

            So he waited for their plan to go into action. A few arrows pulled off a few of the skeletons towards the ambush team’s direction.

            “One of those was an orc skeleton,” Elias said.

            “Hrm… I’m sure they can handle it.” Michael had faith in them. He’d worked alongside both Perry and William several times before, and they’d proven themselves more than capable.

            “So how will we do this?” Elias asked, holding his quarterstaff at the ready.

            “You stick close to me while we fight the undead. Just try to keep them from surrounding us.” He half turned to Gustav. “Gus, only use a fireball if things look like they’re going south. Otherwise, wait for a good shot at the orcs, and use a sleep spell.”

            “Alright. I suppose I can-” Elias’ head jerked towards the ambush.

            Gustav picked up on it faster than Michael did that Elias had heard something they hadn’t. “What? What’s going on?”

            “Sounds like they’re having a rough time of it. I think William was hit.”

            Michael’s heart sank. It was his plan, after all. If anyone died, it would be his fault. But if William, of all people, died, that would weight more heavily on his conscience than perhaps anything else.

            “Should we go help them?” Gustav asked, his voice flavored with sincere (and rare) concern.

            A few stray flashes of magic came from the woods. Michael hefted up his shield, but Elias put a hand up. “No, wait… I think I hear William. No one is screaming, so I think they’ll be okay.”

            “I’m not sure I want to take that chance,” Michael said bluntly.

            Elias’ blue eyes were electric looking into Michael’s. “If we run over there, we’ll just draw even more attention to them. If we don’t run, we won’t get there fast enough to make a difference. If anything, we should go on with the plan before more undead break off.”

            Damn the elf, but he was probably right. Michael’s hand was tight around the hilt of his sword, and he looked over at the hole in the wall where the skeletal line was set up. It still wasn’t the best odds, but at this point, what choice did he have?

            “Alright, I’m not seeing any orcs. Gus, get ready to help break things up with a fireball, we need to keep them off Will and Perry. Come on Elias, let’s-”

            Just as another pair of undead soldiers began to make their way towards the other group, a handful of orcs came roaring out of the fort. Two in the lead swung heavy flails, cutting swaths in the undead lines, while several more followed up with swords or clubs.

            “Gus, hold off on the fireball! Elias, with me, we’ll take the straggling undead!”

            Michael burst from the bushes at a full run, sliding his helmet’s face-plate down as he went. It obscured his vision slightly, but better that than taking a shot to the face.

            The two undead were both carrying pole-blades, voulges, and it didn’t take them long to notice Michael. He was a moving mountain of steel and muscle. He charged into the first skeleton with his shield, keeping himself safe from the voulge’s hacking blade. He swung his shield arm again, knocking the undead away, and moved for the second. His sword-swing slammed against the skeleton’s armor, and he felt the skeleton return the blow in kind.

            He thrust forward, aiming for just under the iron plate of the skeleton’s cuirass. An incredibly painful blow for a living opponent, but in this situation, one meant to drag the skeleton closer. It dropped the voulge and made to claw at him with its fleshless hands. The scraping of bone again metal reverberated in his helmet, but he’d settle for an irritation over a real threat any day.

            Bone met steel again, but this time, it was from him bashing his shield against the skeleton repeatedly. Whatever dark force somehow kept the skeleton together was rattled and shaken by the blows, and he finally removed his sword to hack at the limbs of the creature. It ended up a pile of broken, shivering bones.

            He spun around to see Elias successfully occupying the other one, though clearly outclassed. With a warcry Michael charged in from behind, thrust his sword at the base of the skeleton’s spine, causing it lurch forward. Elias slammed his quarterstaff into its chin, knocking it back towards Michael. He slammed the pommel of his blade down on its head, forcing it down, and then kicked it onto its stomach before repeated slamming his boots into the creature’s limbs. It would take several attempts, but he shattered a few of the bones.

            Nearby there was a massive roar, and turning they saw the orcs crying out, victorious over the skeletal lines. But one of them, a large one with a stone axe, pointed over at Michael. “Mahk amed! Lorya emell! Matyalo em’oats!”

            Michael glanced at Elias. “I’m guessing that’s not a ‘thanks for helping.’”

            “Not quite.”

            The orcs charged at Michael and Elias, the big one bringing up the rear. Elias drew his cleaving dagger and flickered from view, while Michael planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Gus! Get ready!”

            The first orc paid for his courage when Michael slashed him across the gut. The leather and bone armor he was wearing didn’t stop Michael’s sword, and he sidestepped the orc. A second tried to bring down a heavy cudgel on Michael’s head. He blocked it with his shield, pushing the orc back, and then driving his sword into the orc’s heart.

            To the orc’s credit, even roaring in pain, it moved forward onto his blade, slamming the cudgel into his helmet. Michael made to rip the blade from the orc, but the orc grabbed onto his hand. It was actually trying to keep the blade in.

            He looked into the orc’s eyes. It gave a weak, yet sadistic, smile.

            Michael released the sword, taking a step back. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid being struck by the massive stone axe wielded by the largest orc. He fell backwards, his free hand moving to his stomach. The armor had stopped the blow, but it had a massive dent in it. The orc came again, and he managed to block the axe with his shield.

            Elias flickered back into view as he appeared on the orc’s back, bringing his knife across the orc’s throat. It gave a gurgling roar, spinning around to try and fling Elias off.

            Michael half-stood and threw himself forward, knocking the orc to the ground. Elias jumped off, skidding across the dirt. He yelled out as a stone from an orcish slinger cracked into the back of his knee.

Hurrying to move over and help Elias, Michael grabbed a cleaver from the large orc’s belt, and hurled it at the slinger. It flew wide, but it was enough to cause the slinger to duck. By the time his next stone flew, Michael stood in front of Elias, his shield catching the blow. Still, the other orcs were closing around them.

One of them lunged towards Michael wielding a heavy war hammer. Michael readied to take the blow, but then heard a shout, and the orc seemed to simply stop, suspended with a foot in the air.

William ran in, grabbing Elias by the arm and dragging him off. Michael hesitated only to realize what was happening, and then followed. He looked back as they ran, and a ball of yellowish smoke slammed into the center of the orc group, rapidly expanding into a cloud. The vapor’s trail lead by to Gustav, standing nearby.

When the smoke faded, the orcs were all on the ground. Michael didn’t hesitate to run back in, ripping his sword from the now dead orc’s chest.

His head snapped towards William, who was helping Elias up. “Will! Where’s Perry and Ildun?”

“Ildun was badly hurt, Tresbos is taking him back to the village. It’s just us.”

“What?” Elias said, looking up at William. “What happened to Ildun?”

“Damn it!” Michael said, looking at the battlefield. The orcs were asleep, but wouldn’t be for long. Reinforcements, for one force or another, wouldn’t be long coming. And they were down two people.

“What do we do?” Gustav asked, running over to Michael.

“Inside!” Michael yelled, pointing with his sword.

“We’re going to be horribly outnumbered!” Elias said, wincing as William helped him limp over.

“Four against two dozen isn’t much different from six against two dozen,” Michael said, “and we’ll fare better in narrower conditions, where larger groups will get bottle-necked.” He shook his head, tilting the facemask on his helmet up. “We don’t have time for this. Inside! Now!”

“But-”

William urged Elias forward, and leading the way in, with Michael waiting to make sure Gustav was moving. Gustav looked around at the dead and sleeping. Michael saw his cheeks pale.

Michael had a feeling he knew about what.

“Inside Gus. Think about how much trouble we’re in later.”

Gustav looked up at him sharply, opening his mouth to say something. But the instinctive sharpness faded to a sort of resignation, and he moved in. Michael brought up the rear.

Now, there was nowhere to go but down.