slinking out of the mountain as Gunner led them to safety. One group left, another got ready, and
soon the numbers dwindled to nothing.
“Good speech,” the Lieutenant said.
“Thank you sir,” Chaplain replied.
The Lieutenant flipped the flap on his bag of tricks and dug down deep. He pulled out a wooden cask,
stoppered with cork and smelling strongly of sulfur. Then another, and another, stacking them nearby.
He eyed every member of the team, lips peeling back in a wolfish grin.
“Now comes the fun part.”
Chapter Four: Out with a Bang
They moved silent as breath through the empty tunnels, tucking charges into crevices and butting
them against wooden support beams. The devil’s scent of saltpeter made the caverns smell like Hell,
ready to burn with a single, ragged spark. Fairy lights danced in the deeper darkness where the
Lieutenant and Trilaina licked wicks and set fuses, making certain everything was perfect. Up near the
ore doors, Garm and Chaplain laid their casks with held breath. They were so close they could smell
the sweat of the Molthuni regulars on the other side of the barred doors.
The cleric tapped Garm on the shoulder and pointed to the columns that framed the entrance. Garm
set the keg down like it was made of glass, gently turning it back and forth to set it in the dirt. He was
repeating the process with the other side of the door when something caught his ear. He cut his hand
through the air and crept closer, pressing a tattered ear to the central crevice.
“You heard from either of them, though?” A man’s voice. “They haven’t come up in hours.”
“Probably off with that girl Goblin’s always talking about,” another voice answered. The second voice
was deeper, harder, with something inhuman in its accent and ancestry. “He won’t shut up about her.
If’n she wasn’t a slave, I think he’d try and marry her.”
“If she wasn’t a slave, Goblin would have been clapped in irons by now,” the first voice answered.
“Truth,” the gruff voice answered. The first said something else, but Garm couldn’t make it out. When
the conversation picked up again, the words were more intelligible, and they sent a chill down Garm’s
spine.
“Still, it’s strange that they haven’t even checked in.” Leather creaked and chain rustled as the other
guard shifted his feet. “Maybe we should go and take a look?”
“I see enough of those two as it is.”
“Maybe it’s time for them to take a turn up here.” The first voice stifled a yawn. “Got to change posts, make sure everyone stays sharp. I’d rather be down there than up here.”
“You go check, I’ll keep eyes up here,” the other guard said. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. After that, you’re not my problem.”
Garm jerked his head at Chaplain. They grabbed the last three casks, using the noise of the door as
cover while they sped around a corner. Chains tightened, and the bar lifted out of its brackets with a
groan. One door creaked, and weak lamplight slipped into the underground. The door shut with a
hollow boom. Chains rattled, and the beam dropped back into place.
against the wall as the man approached the turn, but he stopped and turned back the way he’d come.
His spear clattered against the wall, and a moment later the rain gutter sound of an emptying bladder
filled the cavern. They heard him kick dirt over the puddle, then the lantern creaked as he lifted it up.
“What the hell?”
Garm’s soles made no noise on the smooth stone as he slipped behind the man and wrapped an arm
around his neck. The half-orc wrenched, and the guard’s neck snapped like a dry-rotted twig. The rank
smell of excrement filled Garm’s nostrils, and he dragged the corpse as quietly as he could. He looked
at Chaplain, who made the sign of the hammer over the dead man.
“I think we’re out of time,” Garm whispered.
“Agreed.”
Chaplain grabbed the lantern, and Garm tore the lids off the remaining casks. Black powder glinted in
the lantern light—sand with the breath of a volcano buried inside. Chaplain started down the hall, and
Garm followed a moment later, leaving a trail of powder to the others kegs they’d already placed.
Chaplain started humming an old dwarven tune the rest of the Irregulars would recognize, just in case
someone got jumpy and started shooting at anyone carrying a lantern.
The Lieutenant is a little crazy, but all good officers are.
“What went wrong?” The Lieutenant stepped out from behind a pillar.
“Guard got curious.” Garm poured out the remainder of the last cask. “His partner gave him fifteen
minutes before he had to be back, and half of that’s already gone.”
The Lieutenant nodded. “All right, then. I’ll slap the trigger together and hope for the best.” He
reached into a side pocket of the bag and pulled out three stoppered clay flasks. Fragile at the best of
times, they’d do well enough for a timer. The Lieutenant laid the alchemical fire-flasks flat on their
sides, and uncorked one more bottle. He leaned it carefully, the thick slosh of the caustic contents
enough to give anyone pause.
Somewhere above them, an alarm bell brayed its single, brassy note.
The Lieutenant glared at the ceiling, then at the others. “Well? What are you waiting for, a bloody
invitation? Get the hell out of here!”
They ran, but even the hard pounding of their footsteps and the muted call to arms overhead couldn’t
block out the pop of the cork, and the steady drip-sizzle of acid as it poured out onto the clay. They
sped past supports and stress fractures, packed and fused, everything ready to blow at the first
breath of flame. Garm slammed his shoulder into the exit door, sending it squealing open on its
hinges. Trilaina leaped over the threshold, hair flying in a fan behind her and color riding high in her
cheeks. Chaplain burst out last, boots dragging into the dirt as she tried to slow her forward
momentum.
Gunner emerged from his post behind a nearby stone, Denna at his side. “What happened?”
The gnome’s eyes shot wide. He swung into the saddle and put his heels to the she-wolf’s ribs. Mount
and rider took off like they’d been fired from a siege engine, vanishing down into the obscured path
along the ridge.
“You’d think he would have waited,” Trilaina said.
“Did you forget what happened last time we tried this maneuver?” Garm asked.
Before the half-elf could reply, the Lieutenant burst from the tunnel entrance, his bad leg making him
lope like a retired race horse.
“I would suggest we run now,” the Lieutenant said. He emptied a flask down his throat, the contents
syrupy slick and reeking of corrupt sugar and fermented poison. His lips drew back, and a shudder
went through him as everything in the old man cranked a notch tighter. Joints popped, tendons
sprung to attention, and his skin creaked like leather as the formula took hold. “Race you!”
They ran, hell hounds that had slipped their leashes and had no intention of ever going back. They
skidded and tumbled, leaping over rocks and dodging over smooth patches that cut corners around
switchbacks. One step ahead of a broken neck, they made
it to the gentler foothills and ducked behind
an outcropping. Before they could draw more than a single breath, the fuse hit home.
It started small. A rumble shook the earth, like the snore of an ancient colossus rolling over in its
sleep. Stones that had sat in the same place for centuries jumped and bounced, falling over one
another in their hurry to escape the fury boiling inside the mine. Everything went silent. After a few
more breaths, the squad peered out to look at their handiwork.
The mountain exploded.
The hidden door splintered as fire and flame belched from the stone throat. A choking cloud of dust
followed, tinged red by iron dust. The valley shook, and a roar like a beast in agony echoed across the
crags. The surrounding hills gave back the cry, turning it into a chorus of rage and pain. Then, like a
child calmed after a nightmare, everything fell silent again.
The squad looked to the Lieutenant. He shrugged. “Let’s circle back around, make sure all the slaves
got clear and that we really did what we came here to do.”
They took formation, and looped a wide circle back to the front of the mine. They obliterated tracks
where they found them, and kept to the rocky areas where they could. They tried to stay low, crawling
through ditches or ducking into dry ravines where they could move quickly without the risk of anyone
seeing them.
Gunner was the first to break the silence. “Guys,” he said, peering over the lip of a sheltered ridge.
“Get up here. You’re going to want to see this.”
One by one, they crept over the natural wall to see what they’d done.
The mountain was the same, reared up squat and wide against the sky. The road up to the mine was
still there, as was most of the geography they’d spent all of yesterday studying so thoroughly. But the
mine itself was completely unrecognizable. All that was left was a depression filled with crumbled rock
and the remains of a few structures that had fallen down into the hole when their supports collapsed.
One defensive wall had been shaken out like loose teeth, and the other clung on, nearly pristine
despite the destruction that had reshaped the landscape in a moment. Nothing moved down among
the destruction, except the odd tongue of fire that licked across smashed beams or broken doors.
“I told you it was poorly built,” Chaplain said.
The others grinned, and at a hand signal from the Lieutenant dipped back down out of sight. They
hunkered close together, eyes combing fore and rear to make sure no unexpected outliers took them
by surprise again.
“Everyone, listen up,” the Lieutenant said. “We did good work. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
He smoothed the settled dust and laid out the countryside all around him and his squad. Mountains to
the east, flat countryside broken by cities and rivers to the west. With precise measurements he drew
three more X’s along the mountains.
“We’ve made a good start, but a few escaped slaves and a single collapsed ore pit aren’t going to slow
down the war machine that Markwin Teldas and his ilk have built in this little place,” the Lieutenant
said. “The plan right now is to stay one step ahead of the reinforcements that will be combing the
mountains, and make sure we have a few encore performances before we head back home to
Andoran, where I’m sure we’ll be welcomed with open arms and enough medals to tear your tunics.”
The Lieutenant put his right hand out over the map. The others did the same, gripping tight to each
other. The Lieutenant smiled, and his troops returned it.
They were the best of the best of the bottom of the barrel. The bloody hands that broke locks and
necks with equal aplomb. They had their mission, and nothing would stand in their way. Gods above
and below help the poor fools who chose to try.
“Gunner, take point,” the Lieutenant said. “If Trevon is to be believed, then we’re going to have
company very soon, and I doubt they’ll be as thrilled with our night’s work as we are.” He rose stiffly
to his feet. “All right, Irregulars, let’s move out.”
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Setup
Chapter Two: Scouting Party
Chapter Three: In the Black
Chapter Four: Out with a Bang