Braden rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn. He was on the branches of a tree, along with Zeyn and Millie, keeping a midnight watch. What that would do against the forces arrayed against them, he wasn’t sure. But it allowed the members of their small group some measure of ease during the long, cold night.

It had been a few days since their disastrous attempt at leaving the Shillogu Woods Outpost. The ten cadets had fled to the forest while Leader Yoran and Armsmaster Byrne covered them against that…thing.

Well, they made it into the forest in short order but what Leader Yoran didn’t say was that the woods were crawling with swarmlings. So there they were, sandwiched between a Chaos Lord and a horde of swarmlings. The choice had been easy. They fought their way past the critters, suffering nearly lethal wounds in the process, but ultimately made it through in one piece.

Danika Lorn and Calus Nuala, the warders of the two teams, had suffered varied injuries. Danika got a deep cut on her leg and Calus, a stab wound through his guts. Calus’s would eventually prove fatal if he didn’t receive medical aid but they were leagues away from Faron’s Crossing. The boy from Sonsa Village wasn’t too good with Recovery and even if he were, Braden was afraid the Animus technique wasn’t built for the kind of injury he had.

Still, they had done what they could for the boy but subsequent running and fighting for hours on end didn’t help. Calus was unconscious at the campsite below the tree, while Ishika watched over him.

Braden had a couple of lacerations along his arm, a result of a failed deflection of the swarmling’s slice. He had pulled too much with his Facet and the claw went completely to one side of his shield instead of squarely on it.

The only time they could rest was at night when the swarmlings nested. That wasn’t to say they were completely safe as Wanderers walked the night. The Wyldlings didn’t seem interested in destroying the forest, though Braden wondered why there were so many of them there. He would be far more worried about the first team if he didn’t sense that Orrin was still alive. He just knew that if his twin had come to harm, he would literally feel that something was missing. Well, he had a hunch that Orrin was further north and he wanted nothing more than to reunite with his erstwhile twin.

He nibbled on a ration bar, gnawing off a little bit of the cardboard-tasting stuff every minute or so. The watch would end in half an hour and he could get some sleep. Hopefully, he will wake up tomorrow.

“I hear something,” Millie whispered, and just like that, the calm that Braden had carefully sought disappeared like dew on a hot day.

He pulled out his Plasma Lancet, which was rated to hit a moving target as far as ten paces away reliably, and aimed in the direction where Millie was looking.

“What is it?” he whispered completely under his breath and, if Millie’s Facet wasn’t specialized for hearing enhancement, it would have been inaudible.

“A heartbeat. Something big. It’s not a swarmling or a Wanderer. A hundred paces that way.” She said just loudly enough for Braden and Zeyn to hear.

Braden scaled down the tree, waking the sleeping cadets in the process.

“Possible hostile nearby,” he whispered into each ear. It didn’t take long for each scruffy-looking cadet to be on their feet, brandishing weapons and their Animus glowing through their eyes.

Zeyn had a white-knuckled grip on his glaive. Brown-eyed Maryn Shaun had a brace of light-weight knives in a bandoleer across her chest, two of which she held in trembling fingers. Danika’s buckler that had been converted to a kite shield was secured to her good arm, with her other arm hung in a sling.

Green-eyed Ishika held a Plasma Lancet in hand, her Animus coated along the short barrel. She had a grimace on her face, her teeth bared. Janus trembled behind Ishika, barely holding on to his collapsible spear. His Animus flickered on and off and Braden doubted the boy’s spear could penetrate even a swarmling’s weak Protective Field.

Gilda had a determined look in her eyes. The carrot-top from Northwold had been responsible for building the rudimentary wall protecting the camp. She had recovered enough Animus in her sleep that she could protect herself in battle but not much else. She stood beside Calus who was still unconscious, his breathing ragged. Kier Rowan, the other cadet from Northwold held his collapsible spear at the ready.

Braden held his own weapon aimed at the ground but had his buckler raised. He exchanged glances with Millie who had her eyes focused.

“I don’t think it's a Wyldling,” she muttered.

The cadets didn't relax but probably because she didn’t speak loud enough for the others to hear. There was no way they could fight that thing, Braden was sure it would cut them down in a matter of seconds. If it was one of the Hunter-tier Wyldlings, they had a small chance of victory, but only if it was foolish enough to just charge their position. Millie said it wasn’t a Wanderer or a swarmling so it was either a human or a Hunter.

There was no sign, no rustling bushes, snapped twigs, or crackling leaves as they were stepped on. One moment they were waiting, the next, Leader Yoran materialized out of thin air about a couple of paces from the earthen wall.

“Praise the Ancestors,” she said with a relieved breath. “I’ve finally found you lot.” She waited for them to lower their weapons before she hopped over the waist-high barrier. “Are you all, oh--”

She froze when she saw Calus lying on his bedroll. Rushing to the boy, she placed a hand over his forehead.

“Cold. Still breathing.” His wound was under a bandage, but the gauze had turned an ugly brown already. “Thank the Ancestors I found you today. Cadet Nuala wouldn’t have lasted the night.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

She grabbed her belt pouch, pulling out a rectangular flat stone etched with several symbols. Orrin would have understood what the runes were but Braden couldn’t even tell where one rune started from the next. The stone stuck over the bandage and started emitting a subdued red glow, closer to pink than crimson.

“This isn’t really a long term solution but he should survive long enough to get to Northwold,” Leader Yoran said.

“Leader, what happened?” Braden asked, “After we left the transport. Is…is Armsmaster well? What about that monster?”

Leader Yoran looked at Braden then at the other cadets. Her smile trembled but her voice was firm. “Armsmaster fended the Chaos Lord off but at grave cost.” She shook her head. “The outpost is overrun, but we received reinforcements from Northwold. We’re holding up there. I came here to find you cadets; my team is a few minute’s walk away. I’ll bring you there. Come on. Good work surviving.”

“What about the first team?” Braden asked quietly.

“We don’t know where they are or if they are still alive.” Leader Yoran shook her head again. “I’m sorry, Braden.”

“No, my twin brother is still alive,” Braden insisted. “I can feel it.”

Leader Yoran nodded but didn’t continue speaking. Instead, she pulled out a messenger crane and sent it off. In minutes, a group of four, two men and two women, arrived. They quickly secured Calus into a litter, with one of the men on each end, and carried him off.

Braden talked to Leader Yoran as soon as he could.

“I want to look for my brother. He’s in the north.”

Leader Yoran swept her fringe off her cheek, tucking it behind her ears. “Are you certain?”

Braden nodded, “Yes.”

She nodded. “I see. Well, hopefully, Cadet Davar and the others are with your brother. Hang on, I’ll send a message to Armsmaster.”

She wrote a message on a messenger crane, though Braden thought that the paper was overly large and thick. The sigils on the corners were more complex than anything he had ever seen on a crane too.

When she channelled silvery Animus into the sigils, the paper folded itself into a messenger crane three times bigger than the usual one. It floated off her palm and sped away.

“I’ll need you to come with us,” Leader Yoran said. “We’ll rely on you to provide the general direction.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Millie and Ishika looked back at him when the rest of the team left. Milie looked like she wanted to stay but ultimately left with the others.

Braden and Leader Yoran waited at their former camp. She raised a finger and shot out a beam of light that turned into a silvery dome, covering the two of them and most of the campsite.

“Just in case,” she said when Braden gave her a questioning look.

Half an hour later, Braden could barely suppress his yawns. He wanted to sleep; his body was tired but his mind was too active. The gibbous moon didn’t help either, as it was giving him the shivers. The Full Moon had always seemed ominous to him, mostly because it was often accompanied by turbulent Chaos flows, such that every time he stared at the night sky, he saw churning streams that could easily turn to Chaos storms.

“Go to sleep,” Leader Yoran said. “I don’t expect an answer until dawn.”

Braden laid down his bedroll next to the tree trunk and struggled to sleep. It wasn’t until an hour later that he nodded off and even then, he woke up fitfully every hour or so.

The first rays of the ray filtered down the green canopy and with it came Armsmaster Byrne along with a small troop of militiamen.

“Armsmaster, good mor…” Braden’s words died when he got a look at the muscular man.

Halfway down his right bicep, Byrne’s arm was just gone. The stump had smooth skin as if it had been months since the man lost his arm instead of just a couple of days. He had his greatsword strapped to his back and his green forceweave jacket had the right sleeve rolled up nearly to his shoulder.

“Cadet Foster, good to see you alive,” Armsmaster said. His tone had no forced joviality. It seemed as if the Armsmaster didn’t mind the lost limb. Well, maybe it was Armmaster now…

Braden coughed at the uncharitable thought. “Ar.. are we heading north soon?”

“With utmost haste,” Armsmaster Byrne said. “We will stop by the Pool first, then we will head to where you think your twin is.”

“Understood.”

“Leader Yoran, I’ll rely on you to scout.”

“Yes, sir.”

The militiamen accompanying them numbered a full squad, ten members. Their gear consisted of the usual forceweave jackets and trousers, combat boots, and a wide belt chock full of belt pouches. Two carried Plasma Casters, another couple carried large shields made of a thin, silvery metal with green jade insets on straps. The other six carried an assortment of side-blades, collapsible spears, Plasma Lancets, and bucklers.

Leader Yoran led them northwest for a while but the path twisted and turned. Every now and then, the group came across swarmlings, though these were corpses leaking blue blood from a copper penny-sized hole in the middle of their foreheads. Whenever they did, one of the militiamen held a small black tetrahedron close to the wound and it seemed to draw in some greenish particles from the wound. Whatever it was, it dripped down to the tip and fell into a small vial.

They followed a stream to its source. The first one happened to be a bigger stream that split. They followed that one upriver until about noon. They eventually made it to a small lake that had tranquil water, dragonflies flitting about the reeds, and a dozen geese paddling on the surface.

“The Pool,” Leader Yoran appeared out of thin air next to Armsmaster who didn’t react other than to raise an eyebrow. Braden started badly, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ve found something, come.”

They walked along the banks, until they eventually came up to a village, what was left of one anyway. Leader Yoran led them to one of the relatively intact buildings. In fact, it looked to be in relatively good condition except for the tree growing in the middle and there being no roof. Why, the fire pit looked like it had just been used and it had a little roof too.

Wait…

Braden rushed to the building.

“Orrin, Yuriko!” he called out. But he was sorely disappointed to find the interior empty. Well, it had some cloth partitions and were those laundry?

“They were here as early as yesterday,” Leader Yoran announced.

“You think they met Shillogu?” Armsmaster Byrne asked.

“Unknown,” she answered. “They left some tracks though, but only until the edge of the village. Then the footprints disappeared entirely.”

“Shillogu?” Braden asked. “Do you mean the forest?” What were they talking about anyway?

“The Avos.” Armsmaster said.

“Oh.” Oh. The Avos. Earth Spirits? Or was it Guardian Spirits? Braden didn’t remember which. The subject had been dry, mostly because common folk rarely interacted with the mythical beings.

The adults huddled together though it was mostly Armsmaster Byrne and Leader Yoran talking. Braden walked out of the building and looked around and, after a while, he could see signs of the others having lived there.

“They’re fairly lucky to get here…” Armsmaster Byrne said in a low rumble.

“But if they dealt with the Avos, things would be a bit more complicated. Maybe they even traded for the location of the Sanctum, too.”

“Old Shillogu scamming gullible kids again.”

Braden felt a tremor and the waters of the lake suddenly grew turbulent. A moment later, a huge head emerged from under the water, turning out to be a hairy pig’s head that was bigger than Braden. He stared at it slack-jawed, though he wasn’t the only one to do so.

“Who dares sully this Great One’s name?” the pig yelled while it dragged its huge body out of the water.

“No one,” Armsmaster Byrne answered calmly, “I merely have a few questions to ask.”

“Hrmmm. Human. What do you want.”

“Your head on a platter.”

It wasn’t Armsmaster Byrne who said that, nor was it any of the others. The voice was melodious though masculine, and the underlying malice made the hair on the back of Braden’s neck curl.

“I’ve always wanted to know what one of your kind tasted like.”

It was that monster that attacked the troop transport. The one that took Armsmaster’s arm off. The Chaos Lord.