The next morning dawned bright and early. Clay was awake before any of the others in the camp. He collected his equipment, and was crossing the bridge just as the village itself came awake behind him.
It was going to be a warm day. He could already tell from the way the sun was heating his back as he walked. The sky was clear as well, with nothing but blue stretching overhead.
There should have been birds chirping and insects buzzing away, but the hills were silent as he made his way along the road. The ground was torn and disturbed everywhere he looked as well. Now that he was closer, Clay could see that the trenches he’d thought were some kind of defensive line were actually the trail of something that had been rooting through the soil, tearing it into a mixture of dirt and rock and leaving it barren in its wake.
The hills showed more signs of those trails. Trees had been knocked down, and the tall grasses that would have covered much of the hills were crisscrossed by what seemed like animal tracks. Clay frowned as he proceeded further into the hills. It seemed like the creatures weren’t even bothering to hide their tracks. His notes had warned that many of them didn’t have any use for stealth, but reading about it was one thing. Seeing a complete disregard for any kind of concealment was another thing entirely.
Most of the trails were old enough that grass and moss had grown over the ravaged earth, but he soon found one that was fresh. He bent down to trace the shape of the hooves in the overturned dirt. It looked like there were at least three different creatures. Were the different types traveling together? The Undead had acted like that, but only occasionally. Perhaps these creatures were different.
Clay turned from the old, neglected path and followed the trail. The track meandered aimlessly through the hills, going up and down the slopes without any apparent goal in mind. He started to jog, hoping to catch up to them before they took him all over the foothills. His original plan had been to spend the entire day hunting down these creatures, but that didn’t mean he wanted to waste his time.
The trail took him up and down three different hills before his ethereal senses abruptly clamored for attention. He paused long enough to fix the creatures’ position in his mind. Then he diverted from the trail and started stalking through the long grasses on the hillside. It wasn’t the same as following something through the woods, but it was better than just stumbling along in their wake.
Using his senses to guide him, Clay cut between the next two hills, circling around to get in front of his prey. He could see signs of them now, a small group of figures that were tearing their way through the grass in an aimless path. He made his way to a spot where he could hide, crouching down low in the grass ahead of them. Then he waited and tried to evaluate his options.
The notes had contained a lot of contradictory advice for him. He needed to maintain his distance from some of the creatures and stay close to others. Some needed to be worn down, while the others demanded immediate destruction. It was a perfectly reasonable set of tactics as long as the creatures were separated. Together, however, they could cover each others’ weaknesses easily, leaving him with far fewer options.
Still, part of what his job was, at the moment, would be to see how badly things could go wrong. If he just wanted to kill the things and move on, Clay could probably just rely on a [Chant] or two from ambush and be done with it. He needed to see how dangerous the things were to the [Commoners] he’d be leading against them the next day.
So he waited, still crouched in the grass, while the sounds of the enemy grew closer. The noises they made were so odd to Clay, after the perpetual silence of the creatures he’d faced before. None of the spiders had made any noise outside of death-screams, and both the lizards and slimes had relied far too much on stealth to just give an advantage away. Even the Undead had consistently tried to strike from ambush; the only sounds they made were usually either to revive their puppets or the odd creak of rotten leather and metal as they walked.
These creatures, by contrast, made noise constantly. It was hard to separate it out honestly. There were snuffling, ripping sounds that sounded somehow wet; it made Clay’s stomach churn a little to hear it. He could hear grunting and snorting as well, with occasional high whines that strained the edges of his hearing. Every so often, there was a deep thrum that seemed to echo through his chest, occasionally echoing off the nearby hills.
Clay shook his head as he waited. The spiders would have killed the lot of these things off years ago. He pictured them walking right over a mantrap hole and dying immediately. It was an effort to not start chuckling, but he still managed it. Just because they were cluelessly obvious about their presence didn’t mean that he needed to be as well.
As they drew close, a soft breeze whispered across the small valley where he waited. It wafted through the grass, making the plants bend and move. It was like ripples on a green pond, and Clay let out a quiet breath as the air stole some of the heat from his armor. He had already been sweating more than enough for an early summer morning, and he had the sneaking suspicion that it was only going to get worse as the day wore on.
Then he blinked. The noises from the creatures had stopped.
Clay turned carefully, trying not to disturb the grass around him. He couldn’t hear any of the squeals or grunts anymore, and it seemed like they weren’t moving. There was another sound, a deceptively soft huffing noise that he could just barely pick up. What were they doing? Had they decided to stop for some—
A sudden, shrill squeal rose over the hills, and the creatures suddenly burst into motion. Clay grimaced as he saw the path they were taking. They were no longer simply wandering along a random path. The monsters were heading straight for him.
It took an effort to not immediately start using a [Chant]. His students wouldn’t have them, so he needed to know what it would be like to face the things head on. Besides, they were supposedly only rank two creatures. They shouldn’t be any more of a threat than the lowest ranked Undead.
Then he heard more echoing squeals from all around him, rising from out of sight beyond the other hills, and he realized he might have more of a problem than he’d thought.
Before he could react, the first of the creatures tore its way out of the grass and threw itself at him.
The squealer was just as ugly and fast as the notes had said it would be. It darted in at his legs, its knives flashing as it tore along the ground in a disturbing, loping stride. Its eyes were completely black, and the stench of it hit him like a blow.
Clay moved almost without thinking. He brought his spear down and around to counter the thing’s charge. The spearpoint glittered in the summer sun, and the squealer let out an enraged squeal as it was forced to dodge aside. It skidded to a stop, dirt and grass flying into the air as its back hooves and heavily muscled arms dug into the soil.
The instant its momentum died, Clay lunged at it. He had no intention of allowing the thing to call for any more help. Its eyes widened slightly as he thrust the spearpoint at it, but as fast as it was, the squealer still couldn’t get out of the way before he skewered it through the chest.
It thrashed, but Clay just twisted the spearpoint in deeper. Bright green blood leaked out of the wound and mixed with the frothing drool on its mouth. Clay heard another figure stomping through the grass and yanked his spear back out, leaving it to collapse into the dirt.
{Feral Squealer slain! Soul increases by 20}
The hulking figure that came through the grass left a trampled path behind it. Clay’s eyes widened slightly as it roared in rage, raising its hammers over its head. It was massive, at least the same size as Orn, and the thing seemed to have just as much muscle. Armor that had been crafted from some kind of strange leather covered it from head to toe, and its beady, close-set eyes were filled with immediate fury.
It swung a hammer at Clay’s spear, as if it was trying to knock it away or break it. Clay avoided the hit and then struck at it, stabbing it right in the shoulder. The spearpoint went in, but he felt an unnatural amount of resistance that even the armor couldn’t have explained. Even more enraged, the thing gave a burbling roar and dropped one hammer so it could close one meaty hand around the haft of Clay’s spear. Forcing its way forward despite the spear lodged in its shoulder, it raised its other hammer high, ready to try to pummel him into the dirt.
Clay skipped back, letting his hands slide along the spear haft so that he didn’t lose his grip on the weapon. The monster jerked to the side, trying to pull it free, but Clay held on firmly with one hand, while the other darted for his knife.
Unable to wrench the spear free, the monster leaned forward, willingly digging itself onto the spearhead in order to reach Clay. He waited, watching as the drool from the tusked mouth worked into a froth, and as green blood dripped from the wound in its shoulder. The hammer came up again, even as the monster strained to push forward.
Then Clay leapt forward, choking up on the spear as he closed the distance. The monster swung at him, but Clay was too far inside its swing; a meaty elbow bounced off the armor on his shoulder. He grunted from the force of the impact and then jumped so that he could drive the thick blade of his Pell knife into the thing’s neck.
It snapped at his arm, trying to bite him as the knife went in, but Clay struck too quickly for it to manage the attack. He stabbed it again and again, feeling that same stubborn resistance as he hit it each time. The monster staggered backwards, flailing as it dropped its hammer and trying to roar as Clay clung to it and kept stabbing.
Then it tripped over something in the grass and went down, with Clay still on top of it. They slammed into the dirt, and the thing started to roll, obviously intending to crush Clay beneath it. Clay ripped the knife out and pulled his spear free before twisting in the opposite direction. He wound up in a crouch next to the smasher as it came up on its hands and knees, still bleeding from the neck and shoulder.
He caught it with another thrust through the head, and this time its incredible toughness did not save it. The monster collapsed forward and wallowed for a moment before it went still.
{Wild Smasher slain! Soul increases by 20}
Clay stood up, breathing hard. The thing had been far tougher and stronger than it should have been. Was that why it could afford to just ignore stealth entirely? He kicked at it, noting with some bitterness how the blow glanced off of the hide.
Then he heard a dull thrum from the direction the beasts had appeared from and realized he was missing one. He threw himself back into the grass, not even bothering to look first.
It was a wise choice. As he crashed back through the plants, a sphere of utter blackness shot by him. The sphere struck a patch of grass and imploded, leaving behind a perfectly cut hole in the plants. He shuddered slightly as he pictured what it would have done if it had hit him directly and finally spun to face his last opponent.
The eater was already forming a second sphere in its free hand. Its other hand was moving the whip, letting the dark leather hiss through the grass. With a single step, it put itself in range of him and snapped the whip out and across his face, aiming to blind him or worse.
Clay cut at the whip with his knife. The heavy blade bit deep into the leather and deflected the blow. As the eater recoiled, still muttering and blubbering under its breath, Clay stepped forward and hurled his knife at it. Long hours of practice paid off as the blade flew straight and true. It took the eater in the head, sinking in up to its hilt.
The monster took another step back and the words it had been speaking faded. Then it dropped onto its back in the grass without another sound.
{Flesh Eater slain! Soul increases by 20}
With the immediate threats handled, Clay took a moment to steady his breathing. It hadn’t been the kind of fight he’d been used to, certainly. Even as weak as they were, the monsters were tough enough that they would be dangerous, especially for a bunch of un-leveled [Commoners]. He was going to need to be careful.
He heard another round of squeals rise over the hills. They sounded much closer this time. Clay grimaced and walked over to recover his knife. It was going to be a long day.
Clay watched as yet another group of piglike monsters made their way past his hiding spot.
The monsters had been relentless almost the entire day. Every time one of them stumbled across him, the squealer would send up a call to bring the others nearby running. If they didn’t immediately find him when they arrived, they would just start a patrolling pattern that was meant to root him out of the surroundings. He usually had to kill at least another group just to escape it, which would bring the whole horde of them down on him that much quicker.
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Fortunately, he was already getting used to their tricks.
For one thing, the squealers had fiendishly good senses. They could track him by his smell every time the wind changed. They weren’t picky, however, and once there was enough monster blood in the vicinity, they started having trouble tracking him. He’d made it a little worse by using Freshening Breeze to banish all smells as soon as they got close; apparently ridding himself of sweat was a good way of avoiding their noses.
The other thing he’d learned was that the squat little things were fast, but only once they had built up enough momentum. There was always a moment when they had to change direction, or start a new sprint, when they seemed to almost stay in place, churning up the ground beneath their hooves and hands. For that handful of moments, it made them a perfect target.
All of which meant that the ideal order for dealing with them was fairly clear, at least while he was alone.
Still crouched, Clay drew out his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. He drew it back in one motion and fired, sending the arrow hissing through the grass. The eater of the group, ambling along at the rear of their pack, never saw it coming before it took the thing square in the head.
{Flesh Eater slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Achievement Unlocked! Swinebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 10% versus Flesh Eaters.}
Before the eater even dropped, Clay had drawn a second arrow back and let it fly. The squealer had heard its companion fall. It had spun around to see what was happening; Clay saw its jaw drop as it sucked in air, readying the shriek that would call other monsters to its cause.
The arrow caught it square in the side. Instead of the ear-grating scream, the squealer produced a shocked, wet cough. It staggered forward a bit until Clay shot it a second time, at which point it fell and lay still.
{Feral Squealer slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Achievement Reinforced! Swinebane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 20% versus Flesh Eaters and Feral Squealers.}
A burbling roar filled the clearing as the smasher spun around to face him. It was loud enough that it might have attracted attention, but for some reason the other monsters didn’t take such roars nearly as seriously. Perhaps the smashers lost their temper enough to make it less alarming; either way, Clay didn’t hear the other swinefolk in the hills echo its cry as it rushed towards him.
He’d learned that allowing the things to get in close was a bad idea. They were strong enough to break trees or crack stone when they hit, and their persistent refusal to lay down and die made them hard to manage. At the same time, those abilities had their limits, and even if its thick skin might make it resistant to a normal person’s arrows…
Clay drew another arrow and sighted on his target again. The smasher was just a short distance away now, clearly visible above the waving grass. He put the shot into the thing’s face easily, and it staggered. It dropped one hammer to clutch at the wound, and Clay shot it again, this time catching it right in a beady eye.
The hit seemed to stun the smasher even further. It backpedaled, lurching away from Clay in clumsy, half-hearted staggers. Still roaring, it swung its other hammer blindly, knocking the heads off the grass nearby. Clay watched it for another moment and then put a third arrow through its throat.
This time the smasher fell, tumbling onto its back in the grass. Clay slid the bow back into place and hefted his spear. He jogged forward, looking around to make sure the other swinefolk weren’t too close. When he reached the smasher a moment later, it was still choking and swinging its hammer wildly. It only took a moment to step around it and deliver the killing stab.
{Wild Smasher slain! Soul increases by 10}
{Achievement Reinforced! Swinebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flesh Eaters, Feral Squealers and Wild Smashers.}
Clay took a moment to use the [Chant] of Pure Touch to purge himself and his equipment of the blood. He recovered a handful of the arrows he’d used. The rest he could replace back at Janburg, hopefully.
He glanced up at the sun and sighed. It was already late afternoon. Fortunately, he could make it back to Janburg long before it was dark, but he didn’t want to lead any of the monsters back to the village. Even if the Baroness wouldn’t mind helping him clean a few of them up, the swinefolk seemed a lot more pack-minded than the other monsters he’d fought. Better to make sure that they didn’t have a trail to follow.
Nodding to himself, Clay slipped away and headed northeast, leaving behind the corpses of the monsters he’d killed. The real work was going to start tomorrow.
Despite his caution, Clay still made it back to Janburg well before the sun started to set.
He broke from cover to trot across the ruined ground on the monsters’ side of the bridge, waving to the [Guard] on duty. The man had been stationed up there, looking for signs of a monster attack; he seemed relatively happy to see Clay and waved back.
Janburg’s gates creaked open as Clay walked across the bridge. He glanced behind himself to make sure that there was nothing creeping out of the hills to take advantage of the open door, but there was nothing. Apparently, he’d made a clean escape.
One of the [Guards] was waiting for him as he entered. The doors creaked shut behind him as the man bowed. “Welcome back to Janburg, Sir Clay. How did your hunt go?”
Clay caught the edge of something he couldn’t define in the question. It could have been curiosity or resentment, but he didn’t know which. He mentally shrugged it off as he answered. “Those things are a lot different than the other monsters I’ve killed. Definitely a lot tougher than most, but we’ll handle them.” The [Guard] blinked in surprise, and Clay continued in an even voice. “How are the others doing? Are they still training?”
The [Guard] coughed. He glanced at Clay as they walked together further into the village. “Ah, some of them are, Sir Clay.”
Something about the way he’d said that made Clay take a closer look at the man. The [Guard] seemed suddenly reluctant to say anything more, and it made him think of when Clay had been trying not to rat out Enessa or Charles to their parents when they were asking inconvenient questions. He grimaced and nodded. “All right. Let’s see.”
He caught sight of the [Guard] wincing out of the corner of his eye, which confirmed a bit of his suspicions. They walked together further into the village, past the walls of the Baroness’ tower and the barracks that the [Guards] used. As they approached the middle of the village, the small camp his people had set up came into view.
As did the [Commoners] he’d brought with him.
Given the [Guard]’s reactions, Clay wasn’t entirely surprised when he found the majority of them eating and laughing together in spots around the camp. The looks the villagers were giving them seemed heavily disapproving, a fact that Clay suspected meant the recruits hadn’t been doing much of anything all day. Out of more than twenty [Commoners], barely more than a handful were doing any kind of practicing at all.
The grand majority of the [Commoners] straightened up and appeared to be trying to look busy when they saw him, but Clay ignored them. He had the sneaking suspicion that they wouldn’t enjoy the next few days if they even survived them. In fact, he made a quiet decision to try t encourage most of them to leave, as long as he didn’t think they were serious. The last thing he needed was to depend on some fool and find that they had abandoned their duties.
He shook his head over the thoughts; they weren’t exactly the best way to look at things at the start of the whole adventure. Instead, Clay focused his attention on the smaller group that was apparently still training in a clear space near the Stone.
Most of them were members of the King’s [Guards], with a handful of the Baroness’ troops sprinkled into the mix as well. They were sparring with each other, though a few of them were attempting to teach their fellow, less-martial [Commoners] which end of the spear to hold. Andrew, the angry stranger that had joined back in Pellsglade, was facing off against a [Guard] who was trying to demonstrate the proper way to use his hammer; Lana was being coached through the motions of using a sword. Peter and Elizabeth Wheatrose were using practice spears to face off against another pair of [Guards], their faces locked in concentration.
Clay’s attention quickly focused on the last of their number, however. In a space off to the side, the Baroness herself was facing off with Olivia. Both women were wielding practice versions of the war scythes they had chosen as weapons, and even at a distance, Clay could tell that Olivia’s face was coated in sweat. Her hands shook on the haft of her weapon, but they stilled as she circled the Baroness.
Then they both moved.
The Baroness was obviously holding back. An experienced [Noble] had more than enough speed and endurance to outlast and outfight any simple [Commoner], especially one less than a week from their Choosing. All the same, Olivia’s sheer ferocity was a thing to behold. She hacked and slashed and shoved with everything she had, trying to find a hole in Janburg’s defenses.
Eventually, though, the Baroness slipped an attack through Olivia’s guard and swept her legs out from under her. Olivia hit the dirt hard, but rather than staying there, she rolled and got her weapon back up and between her and the Baroness again. It was a good move; the Baroness brought her weapon down on the spot where Olivia had been and chased after her until the [Commoner] counterattacked.
Laughing, the Baroness backed up and grounded the butt of her practice scythe. Olivia saw the gesture and copied it, clinging to the shaft as if it were the only thing keeping her up. Clay shook his head and chuckled, remembering the feeling of sparring with Orn and the others. The sound attracted attention, though, and Olivia looked in his direction.
So did the Baroness. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Sir Clay! You seem to have made it back unharmed.”
He nodded. “You were right about how nasty those swinefolk were, my lady. Thank you for your warning.”
She shrugged. “It seems like they still didn’t manage to land a finger on you. Are all your battles so clean?”
Clay glanced down at himself—left pristine by Pure Touch long before he left the hills, of course—and laughed. “I suppose. At some point, I might need to teach you how I do that, though I think the Guild wouldn’t like it if I did.”
The Baroness frowned, but before she could speak, Olivia slumped down until she was sitting in the dust. It seemed like all of her fatigue had suddenly caught up with her at once. Clay immediately took a step in her direction. “Olivia? Are you all right?”
She looked up and nodded. “I am. I just… pushed myself a bit too hard, I suppose.” Olivia gave him a crooked, exhausted grin. “The Baroness offered me the chance to train while you were gone, and I couldn’t pass it up. Now, though, I don’t know if I will be ready to go with you tomorrow, either.”
He wanted to protest and tell her she’d be fine, but he could recognize the signs. She was practically collapsing where she sat. “Don’t worry about it. Better that you feel ready rather than throwing yourself in without preparation. You’ll probably catch up easy enough.”
Olivia rested her head against the practice scythe, closing her eyes for a moment. “I suppose I’ll need to. You won’t kill all of them before I get out there, will you?”
The question nearly made him laugh. “No. I won’t.” He looked back at the rest of the camp and waved them all over. Those who were practicing paused in their sparring; those who hadn’t been doing much of anything quickly made their way over to join them.
Clay raised his voice. “Tomorrow we are going to start fighting monsters.” He paused as a murmur went through the [Commoners]. The number of people who were smirking with confidence, or who seemed suddenly worried, was troubling to him. “We’re going to move our camp across the river to get closer to the enemy. While you are there, I expect you to train your skills.”
There were eyerolls and smirks among some of them, and Clay let his voice grow a bit harder. “Those who refuse to train are going to lose the chance to continue. I’m going to ask Baroness Janburg to come along, both to help protect the camp and to let me know if any of you aren’t taking things as seriously as you need to.”
He glanced at Janburg, who nodded. There was a look of satisfaction on her face, something that the slackers among the group appeared to notice. They straightened up as he continued. “While we are out there, I’m going to bring you each out individually to hunt down a group of monsters. I’ll give you the chance to fight and kill one of them. It will be your first chance to help defend this place.”
Another excited murmur went through the crowd, and Clay forced himself to step on his own impatience. He waited until they had calmed back down before he spoke again. “If you do not feel ready to go out tomorrow, please let me know. While we are out there, I will be in command. That means you go where I tell you to go, you fight where I tell you to fight, you run when I tell you to run. Anyone who can’t do that will not be going out a second time. If I catch you trying, after I’ve told you you’re done, I’ll ask the Baroness to stick you in a cell somewhere until the Lair is destroyed. Is that understood?”
There was silence after his question. More of the expressions on the [Commoners] were starting to shift from self-assurance and excitement to worry and concern. It wasn’t the best reaction, but it was better than overconfidence. “Remember, while all adventurers start at level one, they also have abilities far better suited to combat than ours. Their [Stats] are different, their abilities are more focused, and most of them have months of training at the Academy to rely on—and many of them still die. Your only real advantage is the fact that I can give you additional strength, but it won’t be enough if you do not do your best. Listen to me, work hard, and we’ll get the job done.”
He waited, wondering if any of them would have any questions. When none appeared, Clay nodded again. “All right then. Get some rest, choose out what order you will fight in, if you have a preference, and be ready for tomorrow. May you all fight well.”
The [Commoners] hesitated, and then they all turned to head back to their tents. Several of them looked to be whispering to each other in tones that suggested a bit of reality had intruded on their dream adventure.
Clay watched them for a moment, shaking his head. Then he turned and walked over to where Olivia was now lying on the ground, her eyes still closed. She cracked an eye to look up at him when his shadow fell over her. “You might need to work on your inspiring speeches, Sir Clay.”
“And you obviously need to gain a little more [Fortitude], Syr Olivia.” Clay saw her twitch a little at the title of respect, and then she closed her eye again.
“I gained a solid three points of it today, for your information. A few of [Might] and [Valor] too. At this rate, I might just be able to catch up to you.” She gave a tired chuckle. “As long as I manage to convince my legs to work again. Maybe tomorrow?”
The sheer fatigue in her voice made Clay’s smile soften. He knelt beside her and laid his spear to one side. “Here, let’s get you back to your tent.”
Before she could protest, he slipped an arm under her back and her legs and lifted her up out of the dirt. Her arms went around his neck by pure reflex, and her eyes popped open for a moment. She somehow summoned enough fire to glare at him for a heartbeat. “You’re supposed to ask before you do that, you know.”
“Well, I apologize. I’ll remember for next time.” Clay started walking in the direction of her bedroll, feeling his face heat at the knowing looks from some of the [Guards]. The Baroness raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored her.
Olivia, eyes closed, didn’t seem to notice any of it as she snuggled a little deeper into his arms. “See that you do, Sir Clay.” She yawned a little and turned her face into his chest. Clay couldn’t help but notice that she smelled like sweat, dust, and summer. His heart beat faster. “I expect… the best… from…”
The last part of her words turned into an indistinct murmur. When he glanced down, she was already asleep. He kept himself to a quiet chuckle as he carried her to her tent and laid her down. She immediately shifted onto her side, and Clay reached out to brush some of her hair out of her face. Olivia smiled a little and then sighed. He pulled back and headed for his own tent, across the camp.
He tried to bring his thoughts back to the work he had ahead of him tomorrow, but he kept thinking of how soft her cheek had been. Sleep was a long time coming.