'What do I do!?' Holsley screamed as the monstrous wooden chest leapt forward, flapping its fang-lined lid like a mouth. He struck the wall, and the creature dove again. Holsley didn't truly know what had happened. One moment he was inspecting an old chest out of curiosity, the next second it had come to life in a frenzy of fangs.

'Hang on!' Roland jumped into the fray, rapier up. The rogue jumped onto the chest's back, well lid, and the creature let out a screech that burned their ears. A tongue shot out like a whip. If Holsley hadn't moved an inch to the left, the slobbering appendage would have had him instead of the brick wall.

'What is this thing!?' Holsley exclaimed. He rolled out of the way as it made another desperate jump at him. It smashed into the wall but quickly shook the pain off. Holsley found his feet again and backed away.

'Don't pretend like you don't know!' Roland took the rapier and drove it down through the chest's lid. It like out a pitiful whine, like a wounded dog. That didn't stop Roland. The rogue pushed the rapier even further in until the creature sagged, slumped, and collapsed onto the floor.

Holsley gave it a cautious kick. It didn't move. Roland had slain it.

'I hate these things,' Roland spat, pulling the rapier free. 'They get me every time.'

'So, uh, there are monsters down here, huh?'

'Lots.' Roland gave him a look. 'We're moving out of the safety of the thieves' nest and into the parts of the stronghold that no one ventures.'

They left the monster lying in a pool of purple blood. Holsley eyed it as they walked away, making sure it didn't so much as twitch. It didn't. Turns out this expedition they had set out on was riddled with more dangers than either of the boys had bargained for.

Breaks in the corridors with sudden pitfalls that led into an endless abyss. Ceilings set to crumble with the slightest breeze. Doors that, once opened, revealed cave-dwelling monsters on the other side like the chest monster they had encountered.

Still, with steady determination, they navigated the dangers and watched each other's backs.

'Does it go any deeper?' Holsley asked. Roland looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. 'The fortress. Does it go any deeper?'

'Oh, yeah. Not by much, though.' Roland shrugged. 'It actually comes to an abrupt stop in places.'

'What do you mean?'

'Dead ends that weren't meant to be dead ends,' replied Roland. 'Like, corridors that go up to roughly hewn stone walls. Unfinished. It's as if the dwarves just up and left halfway through the job.'

'That's mysterious.' Holsley checked back over his shoulder. The hair on his neck prickled. He thought he saw a shadow move, but it could just as easily be his panicked imagination. 'Are we close to these…uh, cat steps?'

'No.' Roland almost half-chucked. He rose up along some debris that had fallen from the wall, carefully navigating the rubble that had probably been here for a century. 'I know what you're doing, Holly.'

Holsley stepped over the rubble a little less gracefully, tripping more than once in his attempts to catch up to Roland.

'Oh?' asked Holsley.

'You're trying to avoid thinking about Dan.'

That was partly true, but it was mostly by accident. Holsley could only ever focus on one crisis at a time, and it was usually the one that was happening to him in any given moment. Still, his thoughts were occasionally straying to his old mentor. He had known him throughout his childhood, but Dan had never once managed the Hangman of Tressa, let along how he got out of the noose.

Why?

'We'll have to visit the Smiling Bard.' Roland grimaced as he said it, looking back at his friend with a sympathetic look. 'That's the only place I can think of where we might find some answers about the Hangman.'

'I'm not going back there.' Holsley straightened. 'I don't care what She said about Dan.'

'I won't force you,' Roland promised. 'I can do it alone if you prefer.'

That wasn't what Holsley preferred. At least, that's what he thought. In truth, he didn't know. The young bard couldn't bear the thought of seeing that old tavern again, yet he knew he'd have to at some point, though. If not for Roland, then for himself. He had to start facing some of these fears of his, like Merhim had said.

There was the question of answers, too. Why was Dan being chased by the Hangman of Tressa. What exactly had he done, and more so, what had he done to get out of it? Did Holsley even want to know?

'You met Dan,' Holsley said as they hopped the next gap across the broken floor. 'What do you think about this?'

'I reckon he stole something,' replied Roland, this time not bothering to look back. 'I did always wonder how he could afford that tavern. That's not the interesting bit, though. How did he avoid the Hangman. Did he tell you anything about his past, Holly?'

'Nothing.' Holsley desperately cast his mind back, but it was blank. Holsley had suppressed thinking about Dan Biggens for so long, he could no longer conjure the memories of him. Except, of course, for the fire. That memory was vivid, bright, and readily available. He shook it off. 'He did tell me once that he didn't come from Tressa. He just settled here. When I asked him where he was really from, he just said that he'd done quite a bit of travelling to get here.'

'Typical deflection,' Roland tutted. 'That doesn't help much.'

'It doesn't help at all,' replied Holsley. 'All I know is that he was a very accomplished minstrel that found me as a baby and took me in. He didn't talk much about anything before that, except for his adventures with Marlin Mandrovi.'

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

'Who?'

'Uh, the world's most famous bard?' scoffed Holsley. 'Known for their legendary mastery over every instrument.'

'Doesn't ring a bell,' replied Roland with a shrug. He clicked his tongue in ponderment. 'It's a shame we can't get back into the Old Stone Keep. There's a ledger in the library that keeps track of the crimes committed in the city. I bet they'd have information on what he's done. I'm not going to risk going in there for a third time, though.'

Holsley thought on that for a moment.

'There's another library in the city.' Holsley furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled the memory out from the locked drawer in the back of his mind. 'Dan used to take me there. It's called the Scholar's Wit, and I remember him saying that it had about as much information as the Named Offices.'

'I know it and I doubt they'd have anything,' replied Roland. 'It's just a bunch of ratty old books in there.

'That's what a library is, Roland.'

***

A few more monster encounters later, including one with a particularly nasty overgrown rat, the pair had finally managed to track their way to the cat steps. Turns out, the exit the cat had promised was not a venture for the faint of heart.

They found themselves looking out at a rocky outcrop that opened out into a large chamber with a chasm before them that was deep. Impossibly deep. Fortunately, there was a bridge leading right across it and to the stone wall on the other side. You'd have to be mad to try it, though. Even from where they stood, they could see the rotting and broken planks tied loosely together with frayed rope.

Roland could see the appeal for a cat. They'd have no problem rushing across the bridge on their light feet with quick reflexes, but for him and Holsley, it could and probably would end in disaster.

Tiacat let out a mew. Holsley's spell had worn off a while ago, but he got the gist of what the feline was saying. It was something along the lines of, 'Are we going across the bridge or what?' Evidently, they had taken a bit too long in assessing the risks versus the reward of crossing.

Roland narrowed his eyes and found what he was looking for across the bridge. He spied an ornate archway carved straight and knew that beyond it there was about a thousand stone steps leading back up towards the city. Not unlike the one they had used to get down here. The only difference was that this exit had collapsed some time ago and the gaps between the gathered rocks were mostly cat sized.

'Well, we can at least a look,' he said.

He was about to take his first step on the bridge when suddenly three shadows appeared from the rocky outcrop. Roland's hand drifted to his dagger, but he stayed it for now to see how this would play out. He still had his hood up and there was a chance he hadn't been recognised yet.

The three figures stepped forth and the pair drunk them in. The first was a half-orc that towered over the others and kept to the back. The second was a half-sized gnome whose face was hidden beneath a cowl. And the third was a human with a shock of blonde hair and a cut over his left eye. He appeared to be the leader of the group if his position in the middle told them anything.

'Who are you?' he demanded, producing two daggers from behind his back.

Roland rolled his eyes. They were all dressed in dark clothing, which meant they were member of the Whispers. They had probably been sent here just in case Roland tried to escape this way.

An awkward length of time passed. Roland coughed. Nothing happened. Roland coughed again. Still nothing. Finally, he gave Holsley a little nudge and the bard suddenly realised that he was meant to be doing something here.

Oh right, he was the talker.

With a gurgle of fear in his stomach, Holsley stepped forward with, what he hoped was, a winning smile. 'Uh, hi! My name is…Steve…Deep…bridge. Steve Deepbridge. I'm, uh, looking for those crafty and rather dashing young boys we're after.'

The three looked at each other like they were having a stroke.

The human squared his beady eyes on Holsley. 'We ain't never heard of no Steve Deepbridge.'

'Oh, I'm new,' Holsley said. 'Was brought in yesterday from, uh, another thieving guild. Still learning the ropes…well, the daggers.'

'What about your friend?' the gnome nodded towards Roland. 'Tell him to take his hood down.'

'Oh, well, he can't.' Holsley said quickly, looking back at his friend. 'Becaaaaaaaause, he's hideous. Downright ugly. One look and you'll throw up. Trust me, it ain't pretty.'

'I've heard enough,' the half-orc barked. She brought up a sword that looked more like a dagger in her oversized hands and lunged for Holsley. Holsley jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding its sting, and ended up tripping over his own feet and landing up on the floor. The half-orc brought the sword to end him, but before she could bring it down a dagger pierced one of her hands.

Blood gushed from the wound. She let out a yelp of horror and dropped the sword. Roland unveiled his cloak and brought out his rapier, tip up and ready for action. The others recognised him in an instant.

'A sleeping spell would be really useful right about now!' Roland shouted as he jumped between Holsley and the three assassins. The human and gnome came upon him, daggers clashing with the steel of his rapier. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the half-orc crying. 'Holly!'

'I'm on it.' Holsley jumped back to his feet and pulled the redrose lute around. He scrambled into his bag, finding the bits of paper he needed and quickly slipped one of them between the strings of the lute's neck. Soft and slow twangs followed.

Roland fought as Holsley studied, testing the right strings in turn. He ducked blows, dished out stabs, and deflected lunges with the ease of a practiced swordsman. In comparison, his two competitors were ill-trained, but he knew it would only take them a lucky strike to overpower him.

Holsley started playing. Naturally, the moment he did, the half-orc came back into the action. It was hard to play the sleeping song. It was especially hard to play the sleeping song while a muscular half-orc was lunging at you. Holsley was clumsily forced this way and that, teasing the edge of the rocky outcrop and dodging blows with luck rather than skill.

Roland couldn't even glance back to see if Holsley was okay. He could still hear the music, though, or, more accurately, the frantic twangs of strings. Of course, he had to stay where he was. Concentrate. If he dropped his guard, they'd find an opening in his defences and disable him.

The half-orc kicked the bard, catching the lute and sending him flying across the dusty floor like a ragdoll. Holsley quickly caught his breath, but getting back to his feet was a problem with her towering over him. He tried to scurry away, but she caught him by the scruff of his neck and raised him a few inches off the ground.

Holsley lashed out at her arms, which, in honesty, were more like tree trunks.

'This isn't going particularly well,' he said. 'Why can't any of you people just talk things out!'

The half-orc grinned as she tossed the lute to the side and brought him over the edge of the outcrop. Holsley gripped a hold of her arm as her stomach rolled beneath his skin. He was now dangling over an endless abyss. If she let him go, there's no telling how far he would drop.

He looked over to Roland, but the rogue was busy with the other two.

'We just want Ro—'

The half-orc stopped mid-sentence as if something had been caught in her throat. Her eyes went wide, her body rigid, and her skin turned a sickly pale shade of green. Holsley watched her. She looked confused and shocked in equal measure, as if she were trying to contemplate the answer to a question she didn't quite understand.

Then, she lurched forward.

Holsley scrambled out of her loose grip, rushing onto the outcrop just as she fell over the edge. That's when he saw it. There was a dagger sticking out of her back, deep enough to penetrate her heart. He watched her fall into the abyss a moment before he clambered back from the edge. She disappeared quickly without so much as a whimper to follow her.

Holsley called it luck until he turned around a realised what had really happened. It was his turn for his eyes to bulge. A creature stood at the entrance to the rocky outcrop, the same way they had come. He was standing in the direction of where the dagger had flown from, leaving no doubts that it was this malicious creature that had thrown it.

'This just got worse,' said Holsley, reaching over and pulling the redrose lute to him. 'Much worse.'

'Hello again, Holsley,' Fox Matthews sneered.

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