The bird flaps its mighty wings and we ascend into the air. It’s both thrilling and terrifying being on the back of this thing – kind of like being on a hang glider, without any steering.

“Hold on tight,” the bird says.

We crash through the tree canopy and into the clear night sky. The five moons hang above me and for a moment I just appreciate the beauty of it all. Even the elder wood is inspiring from above. The leaves are like a dark, green sea rolling beneath my feet. In the distance there is a hole in the sea though, a place where the trees seem to end.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“The center of the wood. Where you need to go.”

“So let’s go there!”

“Not now. Not if you want your friends to live.”

Fair point.

“Hold on,” the bird says again, like I’ve been doing anything but. We crash through the canopy once more and I’m back in the murky forest. A tree swipes me across my face, stinging my cheek and bringing me fully back to the present.

“Look,” says the vulture, which is a very vague order to have to follow, but I scan around as best I can and manage to identify the problem: there are husks everywhere and my friends are in the thick of it. The cleric swings with his staff and the elf wields sword and shield. Even Dauntless is in the mix, giving a wicked kick that sends a husk spiraling back. They are holding their own for the moment but I can see into the distance and the waves coming forward.

They will break. They’ll have to break.

I leap, before I even know what I’m doing I’ve left my feather bed and am falling through the air. I unsheathe my sword and thrust it right through a husk’s head as I land. It also cushions my fall and I hear the crack of its body and bones as I crunch on its back.

“Help, Sire” Dauntless calls as he kicks another husk in the chest. “There’s too many of them.”

I charge toward him. “Don’t worry Dauntless. I’m coming.” I pounce on a husk’s back and drive my sword into its soft flesh like a stake through a vampire. I let out a scream of triumph and the other tusks turn away from the horse.

My ears tingle with the Dryad’s voice. “You can’t save your friends. You can’t even save yourself.”

We’ll see about that.

I swing my sword around my head and bring it down in a wicked slash into the foremost husk. It tumbles down and the others turn on me but not before I cut through them to reach Dauntless. My horse neighs with joy upon my arrival and for a moment my happiness blocks out the dangers around me and I could be on a Montana ranch for all it matters. But the husks are encircling us now and, just as before, I fear becoming overwhelmed. In the distance I see my companions threatened with a similar state.

Dauntless was right. There are just too many.

Then I have a crazy idea. It probably won’t work but I’m pretty sure it‘s better than dying so I try it anyway. In one motion I leap onto my horses back, straddling the stallion like I’m some sort of wild west cowboy. I give him a kick in the side and yell “onward you sexy beast” which is extremely weird and mostly nonsensical but I guess when I’m desperate strange things come out.

Dauntless charges into the husk line. I swing my blade from side to side like I’m an Arthurian knight and the husks topple around me. It’s exhilarating. We blaze a path to the cleric and elf but fall just short because Dauntless trips over a root which is the whole reason I doubted this decision to begin with. The horse goes down and I follow suit, Dauntless’s body slamming against my legs. I yell in pain.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Sorry, sire”

Dauntless stands again and I manage to raise to my knees before another husk is upon us. I cut out its legs and am face to face with the creature. It’s hands stretch across my throat and I stab it through the chest. My weapon is now covered in green guck and I feel like it’s just a weapon of slime at this point. Still it’s all I’ve got.

I waive my sword wildly before me trying to fend off husks. I just need enough space to stand-up, to just get my feet again. They won’t give it to me though and I feel like I’m about to be swallowed when a small potion bottle lands and breaks at my feet. There is a white flash and for a moment I’m blind, like a star just exploded in my face.

I figure I’m doomed for sure now, but I feel a hand on my shoulder pulling me forward. When my sight clears I see the husks attacking each other in their blindness and Cyrus grinning at me and Dauntless. “Welcome back, Ethan.”

“Am I the only one still fighting?” cries the elf as he swings shield and sword like a mad man: block – thrust – block – slice – thrust – block.

The cleric tosses me another bottle. “Use this.”

There's only a little left but I spill the remainder across my blade. The goo turns blue and freezes.

An ice sword? I’ll take it!

“Behind you,” the cleric yells. The four of us are encircled now. The husks have established their ring and are closing.

“For Astria!” I shout and meet the charge head-on. The first husk swings its club as I swing my sword and we clash mid-air with metal cutting though it and into the husk itself. It’s only a glancing blow but I see the ice: like little rivers it spreads from the cut and across the husks, slowing then freezing the creature in place.

Cool. Literally.

Two husks attack at once and I block their weapons along the length of my sword. Then I give one a kick and as it falls over it collides with the other. Both of them flop onto the ground. Another trips over them and I stab each quickly before they can raise.

A husk looms behind me and I spin to confront it, but Dauntless’s hoof smashes into its head knocking our enemy off balance. I follow through with a strike gouging husk deep in the belly. The icy rivers are much faster and wider now and when I yank my sword free the husk actually shatters, crystals spurting in all directions.

Dauntless is a beast, rearing and kicking at the husks. They stab at him but he jumps and kicks so ferociously they can’t get a clean strike. Plus, I am a force of nature now bringing the frost with me everywhere I go. I even join forces with the cleric, who‘s staff spins even faster than my blade. He appears to have coated that stick in a different potion because it clangs like metal just as a sword would. It may even be harder as when he makes contact it looks like the husk has been hit by a hammer, sometimes lifting it clean off the ground.

“This remind of your military days?” I ask the cleric as we battle.

“No,” replies the cleric, “This is much more fun!”

I spare a glance at the man and he is grinning ear to ear, like a caged animal who’s finally been set free.

“It’d be a lot more fun if one of you could help me,” the elf says.

The elf is pinched from both sides stressing even his dexterous movements. I cut in his direction, luring several husks away and the four of us seem to find our balance. We form a perfect triangle now, with dauntless in the center serving as a roving wildcard aiding whoever is being pushed too hard or nearly overwhelmed.

We hold our shape against the swarm. Beating, stabbing, cutting, and pounding the enemies around us. Part of me fears it will never stop, that the dryad can summon a husk for every tree in this twisted wood. But ours is not the only battle in the wood as the bulk of the dryad’s forces are still committed against the elven army.

And it has to take time to spawn these things, right?

So their numbers do begin to dwindle, the waves become less intense, and eventually we are the aggressors, attacking husks before they can reach us. Even the vulture returns. Soaring down from the trees and clawing with her talons, it serves as another distraction to make our jobs easier. At last the final husk is cut down and we stand triumphant, if exhausted

Then the voice returns. Though it’s a bit different this time. Instead of the usual mockery and taunting it’s actually thought full this time.

“Perhaps I underestimated you, Ethan. You may have a purpose here after all. We shall see.”

Somehow I don’t find that very comforting….