Ironbound

The young girl was curled up beside him, her breathing soft and even. The old man sat with his back against the bars.

Kain's gaze shifted to the tree line. Something was wrong.

The stillness was broken by a yell, followed by the clash of metal.

The bandit camp exploded into chaos as figures emerged from the forest, their weapons gleaming in the pale morning light. A rival group, larger, better armed, and clearly prepared, descended on the camp with brutality.

Kain pressed himself against the bars of the cage, his heart pounding as the battle unfolded before him.

The bandits scrambled to defend themselves, their shouts filled with confusion and panic. Torches were knocked over, sending sparks flying into the air.

Torik was among the first to act, his dagger flashing as he took down an attacker with precise, calculated movements. His voice cut through the noise, barking orders. "To the perimeter! Hold the line!"

The bandit leader, on the other hand, was less composed. He stumbled out of his tent, bellowing curses as he tried to rally his men.

From the cage, Kain watched the chaos. The attackers were well-coordinated.

He noted how the bandits faltered under pressure, their lack of discipline leaving them vulnerable.

The young girl clung to Kain's arm, her wide eyes filled with terror. "What's happening?" she whispered.

Kain didn't answer. His gaze flicked to the lock on the cage, then to the bandits' scattered supplies.

The bandit leader made a desperate charge toward the attackers, his sword swinging wildly. He took down one man, then another, but his movements were erratic, driven by rage rather than strategy.

It was his undoing.

An attacker's blade found its mark, slicing deep into the leader's side. He staggered, blood pouring from the wound, before falling to his knees.

Torik's gaze snapped to the scene, his smirk fading as he muttered a curse under his breath. But he didn't move to help.

The leader's final moments were swift, his screams cut short by a second strike that sent him crumpling to the dirt.

With the leader dead, the bandits' defense began to crumble. Many tried to flee, only to be cut down by the attackers.

Another attacker came for Torik with a wild swing, the man's blade arcing toward his head. Torik sidestepped effortlessly. His dagger slicing through the man's wrist. The attacker's weapon fell to the ground, followed by his body as Torik drove the blade into his throat.

"Next," Torik muttered, his smirk faint.

Another came at him, this one wielding an axe, his face twisted in fury. Torik crouched low, letting the heavy swing pass over his head. He surged forward, his dagger plunging into the man's stomach. With a sharp twist, he yanked the blade free and shoved the attacker aside, his eyes already scanning for the next threat.

"Fall back to the perimeter!" Torik barked. He pointed toward the wagons, his free hand gesturing to a cluster of bandits. "You three, flank left! Keep them away from the supplies!"

The bandits hesitated for a moment, their panic clear. But Torik's glare was enough to snap them into action. They obeyed, moving with renewed motivation, as the chaos of the ambush threatened to consume them.

A pair of attackers charged at Torik simultaneously. He didn't wait for them to close the distance. He lunged forward, his dagger catching the first man's throat in a single, fluid motion. Blood sprayed as Torik spun, dodging the second man's thrust. Before the attacker could recover, Torik's elbow smashed into his jaw, sending him reeling. The dagger followed, sinking into the man's heart.

An archer perched on the edge of the clearing took aim at him, the string of the bow drawn tight. Torik didn't hesitate. He grabbed the body of a fallen attacker, using it as a shield just as the arrow was loosed. The shaft buried itself in the corpse's back with a dull thud.

Torik dropped the body and threw his dagger. The blade found its mark, burying itself in the archer's chest. The man toppled from his perch, crashing to the ground below.

"Regroup near the wagons!" Torik shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He moved toward the cluster of bandits struggling to hold the perimeter.

One of his men was locked in a desperate struggle, an attacker's blade pressing closer to his throat. Torik arrived and cut the attacker down with a single, decisive strike.

"Focus!" he barked at the bandit, who stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. "You want to live? Then Fight like it!"

The man nodded quickly, gripping his weapon tighter as Torik turned to face the next wave.

As the attackers began to falter, Torik pressed his advantage.

At one point, three attackers charged him together. Torik met them head-on, weaving between their strikes. He caught the first man's wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped. The second man lunged, but Torik spun behind him, driving his blade into the man's kidney. The third hesitated, his confidence wavering as Torik turned toward him, blood dripping from his dagger.

"You picked the wrong camp," Torik said, his smirk returning.

The man dropped his weapon and fled.

By the time the bandit leader fell, Torik was surrounded by bodies. His chest rose and fell steadily, his composure unshaken despite the carnage.

He wiped the blade of his dagger on a fallen attacker's tunic, his eyes scanning the battlefield. The camp was in ruins.

The remaining attackers began to retreat, their morale shattered by Torik's skill.

"Let them run," Torik muttered to the bandits who had regrouped near him. "We've sent a message."

His gaze shifted to the cage, where Kain sat watching the scene unfold with unreadable eyes.

"Well," Torik said, a faint smirk curling his lips as he approached. "Looks like we made it. You're still alive, boy. Let's keep it that way."

Amid the chaos, Kain's mind raced. The lock on the cage was old, the metal rusted and weakened.

He glanced at the young girl and the old man, weighing his options. If he acted now, he might have a chance to escape. But the timing wasn't perfect, and he knew what failure would mean.

"Stay quiet," he muttered to the girl, his voice low but firm.

The old man chuckled weakly. "Still planning, are you? Good luck with that."

The attackers set fire to the tents, the flames spreading quickly through the dry canvas. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking.

Kain coughed, his eyes stinging as he pressed himself against the bars.

Torik's voice rang out over the chaos. "Retreat! Pull back now!"

The remaining bandits obeyed, disappearing into the forest with the attackers in pursuit.

Torik stayed behind, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage before landing on the cage. His smirk returned, faint but cold.

"Well," he said, his tone almost conversational. "Looks like you've got a decision to make, boy."