The void demon seemed part fire and smoke, part leather and bone. Its posture jutted awkwardly like a lame faun; it stumbled and limped. Despite all that, the power it held sent a chill down my spine. Its claws tore through the marble floor like paper. An errant swipe toppled a pilar.

Caleb didn’t flinch. So neither did we. Each swing of his sword was an arc of brilliant light that filled me with courage.

But it wasn’t sustainable. Each time we put a man in front of a hole in the ice wall, another hole appeared. The cemeteries of Swordfall had plenty of monsters to give. As good as we were, it just wasn’t sustainable. I had already cast most of my spells. I held onto less than four spell slots.

I put my back to Mark and worked to keep him from being swarmed. He mostly stuck to his at-will spells sending bolts of fire this way and that.

“Does she ever run out of spell slots?” I asked him.

Mark sent a wave of fire into the ranks of the mob in front of us.

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no?’” I asked with incredulity.

“I mean, she has some kind of ability to draw spell slots from the minions she makes. She doesn’t run out.”

“We’re fucked!” I said.

“Yeah, no shit!” he replied. “You got to convince him to run.”

I looked to Caleb. He cut the demon in half. I ran to him.

“We have to fall back!” I said.

“Never,” he replied. “We will never yield.”

“I’m running out of spells! And there is no end to them!” I lopped the head from a skeleton, then continued, “she’s just going to make more!”

Caleb roared in frustration, and sent a beam of light from his sword that burned a line of undead, some twenty or thirty of them, to cinders. More filed into their place, walking through the ashes of their peers like drifting snow.

“How many more of those do you have?” I asked.

“Like that? Two.”

“That’s not enough!”

The roof of the ballroom cumbled as massive claws the size of longswords peeled through the brick and concrete. The black scaled face of a dragon, purple fire pouring from its eye sockets, its jaws large enough to crush a sedan, poked through the wreckage.

“That’s a dragon!” I yelled at Caleb.

He just nodded.

“Fall back!” he yelled. “To the exit!”

We’d done a good job keeping the enemy in front of us, so the retreat was immediate. We ran pell mell for the exit.

Dashing through the hall, I found that it was just me and the Kill Crew. The side halls wound this way and that, and so we lost each other. More skeletons appeared. We cut them down, and soon we were out on the street.

The city was in chaos. Everywhere buildings burned. Guards rushed this way and that without any seeming order. At the end of the street a mob fought more undead.

I glanced at the brand new Opera House. The body of the dragon curled around the domed roof, its face buried in the rubble like a dog eating at a birthday cake. It belched purple fire inside. The windows and stained glass glowed. Then they exploded.

I ducked my head as glass rained down. When I finally looked up, I saw that Caleb and his people had found us. Most of them. One of the knights hadn’t made it out. That brought Caleb’s crew to five, including his son.

“Those men need us!” he said, pointing to the mob.

We ran to them. Without much effort, we put down the skeletons, then led the mob back several blocks, away from the Opera House, and away from Sofia and her dragon. Caleb set them to build a barricade, while the rest of us caught our breath.

“Who are you guys?” I asked a woman in a flour stained apron, wielding a finely made axe.

“Ah, well, a couple weeks back we started calling ourselves the Dead Company,” she let out a small chuckle then continued. “It was supposed to be ironic. We’d scooped up some of the weapons left over after that big fight youse lot had with the skeletons.”

“That was smart,” I said.

“Yeah, well,” she waved at the destruction around us. A gout of fire shot into the air to punctuate her point. “Fat lot of good that did us.”

“We need to stop them at the source,” Bernadette said. She had a sheen of sweat on her brow, but otherwise looked unharmed. Two more belts of daggers crossed her chest. Behind her I could see Braelyn handing out more gear from the bag. Cal got a re-up on arrows.

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“We track the witch down and kill her. All these skeletons are hers, yeah?”

“It won’t stop them instantly,” Mark said. “But they would lack direction, and would disanimate for sure a hour or so later.”

“Then we have to go,” Bernie said.

“Not necessarily,” Mark said. “Caleb is needed here. And if we split the party, one or both could fall.”

Bernadette marched to Caleb.

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“We have to go to the catacombs, and stop this at the source.”

“You’re out of your mind,” he said, gesturing around. “You see this? By the time we get to her, everything I’d built will be destroyed. All of these people’s homes. Everything they have. We could get lost in the catacombs for hours.”

Bernadette waved her slate in his face.

“We know where she is! We can end this all at once!”

“While a dragon lays waste to my city? You are mad.”

Bernadette cursed. She whirled on me.

“I’m going,” she said.

“Wait, what?”

“If I go alone, I can get to her faster. Caleb and Rachel need your heals.”

“I don’t have many left,” I said.

“Then use them wisely.”

She kissed me, passionately. I closed my eyes and kissed back. And before I could even register that she’d stopped, she was gone, disappeared into the shadows.

I cursed, and turned to Rachel.

“Where did she go?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Just down an alley.”

I cursed again. I thought about it for exactly one second. I had one second of indecision, as I thought about staying here with Caleb.

But, and I’m not proud of this thought, I didn’t want to bone Caleb. And two. If I let her die alone in the catacombs, that was on me. If Caleb died up here fighting a dragon, that was on him. I was brave enough, brave enough to fight when called for it. But I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t care about these people the way Caleb did.

What the hell was I going to do against a dragon, against Captain Wen?

The wise thing to do would be to run.

But I couldn’t. Again, Bernie had put me into a situation where I had to do something drastic to make sure she survived. But she was right. This was all over if we could stop the flood of undead at its source. It was the right play.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Then let me get you some arrows,” she said.

I sheathed my sword, strapped the quiver around my waist, and took my bow into my hands. The little carved geese at the top of the limbs were comically cute given the dire circumstances.

“Look,” she continued, “I got Caleb. Mark is here too. We’ll make sure whatever heroic bullshit he pulls, works out. Go get her. And hey, maybe you two can put a stop to all this.”

“Don’t die,” I said.

“Hey,” she smiled, “that’s the plan.”

She hugged me. I waved at Mark, who nodded. Caleb glanced back at me, then turned to talk strategy with the head of the Dead Company. Pelas waved goodbye.

I headed down the alley, toward the cemetery. I checked my slate for the heading, then put it in my belt pocket. Only Bernadette had the real time position of the Witch June, but we’d put a custom pin on the map where we thought her home base was.

Her moving during all this didn’t make sense. Sticking to the catacombs, where she could make more skeletons, and away from the eyes of those that sought her, was a smart play. She had no way of knowing Bernie could track her.

I ran.

The fighting in the streets revealed itself intermittently. Here, some guards fought skeletons, there civilians tussled with a walking corpse. I didn’t have the arrows to waste on them, but I hauled a piece of debris when I could. Even crushed the skull of a skeleton, once.

Several blocks from the cemetery, I met my first real resistance. Three skeletons with lamellar armor and hand axes, stumbled towards me. I nocked an arrow, and let one loose at the lead one’s leg, hoping to topple the whole lot.

I missed. Shit.

Another arrow, another at its leg.

The arrow shattered its fibula but it kept walking.

I cursed. I had to kill the damn thing now, and I wasn’t sure I had the aim for it.

My hands went to the feathers of the next arrow, and I nocked it instinctively, then let loose at its head. I was going to miss. It was headed straight for the empty space between its shoulder and neck. Then the arrow moved. It jumped up, and buried itself in the creature’s eye socket, exploding the back of its skull and sending debris and purple flame into the air.

Hell yeah! Little goose bow’s enchantment actually worked!

I started firing arrows one after the other, and managed to take them all down with the next six.

That was tiring, but not as tiring as the melee fighting three on one would have been.

I’d made it. I was now several blocks from the cemetery, the City of the Dead they called it. I drank some water and chewed on a piece of jerky. Getting past whatever monsters that waited there would take all my strength. And if I got hurt because I was tired, I’d be wasting a healing spell on myself, and not Bernie who I knew needed it.

Three guards approached.

“Hail,” one of them said. “You come from the fighting East? How fares it?”

“It’s bad,” I said. “King Caleb is rallying a militia, but they have great need of skilled fighters. A dragon is there, and so is a sorceress. How fares the West?”

“Bad. The undead are restless and many. But at least no dragon or sorceress,” he said. He looked terrified. And tired. But the mention of the king’s name put some steel in his spine, he stood taller, breathed easier.

A plan was starting to form. It was a dumb plan, but it was something.

“I’m fine,” I said. “But the king needs you. Here,” I handed him the shield. “This is a magic shield. It will help you get to where you need to go. This is a time where heroes are forged. You,” I looked to the other two, “you all will remember this day for as long as you live, and think fondly on the deeds done.”

The serious old-timey language felt strange coming from my mouth, but I knew these people needed to hear it.

“Surely,” he grumbled. He tested the weight of the shield, and nodded at its surprising lightness.

“What is your name sir?”

“I’m no sir. But I am called Brant.”

“Brazen Brant,” I said. “Today you need only walk East, join your king, and become a hero.”

He nodded sternly. Then his face brightened. He removed his helm and handed it to me.

“Here,” he said, “at least take my helm. It isn’t enchanted, but it is well made by my father. It’ll protect your head at least.”

I took the helm. It was a little sweaty, but it fit well. And I was grateful to worry less that I’d be killed by a single solid blow to the back of the head.

The piece of armor seemed well crafted. Made of bronze, with leather and wood, it was surprisingly light, and had a stylized lion on the cheek guard, and a nose guard that covered the top half of my nose. The eyeholes were large and sweeping, which gave me plenty of room for my peripheral vision. I liked it.

“I thank you,” I said. “You must keep your shield high.”

“I will,” Brant said. I shook his hand, and they left.

Hopefully I wasn’t being a dunce.

I pulled out my slate, and double checked the stats. Some of the features on the item I was about to use would be useless. Bloodfeast only worked on the living, and starshatter had a huge area of effect, so was useless in the tight corners of the catacombs. But the darkvision would likely prove to be clutch.

I slung my bow across my chest, unsheathed my sword, then transferred it to my left hand. I walked toward the gates.

“Forgive me for what I must do,” I said.

The Edge of Nothing shimmered into place above my right hand.

I grabbed it, and tested its feel. The sword left a faint purplish glow in its wake. It was a terrifyingly powerful weapon that sent a cold chill up my arm.

I felt like I could take on the world. Lucky for me, I only had to take on a thousand skeletons just to reach the catacombs. So, easy enough, yeah?