Chapter XIX: The Will
-Hugo-
Hugo heard the voice before he felt the impact.
"Get down!"
Someone slammed into Hugo from behind and knocked him out of the saddle. A loud crack rang out. He fell, tangled his foot in the stirrup, knocked his head into the horse's side, then worked his foot loose and collapsed onto the grassy slope.
Nash looked down from atop him. He let up his grip, then turned, rolled away, and shouted, "Get back! Find cover!"
Hugo scrambled in behind a clump of trees, digging tracks in the soft grass.
Nash crouched down beside him. "Are you hit?"
Hugo shook his head and squinted at the man's face. He'd heard that noise before, ringing out in the night as he and Chris fled through the woods surrounding Tarnay. "That's a gunner, isn't it?" he said. "It's the woman who walked in Captain Huarn's shadow."
Nash nodded. "Knight Class Gunner Serfein." Gone was the half-smile, the roaming eyes, and the slouching shoulders. Nash sat leaning on his haunches, muscles tensed, eyes straining against the night.
"Do you see her?"
"We won't. But judging by the shot, she must be up on that rise. See where the crooked tree bends low? There, I think."
Hugo looked back the way they came. Lilly had led her horse to where she and the others now crouched behind a rock outcrop large enough to shield the animals from view. They were spooked, and pranced nervously despite Yumi's attempts at calming them. Lilly was waving both arms at him. He could not see her face, but she seemed frantic.
Hugo motioned for her to back off. Then he turned to Nash.
"We'll circle around; come up on her from behind."
Nash bit his lip. "Gunners are trained for situations just like these. Her night vision will be excellent. If we leave cover, we'll get shot."
Hugo banged his fist against the grass. He gritted his teeth, and nodded. "How long does it take to reload that Spirit-cursed contraption?"
Nash's head waggled in the dark. He looked to be turning the numbers over in his mind.
"For the typical gunner… twenty seconds. Maybe as little as fifteen. For Serfein… ten seconds."
Hugo licked his lips. "That's not too bad. With the horse, I could—"
Nash scoffed. "A horse makes too big a target. She'll never miss that shot." He shifted position to peek out from beside the trees, then pulled his head back. "But you may be able to use the horse as bait."
"No."
Nash stared at him. Silence passed between them for several heartbeats. Finally the man muttered something under his breath, nodded, and turned to face the escarpment.
"Alright. If we could somehow ruin her night vision…" He looked up at Hugo. "What about your Fire Rune?"
Hugo scratched at his hand. He frowned. "No luck there. At best I could turn myself into a living torch."
Nash nodded. He seemed more mournful than surprised, and made no motion to question the statement.
Hugo narrowed his eyes on the man. He wanted to ask how Nash had known, but decided against it. He had to be concerned with Serfein, now.
"How strong are those bolts?"
"Bullets. Strong enough to punch through armor."
Hugo shifted uneasily. "What about stone?"
Nash shook his head.
Hugo frowned. He'd discarded a dozen unfinished plans already. The woman wouldn't bite on just any bait. She had the vantage point, the range, and the initiative. To get her to shoot, it would have to seem genuine.
"Alright, then," he said. He crawled up the slope on his arms and legs. Nash made a hissing noise, but he ignored it. He looked over to where Lilly pressed up against the rock. Two seconds, if he stood up and ran. He tensed. It was at the edge of Serfein's range, and it would be a lateral movement, too quick to track. Serfein wouldn't risk taking that shot. He hoped.
He drew a deep breath. Then he burst into motion. He slipped on the grass, cursed and caught his balance, then dashed for the rock. One second. He ducked, then threw himself headlong and rolled through the grass. Listened for the bang of the rifle. It never came.
Each breath slipped into his lungs like fire. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and glanced up to see Lilly and Yumi pull him in behind the shelter and onto his knees. Borus stood clutching the reins of his horse, staring at him.
Hugo stood, and turned to Yumi. "You have an Earth Rune. Can you do anything about this?"
Yumi set her jaw, and said, "I'd love to." Then she sighed, made a defeated gesture, and added, "The distance is too great."
Hugo squinted at the stretch of open ground sloping up towards the sharp cut of the escarpment. Not a lot of cover there.
"How far can you work the rune?"
Yumi shrugged. "About halfway. Maybe."
Hugo nodded. It would have to do. "I've got an idea." He would be lucky if it was only half as crazy as it sounded inside his head. But it might work.
Lilly bared her teeth and punched him on the shoulder. "You're going out there? You already risked your life running back here just now! Is your head stuffed with wool?"
Hugo shrugged. He resisted the urge to rub at the point where her fist had connected. She didn't look like much, but she there was some force behind that arm.
"Right," he said. Lilly looked about ready to punch him again—and harder this time—so he grabbed her arm. "Listen. That's Huarn's gunner out there. But it'll be fine. This is my problem. I want you to go." He gestured at the stream that cut into a debouch to their left. "While she's occupied, you circle around. I need you to find Chris."
Lilly's eyes widened. She jerked her arm back, but couldn't get loose. She punched him with her free hand. "Absolutely not!"
Hugo grunted. Then he grabbed both of her arms. "I thought you said you were a diplomat. Find Huarn. Make him release Chris."
Lilly stared at him.
He released his grip, and shoved her by the shoulder. "Go!"
Lilly flinched. Then the pout and frown faded. She nodded.
Hugo rounded on Borus. "You."
The knight stiffened. He met Hugo's eyes with a frown.
"My plan involves you," Hugo said. He glanced up at the charger, impatiently stamping in place behind Borus. "And your horse."
-Chris-
Chris tripped on a rock hidden in the dark, and stubbed her toe. She stumbled, and lagged behind as she hopped on one foot to regain her balance. Rough hands shoved her forward, back into line.
The frustration was eating at her. The company had left the rolling savannah behind and was now marching over rough terrain, moving up a slope that, to her mind, was as steep as a ladder. Worse, the hill was gently forested, and she had to anticipate the solitary clumps of trees and unbidden outcrops of bedrock that rose up in an instant to block her path. But she would not falter. She would not give them the satisfaction.
She straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and took on a grim smile. The shadows would obscure the gesture, but it was as much for her as it was for her humorless wardens.
A twig snapped beneath her boot. Bushes crunched as she ascended the slope, and then leaves rustled underfoot as she ducked through a breach between two trees. It was by this sound that she tracked the movement of the company as a whole. All around her the woodland groaned with the weight of armored soldiers. The squads had fanned out to establish a perimeter against the unknown menace, and she could hear the lowing of horns off in the distance, now here, now there, like a herd of cattle driven through the woods—a sound she had come to recognize as a signal of all's well to the remaining troops.
Once, a horn had sounded a longer note, followed by two short ones. There had been shouts, then, somewhere off to her left, followed by the clank of iron and a terrified scream. The disturbance had been brief, and then a horn sounded to signal that this too had ended well.
Her own guards, led by Lieutenant Varklav, had stayed close. With her hands bound, there would be no escape even if the forest thickened ahead. She still considered it, but without a weapon, she would be easy prey to whatever was harrying the Harmonians. No one had come for her; that much was clear. But she was a knight. She would find her own way out. Somehow.
The soldiers around her walked with a tightness to their step, as if their legs were pulled taut in a vice. She could not read their features in the dark, but the way their heads snapped to attention back and forth betrayed great tension. These Harmonians were disciplined soldiers despite the lackadaisical attitude of their captain, but something about this fight had them rattled. She could not blame them. She had seen what remained of the things that Lieutenant Varklav had fought.
"These monsters are no allies of mine, Lieutenant Varklav," she said.
Varklav glanced at her, but said nothing.
"I expect you have great confidence in your soldiers' ability to handle this situation. And with all right. But this is no ordinary foe. Why let a sword-arm go to waste? Cut these bonds, Lieutenant."
Varklav clutched her arm and shoved her forward. "Quiet."
Chris saw the boulder at the last moment. She swayed around it and regained her feet. Several shoulders bumped against her as the soldiers too avoided the obstacle.
She swallowed her pride and kept her feet moving. He'd hesitated for a moment. He could not know, but she had seen the faintest falter to his step before he responded. The lieutenant's mood was sour, but there were those tiny signs in his mannerism that told Chris that she had found a chink in his armor. She could drive a wedge there, and win him over. But she had to be patient. If she spoke again too soon, she would lose her hold on Varklav.
A horn sounded, and all at once half a dozen lowing noises rose around Chris. The herd had awakened. All at once Lieutenant Varklav was shouting orders.
A soldier pushed Chris up against a tree and hooked his arm around her throat, holding her in place. She struggled for a moment, but realized that he meant to prevent her from running, his eyes darting from place to place in the dark. His breath came in hitches through his open mouth, and stank of garlic. She relaxed, and waited.
There was screaming now, all around her. The battle had begun. A soldier gasped. To the north, a bright glare rose, lancing through the trees and filling the wooded slope with burning gold. The light drove back the darkness, turning faint figures into soldiers locked in battle with the dead, and casting long shadows behind them and the trees.
At first, she thought it was the rising sun.
-Serfein-
Below, a shadow hurtled out from behind the rock outcrop, and then turned into a figure that came dashing up the slope towards the escarpment. It was the barbarian.
Serfein hesitated for a moment. Two hundred yards. At this pace, the boy would reach the rock face beneath her position in half a minute. Was it a ruse? He'd run from cover to cover a minute ago. Was he stupid enough to risk a head-on assault? Perhaps these people were truly unaware of the power of the gunners. Perhaps the deaths of the two gunners she had left under the Masked Bishop's command were flukes. That would better explain it.
One hundred and seventy yards. He was committed to the dash, now. Serfein scanned the ground at the edge of her range. No shadows were disturbed. Everything was still. She rolled her shoulders, and shook the doubt from her mind. Then she took aim.
There was the tell-tale flash of rune magic from behind cover as she squeezed the trigger. The bang masked a low rumble. Dirt and dust shot into the air before the boy, and the bullet vanished somewhere in that confusion.
When the dust cleared, a mound of earth four feet high rolled like a wave before the barbarian, matching his advance and shielding him. Earth magic. She'd like to put a bullet through the bastard with the rune.
She needed a better angle. She rolled to the side and edged towards the secondary perch she'd identified earlier. Better, but still not good. The shield covered him well. But it didn't move as fast as the boy had dashed. She pulled out another cartridge. How much time did she have? A minute? She counted backwards as she loaded the bullet and the gunpowder, trying to figure out how many shots she could waste. She cocked the rifle and aimed it. She had to finish it in five.
She pulled the trigger.
-Hugo-
The bullet punched halfway through the roiling barrier and struck sparks against a stone. It ricocheted off to Spirits knew where.
Hugo crawled on his hands and knees across the churned ground in the wake of Yumi's rolling wave of earth. He felt cold sweat budding on his neck. The mound moved at what felt like a snail's pace. Stones were mixed in among dirt, clay, mud, sand, and grasses, but the barrier was mostly hard-packed earth. The best he could expect was for it to obscure him, and make it difficult for Serfein to take the shot. He told himself it would be enough.
Hugo counted the heartbeats. Five, six… He began to shift to the side, near as he dared to the edge of the mound and away from where he thought the shot had originated. It was a gamble, but he had to believe that Serfein was desperate enough to experiment.
The rifle cracked like thunder. The bullet struck twice, bouncing. Then he felt a pain like fire streaking his leg.
He rolled up, gasping, gritting his teeth. He pulled at his leg, and found that he could still move it. The bullet had grazed his skin. Spirits damn him! That was too close. But he had no choice but to continue on.
Hugo lagged behind for a heartbeat, letting the mound run ahead. Then he licked his lips and started crawling again.
Sweat made his sleeves stick against his arms.
-Yumi-
Yumi stared at the slope. Her eyes ached with the strain. She stretched out her hand like an arrow to guide the rolling mound before Hugo. Her arm felt like wrought-iron tempered to a brittle blade. She couldn't even see Hugo in the dark.
Sweat trickled down her forehead, plastering her bangs against her cheeks. It got into her eyes. She wiped away sweat and clumps of hair with her free hand. Was he in position? She just had to assume so. She had heard no scream yet. Just the thunderous crack of the gunner's blasts.
Spirits forgive her: what she could do with such a weapon! What Alma-Kinan could do with such weapons. But it was an Ironhead tool, and cursed besides. Not something a true warrior would deign to use. Even so, the possibilities pocked at her attention.
Yun tugged on the hemline of her shirt. "Something's coming."
Yumi thought she felt her heart skip a beat. If someone attacked now, no one was there to back her up. Lilly was gone. The Harmonian man was… somewhere. And Borus had circled around, taking the long way.
She blinked, but kept staring at the mound. "What?"
"Something bad."
Then she heard it. The clack of bones behind her. Her horse whinnied, but it was too late. The animal hadn't caught their scent. Swords and spears flashed in the dark, and bit into the horse's sides. It turned to run, but a jagged sword-blade cut into its hamstring and caused the animal to stagger. The horse's panicked sounds cut through a din of hacking and slashing blades biting into the flesh. Then the animal went silent, and limp. It happened in moments.
Yumi hissed, then swiveled around. "Who's there?"
The figures that emerged from the dark with blood-stained weapons did not respond. The faint moonlight illuminated their features, and she saw them for what they were. Yun shrieked.
Yumi felt the breath leave her lungs as if she'd been struck. She was cold, but then she got hot. The rune's magic faltered, then flared up again as she redirected its power against the skeletal figures. The ground burst and trapped the legs of the nearest in shackles of hard clay. The figure staggered, then cracked a leg bone falling forward.
A dozen others pressed past the fallen one.
-Serfein-
As sudden as it had burst from the ground, the churning barrier halted. The forward motion toppled dirt from the lip, and then it was still. Nothing moved behind it.
Serfein squinted, eyes darting between the mound and the rock outcrop from where the light of rune magic now flashed intermittently. A trick?
She fingered the trigger, and let out a slow breath. She focused her eyes on the mound and listened in silence. Had she heard a scream, before? She could just make out the faint clang of iron from behind the distant hiding place. She spared another glance in that direction, and saw that the flashes of magic were on the move. Away from her.
Serfein shrugged. She drew a deep breath and took aim on the mound. She had time, now. Time enough to figure out just where behind the suddenly dead-end cover the boy was hiding. Time enough to make her shots count.
She shifted further to the side, and allowed a smile to crack her lips.
-Hugo-
The rolling wave of earth ground to a halt ahead of him.
Hugo bumped into the trailing edge of the mound. He froze up for a moment, but then scrambled up to the barrier and flattened himself against the churned earth in its wake.
He tried to catch a glimpse of Yumi. What had happened? He thought he'd heard a scream. But the rune still flared with magic, blossoming with sparks of light behind the outcrop. The spells were directed elsewhere. Had she abandoned him? No, he didn't believe that. Something had gotten her attention.
The rifle cracked the silence. Metal hammered against stone right near Hugo's head.
He flinched, and held his breath. There was no pain. He slowly lowered his hands, raised in desperation in reaction to the shot. His ears still rang from the discordant sound.
The barrier had been a gamble. Unless Yumi got the spell up and running, he was as exposed as a field mouse darting across open ground. And Serfein was the hawk. With all the time in the world, she would pick him off. Sooner rather than later.
He dared a peek over the barrier while Serfein reloaded. The mound had stopped not too far from where the extent of Yumi's magic would have ended. He'd planned to dash from there, where the slope was dotted with tree cover. But to get to that point, he would have to cross the worst part of the open ground. And Serfein would pick him off, without a doubt.
He propped his back up against the barrier and squeezed his eyes shut. His breath came out ragged. He tried to wipe the sweat from his brow, but only managed to smear out the dirt on his hands. He drew a deep breath. He'd done what he could.
The rest was up to Borus.
-Borus-
The wind ruffled Borus' hair, and he pinched in the saddle to keep his balance as his mount stumbled up a rugged slope lined with prickly buckthorn, holly shrubs, and lone acacia trees.
Another shot cracked the silence. The sound came from nearby.
Borus tightened his hold on the reins. He'd heard rumors of the weapon used by the Harmonian—a member of the illustrious Howling Voice Guild, no doubt—but imagined that he may well be the first Zexonian to witness it in action for a generation or more. The effect was appalling. If such weapons were to fall into the hands of the savages, even the mighty knights of Zexen might fall.
Pushing through a thicket of barberry shrubs, Borus emerged to stand at the lip of a crest crowded with buckthorn. Past a narrow lane barely visible in the burgeoning moonlight, and thirty yards away, Serfein lay flattened against the edge of the precipice, facing away from him.
The woman was fiddling with her weapon, twisting the little details mounted upon the shaft, slipping something into the pipe, and feeding a substance into a compartment near the handle.
Borus had to assume that she was reloading the weapon. It seemed a complex process. He edged up the crest, patting the charger's mane to keep the animal calm. It was not time to move, yet.
Serfein straightened the rifle, and there was a clicking sound. She settled the shaft against the edge and squinted past the barrel.
All Borus had to do was to wait until the woman had fired. Then he would charge down the slope and deliver the killing blow with one swift slash. Or he could simply run her down. The charger was well-trained. Not to mention well-shod.
It was a clever plan. The boy had courage, in a brute, stupid way—he had to give him that. His plan would work, and Serfein would not expect Borus to come charging down her back from the shadows uphill. It was a good ambush.
He leaned forward in the saddle, and tensed up.
Serfein fired. The rifle recoiled, punching back several inches.
Borus turned his steed and spurred it into a gallop, away from Serfein, and towards the Harmonians.
The rush of wind filled his ears as the charger worked into a sprint. The moon had broken through the clouds, and the open terrain rushed by below the horse's feet. Yes, it had been a clever plan. A barbarian plan. It had not been without risk. Serfein would not expect him, but she would suspect a trick. Chances were that she had a sidearm at the ready. She would get one shot before he was upon her. One missile from that arcane weapon—a crossbow of sorts?—would punch through his armor and deal a mortal blow. He would wound her, and the barbarians would cut her down. But Borus would die. All according to the boy's plan. It was all so clear now.
He wasn't so easy to fool.
Borus regretted not having the opportunity to bring an end to the barbarian himself, but duty came first. He could not afford a moment of self-indulgence. He had to do what was best for milady. And for Zexen.
-Lilly-
Lilly had made it a few hundred yards down the river's debouch in the saddle of Hugo's borrowed—certainly not stolen—mare when Yun's shriek broke the monotony of the wind's howl. It sounded like a cry of fear.
Lilly stopped. She reined the mare in and rose in the saddle; strained to see anything more than the tiny flashes of rune magic coming from the rock outcrop, like distant stars guttering in the night sky. It was too dark. And Hugo was out of sight, hidden by a steep cliff sheathed in brambles.
Another shot from Serfein's rifle cracked the night.
Lilly brushed hair from her eyes and bit her lip. She had to help them. Chris was far away and there was no guarantee that Lilly would be in time to help her. And she could take care of herself, even as a prisoner. It was Yumi and Yun who needed her bold action.
Lilly rapped her boots against the mare's sides, willing the animal into a trot, back the way she came.
The rune flashed ahead, growing closer as the rock outcrop bobbed in her vision. It was a dark smudge against the night, and the play of errant shadows made the cluster of stones resemble a looming giant in the dark. It too was growing larger as she drew near. She tightened her grip around the reins and imagined that the giant was a foe to be run down.
She rounded a bend in the valley floor and almost trampled Yumi. The woman was on foot, dragging Yun behind in a strong grip. Her eyes widened at the sight of the horse.
Lilly pulled up. The mare whinnied in shock, reared up on hind legs, and nearly threw her from the saddle. She clung to the mare's neck and cursed. The animal settled down on all four with a jarring thud.
"Don't stop!" Yumi said. She sounded breathless, and hoisted Yun into the saddle. The girl had her mouth clamped shut, but her eyes looked ready to clamber from their sockets.
Lilly pulled the girl into her lap with a grunt. "What's going on?"
Yumi wasted no time launching herself into the saddle behind Lilly. "No time."
Dark figures came shambling out of the shadows, staggering as if dragging their legs through waist-high mud. They moved as one; a silent legion making no noise other than that of boots scuffing the grass. And another sound: the clack of bone against bone. Then they came close enough for Lilly to make out their features. Their bodies were covered in tattered rags and broken armor. The flesh was stripped from their limbs, leaving nothing but bone.
Lilly sucked in breath. She stared at the shambling, rotted corpses.
Yumi swatted her ear. "Go!"
The mare was spooked, and was half-turned by the time Lilly regained control and finished the wheeling motion. She set off along the stream, splashing muddy water from the horse's hoofs.
"By the mother lode! Are those things undead?" Lilly asked.
Yumi twisted in the saddle, and Lilly saw the flash of rune magic out of the corner of her eye.
It was Yun who responded, pressed against her chest. "Yes."
Wonderful. Undead. Lilly felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession and settled on the leering face of Neclord, so close to hers she had felt the absence of his breath. And those dead eyes. So cold. So predatory.
"Does that mean… the Blue Moon Rune?" She had to force the words out, breathless as she felt, and even then her voice sounded too husky. As if the mere mention of that monster had warped her speech.
Yun shook her head. The girl's shock had faded somewhat, and the serious look on her face now seemed far too precocious for her age.
"They aren't like other undead. Fire's keeping them walking. It's leftover rage. From their lives."
Lilly kept her eyes on the path ahead. She slowed to cross the stream, bypassing a shelf of projecting bedrock.
"What do you mean?"
"They're warriors. From the Fire Bringer War. It ended here. When the Flame Champion lost control of the rune. And all these people died…"
Lilly harrumphed. "And now they're back up again? Great caverns of Tinto! I'd have thought they wouldn't like fire."
"Oh, they don't like it." Yun scrunched up her eyes, as if in pain. "Not one bit."
Yumi muttered a string of unintelligible words that sounded like curses. She twisted ahead and placed hands on Lilly's waist.
"There are probably hundreds of them out there. We have to go back. For Hugo."
Lilly stiffened her jaw. Her stomach was in knots trying to justify going back for him, but she had to do what's right for all of them. "No."
Yumi bent over her shoulder and pressed cheek to cheek. "What?"
Lilly leaned away, and gave her a sidelong glance. The woman was close enough to fill her vision, and her eyes looked tense, and desperate.
"Hugo's right, you know," Lilly said. "We have our own part to play."
"He'll die!"
Lilly reined in the horse, coming to a stop alongside the stream. The shallow water murmured as it ran over smooth rocks.
"Borus is still out there."
"Why isn't the gunner dead? She's still firing. Think about it!"
Yumi was right. Lilly had heard the crack of another gunshot mere seconds ago. And the same thought had occurred to her.
"Don't worry. The knight will not abandon his honor. But if he can't help, Hugo will think of something. Sure as gold is gold."
Yumi bit her lip. Her eyes looked tortured. "I abandoned him."
"You did not. And we won't!" Lilly straightened in the saddle and jabbed a finger at Yumi's forehead. "Get yourself together, woman! You said it yourself: there are hundreds of them out there. On our tail." She hoped that was true. The thought of such an army of remorseless monsters creeping up on Hugo was too much to bear. "If we go back for Hugo, we'll lead them right to him. And that will be decidedly bad."
Yumi chewed her lip. She nodded to herself, as if running the thought through her mind, testing it for validity. She turned to Yun.
"Can you see what will happen if we don't go back for Hugo?"
The girl shook her head, but then added, "Sometimes, it's better when I can't see anything."
Lilly shifted her grip of the reins. The insides of her gloves were slick with sweat. "Right. We'll lead the undead away. We'll find the Harmonians, and we'll diplomacy their pants off. We'll free Chris." To her ears, it sounded like a wonderful plan, full of promise. Hugo would praise her courage and her brilliance. She felt around her back for her hat, and was relieved to feel it still hanging down her side.
Yumi slowly nodded. She pressed her lips together, and exhaled. Her breath was hoarse when she spoke.
"Alright."
Lilly looked at her and shook her head. "Listen!" she exclaimed. "We beautiful women need to stick together, so I'll tell you something." She pointed a finger at Yumi. "Don't frown so much. It'll give you wrinkles ahead of time."
Yumi stared at her as if she had gone quite mad. On the horizon, a rosy light bled into the sky from the ground. The sun had risen.
But dawn was hours away.
-Chris-
Yanked up against a tree by a strong arm, Chris took in the chaos. Bright flame lanced through the trees, making long shadows dance in the wake of the living and the dead alike. Deep growls came blasting from the direction of the brilliant glare, drowning out the clash of weapons and the shouts of soldiers in intermittent bursts. And the source of that fire and noise was drawing nearer.
The Harmonian command structure had collapsed, and the engagement had degenerated into a series of quick skirmishes fought on half a dozen fronts. Swords, spears, and axes stabbed and slashed from the shadows. Bone clattered, broke, and collapsed. And the soldiers came away with casualties. It was an untenable situation.
Huarn fought to keep his panicked horse under control. The animal tossed and turned, half under the captain's control and half unable to find an escape route.
"Hold your ground!" Huarn shouted. He saw the wave of silent shades that shambled out of the darkness, swore, and shouted, "2nd Squad, fall back!" His commands fell on deaf ears.
Blades clashed. Men shouted, and fell back with the sound of rustling armor. A figure emerged from the shadows, and a sword stabbed out. A scream punctuated the sound of iron sliding through flesh, and another soldier died. His killer was briefly illuminated by the glaring flame; a bare-headed corpse dressed in rusted chain, its rictus grin mocking a smile as it stood yanking its sword back from the soldier's chest. The blade had caught, and now made a mess out of the man's battered body.
Chris' heart raced like a drumbeat in crescendo. Fools, fools, fools! She turned away. She could not watch this. Could not sit idle anymore. She had to talk to Huarn. She could make the fool man see reason.
Lieutenant Varklav was nowhere to be seen. She looked at the soldier guarding her. He was little more than a boy; perhaps a year or two younger than she. But he was a big man, broad-shouldered and tall. His arm crushed against her throat, imprisoning her. But it was shaking. And his breath came on like a man struggling for air.
"Forgive me," she said.
The soldier's face snapped round to hers, pale, eyes wide. "Wha—?"
She leaned in, and hammered her knee into his crotch.
The soldier staggered back, clutching at his sore genitals and groaning like a dying bull. Tears built up in his eyes. He bit his lip, and swayed like a drunken man trying to find his feet.
Chris grimaced, ducked her head, and strode towards Huarn. Lances of light strobed over the captain as the source of the flame moved alongside the tree line.
There came a shout from behind and to her left: "No! Stop her!" Varklav's voice.
Huarn turned to her. He was a shadow outlined in burning gold. He flicked his sword to his side and fought down his horse, walking towards her.
"Do you think you can escape?" he screamed. "Seize her!"
Chris straightened before him. She faced his rearing horse without flinching.
"I am not escaping. I come to talk to you."
"What?" he spat. When the horse tossed to the side, half of his face was illuminated. His lips were twisted in a bestial snarl. "You choose this time to talk? You're insane!"
"I mean to—"
Rough hands grabbed Chris' shoulders. She was shoved onto her knees. At least two men held her in place. It was all she could do to raise her face to Huarn.
"I mean to talk sense to you. This battle is a disaster. You must pull back, yet you—"
A fist cuffed the back of her head. Her ears rang, and her vision blurred.
She coughed, then shook her head to clear her eyes.
Her ears ceased buzzing in time to hear Huarn say, "...of this idiocy. You will be silent, or—"
"I will not." She spat blood. "You will get all of us killed. We should be retreating, yet you move us toward an even greater threat. You are driving your men to slaughter."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Huarn screamed. A boot kicked Chris' stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. The soldier stood over her, awaiting his captain's orders.
Chris gasped for air, watching the world in a blur for a long moment. Huarn's face wavered before her, like a mirage of shadow and light.
"I am a knight. My worth to Zexen is as a warrior, and as a general. That is all. And yet you wish to keep me alive. It cannot be for ransom, for if you hold my value in esteem, you would—"
Another kick. Her face was shoved into the earth. She came up sputtering dirt and grass.
"—you would never allow Zexen my services," she continued. "And if you do not, then you would know that you would get nothing for me. And yet you want me alive."
"By the grinding of the True Runes, woman," Huarn said, spitting. "Is there no way to shut you up save cutting your throat?"
Chris managed a weak smile. "Let me help. You value my expertise. You know I can help."
Huarn stared at her. For a moment, he actually seemed torn. Then he frowned.
"No matter how grim the situation, Holy Harmonia does not employ women in its armies." And we have no need of you."
"What about Serfein?"
Huarn snorted. "She's not a woman. She's a Knight Class Gunner."
Chris felt a tightness in her chest. Was there no way to convince the stubborn mule? Her ribs ached, as did something in her stomach. The back of her neck was sore and throbbed with pain. She swallowed more blood.
She stiffened her jaw. "I can help."
Huarn had his horse under control now. He nudged the animal a step forward, closer to Chris. His sword touched almost to her throat, wavering dangerously in his grip.
"You're right," he said. "I do want you alive. But Holy Harmonia is not so proud of your achievements as you clearly are. And as for me?" He shrugged. "I'm still on the fence. But I will not have you questioning my authority. If you speak another word about this, I'll feed you your own tongue."
-Robec-
"Hold the line, you sorry sons of bitches!" Robec yelled.
Sweat kept trickling into his eye. He wiped at his face, and for some reason his hand came away sticky with blood. His cheek was slick with it.
"Corporal, you've got a gash in your brow!" Parras said.
"Nevermind that! Get these mangy dogs together."
Joam roared a battle cry, and swung his sword like a logger's axe. The blade cut through a dead warrior's shoulder, breaking bone and toppling the monster into a grisly pile.
Seccan screamed. He scrambled to his feet, but was dragged down by three skeletal warriors. The soldier kicked and stabbed, but his sword met only with air.
"Corporal!" he pleaded. His eyes widened with terror.
The dead stabbed. Their swords bit into the man's back, and tore him open.
The world began to sway, and took on a red tinge. Robec surged forward with a bellow that emptied his lungs. He bowled sword first into the undead. His first slash severed a spine. The skull was sent flying and smacked against a tree trunk before falling to the ground. He thrust his shoulder into the second skeleton. It was knocked back a step and missed its slash. Robec brought his sword around and swung at the third skeleton with both hands overhead. The blade tore through the skull, and the skeleton crumpled beneath it, collapsing into a deflated pile of bones.
A sword bit into his armor. He grunted, felt blood well up from a shallow wound. He turned. The second skeleton drew its blood-slick sword back and made to stab.
Robec slammed his foot into the skeleton's mid-section, sending bone fragments flying. As the undead warrior staggered back, he followed the kick with a diagonal slash. The blow smashed the collar-bone into a hundred fragments, then carried through the spine and tore the skeleton in two parts. It fell to the side, and landed atop the roots of a tree.
Robec raised his sword, then smashed it into the broken skeleton. Again. He lost his grip, and the weapon tumbled from his hands. He bent down, formed a two-handed fist, and hammered at the dead bones.
"Corporal!"
Robec snapped around, and raised his fists.
"It's me," Farren said. He put a hand on Robec's shoulder. Something on the ground had caught the soldier's attention, and his eyes flickered away. The man's jaw set.
Robec fought the daze, and steadied his eyes. The world stopped spinning so fast. His hands ached, and there was a painful throb in his side. He wiped blood from his face, and followed Farren's gaze.
Seccan stared up from the ground. His eyes were still wide; frozen in a last look of terror. His hand slumped ahead of him, seeking the grip of his sword.
The sight of him numbed Robec to the core.
The others were there, crowded around him. The remnants of his squad. There were seven of them left, including him. Besides Seccan, they'd also lost Dem.
"Corporal, I think we got 'em," Parras said. He leaned on his spear, favoring one leg. A fresh, shallow wound ran along his cheek. That would leave a scar.
"Good," Robec said. He bent down, fumbled for his sword and caught it. He wiped blood from the handle, and smeared his hands on his tabard. "We'll—"
Lugan was at his side. "Hold still, Corporal," he said, and began to wrap cloth around the gash in his brow.
Robec grunted. "We're too far from the Company. Soon as we're ready we're going to hustle back there. It's time to—"
A burgeoning light got his attention. Got all of their attention. Rising from the edge of the trees, it climbed the hillside like a morning sun, and sent light spearing in among the trees. The light grew, rose, and illuminated his squad from boots to helms.
Farren squinted at the hillside. "What... is that?"
The source of the light bobbed, climbing the hill with steady steps. And something huge broke the crest.
Robec gaped. His squad members stood paralyzed around him.
Over the crest stepped a fifteen-foot-tall reptile. It was more than twice as tall as a saraak, and as heavy as ten of their kind. But it walked on four feet, with leathery wings spread out from its back. It was a monster sheathed in scales that burned like fire, casting off the bright glaring light. A dragon. And it was coming right for them.
"Corporal," Parras croaked, "We're not equipped to fight—"
Robec turned and ran. "Retreat!" he yelled. He glanced back and saw that his soldiers had needed no more encouragement to follow.
The dragon yawned wide. There was a flash of light from within its maws. Then fire leapt from the mouth.
The flames hit the woods like a wave of water. The nearest trees were melted to ashes. Others shook and burst into flames. Achol screamed as his body was turned into a blistering, burning hunk of sizzling meat. A wave of heat slammed against Robec's back, and pushed him onto his knees.
Panic threatened to take his mind. Then he got himself together. He turned and staggered to his feet, sheathing his sword and pulling out his crossbow. "To me! Crossbows out!" he yelled, hoping that his voice would carry over the flames that now lit the ground, the trees, and—it seemed—the sky itself. A hundred yards away, visible only as a shadow within the fire, the dragon sauntered towards them, its tail sweeping behind.
His men assembled around him. He avoided looking at their faces—he didn't want to see the fear in his own eyes reflected back at him. He thought he would break if he did.
"Corporal, we can't fight this!"
The dragon howled. There was a hum like vibrations resonating through a sheet of metal. And all around them, dropped weapons from Harmonians and dead warriors alike began to shake and quiver. One by one, swords, axes, daggers, and spears were pulled into the air, and shot back towards the dragon as if pulled by a lodestone. Back into the vortex of fire and death. Around the approaching beast, a whirlwind of white-hot weapons spun, like a murder of ravens awaiting the dragon's command.
Robec's hands shook on the crossbow. He considered unloading the bolt into his own mouth, but decided against it.
"Listen," he said. "This thing is bad. It's coming after us. And if we keep running, we'll pull it right it the Company."
No one said a word. But he heard them shifting around him. They were all there. For a moment, he was filled with pride. Embarrassing, really.
"We'll have to draw it around," he said. "Behind the Company."
There was silence. Then Joam said, "Right, Corporal."
The others echoed his reply.
-Serfein-
Serfein straightened her rifle with a clack, and took aim for her tenth blast. There was no motion from the earthen barricade, by now shot through with bullets.
The boy had nerves. She had to admit that. In doing the work of the Guild she had often found herself in this position before. Pinned down by fire, most targets had a remarkable patience. Hours, days—weeks, if necessary. It hadn't happened to her, but she had heard tell of a gunner whose quarry, when pinned down, had died of starvation before moving.
But that was in the case of good cover. Of a stalemate not easily broken. In this case, the boy had to know, as Serfein knew, that the barrier would fail him before long. It was a matter of minutes, at best. She well recalled seven such situations, and she knew there were others of which she had shrugged the memory. In six of those situations, the target had soon succumbed to his fears, and charged her position with the madness of blood pumping through his head, shot through with mindless terror. Screams were usually involved. And the seventh, well; that target had been unique. She had almost died that night. Yes, this boy had nerves. Else he did not know, though she could not imagine how he could not, how close he was to death.
She satisfied her aim, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle went crack, and then there was silence. No scream, no shout of pain.
No movement.
Perhaps the bullet had cracked his skull, killing him instantly. But no, she would have sensed it. She would have been aware of that. By the True Runes, this boy was an interesting target! Too bad he had to die.
Serfein smiled—but only inside her head—and began reloading.
-Nash-
Nash dragged his body through the brush, arms first. Mud crusted on his previously spotless sleeves. Branches fanned him, and their thorns raked his clothes and scalp, cutting and ripping.
Nash would hate to see what this escapade had done to his previously so very presentable clothes. Sure, the shirt had been travel-worn, but he'd thought of it as the kind of shirt you wear when you meet up with a bishop of Harmonia and tell him what a marvelous job you've done on your assignment, perhaps flashing a smile and enthralling the eyes of some pretty shrine maidens rendered supple and flexible by temple chores in the process. Not the kind of shirt you'd wear when surrounded by toothless wenches in some seedy taproom in Muralia, or Caleria, or some other rune-forsaken, one-tavern town on the outskirts of Holy Harmonia. No, he'd gotten the travel-worn part just right. And now he had to do it all over.
Nash stuck his head out of the crawlspace, pulled himself out, and crept up on his knees.
A lane of intermittent brambles ran to either side along the crest of the hill. This was the place where Borus was supposed to strike from. Prints from a well-shod horse tracked across the ground, but of the knight and his horse, Nash saw no sign, dead or alive. And below, Serfein still relaxed against the edge of the escarpment, leaning away from him, doing some target practice on poor Hugo.
Nash rose onto his haunches, pulled a balanced throwing dagger from his sleeve, and flicked the blade at her.
Serfein rolled to the side as if sensing the weapon. The dagger bit into the grass beside her with a thunk.
"Funny," Nash shouted, "I thought gunners were supposed to practice with moving targets. Not sitting ducks." He drew another dagger.
Serfein edged along the ground, seeking a target for her rifle. "Who—?"
Nash retreated in among the bushes, and crept along the lane. He'd taken a chance, cracking that joke. He hadn't known Serfein personally, but there was a chance she knew him.
He leaned over the brambles and threw the dagger.
Serfein kicked off the ground and rolled back. The dagger hit inches from her leg.
Nash scrambled for the edge of the hill, and shouted, "Hugo! I've got her!"
"You are too confident," Serfein shouted. "You think I couldn't kill you both?"
Nash crawled down the lane, inch by inch, parallel to where Serfein scanned for his presence.
"You may hit me if you get three or four shots at it," he said. "But in thirty seconds, Hugo will launch himself over that escarpment, and we'll—"
The rifle rang out. A bullet darted through the brambles near his head. Nash's breath hitched, and then he grinned, scrambling ahead.
"Nice try. Maybe next time. Like I said, we'll both be on you like pigs in a sty. Whatever that means. And if you turn to shoot him, I'll plant a dagger between your shoulder blades. Just for you. Sure, you may get one of us. But it looks like Hugo is pretty upset at this point, and I don't mind having a stab at you either." He waited for ten heartbeats. When he heard nothing, he peered through the brambles.
Below, Serfein was retreating. In twenty seconds, Hugo would be there.
But the fight had just gotten started.
-Chris-
To the north, the woods bloomed with fire. All at once, the trees lit up like torches. Even the source of the fire, the false sun moving along the edge of the woods, seemed a muted and dull light in comparison.
But the roar of the flame was distant. The din of battle; of blades clashing and clanging, of soldiers shouting warnings, curses, oaths, of people dying... was all around her.
Chris remained with Lieutenant Varklav and his 5th Squad. There were seven of them left, including the lieutenant. The squad had been undermanned from the beginning, missing a corporal and several others. When it found itself on the frontline of this skirmish following the sudden rout of the 1st Squad, two more soldiers had fallen like weeds to the remorseless enemy. Their bodies now grew stiff on the forest floor, sprouting spears and axes from their backs. The same man still held on to Chris by the arm, too busy nursing his fear to nurse his throbbing crotch. His nerves were so taut, he hadn't so much as glared at her!
"Rally to me!" Varklav shouted. It seemed all the lieutenant could do; wagging his sword as if seeking a match for it, trying to instill some measure of order into his men. But it wasn't working.
He was twenty paces away when the dead found him. Four of them came round a boulder overgrown with moss. They bristled with swords and daggers, like a gang of stone cold killers. And they were nothing if not stone cold. Their weapons were chipped, nicked, or outright broken. But even the edge of a snapped blade could cut a man's throat.
Varklav shouted in alarm. He turned to run, but his foot caught on a gnarled root. He went down face first in a patch of moss. It muffled his screams.
Two of his soldiers let out yells, and ran to meet the charge of the dead. But they saw that it was too late. The dead descended on Varklav like a hail of arrows. Blunt swords hacked, cut, slashed, stabbed at the lieutenant's body, delivering shallow lacerations. The dead warriors took to one knee with great patience. Varklav's body twitched with each stab. A blade snapped, and remained in his shoulder. He took some time to die.
The soldiers stopped short of the massacre, hesitating at a chokepoint between two stands of trees. One of the men bent at the waist and emptied his stomach.
Enough.
Chris turned to her guard. She steeled her voice against the shaking of her body. "Do you want to live?"
Her voice snapped the man from a dizzy stupor. His arms trembled as he turned to her, eyes bulging. His teeth chattered as he said, "What?"
"Cut these bonds."
He stared at her. His mouth worked like a bellows, laboring with each breath.
"Now!"
The man flinched. Then he turned her around with shaking, groping hands. A second passed, and then she heard, more than felt, the grind of steel against rope. Halfway through, the blade slipped and nicked her finger.
She hissed. Sharp pain flared and began to throb as blood trickled down her back.
The man grunted something. He kept working. The rope gave way.
Chris flexed her arms, working the stiffness out of the joints. Blood pounded in her ears, almost drowning out the pitiful sounds of chaos around her. She drew a deep breath, and shook herself. Get a grip! You're a knight.
"What's your name?" she asked her guard.
"O-oharin."
"You will want to be using your spear, Oharin. Give me your sword." She held out her hand, palm up.
Oharin nodded with all the obeisance of a child caught stealing.
Chris blinked. She had expected more resistance. The hilt felt right in her hand. She swung the sword left and right, testing the weight of the blade. It would do.
The dead gang of killers had risen from the shredded remains of Varklav, and now crowded together, loping up the slope at a stitched gait. Dozens more undead shuffled out of the shadows behind them. In their path stood the two soldiers, holding the chokepoint between the trees. They looked no more sturdy than a pair of leaves dangling from the very branches above their heads.
Chris cuffed Oharin's arm. "We will reinforce them."
Struck silent, he nodded.
Chris started down the slope as fast as she dared. She did not want to suffer Varklav's fate. "5th Squad!" she yelled, "Whoever still lives, rally to the sound of my voice!" She could hear them out there, clashing, fighting, retreating... dying. There had to be some of them left.
The two ahead of her jerked around at the sound of her voice. At the sight of her, they recoiled.
"The Silver Maiden! She's escaped!"
Chris reached them. She shoved one man aside. "Consider me your new corporal or lieutenant or whatever suits your needs. Take Oharin and circle round to hit them from the flank. Find the others. Bring them with you. We will hold them here." When she saw they were slow to respond, she added, "That is an order. Hurry!"
The soldier ran. He even managed a half-hearted salute as he went off in a dash. Oharin followed in hot pursuit.
The remaining soldier gaped at Chris. "What... What should we do?"
So the look on her face was working. Chris had found that it usually did. She glanced at the approaching undead, and gauged that they had about ten, maybe twelve seconds before they reached the chokepoint. She pointed the tip of her sword in their direction.
"What is your name, soldier?"
"Lucas." His voice steadied, and his hand didn't shake quite so much around the hilt anymore.
"Lucas, you and I will hold this point against the undead. Have no fear. Live or die, we stand as soldiers." Goddess, how easy it sounded coming from her lips!
"Right," Lucas said. He added a nod, as if convincing himself of her words. "Like soldiers."
They stood shoulder to shoulder between the trees, with just enough room to handle their swords. Then Varklav's killers were upon them.
The skeleton in the front raised its chipped short-sword to slash. Chris stepped in with a diagonal swing. The blade slammed edge-first into the dead man's wrist and snapped the bone. The hand sagged and dropped the sword. The skeleton pulled its arm back as if to pummel her with the stubby bone. But it was trampled from behind as another skeleton pushed it down, stepped over it, and jabbed at Chris with a stop-thrust of its broken sword.
Chris sidestepped, and her own sword clanged against the stunted weapon. She shoved it back. The skeleton stumbled, was shoved ahead by another dead warrior, and righted itself. But Chris moved first, putting both hands behind an overhead swing. The sword took the skeleton in the vertebra just below the skull, and snapped its head right off. The rictus grin was the last she saw of the skull as it hurtled into the underbrush.
Lucas groaned as he parried an attack. He was knocked off balance and stumbled into Chris, shunting her against the tree.
Chris grunted, then pushed back, taking up position just as a blade flashed for her head. She flicked her sword up, managed a glancing blow. The rusty blade changed path and bit into her left shoulder. The sword's edge sawed into her flesh as the skeleton struggled to pull it loose.
Chris gasped, then bared her teeth. She grabbed the aged forearm holding the sword, and the strength residing therein surprised her. But she managed to trap the limb. It felt warm to the touch, as if possessed of an inner fire.
Her arm felt numb. She stabbed her sword into the skeleton's face, breaking its teeth but doing no appreciable damage. She pulled it back and hacked at the shoulder, at the arm, as if to avenge her own wound. Bone chipped and shattered, but the fleshless limb held until the fourth strike severed it with a sound like a snapping twig.
She yanked the rusty blade from her shoulder. Blood welled up, warming her sleeve. She flung the blade at the skeleton. It clacked against a scapula and disappeared into the underbrush.
Another dead warrior pushed through. Half a dozen others clustered behind, pushing and shoving for the way forward. Through Lucas and her.
The skeleton came at her with an overhead blow. She took it on the flat of her sword, and the weapons clanged. Another skeleton suddenly jabbed a spear through the ribs of her foe. She stepped back, but the spear-point found a way, and bit into her stomach. It retreated, leaving a shallow wound.
Chris struggled for air. Fire filled her veins, smearing her vision with blood-shot tremors. Her limbs ached.
Steel flashed through the bedlam. Swords, axes, spears. Numb in her haze, Chris watched her own sword dance, darting aside blades and points aimed at her. Beside her, Lucas cursed. His breathing was a ragged wheeze. They were driven back, yielding the chokepoint. The dead warriors stepped across the lost threshold, their bared teeth gleaming in the fire-light.
Chris backed up, flicked her blade around and stood ready to meet the charge. Goddess, allow me an honorable death.
Oharin came out of the shadows, swinging his spear like a club. It cracked a skull into shards of bone. He came upon the undead from behind, joined by three other soldiers, all screaming like a pack of wild monkeys flashing swords and spears instead of claws. The remnants of the illustrious 5th Squad.
The dead froze up. They were caught in the chokepoint, and seemed unable to choose their foe. One by one they turned, made a half-hearted attempt at a slash or stab, and lost a bone or two to savage slashes. The Harmonians pushed through them, driving each blow with a furious roar. Bones shattered and sent fragments whirling. Skulls cracked, ribs snapped, and skeletons crumpled onto the ground or were pulverized against the trees. Soon, only a pile of bones remained, covering a patch of moss.
Watched over by a squad of heaving, fire-eyed soldiers.
-Huarn-
Smoke was beginning to well in from the spreading forest fire.
Huarn had seen a volcano erupt, once. The churning of fire, the billowing clouds raining ashes and slag upon the earth. The fury of the True Runes unleashed unbidden, unguided even by the Eternal One, as if to avenge itself against the grubby hands of mortals daring to entrap the runes, to brings them into the hands of humans and, absurd as the notion was, out of the hands of the world. The very gall of the act required an ostentatious show to disabuse the living of such false notions of propriety. Hence, a mountain burst into fire and scalding rock.
But this was different. Flames had erupted at the edge of the forest, all at once, as if a bubble had burst and deposited the flame in a wide swath. The fires now spread through the underbrush, and leapt to the sky on lit-up trees glaring bright orange in the night. And it was headed their way.
"Report!" he barked.
The soldier at his side—Dorma was his name—missed a beat before replying. "Sir! 3rd Squad is somewhere to the north. On the move. They may have engaged the, uh, the True Rune."
"Fire, indeed," Huarn muttered. He twisted in his saddle, and squinted against the gusting smoke. The fiery glare hurt his eyes. "The 3rd is leading the True Rune away from our position. Laudable, considering that our path to the north lies through a wall of fire."
"Sir!" Dorma said, saluting as if the act, and the word spoken, signified something in particular. Which, Huarn knew, it did not.
He looked at the soldier. The man's helmet was askew, his chain mail smeared with blood—not his own, he believed, else the soldier would have keeled under some time ago. He looked a mess, and yet he had stayed at Huarn's side through most of the battle, since losing his 6th Squad earlier this night. He was no lieutenant, but in lieu of an aide, he would have to do. He now helped guard the baggage train and its attendants, spread out around them. A baggage train the undead monstrosities seemed entirely oblivious to. No, it was the blood and guts that the bloodless, gutless bastards wanted at.
The wood smoke had gotten too strong. It had taken on that acrid stench in place of the pleasant scent of a mild fire. Huarn's horse pranced beneath him, whinnying and breathing in smoke.
Huarn patted at its mane, and frowned at the surrounding terrain. Each battle was a jigsaw puzzle. You couldn't see the pattern until you'd scrambled all of the pieces, then laboriously begun to put them back together. This was one puzzle he didn't like one bit. He was missing pieces. He could see no pattern. The forest had become a nightmare, with the undead striking from the shadows without a thought for their own safety, while his soldiers huddled in torchlight and crowded together for protection, trying to hold off a dozen fronts at once even as their communications fell apart. Their strength had become their weakness. He was losing his grip on even the pieces he could see. The puzzle pieces were barely locked together, as if held up in two hands and flexing towards an inevitable collapse. And that was never a good thing.
He had his sword out, and flexed his fingers around its handle. "We will retreat; get out of the forest and onto the plain. Where we can see the enemy." He turned to Dorma. "We'll have to gather the men and punch through the undead."
Another soldier intruded upon their conversation, joining them at a breathless sprint.
"Sir!" the soldier called out, saluting, then squatting down, resting hands on knees. "We now hold the south flank. The enemy there has been broken."
Huarn breathed down smoke, and coughed. He squinted at the soldier, blinking tears from his eyes. Finally, some good news. "South? The 1st Squad?"
The soldier straightened. "No, sir. 1st Squad has been lost. I think it's the 5th squad."
Huarn stared at the man. His mind worked through the confusion. "The Silver Maiden's guards? Lieutenant Varklav?"
The man looked about ready to flinch, to pull back from Huarn's gaze. He licked his lips, then said, "Yes, sir. Only, she's not being guarded no more. I think— Sir, I think she's in charge."
Huarn could almost hear the snap and clatter of wooden pieces of the puzzle fall apart inside his head.
Author's Notes: Next chapter's coming up! As always, comments, questions, and critique are welcome. I can get a bit distracted with the details of the plot, so let me know if I'm missing something or if you think the story is out of control. :)