“Was that the Commander?” I ask Reynard through the Shard.

No. Just a strong individual creature.

“Why do these things on Efra resemble things on Earth so much? Dogmen, Ratmen, Rabbitmen, and now things straight out of Greek folklore.”

I don’t know.

“Do you think our world and Efra were connected at some point?”

No clue. Could have been.

“How do you not know?”

How would I? I’m not a god.

“Could it possibly be that our world and this world had the same creator?”

Don’t know.

While I was talking to Reynard, I hear the whimpering of the pit bull still on the roof above me. I climb up there. It lays in a bloody heap over a smashed vase. White bones poke through its brown fur where it was visible through the brier. I can only imagine the pain it was in, and my healing wouldn’t be enough to save its life. I deliver it unto death with a Bolt, straight into its head. It twitches for a moment longer before going still. Beneath the brier, I catch the glint of a silvery attached to a decimated collar. I yank it off. “Princess,” it read. I hop down to see if the husky has something similar, and sure enough, on a black collar beneath a tendril of brier, I find it; his name was Duke. I pocket both; just in case I find their owners, and then climb down the slope. There was a path that wound its way through the town; in between the buildings, and down the gentlest slopes, but I take the quickest route down. Most of the satyrs were already dead, and those that weren’t, hide themselves in fear.

As I approach the fort, I apply a Repel to myself. Just in time, too, as something hits me with such great force that it sends me rocketing backward onto the ground. The shield immediately shatters, and I glance around. What the hell was that? I soon found my answer in the form of a large arrow, about the thickness of my leg, and the length of my arm. I glance in the direction that it came from, and at the top of the fort I can barely make out a horned figure standing atop one of the parapets with a bow drawn back.

I push myself back, as another large arrow slams into the ground, and shakes the very earth around me. The distant Minotaur drew its bow once more, and I dive behind a building. The arrow pulverizes the gray stone wall of the corner I had just been by and punches a hole right through the building across from it. I press my back against the wall, and slump to the ground. I should have snuck in. I should have. What the hell was with this accuracy, and at this distance? The top of the fort was at least 400 yards away. The hurriedly drunk wine sloshes around in my stomach and a wave of nausea swam through me. I double over and wretch out hot red, half-digested wine. All of this running around while drunk was awful. Nothing I could do, however.

The sound of a horn ruptures and through the otherwise quiet valley, and it is met with the baying, bleating of many voices ringing out from the fort. Fuck. I really should have snuck in.

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“You that bind the all, protect me from those that would cause me harm.”

The mana floods into my body from all around me and forms an invisible shell around my body. I grip the staff that I had wrapped in more layers of fabric to protect myself from its effect and hold my breath to try to steady my swimming head.

The clacking of many hooves approaches from the direction of the fort I slip into Shadow’s form, and slip away from my cover; using what little grass there was among these wind-shorn streets as cover as I scramble up the side of one of the buildings. I watched through a small gap in between the ledges of one of the rooftop balconies as satyrs and minotaurs flooded through the narrow alleys and streets.

Earthen Spike. Earthen Spike. Earthen Spike...

Spikes of packed jut from the ground and from the stone buildings surrounding them, tearing apart the ranks of Satyrs and charging minotaurs. Blood stains the red stone as it pours freely from the countless wounds. Tens die, and their bodies block their advance as the spikes piercing through their bodies keep them upright.

The minotaur at the top of the fortress fires another arrow in my direction, and I retreat, hopping off of the roof just in time for it to come smashing down like a meteor. The building collapses at the force it strikes. I’m already gone from it, however. I slip into my own form. Another arrow howls through the air at me. I dive out of the way. The only place I’ll be safe will be the fortress itself. I duck behind a building and quickly recite the incantation to Form Take and make a mad dash for the fortress. At least now I was a smaller target, and I moved faster than my normal form. Too quick for the minotaur at the top to get a proper bead on me. What arrows he fired, slammed hard into the ground behind, or in front of me. I zig-zag to make it much harder for him to aim.

Stones thrown from slings smack against the ground; a few even bounce off the Repel I still had on. It wasn’t long before I made it to the banks of the river, and looking up the stairs I climb up the stairs up to the bridge, and sprinted into the doorway of the fortress, and duck into it, shift into my normal form. I have to kill these things anyway so that Paul could get out easier. As the sound of hooves climb up to the bridge.

“I welcome thee, o weary souls, into the domain of Caer Ibormeith. Let her whisk you away on billowing wings.”

The mana flows into my body through the crown of my head, and I hold it within the channels formed through my body until I hear the clacking of hooves get closer. As soon as I see the shadows approaching the entrance, I hop out and release the spell. The winds collide against the first few and die about a quarter down the bridge.

About ten Satyrs drop and a few others resist the effects of the spell, though it does slow their steps. A minotaur shoves its way through the smaller satyrs and raises his large club. It smashes against my left flank and sends me flying into a pile of crates sitting against the far wall that contained the stairwell. The shell I had made around me began to peel off like the shell of a boiled egg.

The sound of a massive pair of footsteps descends from those stairs. Ah, the boss is coming, huh? I should probably get rid of as many as these before he does. I hold the staff in my left hand.

“I allow the breath of the Salamanders to flow through me,” I mutter at the approaching minotaur.

A bolt of red flame blasts it in the chest. Its wiry, oily fur catches on fire and it roars as it stumbles, and falls backward; crushing a satyr underneath as the fires consume both.

A satyr with a weird pole arm; with two blunted, curving arms extending on either side, rushes past the smoldering pile and pushes the weapon to my throat; shoving me down as I try to stand up. A few others rush forward with spears join him and try to stab me in the stomach. My Repel blocks them, however. I push away the weird spear thing by chopping it down with my forearm and yanking it down, out of the satyr’s hands. I push myself up, and draw my dagger, and rush forward; slamming the blade into the gut of the goat creature; dropping my staff in the process. The spear wielders fall away, and I pull the bloody blade out. I slash it across the throat of the one in my blind spot with enough force to nearly decapitate it, and feel the other one try to stab me with its spear again.

I grab hold of the shaft to hold it in place, reverse the grip of the dagger, and slam it into the temple of the satyr. It falls away, and I pick up my staff and hold it in my left while wielding my dagger in my right after wiping the blood and pink brain matter off on my leg.

Was that it? I had thought there were more. I nearly trip over the bodies of the satyr around me as I stumble toward the door. I want to make as much space between me and the staircase, and I need to finish off those I had put to sleep on the threshold between the bridge and the doorway of the fort. I kill them by impaling their bodies with earthen spikes. I cast Repel and ready a Djinn’s Volley aimed at the foot of the stairs. Five red hot arrows about as large as the bolts it had been firing form an arc around my head as the heavy footsteps approach.