Thunderous booms pounded Fennel’s ears as the Third Legion’s march was hastened into a sprint. His legs ached, dwarves were built for this. The warhorns had blared not five minutes ago, a startling sign. Why hadn’t the scouts seen them coming? It should have been at least another hour before they arrived. And now they are on our doorstep. He had no clue how far off the monsters were, his short stature didn’t really allow for it. He had to rely on asking Lukkans. The huge eyed archer marched next to him before the war horns were blown and now gave him updates on what was happening.
After Lieutenant Barnes dropped Fennel’s squad off at the staging ground, Fennel’s squad was absorbed into Commander Gatrel’s Legion, which held the duty of engaging in the initial wave. They ran nearly dead center of the whole Legion.
Fennel could not help but feel relieved about it. Jaren and the Fourth were assigned the Boss Wave, the most brutal of the three Raid Waves, same as the last defense. A fact that had bothered him for the entirety of last week when Daila dropped the news on him. It was the main reason he was so adamant about training and why he held the squad back today.
But now his squad was given a respite. The initial wave was the quickest and by far the least dangerous part of the raid. Still dangerous, fighting a horde of monsters always was, but you didn’t have the burden of protecting the wounded lying in medical tents not but a couple of hundred feet behind you weighing on your psyche. Or the giant hulking boss breathing down your neck. That helped.
Not that that stopped him from worrying. It’d been months since the last time the Fourth was assigned this role, and he would have liked to go over the basics with his squad beforehand. It was a simple detail, go out and fight, give the other Legions time to set up the Command and Medical Tents as the frontline was being defined.
The monsters that populate the first wave tend to be on the weaker side as well, not that anyone was sure why. Monsters didn’t have a sense of hierarchy or anything of the sort aside from the boss who showed up later. There were no tactics or strategy in the monsters’ attack, just pure, unadulterated aggression.
He suppressed a shudder. Now was not the time to be thinking about it. Fennel needed to focus solely on the fight ahead, on killing as many monsters as he could, and on keeping his squad alive. A portion of the squad at least.
Fennel turned his head, and only ten bodies followed after him, his mind shifting to a new concern. Three people were left behind. He’d figured out this was some strange ploy by Lirae and her husband when the squad made it to the gate leading out of the city, where Barnes shook hands with Commander Rickard after he dumped us on the Third.
A spark of anger flickered in his chest. Jaren and Len told him time and time again how many games were played by the Council members. And his squad was caught up in the middle of it this time around. It didn’t directly hurt his squad, no, if anything the decision more than likely saved some lives in his squad. Probably all of them. But it was the principle that made him burn. They fought to defend the city, to protect innocents who couldn’t. Leave the stupid and petty power struggles out of Raids at least.
Fennel shook his head just a single time, so as to not give a false signal to his team. How could she just play with lives like this? And why involve the twins? I can understand her trying to brand Liam a deserter given her distaste for Ferals, but the twins were something else entirely. They brimmed with talent and potential, why would she try to get them carted off to Tiamantis? The whole situation stunk.
Before his mind crafted any further conspiracies, Lukkans tapped on his shoulder, his large eyes filled with determination. “Less than five minutes.” He gave Fennel the signal that he was going to move back to the rest of the archers in A5. Fennel nodded and his friend fell back. The space Lukkans occupied filled immediately. A large one horned Minotauren barged his way in. Fennel stared up at him, the usual bloodthirsty grin the large human normally wore on raid days gone. Fennel wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
The other two frontliners followed suit and soon Fennel’s entire squad fell into place. It was time. Fennel checked his status bars and his abilities one last time, giving him something to do while they ran. For this was the worst part of the initial wave: waiting.
Then nearly five minutes after Lukkans pulled back, the first roars of battle filled the air.
——
Ingrid stood fixed. She was still being embraced by the fox tailed feral woman. The leader of the group meeting with Mort. Ingrid shifted uncomfortably, trying to release herself from the unwanted hug. She was never much for physical affection, especially from…well she didn’t enjoy it. However, the woman only squeezed tighter with each attempt.
Eventually, Ingrid just let it happen. She wasn’t about to resort to violence to free herself, that would just get her killed by the woman’s subordinates who watched from around the room. She could only see the large human feral, who surprisingly wore a soft smile. Which made Ingrid feel even stranger.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Until Ingrid took in a deep breath through her nose. The smell was familiar, a scent that she hadn’t experienced in over twenty years. An ever so slightly smokey scent with just a hint of jasmine. An odd pairing, but one favored by— Ingrid shook her head, forcing herself not to dive head first into whirling emotions dredging up.
She sighed. The fragrance, the final piece of the puzzle Ingrid had long since solved without it. She just didn’t want to admit it yet. The mystery feral, somebody she once longed to see for so many years. Somebody who abandoned her, leaving her to fend for herself in this dark district.
“Lisse. Could you let me go now?” She said into the woman’s ear. The cloaked woman squeezed one last time, then drew back. “Griddy.” Said the woman. Ingrid looked up into her overly emotional elder sister’s misty eyes, bright orange matching her tail and hair almost exactly. Some things never change. Ingrid thought to herself. She remembered how her sister would cry at the most mundane things, not that this was mundane in the slightest.
Before either could say anything else, the feathered man spoke up. “Griddy, as in Ingrid? As in The Founder’s second child? Your sis—” He shut up as the large Feral woman elbowed him in the gut. “Ma’am, we have to get going now.” She said.
Lisse nodded. “I know. Ingrid. Follow me.”
She grabbed Ingrid’s hand, making for the door. Mort coughed.
“Not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I’m going to have to cut this tearful reunion off. And Ingrid here isn’t going anywhere. Not after that little act of espionage.”
Mort’s dark black eyes trained on Ingrid.
“I know you’ve got a new employer.” He said in a low voice. Ingrid stiffened. “Our girl Ingrid moved up in the world. A truly meteoric rise at that. From my personal wage slave to councilor pet.” His voice lowered even further, now dripping with threat. “One of my guys figured we had a spy lurking around. Said they must have been an expert in all things clandestine to never get caught. Hell to barely even leave a trace.” He smirked. “I can only imagine the look on his face when he finds out he’s been duped by a common little Gloom rat the whole time.”
Mort turned to Lisse, who had stepped in front of Ingrid at some point.
“Maybe not so common it seems.” His attention turned to Lisse, licking his lips. “I can’t let her go. She knows too much. You can’t afford it either. Your plot hinges on our shared secrets. Something she's paid to divulge.”
Ingrid’s palms began to sweat as she remembered the rumors of Mort’s punishments. Lisse turned back to Ingrid, giving her a soft reassuring smile before replying to the man.
“No worries, me and my people will handle her. Let’s move.“
Lisse pushed Ingrid towards the door as the other Ferals moved with her.
Mort whistled. The sound of movement filled the room as Mort’s subordinates flooded the room from the back room he initially emerged from. At least fifteen splicers ran up to them.
Lisse and the other two ferals surrounded Ingrid. The woman unsheathed her axe, the man’s feathers ruffled as they readied for a fight. Ingrid searched around, looking for an escape.
“Eh, that would have been fine. If you hadn't just hugged on her. Now I can’t trust you to get the job done.” Mort said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Don’t you want those flowers, Mort? Let us go or you won’t get them.”
“Yeah, that’s only one business venture. Word gets out I’m working with Ferals, that’s every single one of my business ventures seized by the glorious mayor. And me, shipped right out of my home. Off to the cold reaches to the north.”
Mort grinned. “And I’m willing to bet that whoever inherits your place in the village will work with me.”
“Dirty bastard.” Said the feathered Feral.
“Pot calling the kettle black, who’d have guessed. Filthy Feral scum.” Mort hissed.
Lisse shook her head. “Alright then. Glenna, if you would.”
“Aye Ma’am.”
The large woman raised her axe directly above her head, then turned toward one of the walls. Her move acted as a signal to Mort’s men who rushed the Ferals. The two up front immediately met with black feathers thrown right between their eyes, boring straight through. The crow man threw out even more, seemingly trying to pull in as much aggro as he could from the large woman.
Ingrid looked around the chaos, unsure of what she should do. She couldn’t run away. She could try but she doubted she’d get very far. Her abilities weren’t very useful in a fight. Against a single opponent maybe, but a whole mass no way. And there weren't any escape routes Ingrid could utilize either. The front door was the only way in or out.
A flash of light distracted her. Ingrid looked up at the axe, yellow light gathered around it. Lisse’s tail glowed a bright pink, then a strange pink mist that almost sparkled in the poorly lit hideout poured out from it. Lisse waved her tail toward the attackers, they charged right through, not thinking anything of the mist. Then right as a large minotauren bore down on Lisse, his eyes blanked. Then he fell to the ground, shivering uncontrollably. Each man who walked through the girlish gas succumbed in the same fashion.
Ingrid covered her mouth reflexively, to which Lisse just giggled.
“Five seconds.” The axe wielding woman said. Ingrid turned to her just as a wulfen gene elf slashed at her with bright red claws. Until a large black feather pierced his throat.
“Now!” The woman shouted.
Lisse pulled Ingrid back.
The woman swung the axe down, into the ground below her, where a rather unfortunate lackey thought he was being smart and sat with a blade aimed at the woman’s legs. A blast of yellow energy shot forth from the swing, blowing right through the wall of the hideout and throwing Mort’s men away from it. That unlucky lackey completely evaporated.
Ingrid saw her chance, her legs glowed blue as she prepped her escape. Yet right before she could make her first leap, a disgustingly sweet smell entered her nostrils. Her vision blurred, then her body lurched. Before she fell, a soft orange tail wrapped around her body, carrying her. She heard her sister's voice just before she passed out.
“Sorry, Ingrid. I need to ask you some questions. Especially about your new friend.”