Jahora poked out of cover, unleashing the Aether in her hands as a bolt of pure force that struck the furthest guard in the head. His body flew back, landing in a motionless heap on the ground. Helbram lept from the crates at the same time as she, sprinting at the remaining guard as he was locked in place from surprise, staring at his fallen companion. The armored man managed to close the distance by the time the bandit regained his wits, and by then it was too late for the brigand to put up a defense. Helbram carried his momentum into the swing of his arm, slamming the pommel of his sword across the bandit’s jaw. His foe fell to the ground, still. Jahora followed after him, hands already moving as yellow Aether flowed from her fingers and towards the door. He moved towards the opposite end of the building, sword raised as he noted the glow of lamplight that was growing steadily brighter from around the corner. He brought his handle down the moment the man rounded the building, connecting with his temple. Helbram snatched the lantern as the bandit slumped to the dirt, unmoving but still breathing. As Jahora continued to work her spell he moved the bandits out of the way, dragging their unconscious bodies into the shadows while taking care not to stress his shoulder. He used the rope he brought with him to bind their limbs, keeping an eye out for any passing patrols. He searched the bandits’ pockets, fishing a key from them as Jahora finished her spell.

A soft pulse of Aether surged from the gnome’s fingers, striking the web of energy that surrounded the door and washing it away. The padlock remained secure, but let out a heavy click as Helbram twisted it open with the key. Taking one last look behind them, the two slipped into the warehouse.

The building was dark with stacks of barrels, crates, and other sundries lit by the moonlight that leaked through the windows and between the railings of the pathways above. Silence hung over the complex, broken only by the soft thud of the two’s footsteps as they started to walk within. They navigated the stacks of supplies until they found themselves at the building’s center, where the prisoners resided.

A sinking feeling sat at Helbram’s chest as no one looked up at their arrival. He did not expect the bright, hopeful faces that he saw from the caravan, but was not prepared for the utter dejection that occupied their expressions. It was a large crowd, a mix of the adventurers from the caravan and what he could only assume to be men from Goldshire. Their hands were unbound, but they sat on the ground, unmoving. One of them finally looked up, an older bearded man that Helbram last remembered wearing brigandine. Fatigue was soon replaced by surprise as he set his eyes upon them.

“I remember you, you were with the caravan.”

Head’s turned up as those words were said, focusing on both Helbram and Jahora with confusion.

“You… you’re armed,” one of them said.

Desperation filled their eyes and they started to clamber to them.

“Please, you have to get us out of here,” one plead, “at this rate all of us are going to be blown to the hells in those damn mines.”

Murmurs followed, a cacophony of panic and anguish as the rest of the group started to relay their troubles in a cloud of indecipherable speech. Helbram stepped back, his heart heavy at the sight.

“All of you be quiet,” the older man barked, “nothing’s going to be done if you keep badgering them like this.”

The men and women quieted down, but still lingered around Helbram and Jahora. The older man pushed through them, holding a hand out as he got in front of the armored man.

“Garuf,” he grunted.

Helbram took his hand and gave it a firm shake. The man’s grip was strong and a hardiness remained in his eyes. “Helbram, and I am afraid I do not come here with the intent of escape.”

“What? The hells do you mean by that?”

Garuf raised a hand, cutting short the outrage that surged through the crowd around them.

Helbram looked around the crowd, seeing only fearful glances around him. He sighed, “I mean exactly what I said. I do not come here offering aid but rather seeking it.”

He pointed towards the front window of the building, drawing attention to the pillar of light that could be seen through it, “so long as the barrier remains up escape is not an option, more importantly…” he pointed towards the Golden Peak, “should anymore mining be done there is a high chance the mountain itself could explode.”

“Bullshite,” a man from the crowd spat, his clothes were ragged, worn from what must have been a few weeks of labor, “first you’re tellin’ us that you’re not here to help us escape and next you’re telling us that a bloody mountain is going to explode? Why come here at all? To tell us to fight like some godsdammned heroes? A load of good that did for the lot of you that were brought in a few days ago.”

Several of the crowd turned their heads to the ground. Helbram could feel a collective tremble from the people around him. 

“It’s true! Surely you must have noticed, the rocks exploding, the mountain itself glowing and trembling more and more with each passing day,” Jahora said, “Whatever it is that is being done within the mines is not something that can just be ignored as some trick of the light!”

Silence followed, hanging over the crowd until Garuf nodded his head.

“It is as she says, you all know it to be true,” he said, “None of us may be mages but it doesn’t take a genius to tell when something isn’t right, and there is plenty that isn’t right about this whole affair.”

“So what?” the man said, “even if it were true what can we even do about it? Fight the bandits with our bare ha-”

Jahora flicked her fingers, producing a snap of Aether that echoed out from behind the crowd. Beads of purple light formed in the air, expanding until they took the shape of various weapons and even pieces of armor that started to fall to the ground at a steady cadence. A sizable hoard of equipment formed before them, and with each dropped armament he could see the backs of the crowd gradually begin to straighten.

“That’s a load off of my mind,” Jahora muttered, rubbing her temples but with color returning to her cheeks.

Helbram pat Jahora on the shoulder and looked back to the crowd, “It won’t be enough to fully equip all of you, but it is something.”

Garuf snorted, “So, you lot are the reason the bandit’s numbers have been thinning as of late. Here I’d thought they’d been squaring up for another raid.”

“But the numbers of them… we don’t have a chance,” the same man from the crowd voiced, his tone growing strained.

“We’ve managed to lure many of them outside of the village,” Helbram said.

“And then locked the gate,” Jahora added, “No one, inside or out will be able to open it for the time being.”

The man opened his mouth again.

“And if you’re wondering about their leader, he’s out there with them,” Helbram interjected, “but who knows how long we have. If we’re going to act, we need to hurry.”

“Hurry to our deaths!” the man spat. His jaw was clenched and tears streaked down his dirt covered face,  “you don’t know what we’ve been through, what they’re capable of… you think we haven’t thought of fighting back? We have, many times, and each time that damned Quetali put us down so easily and that mage… that damned mage made sure to punish the families of whoever rose up. My daughter… my daughter didn’t deserve…” he choked and started to weep. As he did, the crowd started to shy away from the equipment on the floor.

Jahora cast her eyes to the ground and said nothing.

Helbram looked over the crowd, watching them as they receded back to their spots among the crates, eyes once again downcast, absent of hope.

“I know not the words that will banish fear from your hearts,” he told them, his voice soft, “nor do I have a speech that will grant you the blind courage to push that fear aside. I have not had your struggles, your tragedies, nor your punishments. The only thing I can say to you is that if you do nothing, if you give in to their demands, if you allow them to torment you into continued subservience, then you walk the path of a slow, but sure death. Perhaps I ask too much of all of you… in fact, I know I do, for this is not a task that any man should have to bear. But, I ask you of it all the same, for if you do not act, it is not just you that you have condemned, but the fate of all those that lie within this village, those of which I know you cherish. If you do not wish to fight for yourselves, then I ask that you think of them and make your decision. I myself choose to fight, for I would rather struggle for a chance at life than let doubt lead me to the jaws of death.”

None looked up at his words.

Garuf placed a hand on Helbram’s shoulder, “I can’t speak for the others, but I will join you.”

Helbram nodded at him, “I thank you, we’ll be outside when you’re ready.”

The older man moved to the pile of equipment. Jahora looked after him, eyes hopeful as she scanned the crowd for any sign of movement. Helbram turned and put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“We should go,” he tried to hide the defeat in his voice.

As they made their way out of the warehouse Jahora looked up at him.

“Well, I thought that was a fine speech,” she said in a confident tone.

Helbram snorted, “Was it now? And here I thought my words were only as good as my magic.”

“Nonsense, one for the books I’d say… if we make it out.”

“Indeed.”

“What do we do now?”

“Cause as big of a stink as we can,” Helbram said with a sigh, “how do you feel about breaking ancient technology?”

She tapped her chin, “Well, it is going to be a shame, but it should make for a nice fireball.”

They laughed at that and marched towards the door. Helbram tried to ignore the hollowness in his chest.

As they emerged from the building he felt the snap of Aether in the air, he reached for his sword, but his hands froze as they hovered over his handle. Jahora had her hands out, ready to cast a spell, but she too was frozen in place. He felt a presence in his mind, an oppression that suppressed any control he had over his body, but leaving him fully aware. He focused, pressing against the presence in his mind, but unable to budge it. He saw Jahora’s fingers twitch, but nothing else as he looked down at the gnome.

A small figure emerged from the darkness, flanked by two bandits, one wielding a crossbow and the other a greatsword. Marlin’s robes were rolled back, exposing tattooed arms that glowed with a sickly blue aether. More bandits were formed behind him, their numbers almost uncountable amidst the lamplight. The halfling’s gaunt face remained impassive as he examined both Helbram and Jahora.

“Kill the armored one, we’ll question the gnome,” he said in a cold tone.

The bandit with the greatsword nodded and marched towards Helbram, weapon drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. He raised the blade and reared back, and Helbram closed his eyes in grim acceptance. 

The blow never came, and instead what followed was the gurgle from the bandit’s blood filled mouth as he collapsed to the ground, a crossbow bolt protruding from his throat.

“You missed one!” Garuf yelled from within the warehouse.

Marlin’s expression was unchanged, “It appears I did.”

He motioned the bandits behind him to move forward.

The gang moved, closing in on the warehouse, but stopped as they heard laughing from within.

“Oh, by the way,” Garuf said, “I lied.”

The windows above opened, arrows and bolts flying through them and pelting the first line of bandits in the front. Helbram heard footsteps behind them, quick, with purpose. Men funneled outside under the cover of arrow fire, flanking Helbram and Jahora. He recognized the one that stood next to him, the man that had voiced his doubts so often, clad in leather armor and wielding an ax. Uncertainty was gone from his expression, replaced by a fury that burned in his eyes.

“Attack!”