The stocky fellow who kneed me in the ribs brandished a crude knife. He passed it between his hands, left right, left right. It looked to be a piece of window pane soldered to a handle. His knee could do more harm to me than the toy he was fiddling with.

“Come to die, knight,” he taunted. He began to say something else, but I was already upon him. I turned my shield inward and struck the marauder in the chest. All breath escaped him and he produced a thin wheezing sound. Pathetic. With my free hand I snatched the knife out of his hand and plunged it into his side. I pulled the knife out, a spring of blood coming forth. my fist gripped around the handle, I slammed a gauntleted fist into his cheekbone. The enemy reeled back and collapsed onto the floor. Kestrel never left it’s sheath.

Upstairs I could hear Din tearing his group apart. Loud muffled thumping overhead. I turned for the stairs and a man’s limp body tumbled down. I stepped over him. At the top of the stairs there was Din, massive compared to the two men he did battle with. I watched closely as two men held chipped short swords over their heads and swung wildly at my friend. This upstairs was cramped, with broken furniture strewn all over the room. I drew Kestrel slowly, allowing the sound of steel to pique the men’s ears. One of them turned on me. Din moved his head narrowly out of the path of a sword, which jammed itself into the wall behind him.

“El, could you please?” My comrade bellowed. The man who turned away from Din grunted something unintelligible, and lunged. The next movements were swift, the man raised his weapon in another wild ax chop, I swung upward to meet the blow and the clear chime of metal snapping rang throughout the hideout. The tip of his bladed clattered to the floor right as I directed my sword right through the chest of my foe. Din’s opponent yanked franticly on the sword he’d gotten stuck. Din slammed the sheer side of his elbow into his head and both men fell back and onto each other in a heap in the center of the room.

I slid Kestrel back into its sheath, Din walked over to the end of the room to an object covered by a blanket.

“How’s your guy downstairs?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Dead, he tried to stab me,” I said. Din grunted in approval and tossed off the blanket. A trunk. Din motioned for me to do the honors, I swung back the lid and we beheld the faint glow of gold. The trunk was filled almost to the rim with golden nuggets. The sight was almost comical, like the spoils of a children’s fable. Din buried a hand in the treasure and let the plinking nuggets spill out of his hand.

“Good god Elwood,” Din said. I breathed in the metallic smell,

“No coins or trinkets. Not even ingots. All unprocessed,” I mused.

“Just as it said in the ransom order,” Din concurred. We’d found our ransom payment.