Chapter 9 — Retaliation

Soranth held in an unmanly squeak of shock when his hand—followed by the rest of his body—was tugged into a dark corridor. “What in the stars—”

A hand muffled the rest of his words and his eyes narrowed. He knew the slender long fingers pressed against his lips and gave in to instinct. Quicker than a fleeing frivan, the Prince licked the palm and grinned at the squeal of disgust from behind him. “Eurgh, gross!”

“Your fault.” He shrugged unrepentantly, not even bothering to hide his victorious tone as Valda smacked his shoulder. “What are we doing here?” He tried to peer out of the corridor but she reeled him in by the back of his belt.

“Don’t, stupid!” she hissed as he choked. “There. Look there!” He glared at her shadowed form but obediently peeked over her shoulder towards the courtyard.

To his surprise, it was the familiar red skin of his other best friend and the red hair of.... an upcoming female warrior, if he recalled correctly. “Who’s that?”

She smacked his chest this time. “No jokes about abuse,” she warned when he opened his mouth and closed it again. “But if you mess this up between my brother and he doesn’t end up giving me adorable nieces and nephews, you’re really going to learn the meaning of the word.”

He gulped and repeated in a more appropriately serious tone. “Who is that though?”

“It’s Alizar,” Valda whispered, peeking around the sharp corner. “They’ve been shooting each other looks for a while now.”

“Really?”

She shot him a scathing look. “I thought you were more observant than this.”

“I am!” he protested. “But I thought... I have no idea what I thought,” he confessed under her superior glare. She nodded smugly and turned back to them.

“Oh, I can’t wait till they get married!”

“They’re not even together!”

“Details,” she said, flapping a hand back at him. He caught it pointedly to catch her attention—it worked—and frowned at her.

“I don’t think we should be spying on them like this if they wanted it to be private.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with a sniff. “He’s my brother!”

“So?”

“I have a right!”

He rolled his eyes and peered at the couple again. They were standing rather close to each other; Alizar playing with a curl of her hair while Haraldr had his legs spread and arms crossed in a manner that Soranth knew was designed to enhance his ‘assets’. “They’re really into each other.”

“I know!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it wonderful? Not that I thought anyone would be dumb enough to fall for that lump of rock let alone the most sought-after trainee in the whole of Maraciel!” Then her expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe she’s blind.”

“Maybe she’s in love,” Soranth pointed out.

“That’s ridiculous.” Valda wrinkled her nose, looking disgusted.

“You love your pet.”

“That’s different.”

A sigh. “Look, why don’t you just go and ask if they’re together?”

She gave him a scandalised look. “Are you out of your mind?”

He didn’t say anything and simply strode out of the corridor, easily slipping out of her grasping hands. “Har!” he called. The couple visibly jumped apart, one startled and one flushing.

“I’ll come back,” Alizar reassured. Haraldr spoke too softly for Soranth to hear from the other side of the corridor but whatever he said made the chemycus blush and flee in the other direction.

“Was I interrupting something?” he asked with a sly grin.

“You think I didn’t hear you and my sister scheming over there?” Haraldr mock-glared before sinking his shoulders and gazing dreamily at where Alizar had left. “She’s gorgeous. And she likes me!”

The Prince nodded but before he could get a word in edgewise, Haraldr continued to moon. “Her hair. And her lips. I can’t even remember what I said to her anymore, it’s all a blur!”

Soranth slapped his rock-hard back supportively. “See? I told you she was looking at you!”

Haraldr snorted. “To be honest, I thought she was staring at you!”

He lifted an eyebrow in reply. “That’s ridiculous. Why would anyone be staring at me?”

“Well,” his best friend hedged as they began to walk through the dense foliage of the goldenglow trees. “You are the Prince.”

“And? It doesn’t change who I am.”

“I know but,” Haraldr said as he slapped away an insistent branch, “You’re you.”

“And you’re you.” Soranth thought that would spell the end of their rather strange conversation and didn’t say another word as they approached Nahaliel River. The silver currents thundered through the courtyard in a frothy wave that bordered a line of wild eldercress bushes.

“It does make a difference, you know,” Haraldr spoke up suddenly, his voice dropping. Soranth frowned at him. “Sometimes I feel redundant,” Haraldr chuckled, ignoring Soranth’s aghast look. “I mean, you’re the Prince which is cool and Valda’s got her pet and she’s amazing at archery and what about little old me?” He smiled rather bitterly. “I’m the guy that hangs around the Prince.”

For several moments, Soranth’s mind refused to connect words into a comprehensible sentence as various expressions of shock, bewilderment, confusion and suspicion flitted across his face. When he did finally end up opening his mouth, fully intending to assail Haraldr with profuse disbelief, what actually came out was “That’s not true, you’re also good at the spear.”

His best friend turned to stare at him and Soranth offered him a weak grin. Without warning, they doubled over in stomach-twisting laughter, falling over each other when the giggles didn’t stop. It took a long time for both warriors to stop setting each other off in a fresh burst of laughter. Eventually, Soranth and Haraldr settled down again, wiping tears from their eyes.

“I’m serious though,” the Prince admitted, giving Haraldr a sideways glance. “You ARE good at the spear. And the sword. And raw strength. And you’re by far the most cheerful guy in the castle, especially when there’s a feast.” They laughed again but it subsided quicker. “Look, all I’m saying is to not sell yourself short,” the Prince continued in a sombre tone. “You’re important to us... and that’s all that matters.”

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Soranth pushed through the heaving mass of soldiers, shoving through firm shoulders and metal armour. By the end of the day, his aching shoulders would bear swathes of black and blue. For now, all he could do was push on towards the battlefront—where he heard Valda’s unmistakable cry for help. She was not the type of person who fell to pieces so easily, in fact, he couldn’t ever recall a time she had asked for help.

His mind raced. The only thing he could think of that would drive her to such an extent was... if one of their lives were in immediate danger. Soranth tucked his chin to his chest and barrelled onwards, unheeding the trail of angry yells he left behind. Before long, he reached a wall of metal, formed by overlapping shields that wincing soldiers were holding on to. He could see that they were being hammered from the other side—the constant clanging of metal ringing in his ears like drums.

The barrier of golden shields was formed by two pairs of soldiers, a faun at the bottom to set the foundation and a chemycus shield-bearer protecting the upper half. Soranth gave a nod of pride at the clear results of their strenuous training but for now, he had to find a way to bypass the shields without bringing the whole thing down. He searched up and down desperately, only to meet the gazes of worried soldiers as they pressed around him.

“Prince, it’s the Lieutenant!”

“Prince, you have to help us!”

“It’s a massacre out there!”

“They’re all dead!”

His countenance shattered at the last hyperventilated cry. “SHUT UP!”

His orders were met by a resounding silence that suddenly felt much worse as it magnified the efforts of the creatures on the other side. The hollow metal was not made to hold under long periods of attack and every reverberating clang seemed to rattle his teeth. He breathed deeply and covered his face with a hand. Calm down, calm down. There’s no use in panicking.

The moment his eyes opened, flashing a steady green stare, he knew what to do. “You there! Don’t move!” he commanded, latching onto a nearby chemycus. The royal guard was one of the more muscular warriors in the line and had held his place easily compared to the weakening soldiers alongside him. Without further explanation, Soranth hopped over the guard’s back, ignoring the gasps of shock and carefully balanced his weight, using the guard’s shoulders to help him.

Within the space of several breaths and horrified murmurs, the Prince was shakily standing up on the chemycus’ back, his boots digging into the soldier’s flesh. He then raised his leg high enough to rest on the top of the shield which reached the height of the chemycus’ shoulders. As one, the other soldiers seemed to realise what he was attempting and rushed forward to stop him. Thoughts of taboo slipped from their minds as they pleaded with the Prince to not do anything stupid. None realised it at that time but the dogged clanging had suddenly ceased and the world on the other side of the fence had fallen to a deathly silence.

The guard grunted as he tried to steady himself against the press of soldiers behind him but Soranth still swayed dangerously. He decided to make his move before anyone could stop him. “Sorry,” he apologised in advance to the soldier.

In a smooth movement, he pressed one hand on the guard’s stiff shoulder and vaulted right over the tall fence, landing in an obscuring cloud of fine dust. His knees, which had taken the brunt of his fall, screamed in pain as he tried to stand up to see better.

Although Soranth was vulnerable and open to attack as he steadied himself, none were forthcoming. He spun around, taking in the empty battlefield around him except for a dim large shape near where he knew the bridge was. Hesitantly, he took one step closer and as he continued unmolested, he began to walk faster. As he approached, corpses of his people began to emerge from the dusty fog, piled in grotesque displays and growing in number the closer he got to the bridge. He struggled to keep his eyes away from their faces, concentrating instead on the blood-soaked ground.

Red on red.

As he lengthened his stride into a sprint, Soranth became aware of a soft susurration of noise that had previously been overshadowed. He didn’t slow as he strained his hearing. It sounded like it was coming from near the black shape he was heading towards but to the right, near an outcrop of rocks. It was times like these that he wished he had Haraldr and Valda’s superior hearing and eyesight, impossible as it was to see in the near pitch-black darkness.

For a second, his body and mind warred as gut instinct told him to check the origin of the noise from behind the rocks. It was the thought that it might have been one of the twins hiding behind the rocks that convinced him to change direction. The noise, he suddenly realised, was muffled sobs. He stepped closer to the jagged boulder and hesitantly rested a hand on the chalky rock. “Hello?”

A gasp and the crying stopped. Soranth slowly circled it, keeping a careful eye on what looked like a humongous black stain near the bridge. “Har? Valda?”

“Max.”

He stiffened. His name had never been uttered in such a manner before, never in such broken cracked fragments, never in such a desperate, wretched manner.

“Valda,” he said tentatively as she came into view. It was hard to distinguish her shape as it looked rather odd and misshapen. It looked as if she was holding someone... no, cradling someone to her chest. He felt the palms of his hands sweat as the blood speeding through his arteries froze over. The back of his throat was burning, yet his tongue was cold and lifeless like the body in Valda’s embrace. “No.”

She sniffed and held out a hand to him. He took it without realising, his hand trembling so hard that the vibrations travelled down her arm. The pounding in his chest refused to settle. Soranth felt like the world was hurtling past him at breakneck speed and he was wading through hardening mud. “No!” he cried again when she tried to pull him down, pull his hand closer to her chest.

“Shhh,” she comforted softly, drawing tight circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “Shhh.”

Soranth let himself fall to his knees and he dropped by her side, finally close enough to identify the familiar red tincture of the corpse’s skin. His heart raced, the erratic beats pounding in his chest, his ears and his hands. He opened his lips slightly but no sound escaped. Achingly slow, he let his fingers brush the jagged stone edges of Haraldr’s crushed head and recalled the words once spoken to him in a long, forgotten memory. If there was something strong enough to crush stone, it would spell our end.

There was no soft flesh or congealing blood. There were no gaping organs or fractured bones. Merely the cold shattered remains of a stone-carved statue that had once been his closest companion. The three of them were going to grow old together. They were going to travel the world, just like his father did with his mother. “NO!” He shook his head in denial.

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“Max, please,” Valda begged, salty tears clearing bright crimson streaks on her dusty face. “Alizar is gone too.”

He looked, truly looked at her. She looked devastated. Shattered. A rusty spark of anger ignited in his chest. He stoked the flames and set it free in a cleansing blaze through his veins and suddenly… suddenly he felt the blind fury of raging revenge. He felt livid and incensed and above all, swept by an overwhelming desire to see the creature that caused this to die a terrible death. “Who did this?” he asked coolly, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

She met his eyes and shook her head. “You can’t do it Max—”

“Then I’ll die trying!”

“Don’t be stupid!” she snapped back, a familiar glint of anger in her eyes.

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Not. Alone,” she hissed, gently setting down the remains of a humanoid-shaped rock that had once been her twin brother. “I will not lose the two most important people to me on the same day!”

The Prince gave her a scrutinising look, taking in the straightened spine and clenched fists. He held out his hand. “Then come with me.”

She gazed at his offered palm.

“Avenge him with me,” he coaxed. “Let’s do this. Together.”

She took his hand.

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“Do you have a plan?” she shouted over the din of their pounding feet.

He did not respond. His face was set in a grim line as he glared at the glinting line of shields. A fleeting memory of the faun and chemycus working together to build the shield wall crossed his mind. “Step one,” he stated as they drew up to the concealed soldiers. He twisted his lower body and slammed a roundhouse kick with his heavy combat boots. The resounding clap of metal reverberated over the soldiers and slowly, Soranth could hear the noise level drop.

“Max, it’s looking this way,” Valda whispered, staring out at the bridge where the beast was standing.

“Let it,” he said, waving off her concerns and leaning forward, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Soldiers! It is your Commander! Bring down your defences!”

A jumble of discordant murmurs answered them. A thought struck Soranth as he waited impatiently for the army’s response. “Where’s Rizoel? Wasn’t he with you?”

Valda jerked her head towards the hulking figure in the distance. “He’s distracting the beast.”

Soranth frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Oh, he’s not attacking.”

He would have sent her a quizzical look but the shield before him shifted and lowered before their eyes. It was the chemycus he had used as support to jump over the wall. He inclined his head at the soldier’s bow.

“My Prince,” the soldier greeted, setting the shield aside much to the horror of his fellow soldiers. “I’m ready to serve.”

“Are you the only one?” Soranth’s tone was mild but the look on his face was anything but. Slowly, the bordering shields creaked as they separated and like a rippling wave, the shields slowly came down. Once again, Soranth let his posture speak for him.

His legs were spread and his arms were loose at his sides, fingers curled in a relaxed position. The soldiers only had to look at his face to know the gravity of their circumstances. His head was tilted upwards, cold eyes glaring out over the expanse of his army. The time for going easy on them was long over. If they aren’t going to respond to me as the Prince, Soranth thought harshly, then I’ll become the Lord Commander.

He opened his mouth and let his voice roll over the disorganised ranks. “Where are my loyal soldiers? Where are the warriors who jump when I say jump, take up weapons when I say attack or come when I go calling?” He dragged out a pregnant pause, letting them shift in the silence.

“Out there,” he pointed at the bridge, his arm steady. “Two of your Lieutenants died for you. They sacrificed themselves so you could run and hide. Like cowards!” His voice raised unflinchingly over their vehement denials. “How can you defend yourself? How can you still stand here and call yourself proud warriors of Maraciel? Are you protecting the kingdom or protecting yourselves?”

The words lashed out of him, harsh and discordant. “Those of you at the back!” He raised his voice to a booming level. “You want to run away, run! Go back to your comforting homes and embrace your loved ones. Go back to your warm fires and hot meals. Just don’t come begging when they rip your children from their beds.”

“Do not,” his voice lowered dangerously but even the Generals right at the back of the army could still hear him as clearly as if he stood right beside them, “blame us for not saving you when you can’t even save yourselves.” Valda stood tall and proud by his side, glaring at the army with equal ire. No one moved an inch, nary a sneeze nor clink of armour. “Leave now,” he ended softly with a note of finality, “or fight with me.”

His shoulders dropped as the vitriol left his body, causing his muscles to shiver uncontrollably. The Prince stared out at the unmoving army hollowly. He didn’t even twitch as Valda laid a reassuring hand on his elbow. He stared at them as they looked back at him, the fixed gaze of hundreds of eyes on a lone individual. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to turn around to check if the monster had caught on, relying on the talented Lieutenant still out there distracting it.

Then a movement right at the back of the army caught his eye. He couldn’t see what it was but it caused a ripple down the lines. Soldiers cleared the way and after what felt like an achingly long time, the broad chemycus before him shifted to the side too. Soranth stiffened.

It was the Generals and they were... escorting a pair of chemyci. Between Nathanael and Sablo was the guard he had spoken to long before coming to find Valda. A handful of minutes ago that felt like an eternity. The guard was dragging a lanky, black-haired chemycus by the elbow. It was Cresil.

The brown-coated guard dragged him towards Soranth and without ceremony, threw the disgraced ex-Lieutenant at his feet. Then the guard bowed at the Prince, his eyes low with respect. “My Lord.”

Soranth was startled. The guard had very pointedly called him that and to his utter shock, the two Generals by his side echoed his movements and bowed low. “My Lord,” they greeted in unison. The Prince struggled not to take a step back in disbelief when rippling outwards in a flurry of movement, the soldiers shifted and bowed from their waists. “My Lord,” the entire army rumbled, their declaration sinking in his flesh and tattooing across his heart.

On the surface, their unremarkable actions would be just that: unremarkable. But to the soldiers of Maraciel and the Prince, it was akin to them declaring him their liege and stating their everlasting loyalty. He was staggered, mind-blown.

“Max.” Valda tried to shake him out of his reverie. “Max!” He turned to her with wild eyes as she softened and gave him an encouraging smile. “They’re waiting for you.”

He looked back out at the rows of compliant soldiers and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. A lot of faith was being put upon him in that moment and he couldn’t let a moment’s doubt stop him. “My people. Take up your weapons.” Behind him, on the other side of the bridge, caliginous shadows amassed and gathered strength for a second attack.

Yet the soldiers that had once shattered under the miasma of fear from the sight stood still at attention. Not a single warrior looked away from their Commander and not a single one thought of running. Soranth continued, ignoring the building army behind him, “Today we are defending more than our home. We are defending the people who made it our home. We are protecting what we have struggled so hard to rebuild. We are not defending a kingdom. We are fighting for it!”

They yelled and stamped their feet in approval, weapons glimmering in the air. The Commander raised his voice until he was shouting over them all, “This is our moment of judgement. We fight to win!” He let the approving roar wash over him and drew his sword straight up in the air. “Soldiers! With me!”

He turned on his heel and began to march, appreciating for once as the steady thump of hooves fell in behind him. The Generals, Nathanael and Sablo, bracketed him and Valda and looked unflinchingly at the daunting sight before them. Finally, Soranth felt the tension he didn’t know he was feeling slide off his shoulders, they are working together. It has taken two unnecessary deaths, he pressed his eyes shut in grief before blinking the suspicious grit in his eyes away, but we’re finally here.

As they advanced closer, Soranth finally understood Valda’s previous cryptic remarks. Rizoel was, true enough, nowhere near the beast. Instead, he was darting around from side to side, throwing loose pebbles at its head. However, it was clear to anyone watching that the faun’s speed was drastically slowing until he was practically stumbling. He still held onto his broken arm, a twisted look of pain on his ashen face.

“Rizoel,” Soranth called softly, no longer wishing to be seen as depending on his Generals to do the legwork. The Lieutenant perked up and tottered in their direction, dropping his stash of pebbles from limp fingers. Valda slunk off as they approached, darting to the other side of the beast to distract it from their small group.

“Rest.” He gestured to the back of the army. To Soranth’s surprise, the faun shook his head.

“No,” he said stubbornly. “I’m staying. I can still fight.”

“You’ve done your duty. We can’t have you collapsing in the middle of battle.”

“I won’t.”

Soranth frowned. “You want to pose a danger to your comrades? You want to needlessly danger yourself and have them come to save you at the risk of their own lives?” He could see the faun falter and lurch dangerously to a halt, a confused hazy look on his face. Soranth strode forward, close enough to grip the Lieutenant’s shoulders—but also careful not to jolt his disfigured arm—and stared into his eyes. “Rest now.”

Shakily, the faun acquiesced and Soranth nodded approvingly. He called up the soldier who had taken care of Cresil so magnificently and handed the exhausted faun to him. “Take care of him.” The soldier nodded and turned to walk away but before he could take a step, Soranth held out a hand.

“Make sure he doesn’t join the battle, even if he insists,” he said low enough for the faun to miss it. The brown-coated chemycus gave him a stern salute and marched back to the main army, his head held high even though he’d technically just been assigned babysitting duty. So this is what it means to have earned their loyalty, Soranth gave the guard’s back a speculative look before turning back to have his first look at the callous monster that had brutally smashed his best friend’s head in.

The first thing he noticed was its absolute jet-black colour—even its mottled lips and spiked teeth were a shadowy charcoal. The hellish beast’s eyes swallowed the precious light—if it had pupils, they couldn’t be seen. A thick, shaggy neck connected its muzzle to mammoth-sized shoulders. Its limbs were pure brawn and muscle, tapering into sharpened obsidian claws. It was, just as Valda had informed him along the way, an enormous replica of an old Earth bear but at the same time, not.

He repressed a shudder. With the army watching his every move, there was no way he could risk seeming weak, especially after the motivating speech he just gave. Instead, he tightened his suddenly sweaty grip on the hilt of his sword and began to churn ideas. “Weaknesses,” he rasped, turning to a sweaty Valda who had passed on her distraction duty to a troop of swift-footed fauns.

“Slow,” she says quickly, recalling how long it took to cross the bridge. Then a flash of memory—heavy quick paws slamming together in a concussive blast, pulverizing the vulnerable skull between its hands like hardened clay. “But fast.”

“If it’s slow,” Soranth said, ignoring her tacked-on sentence. “Let’s make it move. Soldiers!” He raised his voice. “I want a big circle, no one comes within twenty feet of this thing!”

Hooves marched at his orders as chemyci and fauns alike fell into place and settled themselves in a rough semi-circle around the beast.

“Next,” he prompted impatiently, taking a few steps back himself.

Valda dithered. “It’s very strong but limited in movements. No kicking so far.”

“We have to watch out for the hands,” Soranth narrowed his eyes. “Why does it have that strange pattern?”

“What? What pattern?”

“Look closely at its fur.” Soranth lifted his sword and pointed at the side of the beast’s body. “Do you see the way some of it sticks out a little?”

Now it was Valda’s turn to scrutinize the demonic bear. “I see it! Maybe it has spiky fur?”

“I’m assuming the hide is as strong as Uzza’s?”

“Stronger,” Valda said grimly. “It just bounces right off. All they do is annoy it.”

“Perhaps we can use that to our advantage,” said Nathanael’s low voice.

Soranth looked up at his General’s words and welcomed him to the discussion. “It’s nice to see you two again, Generals.”

Sablo inclined his head at the Commander. “We were all very... moved by your passionate speech, My Lord. Even if we die this day, I think our soldiers would still feel like their death was a worthy one.”

Soranth grimaced in reply. “Let’s not go that far. Our objective is to minimise deaths and losses as much as possible. Right now,” he said as he looked up at the beast. It was yawning, stretching an inhumanely long jaw that could probably fit his whole body from the bottom jaw to the top. “We need to take the big guy out.”

“It’s a shame we can’t just drop a rock like we did with Uzza,” Sablo said with a shrug.

“That’ll never work. See the size of that thing?” Nathanael retorted. “We could try choking instead.”

“No rope is strong enough.”

“I have a better idea,” Soranth interrupted before they got into another one of their infamous arguments. They turned to look at him. “It was Sablo’s idea actually.” The faun preened but looked puzzled. “We can’t drop something on it. But who says we can’t just push it over the cliff?”

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The steady drip of precipitation was driving him to suicide. To think that when he first arrived at the rough-hewn cave, he’d celebrated at the sight of precious water and stayed under the agonisingly slow tap for what felt like hours. Now however, he wanted nothing more than to punch the rocks into little chips of rubble, stamp out the water till it evaporated or chop off his ears so he no longer had to suffer. Whichever one was least impossible anyway.

It was a long time—his constellation had passed the halfway point by then—before he received the news. His home village had been destroyed. Kobal wavered between bitter satisfaction and heart-wrenching grief but he didn’t allow any of his emotions to show. Anything, anything at all that gave his Master leverage would prove to be his downfall.

His Master had grown, that much was true. It was to be expected of course, after all the years that had gone into planning every excruciating detail. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“Are you ready, Master?” he asked in a humble tone, his head bowing low.

“...finally,” a voice full of darkness rasped. Heavy shadows pulled together at the back of the cavern, forming an oppressive weight on Kobal’s chest. A thick swell of sorrow rose at the back of his throat at his Master’s next words and he gulped it down reflexively.

“Maraciel will fall.”

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The plan sounded so hare-brained even Valda doubted Soranth for a few whole minutes.

“Trust me,” he urged. “It’ll work as long as you trust me.”

“There are a lot of ifs and maybes in this plan.”

“All my plans usually have some element of risk.”

“But this one feels especially risky,” Valda pointed out and fiddled with her bow thoughtfully. The hard notches of its carved wood helped her to focus on the probability of failure. “So you think this piece of string—”

“Rope.”

“—rope is going to trip it once we get it up on two legs?”

He nodded. Nathanael was still eying the beast with severe reservations in the twist of his mouth while Sablo looked utterly calm and confident in the Commander’s impromptu plan.

“So,” Valda said slowly, “Who’s the poor guy who’s sneaking around that thing huh?” she froze as Soranth’s eyes intensified. “No. No no no no. I’m not leaving you—”

“You’re the only one who can do it, Valda,” the Commander begged, his eyes wide and pleading. It was as if he didn’t have the attention of hundreds of troops surrounding them at that moment.

“You can’t use that look.” She forcefully tried to pull her gaze elsewhere but it was futile. His green eyes were the ultimate weapon and even she had her weaknesses. “You’re sending me to my death,” she grumbled weakly.

“Just think of it this way, if everything happens as planned, you’d be landing the killing blow!”

She stifled the urge to sigh and readied her grappling hook. Soranth pretended he didn’t hear her grumble of “I’m so telling the Queen once we get back” under her breath and hastily waved her off. Valda began to swing her trusty hook in an arc and just as it hit the perfect angle, she released her grip. It sailed back up towards the cliff they descended from, catching on the ledge of a craggy rise. Automatically, she pulled once to check on its steadiness and let her hands wrap fully around the rope.

Soranth stepped back, nodding encouragingly when she hesitated to shoot a look at him. “Don’t die out there,” were her parting words before running towards the cliff wall. The Commander allowed himself several moments to watch her scale up the steep face of the valley with the help of her rope. It went unsaid that he too shared her sentiment.

“My Lord,” Sablo drew his attention to the malignant beast who had taken to roaring at nearby soldiers restlessly. His troops wavered back slightly but the ever-widening circle of shields didn’t break.

He grunted. “It knows it can’t chase after us so it’s waiting for us to come to it instead.”

“What should we do?”

Soranth’s gaze wandered to the far side of the bridge where capricious shadows leapt and twisted amongst the blackened, pock-marred ground. They were gathering strength for the second wave. Their troops were more than willing to handle them this time around—armed as they were with the knowledge of how to defeat their opponents. “Call up the spears. We’ll herd the beast as best as we can so Valda can get a good shot.”

He shot another look at the cliff behind them—she had already found a handy perch for her feet and allowed the rest of her body to stay lax halfway down the rope. Noticing his attention on her, Valda gave a nod to show her readiness and Soranth turned back to the tableau before him.

“Looks like it’s on us.” The Commander raised his arm and made a grabbing motion at a nearby soldier. “Let me borrow the spear, would you?” The spear landed heavily in his palm and his arm sank under the weighted cold steel. He didn’t allow it to touch the ground. Biceps and triceps tensing, Soranth raised his left arm until the tips of his fingers were level with the beast.

Behind and around the entire circle of protection, every able soldier echoed his movements. Then he let out a roar and allowed his body to twist in a practised motion as the right arm holding the spear swung forward. The gold-tipped spear sliced through the air, deadly and fast. For half a second, Soranth deeply wished that would be enough.

It didn’t phase the monster. Instead of digging deep into muscle and tendon, the spear simply skidded across the length of its body, clattering to the ground beside it. What it did do, however, was draw its attention to Soranth and in turn, to the soldiers behind him. More specifically, to the wave of spears arcing towards him. Glints of gold and silver flashing through the air were all that could be seen as spears rained down like water surging down to fill the empty air.

Not even this daunting sight was enough to shake the beast’s fur. A choking cloud of red dust swirled around as spears failed to pierce hide. No... Soranth thought in horror as the monster began to disappear behind churning smoke.

They had succeeded in distracting the beast but it came at the steep cost of their vision.