Alongside Captain Deng, four other soldiers wore the Grim Falcon Cloaks. They packed into the centre and defended against the hordes. Without the possibility of a safe zone, the group hunted by the tens, eventually by the hundreds. Daiden worked with the soldiers on his side with a ruthless efficiency. He felt his strength surge with every kill, when drenched with blood. His body freed from the restraints of his mind, drawing from the memory of his battle against the Sand King. He accepted it, everything borrowed from Takshaka. He embraced it as his own.

High on morale, the soldiers marched for two hours without complaint. On the fifth, they pressured the hordes with their stomachs in a twist, starved for food, and with haggard expressions. Van, Brine and Stem switched between protecting Leda and kiting the undeads, luring them away or towards the punitive force depending on the situation. With the air thick with tension, Daiden and Deng targeted the fourth door as their strongest chance at establishing a safe zone.

[Should I use the spell of concealment?] asked Leda, finally.

[Not yet,] said Daiden. [You’re too important to us. We know that the iron doors are enough to fend against the undeads. Reaching that room should suffice for now.]

[You just made me feel like a glorified cook,] said Leda, with a frown.

[You’re awfully childish for a priest,] said Daiden, stifling a laugh. [Wait. Did I just make a joke about you? I think we might be becoming friends.]

[An idiot I promised to make a noble…] remembered Leda, shaking his head. [What did I get myself into? Fine, fine. I’ll stand by your recommendation.]

[Good!] said Daiden, cheerily. [I like when we’re on the same page.]

[Don’t get too comfortable with it.]

In a smile, Daiden reverted his attention to the path in front of him. After an hour without combat, he knocked on the walls, urging the soldiers to a halt.

“This is a familiar route,” revealed Daiden, addressing Deng, in a whisper. “There are two Acri-led hordes here if I remember correctly. How do you want to handle them?”

“What about their proximity?” asked Deng.

“There’s a strong possibility that they merge to attack us,” said Daiden. “But it’s been a while since I was last here. We should send the scouts to investigate their positions.”

“Or not…” said Deng, curtly.

Daiden cocked his head to one side, a little puzzled.

“It’s a narrow corridor,” explained Deng. “We’ve cleared the route behind us, a significant distance at least. It might be better if they merge to attack us. Even with the numbers on their side, this might be a more time efficient approach to the situation.”

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After some thought, Daiden nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan. But tell me more. What do you know about the Acri? I’ve heard the stories; is there anything else that might be of use to us?”

“Only that they’ll be the first I open the wall for,” said Deng, with a toothy grin. “What do you think, can you handle it?”

Daiden’s eyes narrowed to slits. He scratched his chin, with a grim expression, and said, “They’re that strong?”

Taken aback, Deng slowly acknowledged the fact.

“That’s fine,” said Daiden, confidently. “The fourth door isn’t too far from here. If we clear the area, we’ll only have to deal with the one other horde near the entrance.”

The two leaders involved Van and Brine into their plan of attack as well. The scouts sprinted into action after a short discussion. The Multana Captain rounded the remaining soldiers and relayed his commands in a low voice, “Formation. Shield wall.”

In a daze, Daiden removed the swords from his spatial inventory. He stretched his limbs with an unnatural calm and waited. As did the others, holding their breaths into a state of silence. Their ears perked at the sound of footsteps. Their eyes settled onto two, familiar silhouettes, and then a horde of everything unfamiliar.

Daiden confirmed it first, “I see them! I see them!”

Behind the undeads, shrouded in blackness, the two Acris made an appearance, mouths stitched to a close, tall, thin, and grotesque. They understood the situation, the threat from the punitive force. Without eyes, they raised their fingers to vaguely point at the Multana soldiers. They steadied their arms near the centre, crowing with their heads in a frenzy.

“What the fuck?” thought the soldiers, most of them.

A variant command.

Eighty-strong, the horde obliged. A walk that moved to a stride, a stride that became a stampede. They rushed towards the punitive force, unhindered.

“Fuck!” spat Daiden. “Things just went to shit…”

“Brace, brace!” yelled Deng, steadying his feet. He watched the undeads plummet onto the shield wall, impregnating it without effort. “Close the gap! Bloody, move! Move!”

The horde raced towards Daiden next. He turned to address the soldiers by his side, “Don’t die. Don’t you dare die on me, you hear?”

The soldiers swallowed a lump in their throats, dry from fear and despair. They nodded mechanically, maybe almost disbelievingly. “We’re going to die here…”

Daiden clicked his tongue and braced for impact. The undeads pushed him off balance, his comrades as well.

Van, Brine and Stem watched the scene unfold, shaken with horror. They steeled their resolve and hurried Leda to safety.

“Wait, wait!” shouted Leda. “What about the others?”

“Captain Deng gave us clear instructions,” revealed Van, hastily. “We are to protect you, even at the cost of our lives. You are too important.”

“I’ve heard enough of that!” barked Leda. “Take me back. I can help…”

Van simply shook his head. “No. Ser Daiden asked us to continue with our duties regardless of your opinion on the matter.”

***

The soldiers despaired when the first of their comrades fell to the stampede. Their morale plummeted when another died, both from the shield wall. Deng desperately attempted to plug the flow. He slowed the horde with his spear, tearing his lungs in screams and commands to push his soldiers into formation. A few of them jolted into activity, encouraged by their captain’s voice. They pulled the others as well.

“We must help Ser Daiden, in whatever way we can!” shouted Deng.

They grumbled through the effort, but slowly managed to narrow the gap. Their eyes fiercely bore into the Acris, bubbling with an unexplainable rage. They straightened their backs, steadied their feet, and finally rebuilt the shield wall.

“We have control!” informed Deng, loudly. His voice cut through the sixty-odd undeads that had managed to breach the front line. He pursed his lips and returned his attention to the enemies in front of him. “I’m sorry. But I’m leaving this to you, Ser Daiden.”