Yistopher

We’d seen mutations in the ghouls to boost the toughness of their skin or run on all fours. There were weird quirks to some that suggested more internal transformations, but nothing on the scale of the creature on the tree line. It was supposed to be rare, yet no one had travelled past the second wall in decades to see what was within, blindsiding us with how wrong that assumption was. And if the rems knew ghouls like this existed and hadn’t called for a full cooperative blockade, I’d see to it they’d be sanctioned until their coffers dried up.

“Commander, orders?” Captain Oteli asked, slowly backing away from the bridge with the runaway horse. The remaining half a century of ghouls on their approach turned to charge back towards the elite.

The eerie characteristic of the latest threat wasn’t its height, wingspan or the weapons and armour it wielded. It stood still with patience that none of the others exhibited, catching sight of us in the distance while searching the field below for the rider. While commendable that the remnant had survived the woods, they were dead. If it wasn’t at the hands of the ghouls and their elite, it was to the out-of-place wolf chasing them.

“Are we helping?” I prodded Faraya, who was on the verge of panic over the many decisions she needed to make in the next few seconds. She wasn’t thinking any of them through right then except for how many casualties we would take from each.

My philosophy on leading, knights especially, was never to order them to watch someone die without doing anything to help. I’d have us slowly collapse on the field from all sides; the rescue target would perish far out of reach, and we’d retreat. Morale would take a hit, but no one would be left questioning our worthiness.

“No,” she sighed, leaning on the stone wall for support. “Recall the squads on our peripheries and wake everyone up. We’ll form up on the embankment and whittle it down; no one gets close enough to test what it can do.”

I stepped up to the embankment and vaulted over the wall to search for my bow, spells not doing as well against the creatures. The order was disappointing but not strategically faulty. There were many arguments as to what could be the best and most moral decision. However, it was better to make a judgment and follow through rather than be indecisive.

Twisted horns of the kudu from the old Werlese heraldry bobbed through the stalks as the remnant ran. Pale, ghoulish skulls converged on them while the supposed wolf ploughed through the stalks from behind. I raised an eyebrow as they ducked and manoeuvred past the first ghoul, the next in their path falling from a single strike.

Nobody but a pompous officeholder would be vain enough to wear a replica of the old royal guard helmet, but perhaps the rumours of the remnants' leadership problems were overblown. Their prowess against the ghouls was praiseworthy. Regardless of their effort with the inferiors, the elite trudged down the hill and waded through the crop. As it got closer, the fletching on the arrows and scorch marks from lightning caught the sunlight, and I scowled. Around a dozen arrows were stuck in the ghoul, and I mourned the number of fallen warriors needed to achieve that.

This commander was fleeing a lost battle, perhaps knocked from the horse in the woods.

“Load the ballista,” Faraya called.

The remnant redirected, running to the side where the fewest ghouls were, cutting down those in the way. They veered towards us when there was a gap but were herded back towards the elite by the wolf. The ghouls ran aimlessly through the barley, finding the rider by luck or an overwhelming number blocking every path. I was used to not sensing the ghouls from over twenty steps, but I struggled to feel the remnant and wolf who’d shown a proclivity for large magic attacks.

The winged ghoul lifted the great axe, struggling with its weight and letting it fall through the air to plunge into the dirt—a phantom blade carved through the field, pushing over the stalks and almost striking the rider. It was a weak attack, failing to carve through the barley stalks after a few yards.

I tapped the end of my bow on the stone wall; perhaps there was a chance to recover the remnant, gain their favour and information on what lay ahead.

“Fire.”

The wood of the ballista creaked as the rope snapped forward, launching the bolt across the open field. It was an older piece of weaponry, made after decades of answering the question, how big can we make a bow before it got unwieldy? It had moments where it outshined spellcraft, which had yet to overcome the issue of distance and spell degradation fully. At this range, it would have to be a conjured physical projectile, and throwing something large enough with enough force to hurt would drain mana reserves like nothing else.

“Did it just cast?” “I see a haze.” “Partial hit!”

I had dismissed the enchanted items after the feeble attack from the axe but needed to reassess. “It’s projecting from the buckler shield.”

The bolt didn’t care for the shield, punching straight through to gouge out the side of its stomach. It reeled away from the embedded axe, letting out a grating screech.

“Adjust two clicks up and aim left,” Faraya said. “Fire whenever it's loaded and keep firing.”

Unlike the arrows, which it likely considered no more than pinpricks, the ghoul tore the bolt from its stomach. Black blood splattered the crops, watering them with a substance liable to kill them and poison the land.

“It healed,” Faraya stated, having a better vantage with her spell. “Exponentially quicker than the others we fought.”

Eight squads of mostly equipped knights with berets hiding their messy hair came running from behind the wagons lined along the path behind us. They crouched near the wall or gaped at the incoming danger. Spare spears and barrels full of arrows were unloaded and dumped along the embankment as the flanking squads closed on our position to regroup.

“I assume we’re aware there’s a person in that there field?” Captain Leonarda asked, yet not taking his eyes off the monster. “Standard rescue plan? Distract and extract?”

“You’d be lucky to recover the body in the middle of that,” Captain Oteli said. “You haven’t gotten to see the wolf yet.”

“There are no wolves—” Leonarda tried.

“We know.”

“No one’s being sent out there,” Faraya said. “It’s unfortunate but unavoidable. Get everyone a bow and distribute the iron arrows.”

The rider burst out the corner of the crops, black blood standing out against their red livery and shiny chainmail. One of my first suggestions to the smiths back in Drasda would be to reinvest in the craft of stitching together chain links, even if it was less effective versus mages.

They skidded to a stop as the ghouls in the open field caught sight of them and charged without hesitation. The chainmail stopped a clawed blow from landing on their shoulder. They broke the bow shaft over the head of the ghoul, swiping at their neck and splattering the snow with its blood. I squinted at the unorthodox strike, not seeing a blade in their hand.

A tundra wolf darted out and clamped its jaws around their ankle. The thick military boots saved the limb, but the remnant's leg was pulled out from under them. Their head slammed into the ground, the helmet doing more damage than the soft snow. The wolf shook its head and dragged the rider back into the crops as they clawed at the ground.

The gargoyle was steps away, halted by another ballista bolt flying past. The remnant twisted and kicked, the wolf letting go, but the ghouls fell upon them from all sides. I turned away from the impending carnage; the chainmail and helmet covering their vitals wouldn’t make this quick.

“We still have time,” Leonarda said. “We can’t just watch!”

A shiver ran down my spine, and my mind went blank, shifting into a fear response to run or fight. A wave of mana battered my body. The horses behind us and the runaway in our midst whinnied as if sensing a predator nearby. I turned to the source of the pulse. The rider crawled from underneath ghouls writhing on the ground, clawing at their skulls. Those around them reacted similarly, stumbling away or falling to the ground in a silent scream. The elite was stunned long enough that a bolt accurately hit its chest.

“What spell was that?” Faraya asked.

“It didn’t feel like one,” I said. “Felt like if you stuck your head next to a transmitter on max power.”

The knights nearby glanced at me to question how I’d know that, but it wasn’t the time for stories. The remnant got up on shaky legs and walked forward like a drunkard before tumbling back into the dirt. Whatever the mana art was, it had drained their reserves, and they were now suffering from withdrawals. They stood, glancing back at the ghouls still digging deep grooves into their heads and chests. The wolf was unaffected, manoeuvring to block their path, and the elite pushed through the affected ghouls.

“Now’s our chance,” Leonarda argued, moving towards the bridge. “I’m going.”

The winged ghoul dragged its axe along the ground, ploughing a new furrow in the field. Another bolt clipped the ghoul’s wing as it moved to the side and raised the small shield after the telltale clunk of the mechanism. It was adapting to the attack, respecting the damage the bolts could do to it.

I stepped in before Faraya could disillusion a young captain against the knights for the sake of a more practical decision. “I’ll take Leonarda and volunteers to the field. If it gets too dangerous, we’ll retreat far before the elite gets within melee range.”

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“...No.”

Valeria

My tongue crunched between my front teeth as Alp tripped me, and my chin struck the icy dirt. I didn’t bite it off, but my mouth filled with blood. Alp pulled my boot part way off while dragging me back into the crops. I kicked his snout, and he yelped, releasing his teeth from the leather.

Being inside the field of tall stalks had at least hidden me from the dozens of ghouls in the leafy field beyond. I should have taken my chances up a tree instead of pursuing Hutra’s tracks into the open. I threw away the cracked shaft of my bow and stumbled to my feet, pulling my boot back on. It may have been from hitting my head, but beyond an expansive field of leafy vegetables, above the reeds of a stream and behind a stone wall atop a snowy embankment were people in blue berets.

A large arrow whistled overhead as a ghoul collided with me. I sliced its neck open and rolled as another fell on my back, its claws catching in the chainmail.

They pinned me to the ground, my arms caught beneath their bodies. Claws tore through my unprotected legs and my forearms. I screamed… out loud at first and then into the minds of the ghouls all around me. There were inner-city variants in the field that let loose their incoherent chatter into my consciousness while the human outcries of the others muddled their words.

My vision blurred, but I oriented myself towards the part of the horizon without the gargoyle and crops obstructing it. That horizon tilted and swirled, and I landed back in the dirt, surrounded by people who were waking up from a long nightmare from which death was their only escape. What kind of monster was I, torturing these souls for my survival? No amount of excuses that they were not genuinely alive inside, that they had long been dead with only echoes left behind, soothed my conscience.

Alp, a creature I wouldn’t mind being long dead, stood in my path while growling. He choked on his saliva, the endlessly changing animal not feeling at home in any of his bodies. I swiped my claws at him, blades of air digging new furrows in the field but missing the wolf with all but the smallest blade. He blew freezing air in retaliation, the metal covering my body chilling to a painful degree.

I looked past the wolf to see how close the knights were to assisting.

They stood still in the same place and watched. I wanted to yell at them to help, but blood pooled in my mouth, and my tongue felt useless. I spat out the blood, but most didn’t make it through the small slot in the helmet. The only ones moving with purpose were operating a ballista off to the side.

The gargoyle exited the field and stumbled to the side to avoid a ballista bolt, another lodged in its chest. The iron tip still managed to clip its wing, but it pushed through the ghouls I’d tormented. Preferring Alp's teeth to the gargoyle great axe, I pressed forward.

At his next freezing breath, I sent a blast of air at his gaping jaw. The wolf snorted and gagged, shifting into a mandril. The red and blue painted face jumped to the side, out of my line of sight. He grabbed the horn of my helmet and pulled my head down, snapping my neck to the side. A hairy knee slammed into my visor, and I went down with my ears ringing.

I hoped the hit hurt him more than me, yet I was on the ground again as the gargoyle towered over me. A few knights were moving across a small bridge through the reeds. Why were so many standing back? Had they been there since I tumbled out of the woods? I couldn’t make out their features and wondered if they were even from Drasda.

The gargoyle had the timing of the ballista memorised. It jumped to the side before the twang of the drawstring and stepped closer. I could fight Alp and contend with his irritating forms until next winter, but Alp wasn’t trying to kill me, simply pushing me into the gargoyle. I dug my heels into the ground as he dragged me back by the scruff.

I needed time for the knights to cross the field, to put more distance between me and the gargoyle. I pushed mana into my helmet, upsetting its careful equilibrium with the ambient mana so as not to attract attention. I didn’t pour in as much as I had the gauntlet, the ghoul being close by with heightened mana senses.

I felt its attention as Alp paused, spooked by the growing concentration of mana. I twisted and dug my claws into his forearm, and he let go, but my claws stayed. Alp kicked my helmet, but I pulled him down while he was off balance. We clashed in the cold dirt, his reach and strength greater than mine but lacking protection and claws. I kept my arm away from the sharp protruding canines and dragged sharpened steel down his sides. I got the upper hand and went to stand, but he drew his legs to his chest and kicked me off instead.

I was airborne, flying away from the gargoyle, raising its axe to hit us both. Alp noticed and shifted into a mongoose. The gargoyle let go of the axe behind its back and dropped to all fours to avoid a bolt, the shadows of its outstretched wings hanging over Alp and me. I pulled off my helmet and aimed my throw towards the tall crops, then turned and chucked it behind me, towards the ballista and knights.

Losing another piece of armour to the same ghoul was annoying, but I’d get them both back when it was dead.

The passage of ghouls and our scuffle had churned together the snow and dirt. I scrambled to the side through the slippery terrain, away from the gargoyle with eyes only for the enchanted armour radiating mana. The ghouls' screams and prattle were smothered as their hunger overshadowed the sliver of consciousness. They ran out of the stems and under the gargoyle's legs, almost trampling me to reach the helmet.

There was a mixture of overlapping pulses from the knights in the field and those standing back: rescue, fight, charge, extract. I glimpsed a head of grey hair through the hoard of ghouls between me and the knights.

Yis was shouting, pointing his bow towards me. Leonarda was at his side, slicing his hand through the air at the ghouls. The knights and captains beside him fanned out, spells tying together above their palms and bows drawn. I flinched as the ballista clunked, missing the gargoyle but spearing through the ghouls behind it, strides away from me.

The gargoyle reached my helmet and dropped the shield to pick it up. It tried to shove the helmet over its large skull, but my head was too small, and it didn’t have the patience to let it enlarge. Ghouls rushed through and into its legs, trying to reach the source it held above them.

Invisible packets of mana landed around the ghouls, popping open to disperse the spell over a large area. A second spell hit the cloud of mana, commanding it to ignite. The blast blew past me before yanking strands of hair back towards it as air rushed into the fireball. My ears rang, but they were used to the violent explosion of dragon’s breath, and this spell was tame by comparison.

The ghouls were hurled back or collapsed where they stood, scorched by the fireball, which had already converted into a plume of smoke drifting into the sky. The gargoyle turned to face the row of knights, more rushing to join them from the embankment. They circled around it towards me, and I recognised a few faces from the training field. The stronger variants of ghouls stood back up despite the burn marks, rushing the knights tying together more spells.

“Trade its attention!” Yis shouted.

It was a strange strategy after being with the remnants for so long. They preferred no mana usage, fighting with steel and arrows to not draw attention. However, out in the open, those unfamiliar with the worries of being swarmed inside the capital walls openly taunted the creatures, dragging their attention between the groups of knights.

The red burn marks on the gargoyle healed over, and the scabs fell off. The gargoyle wasn’t facing me, so I rushed in behind it. I had no iron arrows, no helmet, nothing for the gargoyle to even vaguely notice in the chaos.

“Val, no!”

I feared the knights’ spells, but Yis’s group was dealing with the ghouls while those circling around were beginning their casting to draw the gargoyle’s attention. They stood between it and the ballista, so it was silent for the moment. The gargoyle shifted towards them, with me still at its back. I ducked under its legs and paused for its arm to hang down, jumping up to grip the ring rammed into its claw.

I hung in the air for a heartbeat, readying a blade to shatter the claw or cut off the finger. The overgrown nail had been shaved away from shoving the ring onto it and broke on its own. I fell to the ground with the ring in hand, rushing back to whence I came as a gauntlet with a helmet clenched inside swung over my unprotected head.

The second group of knights recaptured the ghouls' attention with a new set of spells. I stopped and spun to hit the back of the gargoyle’s knee with a set of blades, the cuts not closing with the ring gone and two pieces of inefficient enchantments sapping its mana.

The last of the ghouls were killed off, and newcomers from the treeline were greeted with a volley of arrows. Captain… Oteli from the second group of knights reached me first, stepping between me and the gargoyle. We established a third group to better trade the attention of the gargoyle as it approached the previous group.

A new arrow stuck out of its body every second as it spun around, its focus drawn every which way. Its movements slowed, and it stumbled back as an ice spear impacted its thigh. It flapped its wings in a feeble attempt at flight. I didn’t have my bow or trust lightning to go where I wanted with so many around—a tree may have still been burning from a missed bolt back in the woods. So, I ran back to its axe, feeding the enchantment as I loosened the dirt it was stuck in and dragged the heavy implement closer.

“Stay behind me, or the commander will have my head!” Oteli yelled, focusing more on where I was going behind her than the gargoyle. Her squad mostly faced the crops, killing the ghouls running out of the field. They were overeager in their approach, using five arrows when one was okay.

I dragged it just within the encirclement, aligned the blade behind me, and stomped on the ground—a chunk of dirt jutted out, striking the back of the axe and flinging it overhead. The familiar mana art, based loosely on how I formed my blades, flew from the axe’s rim. The spell distorted the air from the mana bleeding off it yet managed to keep its edge longer from having more initially. The gargoyle's pull on the mana almost dismantled it, yet the attack sliced through the left wing and sank into its shoulder.

The gargoyle ignored the latest set of spells distracting it and turned to the cause of its missing wing. The hatred in its eyes grew when it slowly recognised me without the steel over my face. “Intruder! Kill it, kill it, or the deal is dead!”

I turned to look for Alp, supposing he was the intruder and I was ‘it,’ but he and his mana signature were nowhere to be found.

An arrow bounced off its skull, but another dug into its cheek. A weaker version of the axe’s blade bit into the back of its leg and finished the job I’d started. The gargoyle fell to one knee. The knights must have found it difficult by now to find a clear portion of skin to pierce. It was covered in fletching, protruding spears, bolt shafts, and ice and stone spikes.

The gargoyle’s body didn’t have the mana it needed to function anymore, the iron inside doubling its weight. It slowly keeled over and thudded to the ground. The knights stayed where they were, scanning their surroundings, uncertain if the creature had died.

I stepped around the axe’s handle, not bothering to pry it from the land. My helmet had tumbled from the gargoyle’s grip. I picked it up, frowning at the red and black blood coating the inside and out, and tucked it under my arm.

I stepped over its neck to walk around the body to the gauntlet and tugged at it. Humans didn’t have curved talons on their hands, and the gauntlet had shifted to coat them, making it impossible to pull off without first snapping the claws or enlarging the gauntlet.

“Valeria?” Yis asked, stepping up behind me.

“Mhm?” I hummed, keeping my eyes wide open, hoping the breeze would dry then. How was I supposed to greet someone I was glad to see after a long time? I didn’t think that had happened to me before, at least not anytime in the last decade. What was one supposed to do in this situation? I’d seen Annalise embrace Janette after a long trip, which seemed appropriate despite not liking hugs.

I turned around and dropped the helmet, refusing to look him in the eye as I bumped my forehead into his breastplate. I felt like slapping him for not helping quickly enough, yelling at him for leaving me in the capital for so long or sobbing at feeling safe again. Instead of forcing my sore tongue to move for long and embarrassing myself with a combination of all three, I went with an inoffensive observation. “You’re late.”