Okay boys, we’re in the final stretch. Let’s just get this shit done with.

I think the opening scene of this chapter should show Erasmus and Myra, in bed or something.

Cut to the great hall, many rangers sleep fitfully on benches and in the corners. One man yawns as he stokes life back into the hearth’s dimming embers.

Cut to Erda, pausing a moment to sip some tea. A ranger shuffles quietly beside her.

“Please, Miss Erda. You must sleep. We shall tend tend the wounded for now.”

She nods politely, thanking the women for her wisdom, before wearily gliding away through the dark tunnels, to her room. But she does not go straight away to her chambers. She turns a corner, and into a wide an empty corner of the of the Great Warren.

(I’ll have to solidify the imagery around this place, for sure. Just to be clear, this place is like a fortress/hill made of many trees fused together. I dunno what else to do with it. I’m open to suggestions.)

Anyways, Erda comes to Pike’s chamber. Candle-holder in hand, she enters to check in on her repeat patient. But she has a terrible suspicion.

Just as she thought. The bed is empty, yet neatly made. The fresh clothes laid on the bedside table were gone. She knew that Pike could never stay among them. She could not truly say that she wanted him to. But still, the thought that she might not see the man again weighed heavily on her heart.

Laying the candlestick on the table, she sat herself in the bed, wiped a stray tear from her cheek, and blew out the flame.

Cut to Pike, staring up at a full moon. He turns, gazing back at the tree fortress thing, an island sanctuary amidst the sea of ruin about him.

“Well,” he mutters, idly kicking a dented helmet. “Glad that whole business is over with…” But still, his gaze lingers on the place.

“Having second thoughts?” comes the rasping voice of The Ghost, formally known as the One Eyed Man. The armoured man appears out of the mist, almost like a ghost, you could say.

“Why do you care?” Pike snapped. The Ghost’s hollow laugh echoes in his helmet like a funeral bell.

“I’m only curious, if that chest of yours really does a heart beating in it. ”

Pike gripped the hilt of the ranger sword at his belt. “No. I don’t. So no need to trouble your own, bleeding heart about taking this villain’s head.”

“You are indeed an accomodating fellow…” The Ghost thrusts his spear into the earth, and draws his sword from its scabbard, its thin blade shining pale in the moonlight.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Pike drew his own, borrowed ranger-sword and went into his familiar stance.

“By the way,” said The Ghost, “what did happen to that strange sword of yours? It would be of much use as evidence.”

Pike grinned sardonically. “No clue. Wouldn’t do me much good right now…”

Pike inched forward. He prepared his thrust. And the sudden sound of thunder broke the stillness of the night.

Erasmus shot up out of bed at the sound.

“What was that?” Myra gasped.

Erasmus was quiet as he listened to the fading rumble. His face was going pale. “That was gunpowder. Lot’s of it.”

In a half-daze, Erasmus went over to the window (the room has a window by the way). Outside, the night’s darkness had been chased away by a light of a great fire. There was another sharp, exploding crack, and the light flared brighter. Erasmus peered through the window.

“It must the powder magazine…” Erasmus shielded his eyes against the glare, “of the mercenary cannon. Why did no one do something about them?”

There was the sound of trumpet blares. Alarm calls of rangers, and the horribly familiar calls of goblin horns.

Ruadh sped the through the tunnels, rousing the dazed and confused rangers to arms.

“Fire!” voices called out. “Foes!” Everything was thrown into chaos and shit. At the front gate, rangers were out trying to put out the fires that were creeping up on the fort.

“Stay away from that!” Ruadh called out, but another barrel exploded, killing a few men who had gotten too close.

The forest outside was now alive with the sound of horn blasts, echoing from all around. Hundreds spots of light, like burning torches glittered in the nighted woods. The crack of musket shot split the air every few moments.

“Look at them all!” cried a ranger, despairing at the sight of the torch-lights. “There must be thousands of them!”

“Fall back into the fort!”

“No! They’re in the woods, we can fight them there!”

“Don’t chase after them, it’s a trap!”

Now that’s all well and good, but what you really have to take note of, and what nobody else noticed, where the few extra ranger cloaks mingling in the confused mass. Or that these men were wearing their hoods low over their faces. In the confusion and hysteria, nobody noticed these hooded men make their way inside the fort, or that one of them was taller than the rest.

“Myra,” Erasmus said as the two of them raced down the corridors, “I want you to go find Erda. If she’s not still in the infirmary, take her there and guard her. I’ll head to the front gate and send more men up to you.”

“Understood,” Myra gulped. “Do you think they’re really attacking?”

“I don’t know… if there’s enough of them to rush for the gate, it might be all over for us.”

“Erasmus…” Myra grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked into her eyes. She embraced him, and the two had a kissy scene. It was nice, and it made you want to see them get married.

They stopped swapping spit, and with a nod, went their seperate ways.

Erasmus soon bumped into a group of ranger-cloaks, scurrying in the opposite direction.

“Sir!” cried the stocky man in the lead. “Have you seen the mistress Erda? Where is she!”

“She’ll be at the infirmary,” replied Erasmus. “Further down that corridor over there. Have you wounded?”

“Aye…” the hooded man raised his face, his wolfish face contorted in a savage grimace.

Erasmus didn’t feel the dagger until the goblin pulled it free. The next thrust sent him to his knees. Hands clutching his bloodied chest, he glanced up at the intruders, his body screaming to fight back. But a booted foot crashed into his chin, and the paladin slumped to the ground.

“Foreign bastard,” the goblin-man spat. He went to kneel before the unconscious man, to finish him off.

“Leave him,” Talon plucked the man’s shoulder as he strode past. The corners of his mouth twitch, barely containing his frenzied excitement. His fingers twitched as they gripped the hilt of the Black Sword. “We’ve got work to do.”