I grin, “That’s exactly what it's doing. Come on, someone might have heard that.”
The shadow puppy gets absorbed into my own shadow, and I know that if I need it, then it will come at a moment's notice.
“That was so fucking cool, dude,” Coen grins, and then becomes serious again. “We haven’t run into any soldiers doing patrols apart from here. I think we should check what’s in the tent just beyond the trees. Something tells me that they’re guarding the supernatural.”
“Shit, you could be right,” Raiden replies. “Let’s go, we’re running really short on time now.”
“We don’t have time to fight our way out of this. We’re going to have to do this as stealthily as possible if we have any chance of succeeding,” I warn them.
I don’t really need to. They know what we’re up against, and this is definitely not the first dicey situation that we’ve been in.
We cautiously move forward.
After listening at the side of the tent for any movement inside, Coen slices a gap big enough that we can fit through, and steps inside, as we quickly follow him.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” a gruff but familiar voice rumbles.
My gaze finds him, and anger floods me. He’s been badly beaten and tortured. He’s covered in open wounds, both old and new, and blood is pooling on the floor beneath him. He’s locked inside a barred box, barely big enough to contain him. The back of his head is touching the bars behind him, and his nose is touching the ones in front of his face.
He’s standing, his arms outstretched, and his wrists are shackled to the bars of the cage. He can’t move an inch.
“Son of a bitch,” Coen curses, his eyes dark and deadly. Raiden moves to the cage, reaching out a hand, and Coen stops him. “Don’t touch the bars, there are nasty and painful spells running through them on a constant loop.” He locks eyes with the supernatural being who is watching him cautiously, “At least that’s what I’m assuming?”
“You are correct,” the supernatural replies, his eyes lit with curiosity as he locks eyes with Coen.
Fury fills me.
There’s only one way that Coen knows about the spells that a cage like this has.
Striding forward, I call on my magic, and it comes in a rush, reacting to my anger. With my hands pulsating with power, I grab hold of the bars, batting away the spells that try to attack me, as I flood them with my magic.
The bars and his shackles shatter, and the sound of them breaking is deafening.
The supernatural drops to the floor, and Raiden and I immediately rush to his side, helping him stand up as Coen heads to the tent door.
The supernatural looks up at me, confusion in his eyes, “I could have sworn you . . .” he trails off, and the confusion vanishes from his eyes as he adds, “We must go, that wasn’t quiet, someone will have heard it.”
“Oh yeah, they definitely heard it,” Coen confirms as he glances out of the tent flap, and then turns back, grinning. “Are you sure we don’t have enough time to play? Something about these fuckers makes me think that they would actually put up a good fight.”
The supernatural Raiden and I are holding up lets out a short bark of laughter, “Oh, they’ll definitely do that. Something tells me that you can hold your own. I, however, will not be able to in my current state. The cage stopped my body from healing, and it will take a few moments for my healing ability to click back on.”
“Can you walk?” I ask him.
“With help,” he admits, although I can tell that he fucking hates having to admit it.
“Alright, we’ve got you. Come on,” Raiden says, as we start moving toward the slice in the tent that we made.
“I’ll keep them at bay,” Coen says, not seeming worried about it at all, but then he wouldn’t be, he loves this sort of stuff.
We don’t waste any more time talking as we help the supernatural through the hole and then start moving as quickly as we’re able to. He is not small, and at this point, we’re having to take most of his weight. We move as quickly as we can, heading back into the woods and past the headless soldier, no sign of the other one.
I don’t really know where the shadow took the other soldier. I do, however, know that he is dead and is not going to be a problem, so it’s something that I don’t need to concern myself with now.
“Your handywork?” The supernatural asks through clenched teeth, pain paling his face and making sweat bead along his brow.
I nod, “Yep, and I’m pretty sure it’s just going to piss the others off more, so we need to get as far away from here as possible, before they start following.”
“My healing ability is starting to kick back online, but I fear that it won’t work quickly enough,” he replies, already taking more of his weight as we start to move quicker.
