Havor never saw it coming. He had never expected a resistance despite hoping for one.
‘Last time I ever wish for such a thing!’
He coughed as he hid behind an abandoned group of barrels, unable to see in the damn fog. Everything had seemed normal at first. The marauders had all split into their respective groups and headed off to their sections of the town. He remembered how one man had stupidly thrown his torch a little too early in the raid, lighting up one of the smaller wooden buildings. Then, just as Havor and his group had reached the end of the marketplace’s courtyard, he had heard screaming out of nowhere. It had surprised him, and everyone before some bitch had yelled out a spell. All hel had broken loose there, his men scattering as a thick fog had appeared out of nowhere.
Havor gritted his teeth as he unsheathed his sword, his left hand feeling his back for the shield he had brought. He was glad that he didn’t leave it on the ship. The marauder peeked over the barrels, the fog lingering around as he tried to see through it. He still couldn’t see a damn thing, his vision limited by a couple of meters.
Havor cursed silently and stood slowly, holding his shield up. He hoped no archers were on the other side. He kept walking until he came across the shop he had seen earlier. Judging from the large display window, the interior of the store seemed empty.
Havor stepped through the doors, nearly jumping at the sound of the bell ringing.
‘No one…’
Havor looked around as he walked through the shop. There was not a single person inside. Havor was about to leave when he noticed something on the ground near the counter. It was a short sword, nothing special. Most definitely dropped by the ones who had ambushed him.
‘So they were here. Where have they gone to now?’
Havor kicked the blade aside, its guard now visible in the shop's sparse light. He stopped dead when his eyes met the sword again. He had to do a double take, his eyes widening in realization as he leaned to pick it up. This wasn’t any ordinary sword.
Havor clenched his jaw tight enough to send sharp jolts of pain throughout his skull. The sword’s guard was marked with his sigil, carved into the steel back when the marauder owned it. This was also the same sword that Deimos had given to some stranger here, the nobody with a scruffy beard—the same nobody that Deimos had killed by plunging this same sword into his chest—or so Havor had thought.
‘There’s no way it’s him who did this ambush… Some guard probably kept the damn thing…’
Yet Havor had a deep feeling that it wasn’t the case.
The door bell rang twice, and his men walked into the store with their weapons drawn. Havor looked back at them, feeling his anger bubble inside him as he thought about the bastard, who was probably still alive. Havor knew that no man in Valenfrost wouldn’t seek vengeance against the people who had wronged them, especially for something like this.
Still, Havor knew one thing for sure. The young man was weak, weak enough to resort to leaving his sword here as he retreated. The marauder looked at his men, who were staring back in confusion.
“Get your fireball runes out now. We’re burning it all down. We’re going to flush the bastards out and kill them all,” Havor said before looking down at the short sword he held.
‘I’ll finish him off, do what Deimos couldn’t.’
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James gasped as he felt the familiar sting of freezing water on his face. They weren’t at the shop anymore; their surroundings resembled an alleyway. Dahlia was in front of James, her expression a mix of worry and anger.
“What the hell happened back there?!” she hissed, probably so they would not yell and give out their position. James could see Thomas at the end of the alleyway, the guard holding his sword in anticipation as he peeked into the street.
“I.. ugh..” James groaned as he placed a palm on his sweaty forehead. His head was killing him.
“You fell to the ground, then started screaming! It was…” Dahlia trailed off. She slowly lost her momentum, her anger dissipating slowly. “It was like that night when we resurrected you.”
“Something happened,” James grunted as he tried to stand. He could feel how his body wobbled under his weight. “It wasn’t Faust, nor me. It was something else… something much worse.” James stumbled a little before Dahlia caught him. It felt like he had run a marathon, his legs weak and his lungs screaming for more air.
“What? What do you mean, something worse? James?” Dahlia’s anger had turned to panic, and her hands guided James to a nearby crate to sit on. James caught his breath, remembering what he had experienced—the voices, the pain, and the hunger he had felt through those words.
‘Kill. Consume,’ the voices had said. James had no godforsaken idea what that thing was, but he knew it was near and that it was hungry.
“I can’t explain, but right now, we need to find this thing, this creature, and kill it.” James stood up again, his body slowly regaining strength as his breathing slowed.
‘It won’t be easy, killing this thing, especially since we have the marauders to worry about,' Faust said, his voice exhausted.
James nodded, agreeing with Faust.
‘I know, but either this thing dies. Or everyone dies. So I’ll take my chances.’
It was as simple as that.
“James,” Dahlia started, furrowing her brow as she stopped James from walking off. “Even if we can kill this thing and hold off the marauders, which is insane, by the way, how are we going to find it?”
Thomas was right behind her, still looking on edge. “Those marauders aren’t too far. I can hear them using runes.” The sound of something booming and crashing punctuated Thomas’ words, emphasizing his panic.
James swallowed, feeling his fear grow underneath his anger and determination. “We’ll have to navigate around them, ambush the bastards,” he said, hoping that his half-baked plan won’t be the end of them. He turned to Dahlia, answering her question.
“We won’t have to find it,” James revealed. “It’s already coming for us.”
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Felix stemmed the bleeding from Jasper’s wound, the drunk man not really in the moment as his arm bled. Someone had hit him with an arrow, and its bloodied tip lay on the ground. The drunk had pulled it out stupidly, and now Felix was dressing the wound; all the while, Harald stood guard. They had been ambushed on their way to the harbor, one bastard shooting arrows at them. Fortunately, Jasper was the only one hit, all the other arrows missing Felix and Harald.
“Stay here, you idiot. You’re only going to get in the way,” Felix reprimanded, standing up to meet Harald’s gaze. “What are we going to do? It looked like there were three, probably more.” He could feel his nerves slipping, but Felix kept himself from breaking down. He knew he would never recover if he lost it now.
“We’re going to set up an ambush,” Harald started before he eyed the guardsman. “How good are you with that bow?” he asked, gesturing towards the bow Felix held.
“I’m good enough, trust me,” Felix answered firmly, knowing damn well that fighting in close quarters was a death sentence for him.
Harald seemed to realize this, his gaze moving back to the way they had come from. “All right, we’ll hold out here. You draw their attention with your arrows, and I’ll maneuver around them, hit them from behind.”
“That’s a shite plan. Are you sure you don’t have any better ones?” Felix asked.
“Do you?” Harald responded, his voice deep and gruff. Felix sighed, knowing this was better than nothing, even if it could end with him dying.
He turned to the injured drunk, who was drinking again.
“Jasper, get back to the tavern. We need you out of here now,” Felix ordered.
The drunk grumbled as he got up, almost looking like he was going to complain. But he complied and stumbled his way back to the tavern.
‘Why did we even bring him along?’ Felix wondered just as he turned back to Harald.
“All right, let’s do this. Where do you need me?”
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James was as quiet as he could be, turning back to see Thomas following close behind. Dahlia was sneaking somewhere else, wanting to attack the marauders from the other side of the street they were on. James hoped they wouldn’t see her, but he knew that the shaman was familiar with the streets of Yorktown, while James wasn’t.
“She’ll be fine,” James silently told himself. He stopped and peeked around the corner of a vase shop, making sure not to knock down the vase on display outside.
He could see nothing through the thick fog. Yet, he could hear voices and laughter as the crackle of flames filled the background.
‘They’re enjoying this…’
James could slowly feel anger rising in his chest at the realization. He held back his emotions this time, knowing that giving away his position was not the smartest move. He looked back at Thomas, who seemed just as angry but was smart enough to keep it in. James slowly backed away, knowing that he would need a plan of attack for this.
He suddenly felt his foot hit the vase he had forgotten about. The young man watched in slow horror as it contacted the cobbled path. It didn’t shatter, but it did ring loudly.
‘Oh, shit!’
The sound definitely alerted the marauders since the laughter in the distance suddenly turned to hushed voices. This was not good. James looked over at Thomas, who seemed bent on either screaming at James or running off.
“I heard something over there! Let’s get ‘em!” one marauder shouted to his friend, who howled like a wild animal in response.
‘What’s with these people?’
James had no time to question as he saw two figures suddenly emerge from the fog, one making eye contact with him. They were both equipped with sparse gear, their torsos bare and without much protection. The only sense of clothing were the furs and ripped breeches they wore.
The first marauder rushed at James, his ax swinging wildly. James felt his body forcefully dodge, his body hitting the ground as the ax’s edge missed his hair by centimeters. He blinked as he watched the weapon bury itself into the nearby wooden building.
‘Move your ass!’ Faust screamed, panic and desperation in his voice.
James did exactly that and rolled as the marauder tried to kick at him. He sprung up on his feet right after, watching as the marauder tried to pull his ax out. His opponent barely wore any armor, his torso nearly bare with tattoos and war paint. This fight might not be so hard after all.
James clenched his fists and swung at the marauder, feeling his knuckles come in contact with the bastard’s jaw. The strike sent the marauder stumbling back, eventually landing him on his ass. James took one quick look at the ax and decided that he’d deal with it later.
James hadn’t been in a fistfight in years, not counting the guy he had punched into a coma back on Earth. That didn’t count. Still, he had listened to Nick’s fighting tips back on Earth.
‘Nick, I really hope your advice wasn’t bullshit.’
James raised his fists and gritted his teeth before throwing a punch at the marauder’s face. His fist connected, but the bastard tanked the hit. The marauder quickly fought back, throwing a swing of his own back at James. James didn’t have time to dodge or block. His vision blurred when the marauder’s fist landed on his face. He stumbled a bit as he raised his arms, soon feeling the blows land on his arm and side.
James tried to get some ground between him and the marauder, but he instead tripped onto the ground.
‘Steel yourself, dammit!’ Faust’s voice shouted.
The young man took the advice and tried his best to shake away his apparent concussion. When his vision was clear, he was met with the marauder’s foot coming at him. James dodged the attack with a roll and returned with a kick of his own. His boot shoved the marauder back, forcing him to stumble back. James took this chance to stand and regain his balance.
Both men stared at each other, breathing heavily as they gained their bearings. James slowly wiped his nose, his bandaged right hand coming back bloodied. He stared at the stain for a moment, his hand clenching tightly. Adrenaline surged in him, and James saw red.
Without hesitation, he charged at the marauder swinging. The bastard held his arms up, blocking most of the attacks. James continued his barrage of hits before finally landing a left punch on the man’s side. That seemed to do it. The marauder gasped at the strike, letting his guard down for a second. It was enough to give James ample time to strike.
James aimed his right fist at the marauder’s throat, hitting the man’s jugular. The marauder’s eyes widened as he clutched his throat, obviously surprised. James kicked at the side of the man’s right knee, forcing him to kneel.
Without a second to waste, James threw a heavy left hook. He struck the marauder’s face, knocking his ass down onto the cobbled ground. His knuckles were screaming with pain, and his body was already exhausted, but it looked like he had gotten the better of him. It was good enough for him.
James glanced over at Thomas to see what the situation was like with him. The guard was currently clashing swords with the other marauder. James turned back to his opponent and saw how the fallen marauder was trying to get up again.
‘Seriously?’
The marauder angrily pulled a dagger from his belt before moving to slash at James. James quickly kicked at the man’s hand before it gained any momentum. His steel toe boot connected with the marauder’s wrist, sending his dagger flying. Without missing a beat, James kicked at the man’s face, sending him back to the ground with a bloodied nose.
James turned to Thomas again, who was still in trouble with the marauder. The guard looked tired, his arms and clothes slashed from his fight. James hurried to the ax from before, the one the previous marauder buried into the building. He used whatever strength he had left to pull it out. As he did so, he could see the bloody-nosed marauder on the ground move, struggling as he sat up.
‘Shit! I should’ve grabbed the dagger!’
James felt stupid about his mortal mistake. Still, the marauder didn’t go for the nearby dagger; instead, his hand moved to pull something out of his satchel. James’ eyes widened when he saw the red glowing rune aimed at his direction, the glyph brightening as the man managed out a single word.
“Fireball!”
James barely had time to dodge, his legs propelling him away from the wooden building. The fireball crashed with the small vase shop, its burning heat reaching James as he fell onto the ground. The young man felt nothing but burning pain.