Flyte was sore. He felt like a practice dummy pummeled for hours until the trainees left him alone bored, but the trainees came back every day in Flyte's case. Horseback riding was terrible, but at least Borigan wasn't shooting and throwing stuff at them.

Flyte heard something crack in the woods. "What was that?" Flyte asked confused.

"I don't know," Ander said tired. "But I checked out the last three things so it's your turn."

"What were those?" Flyte asked.

"Well, there's the squirrel you're eating, the squirrel I'm eating, and your foot," Ander answered.

Slowly and cautiously Flyte moved to the origin of the sound. Ander had won this one but Flyte could still win the next. Soon there was the sound of plate clinking and a man's groan. "Who is it," Flyte asked scared.

"The name's Elliot," a voice said. Flyte jumped. "You walked past me four seconds ago and stepped on my foot."

"Sorry, I've got a pretty bad spatial awareness," Flyte admitted embarrassed. "Anyway, what are you doing here."

"Oh, I'm just escaping the castle," Elliot said in return.

"Well, that makes three of us," Flyte said. At that, Elliot raised his eyebrows. He had no idea that Flyte wasn't alone. Flyte then lead Elliot to the quickly set camp.

"Hey Ander," Flyte said as he walked into camp. Ander didn't even look up as he waved his hand in greeting.

"Hello," Elliot said cheerfully. After that Flyte smacked his face in disbelief.

"Wait, what!" Ander started, confused. "Who are you?" It took Flyte only a second to realize that Ander had his sword drawn and was ready to pounce.

"His name is Elliot, and he is running from the castle too." Flyte explained as he cocked his head to the side trying to convey that Ander should lower his blade.

"Well, why are you running," Ander asked in a terrible attempt at small talk. The man was so bad at social tact that his sword remained unsheathed.

"Oh, the castle was taken over by an evil sorcerer, who killed off the dark circle, broke down the home guard, and, based on the last thing I saw, surrounded and probably killed the king of Chraith," Elliot replied, numbering the events using his fingers. "What about you."

"We ran away because otherwise me and Flyte would be dead about three days ago," Ander smoothly said. "I tried to kill the same king, and the dark circle, while Flyte practiced spellcasting illegally." Flyte hoped that looking the side pretending to be distracted was working.

"Normally I would probably have to arrest you, but as I said, my king is probably dead, so I say let bygones be bygones," Elliot said thoughtfully. "Anyway, how close were you to killing him."

He was taking this all very well for having been a knight until recently. It didn't seem like he really cared for the late king very much, an odd quality for one of the king's own soldiers.

Ander shook his hand palm facing down. "Somewhat close," He responded. "I could have planned better, but now I can say that the king placed three times as many guards as before because of me."

A stick snapped somewhere to the left of Flyte, but he was the only one who heard it.

"Uh, guys," he started. Just then Borigan and his hunters walked into the clearing, looking like a gaggle of thugs.

"Well, what do we have here," Borigan said. "Two peasants with sharp stones, and an unarmed fool." His men laughed. "What are you doing here, Elliot?"

"Ralthus died, so I'm out of a job," Elliot responded, nonchalant as ever.

"And you're still alive? Like the runt you are, you've abandoned your post." The hunter looked around. "I don't see Honorious here, so I guess your punishment is up to me."

Borigan drew his sword and crept closer. Elliot seemed to pull one out of the night around him.

'That's a little unfair. I wish I didn't have to carry my sword everywhere.'

The clearing turned into a battlefield, with fourteen hunters against Flyte, Ander, and Elliot. Ander picked the one-armed man up and threw him at a group of three hunters clumped together, while Flyte froze a hunter's leg and knocked him over, forcing the man into an unescapable crab walk. Elliot walked towards Borigan coolly, while blocking all hits coming to him.

"Borigan, I heard you were a good fighter. Shall we see?"

Borigan looked amused. "Oh, you will." He held out his huge broadsword, which he gripped in both hands. He widened his feet into a stance which would probably make anyone have a hard time pushing him over.

Because of how heavy Borigan's blade was, Elliot couldn't block it without being momentarily stunned, but he also couldn't let any hits go through. He would have to wait for an opening.

Flyte was just watching this from a log nearby. He heard footsteps coming towards him slowly from behind. As Flyte turned around he saw a hunter being tackled by Ander. Ander then punched the man three times in the face with his human arm, brushed himself off, and pulled a tooth out of his own knuckle. It was an incisor.

Flyte decided to start watching the fight between Elliot and Borigan again. Elliot had parried a number of times, but now Borigan was tired. Then Elliot swung down from above his head to try to hit Borigan on the top of his head, but Borigan dodged and locked Elliot's blade to the ground using his broadsword. Elliot tried to take slide his sword out from under Borigan's but it wouldn't budge. He then looked at Borigan.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"I saw your friend do something and I think it would suit me better," Borigan said ominously. He then lifted Elliot up with both arms and threw him.

"Iras."

"Iras," Flyte said unknowingly. He didn't know what it did. He didn't know what any spell he used did the first time. Any time he learned a new spell, the magic words just popped into his head at the time that he needed them. Elliot, in response to Flyte's spell, started moving slower until it was almost as though he was floating in a still pace. Ander grabbed him and placed him on the floor.

“It’s my turn,” Ander said intimidatingly. He picked up his sword one-handed and left his stone arm to his side. “Let’s see if you can throw me.”

Borigan walked up to Ander and slashed at his left side, so Ander blocked it with his stone arm. Sparks shot out with the impact, plentiful enough that Flyte started looking out for fires. Borigan jabbed at Ander, making Ander completely able to grab Borigan’s blade and warp it's edge in his stony clutch. Ander started bleeding immensely from the joints in his hand.

Borigan had one last chance to defeat Ander now that his sword was dulled and bent. He dropped the useless chunk of metal and grabbed for Ander’s shoulder. Ander grabbed his forearm and twisted it sideways to tear it out of socket. Borigan screamed and Ander threw him at a tree.

Flyte walked over to him. Borigan coughed out blood, and a branched had impaled him around the stomach. “Ander, I think he’s dying.” Ander walked over to them.

"Call off your men, " Ander yelled to Borigan. "And we'll make your death less painful." Ander stood there waiting for the dying man's answer.

"Never," Borigan said. "If I call my men off, I will never be avenged." Every word he said made more blood come out of his mortal wounds.

Spearmen surrounded Flyte and Elliot. Elliot was still slowed down, but he was gradually getting faster. "Forslo!" Flyte shouted. Cavorting flames circled around Flyte and Elliot but were far enough away from them to stay comfortable. All of the spearmen jumped back, except for one. That soldier walked toward them through the flames.

He had a helmet that hid his face, and armor with no visible cracks or chinks. At his side were two blades, each holding the symbol of Chraith's home guard.

"My master wishes you dead," the strange man said. As he talked Flyte noticed a transparent purple color under the helmet, but it might have been black, along with the night sky surrounding them.

"Yes," Flyte said bored. "We know."

The man was terrifyingly quiet. Flyte couldn't hear a single breath escape his mouth. "No, not you," the weird purple guy said in monotone. "He wants the one behind you dead. If you make this difficult, I doubt that he'd refuse more souls." Dark blue runes appeared around the man, getting brighter by the second. All of a sudden, they all burst simultaneously and destroyed Flyte's small spell.

Elliot turned back to his original speed. "Honorious," Elliot said. "I thought you were dead." Elliot seemed perplexed, but Ander definitely seemed more confused. Flyte, though, was just attempting to see because Honorious's spell had darkened the area around them. Flute heard a snapping twig behind him yet again, so he instinctively turned and stabbed at the sound, and the blow was received with a grunt of pain.

Flyte could see it now. Six spearmen, including the one he stabbed, surrounded him and Elliot. One napped at Flyte, probably to avenge his fallen comrade, but Flyte grabbed the spear, yanked it back, and stabbed someone else in the shoulder with it. He then stabbed his would-be impaler, who crumpled down wordlessly, having fainted. Two more tried to stab Flyte at the same time, so he just stepped away and let them hurt each other. The last grazed Flyte's side hand, so he cut the spear into an ugly walking stick.

"Try it," Flyte coldly said to the novice hunter, who ran away screaming. Ander's teaching finally paid off. Elliot was having a problem with Honorious though. Just like with Borigan, Elliot wasn't strong enough to party and then stab, he had to weather the blows and lose energy.

"Iras" Flyte said quickly. When it turned out that the spell not only didn't slow anything down, but also made him fairly tired, he slapped his forehead in a sense of self stupidity. Magic was all about how the words are said. A nature spell had to sound natural, while a freezing spell had to sound ice cold, and a fire spell had to sound heated, or even volatile. In this case, the spell should have been said very slowly. If a mage got this right, their spell would be stronger and takes less energy. If they got this wrong, their spell could have an ineffective energy sink that had no beneficial effects.

Flyte could only watch Elliot's fight go downhill as he hurled out his lunch.

Elliot was blocking attacks, but Honorious was getting faster and faster, while Elliot was getting more and more beat up. Elliot was starting to look like he was going to fall over, but instead he started screaming in rage as a buckler formed on his arm. It was a rectangular shield with very curved edges, and it bore the king's insignia on it.

Flyte looked back at Ander, who was fighting the group of three that he knocked down earlier. all of them had a short bow and a sword, signifying that they were elite. Flyte ran towards them, but because of their scuffle with Ander they didn't notice Flyte getting behind them. He stabbed one of them and got ready to be shot at, but the arrow never came. Ander came at a second and tossed him to the side like a bear. Ander and Elliot looked to the last elite who had grabbed a horn and pressed it to his lips. Nocking an arrow to his bow Ander aimed straight at him and shot him just as he blew the horn. They were too late.

Flyte was beginning to worry. "Ander, " Flyte desperately said. "We have to go."

Ander's only response was a gruff "Wait here," as he ran toward Elliot and Honorious. Honorious, upon seeing Ander stepped onto a boulder protruding from the ground for another odd in his favor. He slashed at Ander, who blocked with his stone arm, which got badly cut in the action.

Flyte decided not to wait and ran toward Honorious. A word appeared in his mind, but it was the reverse of slow, 'Iras'. It was 'Sari'. He said the word, and though it didn't seem like he changed at all, everything around him seemed to be slower. Flyte jumped up and went to the highest of the branches of the tree. 'Cool.' He then leapt towards Honorious, and he slashed at the soldier of darkness that was Honorious. The blade was grabbed one handed by the same one who Flyte desired to cut, and a raspy voice sounded in Flyte's head. "No one can stop me now, Flyte Tenner. I see all."

Flyte fell down exhausted, right until he noticed something strange. The voice was not that of Honorious. Someone one else was at the battle.

He knew that even though he was exhausted he still had to cast a spell in order to end this fight. He also knew that almost any spell that he cast could be blocked by the mage, so it had to be both fast and strong. The only real option he had was a lighting spell, which was widely known as the most strenuous spell, simply due to its immense movement of energy.

Flyte concentrated for about a second. "Foulos," Flyte boomed, making sure to change the sound he made just as lightning was never in the exact same shape or spot. It was perfect. the light flashed and Honorious fell down with a gaping hole in his torso. Flyte fell in the exact manner as Honorious, with his face smashing against the ground. He had run out of energy so thoroughly that he couldn't even move.

Ander grabbed Flyte over his shoulders while taking a final glance at the battlefield. Flyte looked over to Elliot and saw that there were no longer shadowy vines growing on his arms. That was probably a good thing.

Flyte felt like a sack of potatoes with tired eyes. Because he was unable to move, Ander stuck Flyte on a horse then tied him there. Ander then got on his own horse, while telling Elliot to get onto Borigan's war-horse. Ander looked back, and Flyte's eyes drifted behind them too. Riders crested the hill, each holding bows and swords, and bearing the insignia of the royal hunters.

"Ride now!" Ander shouted, and so they and their horses were off on a deadly chase.