After a quick chow down on some nicely charred boar strips, we check our gear and move on. I do the run-back-and-forth-check for changing hallways. Nothing unexpected happens. Although I expected them to change, so maybe the result was the unexpected one. Brigadier Baco goes back to stomping the snot out of approaching rats and something way crunchier when he ate it, since Sadie and I agreed it was wrong for him to eat the boars. I was worried about food supply when all this started, but it turns out that was unfounded.

  I use the chalk to mark short arrows as we move on, hopefully not using up the limited line length before crossing our own path again. Our march takes us to a series of rough, natural chambers. We weave through stalagmites and stalactites that are ringed in tones of copper and green. Tiny crystals in the walls reflect the green light of the crystal moss patterns that weave around the high ceiling. In a strangely creepy way, the place is sparkling and beautiful.

  “Dom,” she says, grabbing my arm from behind as I’m chalking the wall.

  “What’s up?”

  She puts a finger over her lips. “Listen.”

  I listen.

  “You don’t hear that?” she asks.

  I’m not sure if it’s those long and pointy Satyr ears or maybe she has a higher Perception score than I do, but don’t hear anything out of the ordinary at all.

  Something passes between the hanging cones of the ceiling. Something small and dark. I point and ready my spear.

  A German Shepherd sized bat dive bombs from the ceiling, screaming. I thrust in reflex, but it veers away easily, a safe distance from the spear tip. Another drops. These things are fast. I doubt my javelin would land a hit. Sirens are much larger and more predictable in flight path. The bats go right overhead, and hitting them seems even more challenging than dodging the creature on its return. I thought I was kidding when I thought I could use the stake form for vampires.

  Brigadier Baco runs in circles, snarling and snapping, loud and ineffectual.

  The scratch on the back of my head is harsh. The one that hit me shoots off into the distance. I count three, maybe four. They fly in haphazard zig-zags, making them impossible to track. Trying to fight while staring straight up is absurd. I hear claws scrape Baco’s armor. I turn and the damn thing has zipped away.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I bet a sword would have more chance of hitting. Spear poking is like fighting a grizzly with a pocketknife.

  “They’re fast,” Sadie pants, missing with fireball after fireball. “Hard to hit with a throw.”

  “I noticed,” I shout.

  “I think I can jump and get them, like playing Halma.”

  I don’t know what Halma is, but I’ll take any suggestion at this point.

  Sadie runs and bounds up like she bounced off a trampoline. She kicks off a rising stalagmite, fist flaming, and punches one right out of the air with a fiery right cross. I finish off the smoking target. When I get there, Sadie has already launched again. Almost straight up, over my head, tossing fire. This time she misses.

  I let out an embarrassing yelp when claws rake over my shoulder. These things aren’t doing much damage per hit, but they’re hitting me a lot. I touch my shoulder and look at the blood on my hand.

  I watch Sadie bounce again. When one comes by, she turns into a battery powered, tennis racquet fly swatter, smacking giant bats out of the air. They smoke and spiral down. Baco and I play whac-a-bat, trying to get to each for the killing blow. They die easy. The bat faces are flattened and leathery, a pile of wrinkles with dark eyes lost in the folds. The bodies are bulky and long, but light when kicked. The wings are strong and tough, with each one stretching to nearly my height.

  Sadie backhands one with a flaming fist and it hits a stalactite with a crack. It flops down, flapping wildly and unable to catch the air. I throw and impale it before it hits the ground.

  Ding.

  Some notifications pop into my view

  You have gained the Impale (Level 3, Emerging) skill.

  You have gained the Javelin Throw (Level 2, Emerging) skill.

  I quickly swipe notification after notification away.

  Soon, the fourth and final target comes down, a flaming, screeching furball. The difficulty with this fight was exactly why I always wanted to target Siren wings immediately. Flying foes are bad.

  Sadie collapses, her back against a stalagmite, panting. I let Baco get the last one. She bends down to wipe sweat from her face on the hem of her toga.

  “I didn’t know Satyrs could jump like that.”

  “You didn’t even know there were girl Satyrs.”

  This is true.

  “Need to catch my breath,” she says. “I don’t want to hold us up long, but I need a few minutes. “Oh, words. I just levelled up in Jump.”

  “You did amazing, Sadie,” I say, holding out my fist to bump.

  “You want to spar?” she asks, shaking the fire from her hands.

  “What? No. A fist bump. Hold up your fist and hit mine.”

  “Why would I do that? That would hurt.”

  “Not hard,” I explain. I grab her wrist, curl her fingers into a fist and hold her hand. I fist bump her. She looks at her hand and then back at me.

  “If I tell you it’s like a high five, I’m guessing that means nothing at all.”

  She straightens her toga and wipes her forehead on the back of her arm.

  “It means you did great and it’s awesome to see what you’re truly capable of.”

  “I did great?”

  “Absolutely. I would have had to have thrown my spear fifty times to get one of those things.”

  She runs her fingers through her pale hair and straightens herself up.

  I have never seen a prouder Satyr.