The lumbering beast peered at Ryder with its amber eyes. The nonhuman wore plate armor and a steel helm that reflected the rays of the moon, a beacon in the dark woods.

Ryder immediately looked to his side and saw two more figures hovering over the slumbering Durge.

The beast that loomed over Ryder spoke. Its low grizzled voice said, “Who are you?” before Ryder’s head could feel the tip of the bolt from the crossbow.

The barely adult human couldn’t mutter a word but his eyes were erratic.

His mind recognized that voice and the gauntlets that held the crossbow, but fear overtook him.

He knew those amber eyes, for it was Kincaid’s.

Ryder teared up and his throat strangled itself until the beast’s name came from his mouth.

The beast dropped his crossbow and lifted his pointy-eared visor.

“Ease!” he commanded to his two other companions.

Durge startled awake and immediately grabbed one of the guards until he saw their familiar green and gold tabards and their black-furred captain peering at him.

Kincaid was a literal Beast. A bipedal species of animal-like appearance. He in particular was almost seven steps high with a speckled gray snout.

Ryder immediately embraced Kincaid.

“I thought we lost you!” Ryder said.

“You know they can never kill an old dog like me, boy.”

Durge smiled greatly. “How’d you sneak up on us?”

“You should listen to yourself sometime. Even the giants of the north would be able to hear your snore. Let’s go to our camp. This forest is probably roaming with goblins.”

Ryder and Durge were led down the dusty main road. Three canvas wagons, a campfire, and four more Locrian soldiers were spotted.

One of the wagons was tipped on its side and another looked half-sunk into the border of the forest.

“Don’t whip us too harshly for our circumstances, but you can see that we tried to avoid the damn wagon that was in the middle of the road. Instead, we just got ourselves stuck.”

“Where are the horses?” Ryder asked.

“For the one flipped? We know not. That one was there when we got here. But ours are hitched to some trees on the west bank of the forest.”

Durge sat near the fire, hounding the other troops for provisions.

Before sitting at the fire, Kincaid set his crossbow next to his greatsword that leaned against the carriage.

Ryder followed and perched next to Durge who was feasting on a cooked leg of some animal.

Ryder looked around, “What have you all been doing?”

Kincaid huffed, “We were escorting people out of the harbor and up this road. Hundreds of people. When I saw those ships… I knew we were in for it. I thought it was the pirates like before, but these people were vicious. They wanted to cause ruin and take not valuables… but lives.”

“Did you fight them?” Durge spewed.

“A couple. They looked the same as us except they all donned crimson and black. I designated some of my men to defend the harbor but they never returned. After we escorted the first group, the manor was already in flames, and we followed the last commonfolk to Maria until the weather stopped us.”

Kincaid looked longingly at Ryder’s necklace. His eyes dampened. He put his head down and gazed at the clay beneath him. “Do I fear for the worst? Is the Countess—” he wrapped his hand around his muzzle.

The night stood quiet. Crackles of the low fire and cold winds blew orange embers down the dark road.

Kincaid was a captain in the Locrian guard. He was personally close to Lady Locria and many people would’ve assumed he was her personal guard. When he wasn’t by her side, he was either training Ryder or commanding others. Although not the only captain in the ranks, it was more than evident that the fall of Locria took a toll on him.

Durge was in an awkward position. Both of these people have lost their livelihoods and loved one’s while he sat there almost grateful for the loss of his home. His elderly caretakers passed when he was young; feeling alone wasn’t uncommon for him.

“They got us good,” Durge said sympathetically. He clicked his tongue and smirked. “Me and Rye were carrying silverware to the manor when we saw all of those ships on the horizon. But that was after this noble snob decided that we trek through the woods,” He punched Ryder in the shoulder.

Everyone cracked a small smile.

Ryder was shaking his head and rubbing his fresh bruise.

“You should’ve borrowed a cart and followed the road,” Kincaid said.

Durge raised a fist at Ryder to make him flinch.

“Hey! I wanted to stretch my legs. I’m either being hounded by either one of you, the advisors, or Mother.”

“I’m glad you two made it out,” Kincaid grinned. “Did either one of you see anyone else on the road?”

The boys shook their heads.

“Hm. Well, we’re not expecting anyone but you never know who or what could creep up behind us. You two should get rest and we’ll escort you to Maria tomorrow.”

Durge didn’t have to be told twice for him to immediately get up and find somewhere to finish his slumber. He went over to the tipped wagon and leaned against it.

He gave one last gaze upon the camp before closing his eyes. The six other troops he saw were lounging, talking, or looking southward. All had shortswords on their belts and standard chainmail.

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Ryder was still talking to Kincaid. Either they were exchanging apologies or memories, Durge couldn’t tell.

“Sorry again, Mr. Lovell. I’ll try not to wake you with a crossbow again,” Kincaid sneered.

Ryder laughed, “I’m just pleased you didn’t pull the trigger,” He went off to find somewhere to rest as well.

Ryder went over to the tipped wagon and saw Durge lying outside of it. The canvas was still attached to the wagon and would make a great shelter from the elements.

“You don’t want to sleep inside it?” Ryder asked.

Durge shrugged, “I already made myself comfortable under the moon.”

“Well, I hope it pisses on you tonight,” Ryder yawned.

Durge threw a handful of the dusty road at Ryder.

In the wagon, Ryder could still see the pale moon through the stretched canvas. A tipped-over wagon was not the most comfortable place to sleep, but Ryder made it work. He grinned to himself at the thought of meeting Kincaid again, he twisted the necklace in his hands and wished there were more who escaped the tragedy.

Ryder was able to fall asleep easier than in the forest, Durge didn’t mind it either way.

Ryder dreamt of his youth in Locria. Walking along the beaches with his Mother and dueling Durge with tree branches until Durge always inevitably won.

The county of Locria flourished and all of its neighboring villages felt the prosperity of the harbor. Famines and death were unheard of in this part of the continent. The one time it suffered greatly was when pirates raided the ports and blocked all sea trade. Ryder and Durge were young at the time, barely a decade old. But another decade and a year later, they experienced the complete collapse of the southern seaside.

The memories were too fresh for Ryder to start depicting them in his subconscious, but he felt as if he could hear echoes of screams that were similar to the attack. He could hear the sword clashes, the yells of commands, the fires crackling, and Durge’s voice telling him to wake up.

Ryder jolted awake. He immediately saw Durge hovering over him.

“Bandits!” Durge exclaimed.

Ryder was incredibly disoriented. “Where’s Kincaid?”

“With the others at the southern end! We have to get out of here!”

An arrow ripped through the wagon canvas and stuck into a wooden board.

The duo hastily ran out of the wagon and took cover behind it.

Ryder immediately saw a motionless guard near the dim fire, a black feathered arrow stuck below his helmet.

Durge looked northward but saw no one, only a stretch of empty road and a sea of trees on both sides of him.

Ryder heard Kincaid and more voices but they were deep within the eastern forests.

“We have to help them!” Ryder yelled.

“And die!? They’ve surrounded the fucking forests! We have to make a run for it!” Durge peeked from behind the wagon and was immediately met with an arrow flying past him.

“Shit!” Durge exclaimed.

“We have to get to the horses!”

“Where!?”

“On the west bank!” Ryder said.

The screams and cries of men surrounded the area. Kincaid was still barking orders with his greatsword in hand. Horses could be heard stomping and squealing. The only functional wagon erupted in flames.

Durge and Ryder both held their weapons taut.

“We have to run past this archer!” Durge said.

Ryder was crouched behind the wagon and leaned over to peek with one eye. He could see a shadowy figure looking at them near one of the trees, arrow nocked, and bowstring stretched.

“We can run past him if he misses,” Ryder said.

“How!?” Durge hissed.

“We’ll feint him, take cover in the forest, and make way for the horses. You need to run, come back, run again!”

Durge was intensifying himself and shaking his arms. “Run. Come back. Run again.” he muttered to himself over and over.

“Just take two or three steps out. He’ll miss. We’ll run past,” Ryder assured.

Cinder and ash from the wagon blew through the sky.

“Go!” Ryder yelled.

Durge lunged forward. One step. Two steps. Three steps. He ran back.

As soon as the arrow skidded across the dirt, Ryder pushed Durge out again and sprinted with him until the forest.

Another arrow whizzed right behind Ryder.

They dropped to the ground and inched against the trunks of trees.

Both of them were panting and scanning the area. It was pitch black in the forest except for the patches of starlight that shone above and the shadows of the forest created from the fire.

Ryder would consistently scan ahead, move forward to a tree, and scan ahead again.

Durge followed with gritted teeth and would constantly look behind.

The archer that they narrowly missed stood ahead of them. He was combing through the underbrush and surveying the forest.

Ryder signaled to Durge where the archer was and silently told him to wait until the archer got closer.

He was eight steps away and was ushering closer to the duo.

Ryder took a moment to think, He won’t be able to draw his bow if we charge him. He still has a sword on his hip. Grab his hands. Finish him quickly. Check the perimeter for others.

A tactical and strategic mindset was normal for Ryder, although he had no experience or formal combat training; the only training he had was light drilling with Kincaid, playing with Durge, or peering over warfare manuscripts, but he would never admit that. He imagined far too many scenarios like this one in his study, but now it was real.

Ryder gave the signal and Durge charged the archer. He missed running his sword through him but tackled him to the ground nonetheless.

Ryder tried to reach for the archer's blade on his belt but a straight punch to Ryder’s jaw knocked him back.

Durge pinned the archer and tried to press the edge of his sword into the man’s throat but instead, it was digging into the man’s palms.

Ryder was still stunned, rubbing his jaw until he was tackled by another man.

The man stood stout, shorter than Ryder, but the muscle on him was fierce. He wore a sleeveless garment with bark strapped to his shoulders and elbows; he was no man, but a dwarf.

He pinned Ryder and tried to crush a jagged dagger into his abdomen.

Ryder held his arms but they slowly drifted towards his neck instead.

The dwarf foamed at the mouth. His eyes were pure black and he laughed hysterically, spittle dripping onto him.

Ryder gritted his teeth and his arms shook uncontrollably against the weight of the dwarf, but the dagger was still lowering.

The archer’s palms that held Durge’s sword were profusely bleeding. The blood ran down his arms as Durge’s blade lowered.

The archer tried a risky maneuver to let go of the blade with one of his hands to punch Durge off of him. However, it was to no avail as Durge’s sword clipped the archer’s jugular. He squirmed and held his throat with both of his hands, looking wide-eyed at Durge.

The tip of the dagger went into Ryder’s chest. He yelped and tried with all of his strength to raise it out. He tried kicking or knocking the attacker off, but the dwarf was too heavy and the movement of the blade made it agonizing.

Durge was panting as he smiled upon his gurgling foe. He heard Ryder’s yelp and moved to assist but it was too late to save him.

Kincaid had skewered the dwarf with his greatsword and kicked him off Ryder.

Ryder was relieved of the weight and regained his breath. He winced from the pain as the dagger slid off his chest. He covered the minor wound with his hands.

Durge thrust his arming sword into the archer’s chest to pull himself up, then rushed to Ryder.

Ichor soaked into the soil as the two attacker’s bodies lay dormant.

Steam exited out of Kincaid’s steel helmet every time he breathed. “Ride to Maria,” he said in a low voice.

His moonlit armor was stained with the blood of the bandits. More bandits could be heard fighting the other troops, an endless barrage. He led Ryder and Durge to the horses that were hitched nearby.

“Do not look back,” he said, after helping the duo onto a chestnut steed.

Multiple arrows fired at Kincaid, most reflected off but two pierced his steel.

He growled before smacking the horse and yelling “For Locria!”

Durge rode hard the entire way, leading the retreat, neither looking behind nor to his flanks.

Ryder looked southward and saw the great fire in the middle of the road.

He heard distant snarls and scrapes of metal but Ryder became distracted by a glowing orange orb from within the forest. It grew great and large and seemed to be nearing closer.

Ryder reached for the reins and tugged the horse to the left, seconds after, a great fiery orb scattered across the path. Leaving a trail of arcane smolder in their way.

“Fucking mages!?” Durge yelled, continuing to steer northward to Maria.

Ryder winced from the pain with every trot.

“You okay back there?” Durge asked.

“It didn’t go according to plan,” Ryder answered, his head resting on Durge’s back.

“It usually never does!” Durge exclaimed. “Be like me and go with your gut.”

“I almost lost my gut today!”

“Because you weren’t using it! Did they take your heart instead!?” Durge mocked.

“Asshole,” Ryder muttered.

They rode until the horse forced itself to walk. After a saunter, they could see bright torchlight on thick stone walls and at the gate. The duo let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. They were exhausted and would’ve been asleep hours ago if not for the rude awakenings.

Dawn would break in a few hours. Ryder had to be practically carried off the horse and into the forest to rest. Like the original plan, the duo decided to sleep under the trees and enter the Sister City of Maria in the morning.