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Risk

Chapter 8: Risk

The hunters ran at full speed towards the border village where the captain claimed to have witnessed demon magic being used. Lira, jumping from branch to branch high above the group, maintaining overwatch over their team in case of a surprise attack by any remaining trolls.

The remaining four wove through the maze of trees, the sounds of their falling footsteps muted by the layer of pine needles on the forest floor. Captain Ambrosia led the charge, a mix of determination and concern in her eyes as her mind raced at the possibility of another scourge that the demons had brought over a hundred years ago. She tamped down the panic rising in her stomach and focused on running, relying on her years of physical training to carry her the remaining distance towards their goal. Her fitted plate armor clanked as her arms swung, the large war hammer she had considered to be her closest friend and ally remained still in its harness along her back.

She scanned the trees, not for enemies, but for the yellow paint that had signified the path to the village.

The captain skid to a halt as she noticed a change in the darkness of the forest. Smoke rose in the distance behind a yellow-marked tree, a fire still burning in a border camp that looked familiar to her. She looked up and saw Lira kneeling on a branch above her, clicking her tongue to convey an order.

Lira’s cloak rustled for a few moments, a similar clicking response returned giving a silent confirmation of no enemies nearby.

Without a word, the group resumed their running pace towards the light of the village fire. Baas’ strides ate the distance as they ran, newfound speed overtaking him as he began to overtake the captain’s own speed. His bare, clawed feet stomped on corpses as he ran without hindering his speed. His draconic features frozen into a determined expression as he moved.

Ambrosia glanced to her right seeing him move with more purpose and vigor than usual, knowing that he would want to be the first of the team to see any evidence of demons returning to Lias. Dragonborn have a hard enough time as it is assimilating into society, and if there is any proof of another scourge on the rise, he would want to snuff it out as quickly as possible.

A few moments passed as the village came into view. Bodies littered the ground as they slowed their pace, examining the carnage from a safe distance. Ambrosia reached for her hammer’s hilt over her shoulder and swung it over her head, gripping the weapon with both hands as she watched for movement.

The group moved inwards, maneuvering through the dead and discarded weapons that littered the ground. Several Church soldiers lay motionless, even more trolls strewn around them still. The odor of smoke and blood clung to the night air.

A chirp drew the group’s attention as they reached the village border, Lira’s signal for finding a point of interest.

Ambrosia looked up and saw Lira lining up a shot, firing her arrow in a slow arc. Following the arrow’s path, Ambrosia saw it finally stop at a wooden post that was visible over the huts that lined the outside of the village.

The group began walking towards their new objective, Ambrosia talking the lead as the remaining three hunters maintained a watch in all directions behind and to the sides of their group.

Ambrosia walked past the huts that lined the village towards the flickering lights that bounced off the clay material the trolls used for building material. The crackling sound of wood burning acted as the only break from the silence that filled the macabre scene of dead that only intensified the further they walked. Turning a corner, the team came to the village center. Ambrosia’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of the flames after being in nearly complete darkness fighting for so long.

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On the other side of the fire stood several tall wooden posts. Several bodies strung up by their wrists as they hung helplessly. Eres stepped around the fire and went up to the posts. One of the bodies had arrows sprouting from her torso, hanging limp. Its yellow hair swayed in the night breeze, eyes staring into the void.

Another of the same species encountered a similar fate a few posts to the left, a spear protruding from its abdomen with blood coating the shaft of the weapon near the entry-wound. The blue shaft of the spear bore the crest of the Church of Celestials. An unfortunate result of poor aim.

Amateurs Ambrosia thought. Her face hardening at the realization that these captives were dead because of the militia’s idiocy and lack of aim when the ambush began.

At least another dozen of the gate species remained tied by their wrists to the posts, shaking in fear. One of the posts showed stains from one of them soiling themselves either out of fear or because of being captive for so long. None looked Ambrosia in the eyes, trying to avert their gazes out of fear that they would harm them further.

Another chirp brought her focus back to the present as another arrow whistled past the bonfire and landed near a hut.

Ambrosia took a last look at the dead captives and gave a silent prayer for them before turning towards Lira’s target.

Another of the gate species was sprawled out at the entrance of the hut. Dark hair bundled into a loose bun at the head, its breathing shallow.

“That one.” The captain confirmed.

Tinsen walked towards the creature, crouching near its head. Baas joined him, looking over the creature in its entirety.

Ambrosia was close enough to finally scan it for any evidence that what she witnessed wasn’t a hallucination from the heat of battle. She focused, her screen flickering to life:

Human, Level 1

Hu-man? The name didn’t invoke the sense of fear that she had felt when she watched the troll burn with dark magic. The name wasn’t even the most concerning thing the scan revealed though.

“You see it too?” Eres asked, stepping to the captain’s side.

“Level 1…that’s impossible.” The captain shook her head in disbelief trying to make sense of the situation.

She looked towards their healer. “Anything, Tinsen?”

The Tabaxi had a hand raised over the human, an orange glow emanating from his palm.

“Health is full. Most likely experienced mana exhaustion.” Tinsen said. He looked back towards the captain, skepticism in his eyes.

“I’m not crazy, Tinsen.” She gestured towards a charred troll corpse near the bonfire. “I saw her kill that one with purple flames. Not orange. Purple. A demon’s call-sign if I ever saw one.”

The Tabaxi looked towards the human again, putting a hand to his chin.

“What is there even to debate?” Baas snapped, eyes remaining glued to the human. “You already saw what it did. An officer’s word will be enough to justify putting this threat to an end here and now. We can’t risk letting this thing live if what you saw is true.” He closed and opened a fist, conjuring a flame.

Ambrosia took a half-step forward. “We kill trolls, not gate species. You know the Church’s edict on them. By law we must bring her back to Mar Shota for examination. The bishop will have more insight about this and decide what to do with this…human.”

Baas continued to stare at the human, anger evident on his scaled face.

The captain unclenched her fists, unaware of when she began to tense during the examination. Her expression softened, stepping closer towards the Dragonborn.

“I get it, Baas. I don’t want what I saw to be true either, but we don’t kill innocents. She didn’t attack me or any of the Church’s soldiers. If she scanned as anything demon related or was a much higher level, I might agree with you and end this here and now, but she’s a level 1 creature who doesn’t even know how to use its mana properly.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not executioners.”

He glanced towards the captain, closing his fist, and nodding in affirmation.

Ambrosia knelt next to the human, scooped her into both arms and looked at each of her team members. “Cut the live ones down. I’ll take this one to the staging point and load her into a wagon. When I get there, I’ll send some of the rear-guard to come and load the rest. Eres, with me.” She turned and began walking towards the tree line, the unconscious human dangling in her arms as she moved.