Chapter 47: Ghostbusters

Bereft of their supernatural compulsion, the Wispen weren’t particularly threatening. Sure, they could levitate, which let them bypass the earthen stakes around our encampment, but their maximum speed capped out at a brisk jog, and their movements were well telegraphed, in the manner of amateurs who knew nothing about how to fight. Mostly, they lunged at me, attempting to use momentum and sheer weight of numbers to drag me down. I cut down the first few to approach, my knife sliding smoothly through the enemy, but seemingly following the laws of physics where their injuries were concerned. A knife through the neck was fatal, while stabbing them in the abdomen did little, and removing limbs, well, removed the limb, but left the rest mostly functional.

They were easily manageable in a one-on-one; all I had to do was sidestep or backpedal as they went for the lunge, then cut them up while they were vulnerable, but as more and more of them breached our perimeter, the situation became strained. I’d abandoned the perimeter by then, heading back to the carriages, where bleary eyed men were rousing themselves to join the fight. Even the drivers were out and about, this time, in contrast to the daytime ambush, though they weren’t directly contributing to the fight; rather, they huddled next to our stabled horses, and did their best to prevent the skittish animals from panicking and fleeing into the night. That’s where I found myself, defending our primary means of transport, because I would rather die a second time than walk all the way to our destination.

Of course, having my back against a metaphorical wall meant I couldn’t retreat any further, as neither the horses nor the drivers huddled behind me could protect themselves, so I had to get creative. Taking a pair of hands off the latest Wispen to try their luck, I watched as a dozen of them regrouped ahead of me. Most of them were missing at least one limb, which was perhaps the impetus for them abandoning their individual attempts, and grouping together for a massed attack. Such a move might well have spelled my doom, if all I had to fend them off with was a knife and a handful of victuals, but fortunately, I already had an excellent tool for crowd control, ready for just such an occasion.

[Water withdrawn.]

Dumping the entirety of my water supply in front of me, nearly three gallon’s worth at once, was enough to push most of the floating menaces back, disrupting their charge as they hit a wall of water. Ducking to the side, I let one of them overshoot me, only for my hand to snap up and take his head, still mid-flight. Three of them died soon after, as Harvey reached my position and cut through them with a single overhead swing of his sword, whilst the remainder scattered, their brief moment of cohesion lost alongside their formation, as base instinct reasserted itself. Just for a moment, I dared to hope that the tide had turned, and that we’d be getting out of this unfortunate encounter entirely unscathed. Predictably, that’s when it all went a bit wrong.

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“Get away from me!”

Turns out, the stoicism of the Archers was not, in fact, shared by our drivers. The latter, waking up to find a horde of spectres gunning for their heads, had kept their heads up until now, but as the enemy drew ever closer to their position despite our best efforts, something had to give. Eventually, one of them reacted in the manner that confirmed their status as untrained non-combatants, as Harvey had put it earlier. Bluntly, they panicked.

“Burn!”

One of the drivers had a side gig in elemental magic. I couldn’t help but feel this was something I should have been aware of, as a ball of fire flew overhead, slamming into one of the Wispen and destroying it entirely. A good thing, right? Wrong. I didn’t know the exact reason for this particular reaction, but upon bursting into flames and before dissipating entirely, the dying Wispen made the most hideous noise, accompanied by a wave of supernatural revulsion that made my hackles rise. I stayed where I was, because I was no slave to my emotions, and to their credit, most of the men did too. The horses, on the other hand, shot off like massive living rockets in every direction.

“Oh, forget it,” I barely heard Harvey grumble, before a second wave of emotion slammed into me.

Unlike that of the Wispen, which inspired only terror, this new sensation electrified my every sense. Suddenly, I was no longer staring down eight angry ghosts, flying towards me. Now, they were barely moving, less than an inch every second, as though they were caught in slow motion, or rather, my reactions were being vastly accelerated. It barely took any effort, in that state, to weave between their positions, bringing my knife’s smooth edge down for one cut after another, each parting a ghostly head from its shoulders. Eight Wispen died just like there, where I’d previously had to tread carefully with any more than one at a time, their bodies fading into nothing as whatever magic animated them faded in death. It was a glorious moment, and then, time returned to normal.

Hunger, the kind I’d never ever felt, not even after running a half-marathon for charity, decades ago.

[6x Apple withdrawn.]

It consumed every waking moment of thought, and I could do nothing but grab the most sugary foods I had on hand, working my way through them in huge bites that would ordinarily make me fear for my stomach, but which in this instance was merely the fastest way to fill a gaping void in my soul.

[8x Plum withdrawn.]

The plums were next, as I skipped the oranges, unwilling to take the time to deal with peeling, and downed all eight of them in short order.

[1/2 Loaf of Bread withdrawn.]

Together, the fruit just about took the edge off, such that I was able to eat at an almost reasonable pace, once I started on the bread. I still ate the entire half loaf, before my body finally signalled its satisfaction, and I had the opportunity to look at the wider battlefield.

[You have gained 50 XP for surviving the effects of Last Stand.

Level up!]