“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the rest.”
Faust’s words echoed throughout the mindscape James was in, his eyes staring at the dark oblivion that was its sky. He had been about to die in the real world, or at least he had thought so. The Carapace spell James had was the reason why he hadn’t gone down sooner, instead opting for the young man to be in constant agony as his old stab wound reopened from the related blows to his abdomen.
James was so tired, mentally exhausted, and suffering from his wounds. Faust had then switched the young man’s vulnerable mind of the body’s control, taking over for James as his spirit rested in the mindscape. Somehow, someway, the full cooperation of the two spirits had done something remarkable to the young man’s body.
Just as James had suspected, the spirit did have a sort of healing factor, as Faust taking control had healed his broken arm and injured knee. James also got to view his own perspective from the backseat of things, seeing how Faust had saved Dahlia and proclaimed himself as the killer of Leonard Kord. As of now, James was recovering in the mindscape, his focus on the fight with Faust and Gryff.
“Just try not to die,” he muttered to himself. He clenched his fists as he watched through the eyes of his possessed body.
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Faust Desimir clashed his sword against Gryff’s dagger, sending chips of ice flying as the dagger visibly cracked. Without giving him a chance to react, the Centurion sent a heavy left uppercut. His fist connected with Gryff’s jaw and sent the knight stumbling back in a daze.
“I thought you were supposed to be tough!” Faust shouted. He moved in for another stab, aiming for a weak point in Gryff’s armor. The cryomancer quickly evaded the attack, backing away from Faust in an attempt to get some distance. He wouldn’t be able to catch a break as Dahlia moved in from his right, her ornate dagger slashing at the resting knight. Faust used this chance to go after the spellcaster, using the short sword the same way he would use a gladius all those years ago.
Gryff was nothing to joke about. His skill was possibly on a par with Leonard Kord, maybe even a little higher. Still, Faust could see how the spellcaster hesitated and played it safe against the Centurion, his dagger strikes not carrying the same weight as it did when he was fighting the shaman.
‘He was confident a minute ago. Before I came in.’
Faust’s short sword scored another hit against the knight’s breastplate, nicking the steel and causing the spellcaster to back away quickly to avoid any follow-up attacks from the Centurion.
Both Faust and Dahlia caught their breath as the knight stayed away from the two, his cold blue eyes examining both of them. Faust was still trying to get used to James’ body; the young man’s body was sore as hel and not as strong as Faust back in his prime. It felt like he was wearing weights on his arms and legs, his moves sluggish and weaker than what he was used to. Still, Gryff didn’t seem to take advantage of it, as the knight had opted to dodge and keep a safe distance from Faust.
‘Why is he hesitant when it comes to fighting you?’ James spoke out, his ethereal voice echoing in Faust’s mind. That felt strange for some reason.
‘Not sure. He wasn’t like this when he went against you and Dahlia,’ Faust conceded, his brow furrowed as he considered options.
“Faust Desimir,” Gryff called out all of a sudden, catching the attention of both Faust and Dahlia. “Killer of Leonard Kord. I had a hard time believing your words, given that you’ve been dead for centuries. But your movements, your attacks, even the way you punch. It matches up with the long-dead fighting style Cyrus’ Legionnaires and Centurions had used.” Gryff wiped his bloodied lips with an unsettling smile.
“So you have heard of me?” Faust questioned.
“Of course!” Gryff exclaimed. “I’ve read many books about the Legion that had threatened the Lumen Kingdom centuries ago. I know of its origin, of its rise, and its imminent fall.” The cryomancer grinned with bloodied teeth, the sight growing even more uncomfortable. “I also know that the death of Faust Desimir was one of the falling pillars that led to its destruction, to its people becoming slaughtered.”
Faust could feel how his fingers clenched onto his sword’s handle, the act enough to give worry to the man in his head.
‘He’s trying to get inside your head. Don’t let him,’ James said internally. He had a point, even if Faust’s emotions screamed at him to gut the knight where he stood. There was one thing he could try, though.
“Tell me, knight, do you know how Leonard Kord died?” Faust asked. Gryff blinked at that. He clearly was not expecting the out-of-place question.
“Fighting you, of course. The records read he died a heroic death defending Fort Armen,” Gryff responded.
“Heroic?” Faust chuckled. “Leonard Kord died a coward, begging for mercy before I drove my gladius into his throat. You will die the same as him.”
Gryff’s features faltered for a moment before he visibly steeled himself.
“Well. Let’s see if your words carry any truth to them.”
He charged at Faust, ignoring Dahlia completely as he positioned his dagger into a stabbing motion. Faust countered the attack, using his blade to deflect the oncoming dagger. He could see how Dahlia moved in to help but was interrupted when Gryff slammed a hand onto the ice.
“Ice Wall!” The ground shook for a moment before a small wall of ice the length and width of a door rose from the ground, blocking off the shaman temporarily.
Faust used this opening to move in on the knight. Gryff seemed to notice this, and he positioned himself to counter the Centurion’s attack. Unfortunately for him, Faust wasn’t going for a swing like Gryff had predicted. The Centurion’s boot struck against the knight’s chest, the cryomancer’s eyes widening in surprise as Faust sent him back onto the ice. Gryff tried to recover quickly, his body scrambling to get up. The Centurion wasted no time. His sword came down on the kneeling knight, who quickly countered with his ice dagger, blocking the attack.
“Ice Lance!”
Faust quickly backed away from the knight and narrowly avoided getting impaled by the shard of ice. Gryff came at the Centurion once more, this time without his clear hesitation from earlier. Faust did his best to block the attacks, his eyes looking for an opening.
‘Got you!’
Faust thrust his sword at Gryff’s exposed side, hoping to score a hit. Gryff seemed to have expected it and evaded the strike with a sidestep before going at Faust with a downward stab. Faust quickly tried to block, but even he knew he was too slow.
Dahlia shoved into the knight, disrupting his attack as she struck her dagger against his armored chest, missing the small gap in his plate armor. Faust charged at the knight with Dahlia, his sword coming down as Dahlia went for a stab at Gryff’s leg. The Lumen Knight dodged the attacks, countering the shaman with a kick to her chest before he rushed to the Centurion with a lunge. Faust instinctively raised his weapon, blocking the dagger’s advance to his throat. The attack never came. Gryff had feinted, his free hand forming a fist and punching Faust in the gut. The strike landed, and the Centurion stumbled, his eyes going wide with surprise and sudden pain.
‘It’s like he knew what I was going to do!’
Faust went for a wild swing, nearly catching Gryff off guard. The knight evaded with another swift motion, his dagger moving in for a strike. A real strike, Faust knew it this time. However, before he could block the attack, he was suddenly ripped out of control, his spirit going back into the mindscape.
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James was back in his body, his lungs instantly gasping for air. Without hesitation or a single word, he tackled Gryff, whose dagger strike was nothing more than a feint intended to counter Faust. Thankfully for James, his tackle had caught Gryff off guard. Both men fell, Gryff shouting in surprise as he was slammed onto the ice.
James shifted and grabbed at his sword, attempting to stab at Gryff. He missed, the blade scraping against the ice below. Gryff growled and kicked James off, who recovered and scrambled to grab the cryomancer’s fallen dagger. Hands wrapping around its hilt, James didn’t hesitate to stab at Gryff’s back, who was still trying to stand up. The icy blade of the magical dagger pierced through the small opening by Gryff’s shoulder, drawing a pained shout from the spellcaster.
James pulled the dagger back and tried for another stab. Gryff reacted by swatting the stab and striking with an armored fist. The punch landed square on James’ chest, the force sending the young man flying back onto the snow. While the punch was not empowered by magic, James still had to put effort into regaining his breath. As the icy air rushed into his lungs, Faust’s voice spoke out in his mind,
‘James?! What the hell was that?!’
James groaned as he spat onto the ground, his hands and legs shaking as he climbed back on his feet.
‘I figured it out,’ James mentally spoke to Faust. ‘He memorizes attacks and fighting styles. It’s how he knew exactly what you were going to do. What I was going to do.’
He coughed as he stood back up, watching as Gryff froze his recent wound shut. Dahlia was nearby, catching her breath as she gripped her dagger.
“Dahlia! He’s memorizing our attacks and movements!” James shouted.
The shaman blinked, visible confusion on her face as she looked over at both the healing knight and James. “He’s doing what? How?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I need you to be as unpredictable as possible. It’ll confuse him enough to make mistakes, just like he did with Faust when they first fought,” James explained.
James could feel how sore his body was, and he felt a couple of new slashes on his blue tunic.
‘Faust, I’m going to need you to switch with me randomly through this. Keep him confused enough.’
‘That’s insane. This can easily go wrong.’ Faust sounded hesitant, but James knew that this really was the only way they would have a chance at defeating Gryff.
‘Just do it! And don’t tell me when you’re about to switch!’
With that said, James charged at Gryff, fists raised as if he would fight the knight. Instead of doing so, however, the blond man slid onto the ice, grabbing at his fallen sword. Using the momentum of his slide, James swung with all of his might at the Lumen Knight before him.
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Kate Rowan kept herself flat against the stone wall, her eyes observing the alleyway.
Harris was on the other wall across from her, the guard preparing his short bow. “Where are they?” He murmured as he peeked out. Parin and Dirk were right next to Kate, both men carrying swords.
“Perhaps they all tripped the snares?” Dirk suggested.
“I doubt it. We only rigged up a few of them,” Parin answered.
“There’s a chance that the other squads have caught up with them,” Kate said. “Still, it’s unlikely that all of them have avoided this path.”
All the men murmured with each other before Kate raised a hand, quieting them down. Harald had appointed her as their squad leader despite her protests. The veteran trusted her for some reason, a choice that had both surprised and angered Harris.
“What is it?” Dirk asked, the young man peeking out a little.
“I think I hear voices. Stay put.” Kate focused on the alleyway ahead, her ears picking up the sounds of scuffling feet. Soon enough, a group of men burst in, a mix between royal soldiers and green tunics. Two of them were in armored plate, three in chainmail, and one with no armor. They all caught their breath, clearly confused and dumbfounded.
“The hel was that?! You said that this was going to be quick and clean?!” one man in green questioned a Lumen soldier.
“It was! I had no fucking clue these savages had Fireball runes!”
“Well, they do!”
As they all argued, Kate turned to Harris, her fingers gesturing towards the most exposed of the men. Harris nodded, the guard stepping up with his short bow. He nocked an arrow on his bowstring, taking a deep breath as he took aim. Harris loosed the arrow, the projectile whizzing through the air. The arrow struck the man’s shoulder, a pained shout signifying to the small squad to charge at their enemies.
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“Now!” Kate led the charge, swallowing any fear she had as the squad took her lead. They rushed at the confused men, their weapons drawn and pointed towards them. The guardswoman was soon upon the first of the enemies, a terrified man in shoddy chainmail and steel helm. She swung her sword at his exposed neck and collar, putting all of her strength into the attack.
Sharp steel made contact with soft flesh, blood suddenly faceting from the torn wound. Kate felt how the man struggled under her sword, the sudden movements speckling more blood onto her. She forced herself to stop watching, her eyes casting away as her weakening arm pulled the sword out of the man’s neck. She didn’t have to look at him to know that the man was as good as dead.
Kate looked upon the rest of her squad, all of whom were fighting with the rest of the men. One man in the green tunics was already dead, three arrows sticking out of him. Dirk was struggling with one in chainmail while Harris dealt with another.
Parin was being an idiot, his sword striking against one of the armored ones. Kate moved to help, her sword swinging down on the second armored man. Her weapon bounced off of his armor, the vibrations shaking the young woman slightly as she staggered back.
The armored soldier turned to Kate, his own sword moving in to stab at her. Her training kicked in, her sword quickly moving to parry the attack. The man’s strike went wild, stabbing at nothing while Kate advanced with a thrust at his torso. Her sword’s tip scraped against steel, hitting nothing vital. The armored man grunted and lunged with his own sword.
“Fuck!” Kate exclaimed. In an act of desperation and adrenaline, she used her free hand to grab at the incoming sword’s edge. She winced as the cold steel bit into her palm and fingers, blood staining the sword as its trajectory was redirected away from Kate. It hit nothing but the cold air. Kate raised her sword right after, using her free hand to keep the armored man’s weapon down and leave him open. She thrust her sword again, her eyes widening as luck took her side once more. Her blade’s tip met resistance as it struck the small gap in the armor’s front. Without thinking, Kate forced her weapon through. The sword sank through, drawing an exasperated gasp from the young soldier.
Kate could see how he dropped his weapon in shock, his body stiffening as he looked at her. His blue orbs seemed to ask ‘why’ to the young woman, and his lips quivered as if he wanted to say something.
Kate stared back, arms shaking as she forced the blade deeper, drawing another pained gasp from her victim. She looked away, both hands now on the pommel, as she twisted and ripped the weapon out of the man’s torso.
As the body fell, Kate moved her focus to the fighting around her. She immediately noticed the other armored man fighting with Parin. The guardsman was reckless in his attacks, panic clear in his desperate swings. Kate’s eyes widened as she watched Parin make a severe misstep in his fight, something he had done on the training grounds many times before. Unfortunately, this was no training exercise. Parin seemed to realize his mistake, the ginger man quickly moving to fix it.
However, he would be too late, as the armored soldier took advantage of Parin’s fatal misstep.
“No!”
Kate watched in horror as the other man’s sword disappeared up the ginger guard’s jaw, its bloodied tip emerging from his scalp. She watched as Harris finally hacked down his target before noticing what had happened to his friend.
“Parin?! No!” Harris kicked the body of his opponent away before rushing at the guardsman’s killer. Kate wanted to help but was distracted by Dirk, who was still struggling with his opponent. Time seemed to stop for the young woman, her eyes switching between who to help and save.
‘I… I’m so sorry.’
With only seconds to decide, she made her choice.
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Miles was at his limit, his strikes growing more sluggish by the second. He only killed two of the orcs, and the rest of the bastards gave him and the crew a hard time. Most of the crewmates were doing as the mercenary had asked of them: staying back and keeping themselves alive.
They had even armed themselves with the fallen weapons from the skirmish, with Dimitri and Liam wielding a spear and ax, the rest of the crew varying between a sword, daggers, and some improvised weapons, such as broken bottles and spare planks. Still, they all kept their distance from Miles and the orcs, the mercenary opting to do without the help despite the shipmaster coming in to assist from time to time, just like now.
Miles watched as one of the attacking orcs was interrupted by a spear’s thrust, its sharp tip grazing against the gr’s cheek. The brute stumbled back, avoiding another spear strike from Dimitri, who wielded the weapon with some issues. It was obvious that the shipmaster had little to no experience with a spear, yet it didn’t stop him from trying to gorge the orc that was fighting Miles.
“What the hel are you doing?!” Miles asked, stepping in to shove Dimitri out of the way of the brute’s ax swing, the rusted weapon hitting the deck. The ex-follower shoved the end of his blade into the orc’s exposed collar, forcing the brute onto a knee.
“I’m trying to help!” Dimitri shouted, his spear coming out of Miles’ field of view. The spearhead pierced the brute’s throat, sending specks of blood everywhere. Miles pulled away from the dying orc, grabbing Dimitri and pushing him away from a goblin’s attempted strike.
“If you want to help, then stay back!” Miles shouted, kicking at the small creature. With that orc dead, it left two of the bastards onboard, the rest of them on the longship below. They were currently being fended off by the crew, who were still kicking off the boarding hooks. Thankfully, the orcs and goblins on board were too stupid to see it, leaving Miles with fewer enemies to worry about.
“Miles,” Liam panted out, the man’s orange hair damp with sweat. “There’s a ship coming from the northwest. It looks like another of the orc ships.”
“What?” Miles turned to the wheelman, who didn’t look like he was joking.
“More orcs? You have to be fucking kidding!” Dimitri cursed.
“No joke about it. It looks exactly like the longship these bastards came in. Miles, what do you suppose we do?”
The ex-follower turned back to the three remaining hostiles on deck, a small group that was pushing Miles to his limits. He could barely handle this small group, let alone the rest of the bastards who were still aboard their longship.
‘What can we do…?’
Miles looked towards the crew, who were all doing their damndest to help the mercenary out.
“I recall something in Myr’s doctrines. Something that has stuck with me for a while,” he muttered softly, earning a couple of confused looks. “The way to an interesting life is to prepare for an interesting death, where your last actions define the life you had led.” Miles readied his dagger and sword. “I’d rather die fighting than running,” he added, earning a response from Dimitri and Liam.
“Hmph… Agreed.”
“Aye.”
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Hugo raised his halberd once more, blocking Seamus’ attempt at his neck. The young man’s sword struck hard against the staff of Hugo’s weapon, the blade recoiling back before it swung to Hugo’s left. The knight raised an armored gauntlet, blocking the sword strike with his forearm. He pushed back the strike before suddenly moving in for a quick lunge with his halberd’s end.
Seamus spun around the thrust, his sword scraping against the length of the weapon as he attempted another swing at Hugo’s head. The knight stopped the rushing attack, his other gauntlet grabbing the blade before it had a chance to pierce him. Seamus tried to push the sharp end through his fingers, which would’ve taken one of Hugo’s eyes out.
Instead of losing an appendage, of course, Hugo simply saw it coming. He quickly moved his head out of the way, the sword strike scraping against the side of his helmet. Hugo grinned underneath his visor, watching how Seamus quickly retreated from his failed attack, eyes still obscured by that messy hair of his.
Hugo was enjoying this, especially with the way Seamus had fought. No unnecessary speech or proclamations to the knight, no. Seamus was aiming to kill him. Every attack from the young man was directed to kill the knight, with no hesitation behind their convictions. Not to mention his speed, which was enough to give Hugo’s eyes a run for their gold.
‘What a fun fight. Maybe with some decent weaponry and armor, this man would be a serious threat.’
Hugo chuckled to himself as he examined Seamus, who was now catching his breath. The young man’s breathing slowly returned to normal before he rushed Hugo again. However, the knight already knew what to expect as his gauntlet and halberd deflected and blocked the swings from the young Halvorson. Seamus seemed to try to get a hit into the small openings in Hugo’s armor. Still, he wouldn’t get the chance to accurately strike them, as the knight was making sure not to make things too easy for the young man.
“Come on, Halvorson, do your worst,” Hugo taunted as his halberd’s blunt end struck against the kid’s chest, sending him stumbling back. The knight raised an eyebrow, noting this as the first time Seamus’ footwork had faltered. He prioritized this opportunity, moving to swing his halberd down on the young man. Seamus barely dodged the halberd’s edge, which cut through the tension-thick air. Halvorson repositioned himself, his sword suddenly swinging at Hugo in full force and speed, enough to surprise the knight.
Despite his perceptive eyes and usual fast reflexes, Hugo was too slow to block Seamus’ attack, the strike ringing out against his helmet. Hugo stumbled back, his mind registering the hit before another strike came at him, this one actually hurting the giant. He could feel the biting cold of sharp steel at his side, something that made him instantly swat at the attacker. Hugo’s backhand struck Halvorson, sending the young man back against the ship’s hull.
Hugo slowly regained his bearings, unsure if he truly felt the pain. He looked down at his armored gauntlet, squinting through his damaged visor. He could see the familiar crimson staining him, the sharp pain in his side signifying to the knight that Seamus’ strikes had finally reached and injured him.
“Amazing. It has been years since I’ve seen my own blood.” Hugo turned to Seamus, who was slowly trying to stand up. “You truly are Yorn’s son, aren’t you?”
The young man suddenly tensed up at the name of his father, a small scowl forming on his face.
‘Ah, touched a nerve, did I?’
Hugo could barely see out of his damaged visor, but he didn’t mind it. It would add the challenge that was Seamus Halvorson, the famed son of the supposed Conqueror of the North.
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“Fog Cloud!”
Dahlia’s spell appeared out of nowhere, blinding nearly everyone. Still, she knew James, or Faust, could still see since the Fog Cloud from earlier didn’t seem to hinder them at all. However, it hindered the two spellcasters.
“Dammit!” Gryff’s voice sounded out, his anger clear in his words. Dahlia rushed towards the source of the voice, her dagger preparing to swipe at wherever she assumed Gryff to be. However, before she could enact her half-baked plan, the Fog Cloud dissipated, its dismissal followed by his rage-filled voice.
“Dispel!”
“Flare!”
“Dispel!”
Dahlia’s next act was struck down nearly immediately after, her Flare spell fizzling out as soon as it reached the knight.
Gryff moved to use his dagger against the rushing shaman before James came in with a kick, followed by a loud shout that confirmed it was actually Faust in control.
“Our fight isn’t over!” Faust’s kick sent the knight stumbling back, making him lose his focus. Faust went for a downward stab, making Gryff move to block it. The possessed body of James suddenly went limp, his feet stumbling a bit as he leaned forward. His body snapped awake soon after, arms shifting as he moved in for a sideways strike. The seemingly random set of movements momentarily confused Gryff, which allowed for the wild swing to strike true. James’ sword contacted with the steel armor, sending the knight back with a noticeable dent in his armor. This had all transpired in less than a couple of seconds, surprising both Dahlia and the cryomancer.
Dahlia used this moment of confusion to move in-not really thinking of a plan-as she thrust her dagger into Gryff’s torso. Gryff stopped her with amazing reflexes, his free hand gripping her wrist with surprising force. Dahlia looked up to see glowing fingers, the all too familiar rune forming in front of her.
“Ice Lan–”
James’ fist collided with his cheek, sending him stumbling back as the young man went in for a sword strike. Gryff quickly recovered, his arms moving to block the stab. James went limp as a response, his body suddenly falling towards the ice. Before Gryff could react to the switch, Dahlia rushed him with her dagger. She slashed at the gaps between his plates, hoping to do some damage.
Gryff retaliated with a swat of his hand, brushing the dagger aside before his palm struck against the shaman’s chest. The sudden move made her lose her balance and stumble back onto the ice. She watched as Gryff quickly turned to where James was, only to be met with a sword stab aimed at his head. Gryff stopped the strike by quickly grabbing onto the sluggish man’s right arm. He tried to form another rune but was interrupted when the blond man threw an uppercut to his jaw. There was the audible sound of teeth clacking together, followed by Faust’s excited shout,
“Incredibilis!”
The cryomancer stumbled onto the ground from the strike, head shaking as he recovered. Faust rushed, which was what Gryff anticipated. The cyromancer’s dagger came out in a slash aimed at the possessed James. Faust quickly pulled back, sword going wide as the ice dagger missed the belly by a couple of centimeters, saving James from being gutted.
Still, using his free hand and the momentum left over from his desperate swipe, Gryff swung a fist at the possessed man. Just as Faust moved in to throw a punch at Gryff’s exposed face. Both men struck each other at the same time, sending each other recoiling back from the blows.
Dahlia used this chance to charge at Gryff with her dagger, hoping to all the gods above that she would succeed. She collided with the cryomancer, who had tried too late to defend himself. There was the sound of clashing and flesh being pierced before both spellcasters landed on the ice, with Dahlia rolling away from the knight. She was about to use her dagger for a second attack but realized that it was gone from her grip.
Dahlia looked towards Gryff, who slowly stood from the ice. He winced audibly as he looked down at his torso, where blood stained his abdomen. His hands trembled as he grabbed at the stuck dagger in his side, its ornate engravings stained with dark crimson. The sight hypnotized Dahlia, who watched as Gryff pulled half of the dagger’s length out of his body.
Drops of blood stained the icy ground, dyeing the snow below. Gryff took a few good breaths, his hand dropping the shaman’s dagger as he pressed a hand against his wound. After saying a few words, his hand glowed blue, and the wound slowly froze itself together. Dahlia watched all of this in silence, her eyes moving to James. The otherworldly man was rolling on the ice, his hands clutching at his bleeding nose. Gryff had probably broken it.
“I am done playing games,” Gryff panted. He spat out onto the bloodstained ice. “I’m going to kill you both.”
Dahlia wanted to fight, to grab her dagger and fend off the knight, but she was spent. Her body ached with every movement, her muscles begging for her to take a break.
‘I’m at my limit.’
She looked towards James, who seemed to be in the same state. They were both finished, their bodies no longer ready to fight.
‘No! I can’t just give up! I can’t just sit here and die!’
Dahlia gritted her teeth, trying to force herself to keep moving towards her fallen dagger. They had gotten so far; they had done so much. She wouldn’t have it end here, not now.
Gryff stepped in her way, his boot kicking away her bloodied weapon. “It ends here, now,” He stated, his fingers pointed at the shaman.
Grim realization reached Dahlia, her teeth grating against each other as she clenched her fists.
“I just didn’t want him to die. I couldn’t have lived with myself if he did,” she suddenly said, letting the knight know she had a reason for what she had done back in her hut.
“I know,” Gryff muttered back, his fingers glowing a soft blue. Dahlia shut her eyes, ready for her inevitable end.
The Ice Lance never came. Instead, there was the loud sound of something crashing into the ice, followed by the shouts of men. Dahlia opened her eyes and saw how Gryff turned to see what the noise was. The shaman turned, her eyes widening as she saw a longship in the ice, orcs, and people jumping onto the snowy ground.
“It can’t be…” She could see how the orcs raised their weapons, their voices shouting out into the cold air.
“For the Draugr! Attack!”
Their voices were followed by the shouts of a certain elf, dwarf, and panicked human, all of whom were charging at Gryff.
“Protect James and Dahlia!”
“Get that Lumen bastard!”
“We’re all going to fucking die!”