Chapter 80

Orion

Day 68 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill: 56

They are planning

on using a group of 10 on

rowboat to flank from

the west shores!

This was bad. I folded the message. James, our spy in the enemy ranks, had sent the message and I tied it back onto JD’s leg to relay it back to Bianca. At times like this, I wished for more than one messenger bird. Thornhill needed a warning: raiders were coming by boat from the west, planning to torch the village and flank the defenders on the wall.

My jackdaw familiar, JD, fluffed his feathers and drooped his wings slightly, a clear sign of exhaustion. I pulled out a strip of jerky and a potion vial, pouring half the liquid down his throat. The poor bird was overworked, but he had one more crucial task. Without him, I’d lose my eyes in the sky and my ability to properly survey the land.

“Sorry, JD.” I patted his head, and he responded with an affectionate peck on my hand. “One last job, and then I’ll give you a long rest.”

With a flutter of wings, JD sped southward toward Thornhill with James’ warning.

Pain throbbed in my leg and shoulders, a reminder of the beating I’d taken in the last week. The stitches and elixirs Ethan patched me up with dulled it enough to keep moving, but every shift of weight still drew a wince. Perched on the highest branch of a towering elm, I steadied myself against the trunk, the looted spyglass in my hand.

I swept the glass across the field in the distance. The enemy forces were in position, marching clustered by the river. Their movements seemed purposeful, unaware of the danger creeping behind them. Cass and I had spent hours circling, using the forest’s shadows to mask our approach. JD’s vision was invaluable for the task. Now, hidden and patient, we waited for the right moment to spring the trap.

It wouldn’t be long now.

The night before, I had tested the limits of Cass’s legendary Void Field ability, curious about what it could block. My Cyclopean Beam, Acid Spit, and Flight of the Harpy were blacked out. Deadly Shot and Strike of Iron appeared to bypass it, though I suspected the Void Field might dull their impact. Firewielder worked without issue, powered as it was by thermodynamics rather than magic.

Cass was beneath me on Rudolph, bringing him to a canter around the base of the tree where I was scouting. A smile spread across his face as he flipped through his cards, searching for his new Riding skill.

He still thought of this as a game.

“Rye!” Cass called from below, his sling at the ready. “People are coming.”

The distant sound of hooves grew louder—two dozen riders from the north. “Easy with the sling,” I said, lowering my eyeglass. “They’re Sophie’s riders.”

The approaching company was a ragtag sight: bronze and leather armor splashed with white paint, riding mismatched horses and mules. Compared to the Red Scythe’s polished uniforms and insignias, it was disorderly.

The captain rode forward—a scarred tabby-faced mercenary I recognized from Kronfeldt’s mercenary guild courtyard. His gravelly voice carried as he hailed me. “You must be the Chattel liaison. The White Fox sends her regards. I’m Bronzeclaw, captain of the White Fang Legion. We’re under your command.”

I didn’t like to be called Chattel, so I flinched upon hearing it.

“Call me Orion.”

“Your orders? Lord Orion?”

“Follow me. When I give the signal, rush the enemy’s backline. Spread out to cover as much ground as you can and do not let any of the Red Scythe escape. Your primary goal is to take out the archers.” I announced to the soldiers, a mix of wide-eye recruits, some greedy opportunists lured by Sophie’s contract and graybeards.

Bronzeclaw hesitated before speaking. “We’re only twenty men, sir. We can’t handle the Red Scythe’s magic or an entire army.”

“My village will deal with the bulk of the raiders. I’ll handle the mages. Forty or so archers against twenty cavalry shouldn’t be beyond your company. I understand you are fresh recruits, but…” I nearly scoffed.

Bronzeclaw stiffened at the jab and gripped his sword. “If it’s as simple as you say, we’ll manage.”

“One more thing,” I added. “Don’t kill the Chattel among them unless you must defend yourselves. The uncollared ones will surrender.”

Bronzeclaw nodded, though his tail flicked with unease. “Understood. Lead the way.”

After Cass whispered in my ear, I let out a sigh. “My younger brother here asks your pardon and wishes to touch your hair.”

“Touch my hair?” Bronzeclaw guffawed, his men chuckling along with him.

“Please, humor him,” I said. “I don’t want to hear about it for the next hour.”

The cat mercenary’s ears twitched, and his face flushed slightly as I rode closer. Cass, grinning, reached out and gave the Bronzeclaw’s cheek a tentative pat before stroking the fur on his head.

“It’s like a real cat, Rye! But bigger!” Cass exclaimed, gently running his fingers over Bronzeclaw’s unvisored face.

“Thank you, Captain,” I said, holding back a smirk. “He’s never seen a Beastkin like you before.”

Bronzeclaw’s whiskers twitched in what might have been amusement—or embarrassment. “Well, anything for a young soldier.” He saluted with a flat palm across his chest and gave a quick bow.

“Let’s ride.” I nudged Rudolph, my elk, forward, leading the group into the forest. We would stalk the Red Scythe from cover, following the river south toward Thornhill’s road.

An hour into the ride, my heart seized at the sight of smoke curling on the horizon. I spurred Rudolph faster, and my stomach clenched as I caught sight of our watermill ablaze in the distance.

Grinding my teeth, I turned to Cass. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” His reply came curtly, firm with resolve.

I’m sorry, Mom. There’s really no other way.

I ordered the Whitefangs to hold their position, concealed among the trees. They needed to remain hidden until the Red Scythe had no room to escape. Let them march right into our trap.

From the outskirts of Thornhill near the wheat fields, I watched their mages work. Wisps of blue energy coalesced into a massive, glowing meteor. It streaked through the sky, slamming into our drawbridge. The destruction sent wood and iron splinters flying, and my jaw tightened as helpless rage burned through me.

“Turn it on,” I said to Cass.

He had his Legendary Skill card, Void Field, ready. With a nod, he tapped it. Blue light flared before he pressed it to his palm, activating the barrier. I wheeled Rudolph back to the Whitefangs and shouted, “Charge!”

Rudolph lunged forward, his powerful hooves tearing through the underbrush. While horses generally outpaced elk over long distances, Rudolph was an exception. With Astrid’s Animal Keeper skills and my Riding mastery, he had grown into a fierce, untiring mount. The other riders struggled to keep up as he surged ahead, a blend of brute strength and uncanny agility.

The enemy wasn’t prepared for an ambush from their flank. As the White Fang Legion surged forward to my left, my eyes remained on the Red Scythe mages.

Cass’ Void Field had unintended consequences. James was exposed now, his glamor dispelled, standing among a growing group of freed humans that formed an angry mob at their masters.

A lone human rider bolted eastward into the hilly forests. Meanwhile, to the west, two Eldrins mounted Hadrelian’s sleek steed and splashed across the river. I couldn’t let either escape, but I had to make a choice on which one to go after first. One rider—likely Super Nine—would struggle to find Thornhill on a map if he escaped. The Eldrins, however, knew this land well and would gallop straight back to the Empire and return with reinforcements. A lot of reinforcements.

I made my choice.

Pointing at the fleeing Chattel rider, I yelled at Bronzeclaw who trailed beside me on a chestnut horse, “Send two riders to capture that one!”

Then I turned to James, who had the freed humans kneeling towards me as I approached to cross the river ford and chase after the two Eldrin on horseback.

I cursed under my breath. “Damn it, Jim.”

The river ford splashed violently as Rudolph waded through, his powerful strides cutting through the water. I yanked a slab of pemmican from my pack, stuffing it into my mouth mid-ride, letting its buffs spread through me. My mind’s eye flickered to JD, who delivered his message to Bianca and then returned, awaiting new orders. “Follow the rider heading east,” I sent the familiar telepathically. He would keep an eye on the escaped Chattel rider while I dealt with the Eldrins.

Despite the speed with which they fled, the two Eldrins on a single mount had a predictable fate. West of Thornhill, the dense forest of towering evergreens and maple trees gave way to jagged mountain ranges. Their horse wouldn’t be able to climb the rocky slopes. Sure enough, they stopped at the base of a sheer granite cliff, its surface shimmering under the midday sun. The Eldrins dismounted, exchanging terse words in their own tongue.

I pulled two throwing knives from my belt, dipping its blade into one of Anika’s poisons. Hadrelian, the larger of the two, drew a long sword and pointed it at me in challenge while Drudus led their horse north, clearly searching for a way through the cliffside. It was a transparent tactic—Hadrelian was stalling to buy Drudus time.

I ignored it. Drudus was the priority.

“Cass! Turn it off now!” I yelled.

Cass deactivated his ability, and the glow of the Void Field vanished. Magic flared back to life in the area, but I was already in motion. Rudolph lunged forward, catching up to Drudus’ retreating mount. I activated Flight of the Harpy, leaping from Rudolph’s back and soaring above the fleeing Eldrin’s mount. Cass pulled back, holding Rudolph steady.

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From above, I launched Acid Spit. The green, caustic glob hit Drudus square in the back, sizzling through his weaker, hastily-repaired armor. He screamed as the acid ate into his flesh. I descended, driving a boot into his shoulder and knocking him off the horse.

The terrified animal reared and bolted but settled under my guidance, an easygoing and clever animal, regardless of rider.

"My horse now,” I muttered, as I steadied myself on horseback.

“Turn it on!” I yelled again as Drudus hit the forest floor. He instinctively reached into his palm, searching for the power he had just lost. Cass, halting Rudolph, flared his card, activating Void Field once more and suppressing the Eldrin’s magic entirely.

Drudus fumbled with his card, but the moment it left his palms, the Void turned it black. Its power was severed. Before he could react, I hurled my poison-coated knife straight into the hand clutching his useless magic. The blade struck true, piercing through leather, and lodging deep in his palms.

Desperation flickered in his eyes. With his free fist, he attempted some kind of last-ditch attack, holding his bared knuckles toward me as if invoking a spell. Nothing happened. His confusion morphed into rage as he inspected his hand, now trembling. He cursed in his native tongue. amid his rant, one word caught my attention: Super.

Cass approached on Rudolph, calm yet alert. The elk's heavy breaths mingled with the mage’s ragged gasps as the acid and poison, black veins coursing up his arm, finished their work. Drudus, though dying, muttered fervent praise to some unknown deity, his faith carrying him through his final moments.

It felt almost too easy with Cass here. Once Cass himself becomes as strong as me or even stronger… not a single mage could stop him.

One down, two more to go.

Cass fumbled with the reins on Rudolph. I whistled for my mount to come closer.

“What now?” he asked.

“Stay back. Keep yourself and Rudolph safe. If Hadrelian calls for this horse... fire a sling at it. Make sure he doesn't get on it,” I said, dismounting the white stallion I’d taken from Drudus. It'd be a shame to let it die. My boots crunched over the mossy ground. “I’m going to fight Hadrelian. You remember the plan, right?”

Cass nodded solemnly. “Good luck!”

“If I die, ride Rudolph back to James. Have him send the Red Scythe after Hadrelian. He'll know what to do.” I gave him a hard look. “Focus on staying safe. Don’t worry about me.”

“I won’t let you die, Rye,” Cass replied.

The forest cleared ahead, revealing Hadrelian standing amidst blooming trees. Their pink petals swirled in the faint breeze, painting the ground in hues of rose and moss. He stood before the clearing, his eyes glimpsing his brother’s corpse near where I stood. Tears welled up in his face before it was replaced by anger. Hadrelian’s long red hair shimmered with fiery orange at the roots, tied back in a ponytail. His inhuman eyes—bright orange, almost glowing—fixed on me, then flicked toward Cass, who was partially hidden behind trees at the other end of the clearing.

Hadrelian’s lip curled into a predatory sneer, revealing elongated canines. From a jeweled scabbard, he drew a long, curved sword. Golden spirals on the black leather pommel reflected the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. The weapon resembled an odachi.

"So, it’s true," Hadrelian growled. "You are the Erandor."

He pulled a card, likely testing his power, but it too had gone black. With a sneer, he tossed it aside. Switching to Lokan, his voice turned cold. “No matter. My strength was never built on magic alone, Erandor. I shall kill you in the old ways.”

His gaze darted to Cass, who peeked out from behind a tree. A cruel grin spread across his face. “The resemblance is uncanny. Too old to be your son... your younger brother, then. I’ll shall repay what you have done to me, a thousandfold. First, I’ll kill him, then you. Afterward, I’ll march to your precious village, let the Beastkin do whatever they wish, and—”

I cut him off. With a quick motion, I pitched a Deadly Shot-charged knife toward the gap in his visor. Hadrelian’s reflexes were unnaturally sharp; the blade never reached its mark, deflected mid-air with a quick flick of his sword.

“Off!” I yelled, signaling Cass. He reacted instantly, deactivating Void Field and restoring the magic in the area. A crackling surge built within me as I summoned a Cyclopean Beam, a high-intensity blast of energy aimed directly at Hadrelian.

The beam struck his spaulder with a forceful impact, forcing him back a step. I adjusted my aim toward his neck, but the energy was drawn down, sucked into the red chest plate he wore. To my horror, the glow from the blast healed the armor, closing even minor scratches.

Crap, that’s not fair.

“ON!”

Hadrelian charged, his curved sword drawn low, the blade glinting with cruel intent. He raised it in a sweeping arc aimed at my side. With Parry activated, I drew my left dagger just in time, deflecting his strike. The clang of metal-on-metal rang in my ears as his momentum carried his sword wide, leaving him vulnerable.

I seized the opening, driving my left dagger forward toward his torso. But Hadrelian wasn’t so easily undone. Twisting, he swung his blade like a batter at the plate, meeting the tip of my dagger with the flat of his sword. The impact sent my arm flying back, leaving me exposed.

My heart sank as I glimpsed the card glowing faintly in his hand—it was a Parry, the same card I used.

That's not fair!

But I had no stun effect applied to me; the ring I had stolen from the scout nullified that effect. Hadrelian, unfazed, launched into a series of vicious slashes which pushed me back into the edge of the clearing near the blossoming trees he came from. His sword moved like it had a will of its own, a blinding whirlwind of iron forcing me to run. Pink petals were blown around him as his sword painted the air. His technique was masterful, leagues beyond mine—years of relentless practice and countless battles honed him into a swordsman I could never beat in a fair fight. I needed to cheat.

“OFF!”

With a burst of magic, I activated Flight of the Harpy, soaring above his reach as his blade sliced harmlessly through the empty air. I reached into my satchel and pulled out two Molotovs. With a flick of my thumb, I ignited them and hurled them down. The clay shattered, flames erupting in a furious blaze that engulfed him.

“Let’s see you parry that,” I growled, activating Firewielder to enhance the inferno.

Hadrelian panicked, pulling a card that shimmered in geometric wards around him. The flames quelled in a circle around him. Before I could regroup, he drew another card, this one etched with the unmistakable mark of a fireball.

“ON!”

With the last of my Flight of the Harpy still active, I positioned myself directly above Hadrelian, climbing as high as I could before the Void Field dissolved my wings into blue wisps. Acting on instinct, I hurled a Molotov down at him, the clay container shattering on impact and igniting in a burst of fire. Without hesitation, I dove after it, my dagger aimed directly at his chest as I plummeted.

Midair, I activated Strike of Iron and dove through the disappearing wards right towards Hadrelian’s center. Hadrelian, still trying to summon cards to deal with the fires closing in on him, was caught unaware as my enhanced dagger thrust met his chest. The impact was explosive, like a hammer striking an anvil. Sparks erupted from his chest plate as my dagger drove into it, smacking him to the ground. Before he could react, I drew a poisoned blade and plunged it into the exposed flesh of his neck, a shallow cut.

The man rasped through gritted teeth, his voice cracking with pain. His burned skin, raw and blackened, stretched across his neck and chest. Blood bubbled from his mouth as his ribs or lungs caved under my blow—it didn’t matter which. Black veins coursed through his neck, spreading towards his face. He glared at me defiantly before speaking.

“The Emperor will come for you, Erandor,” he gurgled. “Do not doubt it. A thousand ships will blacken your shores. Your village will be consumed by the Divine Path. Your women and children will be bound in chains, and your men will die like cattle, slaughtered as they dare to stand against the inevitable.”

I reached into my bag and tossed him a potion. A sleeping agent—poison, brewed to specification by Anika. Resting in my other hand was a real potion I would force down his mouth after he was knocked out. I had questions. He wouldn’t die. Not yet.

The man’s lips twisted into a weak grin as he eyed the potion, a rasping laugh escaping him. “You think I’ll submit to your questioning? I’ve seen the state of your victims’ bodies. I’m not so foolish. My brothers will come. My peers, too. Do you really believe the deaths of Eldrins and hundreds of men in one village will go unnoticed? They’ll know soon enough. You can’t hide forever, Erandor.”

I crouched beside him, gripping the sleeping potion, ready to pour the potion down his throat. But before I could, he jerked upright, fueled by some last reserve of strength. Words spilled from his mouth in a language I didn’t know. Then he pulled one of my daggers from his chest and dragged it across his throat.

When Cass arrived later, he stood by the body, examining the race of his future mortal enemies. “What did he say, Rye?”

“Nothing important,” I lied.

There was no time to deal with the bodies. Cass pried Hadrelian’s sword from his grip, its polished surface untouched by the flames. I took his white stallion—an obedient beast that accepted me without protest—and together, with Cass riding Rudolph, we galloped back to Thornhill. The Red Scythe’s flanking attack couldn’t wait.

Smoke rose over Thornhill when we arrived. Flames licked at the rooftops of the beachside buildings. Villagers formed chains to ferry buckets of water, while golems hauled dirt to smother the fire. I joined them, calling on my Firewielder skill to control the blaze. For an hour, we fought the fires that the now-dead Red Scythe’s flankers left in their wake. Only when the flames were out did I turn my attention to one final loose end.

Closing my eyes, I connected my mind with JD’s vision. The last I saw, I’d sent him after Super, who had fled eastward on horseback.

In my mind’s eye, I found my familiar perched in a tree, his sharp eyes fixed on a clearing below. Three riders moved along the trail. At their head, a man on a white stallion paused. His hood hid most of his face, but his pale tattooed skin and the technicolor dreads spilling out were unmistakable.

The two mercenaries from the White Fang Legion—a boar and a badger—wore shabby uniforms as they argued in halting Lokan. They were trying to convince Super Nine to return to Thornhill for questioning, explaining that all Chattel were being rounded up.

Super just grinned, raising his fists to display a ring with a skull insignia. Moments later, two shadowy figures materialized beside him. They resembled hobgoblins, their glowing red eyes cutting through the gloom, shadowy machetes glinting in their hands. Before the mercenaries could react, the creatures hacked apart their horses in a frenzy. The men followed, screaming in horror as they desperately tried to defend themselves.

Super’s throwing knife flew with a flick of his wrist, striking one of the recruits, who was quickly finished off by the two shadows. He turned to the other, dragging it out, savoring the kill, and taking his time as the man pleaded for his life.

Laughter bubbled up as the bloodstained Super clapped his hands in mock applause. With a smirk, he looted their supplies—food, waterskins, and whatever else the dead wouldn’t need—before his gaze shifted upward. His eyes locked onto JD, perched in the branches above.

“Ayo, it’s the Stalker’s bird!” Super jeered, pointing.

Get out of there, JD!

Before my familiar could take flight, Super blurred into motion, blinking between shadows on the forest floor. Silver cutlery seemed to leap from his hands as he launched them one after another, as if competing in a carnival game.

JD darted away, but not fast enough. Blades grazed his breast and slashed his legs. His frantic wings beat against the air, carrying him out of range, though blood trailed in its wake.

“Here, birdie birdie! Where you going, fool? Fly back to that bitchass Stalker and ask what’s up!” Super called, his laughter echoing through the trees.

Pain. So much pain.

Come to me, JD. I’ll help you. Come to me!

Hurt. Everything hurt.

To me!

When I finally found JD, night had fallen over the eastern forest. My familiar bond led me to find my familiar slumped in the hollow of a tree, bloody and barely clinging to life. It couldn’t fly, couldn’t move. My heart sank as I crouched beside him, pouring the last of my potion through its beak.

I pushed you way too hard.

I faced a grim decision. I could take it back to Ethan and hope he could mend JD's wings and legs—or I could press on after Super. Chasing him in the dead of night, exhausted and without JD to guide me, felt like stumbling in the dark.

I sighed, shoulders heavy with frustration and fatigue. I couldn’t lose JD and I wasn't going to find Super without him. I returned to the village.

The following days were slow and bitter. Ethan worked tirelessly to mend JD’s wings, but recovery would take time, several weeks. Without my familiar, scouting the dense forests for Super became a tedious effort. He had vanished into the wilderness, leaving no trail to follow.

The next day, I joined the Whitefang mercenaries in a search for the thief. It took us two days to sweep the eastern hills, where we found the bodies of the two recruits. They were stripped of their belongings, their corpses picked clean by jackdaws and maggots.

The thief’s trail had gone cold. Super could be anywhere by now.