In which Peal attempts a rescue with honour and chivalry

It fought all his instincts to stand out in the open like this – but then, what in this accursed land did not? Peal trembled so that the metal on him rattled as he marched uphill towards the shack, cursing all the dictates of honour and gentlemanry conduct as he went.
He was sure they knew of him now. He was not being remotely subtle, after all. His eyes darted at the open windows, his muscles tensed for the inevitable cheap shot...


”Look,” Melwas argued, ”we will just – if it comes to that, and I think by now it's safe to say it will – stab her heart with a dagger, then leave her body out there in the jungle with incriminating evidence. Why do you have to make this more difficult?”
”I'm just saying, if she dies anyway...”
In the dark of the shack, Zwil was the first to give a second glance through a window, and to keep looking.
”Hey!” he hushed at the rest of them. ”Shut up!”
At this time the debate had petered out into circular arguments anyway, so they all soon turned to see what he wanted. ”What is it?”
”I think there's something out there...” Zwil whispered.
Others scrambled over to the windows to look as well. They murmured questions to one another, pointed down the hill into the open plain, at the woods around it, the river...
”Where?”
”Right there! In the middle. Can't you see the glimmer?”
Now they did. Metal gleamed out there, but the shape was much smaller than any knight, walked with far less noise for them to hear, and seemed to blend with the long shadows to some extent – no matter how it tried to go around them, it seemed to Melwas. Nycea did her best to see past any of them, but being bound in the back of the shack, there was not much she could do about this but fume in her curiosity and fear.
Coilguns were drawn, primed, and aimed. No one fired yet, but many expectant eyes turned their leader's way. The leader did not give the order and instead called out:
”Who goes out there? This is private property! State your name, rank, and business!”
The little shape stopped, and seemed to be drawing deep breath.
”I'm on the business of King Yoros!” it shrieked, high-pitched in an effort to be heard and even then only barely successful. ”We're here for Princess Nycea! Let her go and surrender or we'll be forced to come in there for her! Don't try to flee, for your shack is surrounded!”
Several of them rushed over to the other walls. Rifles pointed out of each window, eyes trained for any move they'd see. They saw nothing. Only wind rustled the leaves of the jungle.
Melwas had not gone anywhere: this entire time his eyes remained in the creature out there by the front. He'd heard the rumours of some outlander creature having been admitted to the knighthood recently, for some reason... god were involved. He wondered of it a little. Nycea – having recognized the voice – wondered all the more, her heart thrumming for reasons she could not explain to herself.
”How did it find us?” Zwil wondered.
”Doesn't matter – only that he did find us. Is it really alone?”
”We don't see anything else out here, so it'd seem like it. Just a bluff.”
”Shoot it down.”
Zwil's coilgun hummed as he readied it to fire, brought it higher up for a better aim-
-crashed away from the window with a bright blue flash, and fell with a thump into the center of the shack. Chunks of brain and bone splinters threw about, on his screaming companions. Nycea shrieked as well, even though she'd been too far back to be drenched in anything: she could still smell the thick black smoke spread everywhere in the dark.
”Shut up, woman!” somebody – she couldn't tell whom, by the dim and the smoke – shouted at her.
She shrieked louder. Not out of fear anymore, but out of spite – what, everyone else is allowed to yell their lungs out, but when she does it, it's a problem?
While rough hands struggled to gag the hostage, while she squirmed and kicked against the unwanted touch, another flash of blue heralded another gunman's demise. The rest wisely pulled their heads away and drew into cover.
”I managed a few shots, boss, but I don't think I hit anything. He's dropped on the ground – the grass hides him all too well...”
”Well, keep an eye about!” Melwas growled. ”He'll likely make a break for it when you're not looking.”
Several fearful eyes watched – all attention was now on this side of the shack, the flanks neglected – as if priming themselves to be slain by this blue light at any moment.
”What kind of a weapon is he carrying?” their leader whispered.
”Nothing I'd know of, boss. Probably brought it along with him from the outer world... I thought they weren't even past bows and arrows out there!”
In the silence, they thought they could hear the faintest clinking of metal, armour walking forward... but its source and direction were harder to determine, if it hadn't been just their imagination in the first place.
The doorknob rattled.
Several hearts ceased – or began to pound all the faster, like in Nycea's case. Conspiring eyes darted at one another, wondered whether to open the door in surprise, or to lean out through the nearby window and...
They opted for the latter. A brave man peeked over silently, aimed his weapon outside – only to not fire at all. His eyes widened in surprise.
”But there's no one th-”
The blade struck him from his flank, flashing blindingly in sunlight – soon drenched in red. The bandit fell down on the floor, gurgling, choking in his own blood...
”I'm coming in!” the invader announced almost cheerfully. ”Get ready!”
In a wordless unison, Melwas and his two remaining men backed right at the opposite wall, rifles ready at the window, eyes through crosshairs. The following half-second stretched tenfold. With bated breath they waite-
Dill lunged forward through the window right behind them. His jaws clenched around a man's neck, drawing blood.
Melwas yelped and balked away, no longer certain where to fire.
That was when Peal hopped up through his own chosen window, found one man still aiming at him – his eyes widened in surprise-
Nycea knocked herself into the final bandit and the shot went wide. A spray of metal needles thunked in the walls and the ceiling. Her would-be rescuer yelled out in fear and surprise as he stumbled down into the shack and found himself prone on the ground, in blood and the dead-
-pounced at by the two still-living brigands, the riftwarg gone and ignored now, the princess kicked aside-
-skittering across the floor, dodging needles and blades and kicks, trying to scramble upright himself-
-swinging his own sword blindly-
Blood spilled out of all involved. One man fell with a sword thrust through his flank, bleeding profusely – but before Peal could retrieve his weapon, Melwas's furious sword-and-knife assault forced him back and on the defensive.
The bandit leader was a former knight, he'd have you know. He knew how to keep a foeman at bay, or a beast away from his throat, and now he was fighting both. This creature had no weapons but teeth and claws now: it was swift and furious and probably rabid, but kept at the range of his longsword's tip, could do no harm. Now all he needed was to catch it, to wear it down with a good thrust or slash, then pierce its heart...
Peal – in his haste to keep the sharp bits away – stumbled at a corpse, floundered-
Melwas saw his chance, but also a threat – a coilgun nearby that the creature could pounce for. He adjusted his strike to avoid this inevitability as well.
But Peal never went that way – instead seizing his chance to come in from the other side, tackle this human twice his size and weight-
The tide now turned as both collapsed down in a heap.
Punching, clawing, shouting, growling, they wrestled, rolled, strangled, and bit. Nycea could no longer tell what was going on at all, or even who was winning. She knew the bandit leader was far bigger and stronger and probably had a better idea on what to do, but...
She watched them collapse into a heap, with her captor on top... twitching a little, gurgling, then falling still.
Silence.


”Peal?” she hazarded.
Came a muffled reply: ”A little help here? This guy's heavy...”
”I'm still bound.”
”Oh.”
Silence again. Now that her mind could wind down – after the terror and uncertainty – she began to take notice of the smell of blood and other bodily fluids. She resolved to breathe through her mouth.
”I could reach for a sword and use it to cut my binds... if it gets us out of this wretched place faster.”
”The only thing you'd cut is your hands. They're all soft and pure. Let's not scar them.”
”I don't know if... oh, fine. Also, thanks,” she added as she realized there was a compliment in between.
”Hang on...” She saw the body move, to little avail, then heard a call: ”Dill! Here boy, come help!”
The massive fluffy bulk of the riftwarg emerged into the window again. He barked and smiled and slobbered, as if this was a cheerful day out rather than the aftermath of a gruesome battle. He made his way indoors to-
He got stuck in the frame.
They heard rustling and scraping from the outside as his lower half hopped and pushed, to no avail. His front paws skidded against the bloody floor. His smile did not wane one bit: he was having the time of his life.
”This is the worst rescue ever,” Nycea said. The corpse deflated a little.
”He can be like that sometimes.”