“A siege is just a long-term commitment to knocking on the wrong door.”
— Dread Empress Maleficent II
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The Imperial Highway was empty at this time of the morning. Not that it would be busy at another hour, since the rebellion had now dragged on for over a year. The barren fields grown wild with disuse on either side of the road were the true cost of our defiance. One of the cheaper costs. The fields we had passed an hour before had been blackened from fire. My hand traced the grip of the dagger on my thigh at the thought.
I turned my mind eastwards in a bid to distract myself from my simmering fury. Scouts had brought news that the Calamities had succeeded at putting down the uprising within the Empire. The High Seat of Aksum had been replaced seven times in the past four months. The High Seats of Okoro, Nok and Kahtan had been replaced twice. The Seventh Legion had died during the height of the conflict, and the other Legions had been mauled. Rumours claimed that the Calamities were forming groups of smaller villains that agreed to follow their rules now that they had killed something like close to half a hundred of them. I wasn’t sure that I believed it.
The truth didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the fact that now that the conflict in Praes had been contained, they had turned their attention back onto Callow. Five of the Legions of Terror were seen by scouts marching west. The Reluctant Strategist had sent me to recall the Faithful Warrior in defence of the city. She didn’t trust that the message wouldn’t be lost if she sent anyone else.
Mabli had given me many tasks over the course of the year in addition to becoming more involved in my learning. They fell into three categories. The first was diplomacy — which I was terrible at — but I enjoyed the most. Mabli would often have me negotiate low stakes agreements between parties.
The second type of task was unofficial and as far as I knew only Mabli knew about them. They were unsanctioned raids against smaller fortified Legion positions. They were the types of tasks I hated the most, even though I was the best at them. Now people talked. There were rumours about the Nightmare Child. It wasn’t my Name, but I knew who they talked about. I knew what they said about me. The only reason anyone tolerated me was because they had no idea that the Nightmare Child and me were one and the same.
Things happened when I leaned into the shadows.
Don’t think about that, Cat.
Well, I was also good at the third kind of task, but it wasn’t fulfilling. It felt like a waste of my time, and it annoyed me that I was used for it. Even when the messages were being sent to perilous places. I’d complained about the duty. Mabli had told me that if a message was important enough she’d send me to deliver it, then it had to arrive.
I still didn’t like it.
There were some improvements to my circumstances. Mabli had told the other heroes that I was one of them. I followed along with the lie, even if I was convinced that I was a villain and that the Reluctant Strategist knew as much.
It helped that my Name sounded so innocuous. I was the Novice. I hadn’t risked using shadows in the presence of the others — not that it was difficult to avoid — the shadows weren’t easy for me to control. They weren’t pleasant to use, either. I grimaced.
Think about something else, Cat.
The voice in my head helped ground me.
It kept me from slipping further.
The journey from Summerholm to Dormer had taken me a while. The Faithful Warrior was attempting to free the port from Praesi control but hadn’t met much luck. I’d arrived, delivered the message and joined them on the return. Our journey was almost at its end. Summerholm was less than a day’s journey away. I was looking forward to seeing Abigail again after being on the road for so long. She was always jumpy around me in a way that always brought a smile to my face.
The Faithful Warrior and the force he had put together over the year was only a day’s march behind us. The Silver Lancer, The Vengeful Warrior, The Radiant Archer and I were all riding ahead. In an odd twist of fate, the Gallant Youth had departed to deliver a message to the Reluctant Strategist only a day before I arrived. We were expecting him to already be within Summerholm.
The road was silent, save for the constant bickering within our band.
“The only reason the Warlock hasn’t fought me is he’s too afraid to lose,” the muffled voice of Merton called out through the fog. “When you’re as good as me, you don’t miss.”
The blurred outline of the Radiant Archer on horseback was only a few feet ahead of me. I couldn’t see his open shirt or his bow, but I’d still be willing to bet that he was playing with either his collar or his bow.
“Your death won’t free us, shepherd,” Hilda replied. “Stop stroking your c-” she glanced at me from the horse on my right and cut off, “bragging and think for once.”
The steady canter of her armoured stallion’s hooves reverberated on the paved road from my left.
“Calm your tits,” I stated solemnly. “Merton’s ears are definitely too innocent for that kind of talk.”
The Radiant Archer let out a choked laugh.
“The soldiers are a bad influence on you,” Hilda muttered.
I glanced her way.
The Vengeful Warrior was tall and in her early thirties. Scars lined her face. There were so many of them that it looked like she had hair on both sides of her head. Her pale blonde hair rested against the leather armour covering her broad shoulders.
“Cuthbert’s not even dead yet, and you’re already finding a replacement,” Merton mocked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hilda’s voice was caustic.
“You still haven’t noticed?” Merton teased, “First your mother dies, then you avenge her. Then your father dies and you avenge him. Then your best friend. Now you’ve taken on an apprentice-”
“You’re wrong?” Hilda forced the words out through gritted teeth.
“That’s the difference between us,” there was a rustle from up ahead, “I don’t need to avenge dead friends because I’m good enough to keep them alive.”
“Say that again.” I heard an awkward shuffling from her horse and looked over. The vague outline of her two-handed weapon stood out in her hands.
“I don’t need to avenge dead friends because I’m good enough to keep them alive.”
“Say another word and my axe will carve through your skull.”
“Your words are dishonourable,” Oswin berated her, “apologize to your ally, Hilda.”
The Silver Lancer was in his mid-thirties and was the only hero among the rebellion who truly looked the part. He was clad from head to toe in polished steel, but the gallant man under the armour had a regal air that the rest of us all lacked.
“He mocks the dead,” she challenged.
“And he will answer for that in turn,” Oswin replied.
“He will, will he?” she sneered. “You would have already chastised him if I was anyone else.”
“I insist that you apologize to him,” his words had a hard edge.
“Not unless he does first,” she spat back. “He’s been insufferable ever since he shot the Warlock’s hell-fire out of the sky near Marchford.”
“I would not gainsay you were you to boast of any victories of your own,” Oswin replied. “Prioritizing vengeance over duty harms our cause more than it furthers it.”
“What victories?” Merton teased. “It’s not my fault that-”
His voice cut off. His horse halted.
The rest of us stopped beside him.
The fog gave way to a scene of carnage. Three dozen bloated corpses were strewn across the middle of the road. They were spread between what appeared to be the ravaged remains of a caravan transporting grain. Most of them looked like peasants. The rest were Legion soldiers. They must have died days ago and nobody had bothered to do anything about them.
My boots touched the ground before I realized that I’d dismounted. My breath came quick and heavy. I bent down among the wreckage. I ignored the buzzing of flies and scared away a crow from a nearby carcass as I walked over to examine it. Maggots writhed within eyes.
The stench was overpowering.
My anger will get the better of me one day, and I’m going to start killing rebels for doing things like this.
“Traitors selling food to Praes,” Hilda spat on the side of the road. “Good.”
“I’m sure the people starving in Laure are happy to know that more Callowens will join them soon.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I’d even realized it.
“Their lives were forfeit the moment they chose to cosy up with the Empire,” the Silver Lancer agreed with the Vengeful Warrior.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my dagger.
“It must be nice being too important to deliver messages,” I drawled.
“Say what you mean, kid,” Hilda grunted. “Don’t dance around it.”
I hear all sorts of things on the road,” I continued. “Like how farmers are more scared of the rebellion than of the Legions.”
“It’s why they need us to guide them,” Merton sniffed. “They would support us if they knew better.”
“It’s a pity for the sheep that it’s usually the shepherd that kills them,” I pointed at the Radiant Archer, then pointed at the corpses.
His face purpled.
“At least sheep don’t die on an empty stomach,” Merton spat while stroking at his bow.
The shadows around the edge of my eyes darkened. The umbral threads which were often out of my reach whispered slick, oily words in my ears. They called, begging to be used. Spiders crawled down my spine.
Don’t think about the shadows.
I listened to the voice in my head. I forced the darkness away.
“Your choice to starve the flock is proof of your skill as a shepherd,” I took two steps towards him and glared into the blue of his eyes from beneath his chin. “It’s a pity that your ego is good for nothing at all,” I smiled. “There would be enough food to last Callow through winter if it could be eaten.”
“The little girl comes running to the real heroes for help the moment the Calamities show their faces,” Merton shoved against me. “A novice should know when to listen to her-”
“Catherine, Merton,” the Silver Lancer’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “I implore both of you to put this matter aside and apologize to the other.”
I breathed in, then unclenched my shoulders.
“Sorry for being honest,” I scratched at an itch on my chest while glaring at Merton.
He didn’t apologize in reply.
The Silver Lancer appeared satisfied regardless.
Hilda approached and gave me a measured slap on the shoulder in support. I smiled back, but withdrew from the conversation regardless. It wasn’t long before we mounted up again and continued on our journey. The three of them continued to bicker as the sun rose and the last vestiges of the fog were burned away.
The dying rays of the late afternoon sun were hot on my back when we saw it in the distance. First there were the banners. A black tower on red. We dismounted, then sneaked closer. Concentric rings of palisade fences were set around the walls of Summerholm. Around them were trenches and spikes. Then, tents organized in rows.
“Two Legions,” Oswin stated. “They pulled two whole Legions out from further in Callow to besiege the city from both sides.” He paused, then continued. “I’d bet they came from Marchford.”
“We should launch an assault now,” Merton declared and pointed. “A quick strike to destroy those stockpiles and the war will be over within a week.”
Remember yourself, Cat.
I held back from interjecting. I wanted to agree with Merton. There was only one problem. I couldn’t avoid using shadows for a fight this large. It was better to wait for a larger conflict where I could act within the chaos and still avoid being noticed.
“Remember your duty,” Oswin denied, pulling off his helmet. “You were called upon to counter the Warlock.”
“Merton thinks only of his own glory,” Hilda spat, “but I agree with him.”
“The Radiant Archer is the only one among us skilled enough with a bow,” the Silver Lancer reminded her.
“This is our chance to see them all burn,” Hilda spat. “A strike here against their camp could-”
“Cuthbert has been captured,” Merton gestured towards a section of the encampment which was more heavily guarded. “There are prisoners there. I can Perceive them.”
“Are you sure?” Hilda grabbed at Merton and pulled him close, staring deep into his crisp blue eyes.
“Of course I am,” the arrogant archer’s eyes narrowed, “he’s under watch by a sorcerer.”
“We strike,” the muscled woman insisted.
“It would be wiser to attempt a prisoner exchange,” the Silver Lancer ran a hand through his raven hair. “The Legions of Terror may begin to execute prisoners should we make the attempt.”
The Silver Lancer had soft grey eyes, round cheeks and a button nose. He was almost always earnest when speaking to others. It made it even more unfortunate that none of the heroes could tolerate each other. The fact that I was sitting among a group composed of one of the rare exceptions felt like a bad joke on the part of the Gods.
“I don’t care,” Hilda dropped Merton, then picked up the axe from the ground beside her and took a step towards the Legion camp.
“You would jeopardize our quest?” the black haired knight challenged.
“I’m not letting another charge die.”
“There is no justice in allowing other prisoners to die so that one may be freed,” the Silver Lancer chided.
“Revenge is the only just I need,” she buried the head of the axe in the ground before her and scowled.
These two aren’t going to stop arguing if someone doesn’t distract them.
“You argue so much that I’d swear I’m with three villains,” I declared. “Oswin will free the Gallant Youth.”
All three of them turned my way.
“The child thinks she can give me orders?” Merton sneered, “why, she has no re-”
Stolen story; please report.
“The Gallant Youth is probably injured and needs to be carried out,” I interrupted. “Oswin is the most skilled on a horse,” I pointed at the looming figure of the knight. “He can get in and out of the camp the fastest. That makes him best for a rescue mission.”
“No,” Hilda disagreed. “He’s my charge.”
“While dedication to your charge is noble,” Oswin replied, “our duty is to-”
“Can your arrows break the wards on the sewer grates?” I interrupted and asked the man busy examining his lacquered green quiver.
“Undoubtedly,” he puffed his exposed chest out and preened.
“I know the way through the sewers and where one of the grates are. You,” I pointed at Hilda, “will be the distraction while Merton and I sneak past their camp. You,” I pointed at Oswin, “will use the distraction to free the Gallant Youth.”
“I should be the one leading,” Merton scowled. “I refuse to follow the words of a-”
“Her words have merit,” the Silver Lancer interrupted, “but better to use a sally point than create a breach in the city defences.” His eyes fell on me, “you’d also have a better explanation for why you’ve been exploring the sewers.”
I ignored the heat on my cheeks and avoided meeting his gaze.
“I know where there’s a sally port as well,” I evaded.
“I’d do better than Hilda as a distraction,” the Radiant Archer protested.
“Consider the glory you might earn defending the city from the walls, Merton.” Oswin nodded to him. “Fire an arrow into the sky to alert us to your success once you are beneath the aegis of the city walls. We will pull back once the signal has been seen.”
The three of them began to bicker over this amended plan once more, but the shape of the argument had changed. It wasn’t long before all three were in agreement. We pulled back from the Legion encampment and waited until well after dark.
“May the Gods grant us victory,” Oswin clapped both of us on our shoulders before he and the Vengeful Warrior split off and approached the Legion camps.
Hilda and Oswin mounted up.
The Vengeful Warrior kicked her mount into a full sprint. Arrows began to fall towards her. It galloped towards the ditches, before she leaped off its back among the stakes and scattered them with her axe. The sound of a Legion horn reverberated through the darkness.
Then there was a silver flash as Oswin joined the charge. He swung his lance and half a dozen torches flickered out.
“Lead on,” Merton ordered.
I could hear the sneer in his voice.
I swallowed back the cutting barb on my tongue.
Both of us crept closer to one of the gaps between Legion camps. There was a soft twang as the Radiant Archer loosed two arrows, and two guards fell dead on the ground. We rushed forward, then slid into one of the ditches. Stakes smiled on my right like the teeth of a hungry dragon. I could hear every breath I took. The cool air settled on my shoulders. A cloud passed over the moon.
The shadows deepened.
Do I risk it? Yes, I can’t afford not to.
I loathed that they never answered me unless I was so out of my own mind that I was almost a different person. I hated how I needed to fight to keep myself under control. Anger sometimes worked, but it wasn’t reliable when I needed to defend myself. I was almost helpless without the shadows. The dagger on my thigh slid silently out of its sheath. My hands trembled. Blood oozed as I ran its edge across the jagged scar down the length of my left arm. I bit back a cry of pain.
This is wrong.
Shut up.
I shouldn’t do this.
Shut up.
I know this is a bad idea.
Shut up.
The insistent voice in my head died.
The ringing of steel and the screams of dying soldiers within the camp grew louder with each step we took towards the fortress city.
We passed out of one ditch onto a narrow bridge. A gate into the Legion camp yawned on my right. Light from torches spilled across the ground. I spared a glance through the gap between camps towards Summerholm. The tent city outside the gates had been dismantled and turned into a maze of traps. Then we were beyond the bridge and into the darkness of a ditch on the opposing side.
Shadows widened, danced, then whispered to me as the dizziness I’d suborned myself to stole over me. I licked my lips and reached towards them. Their sickness repulsed me. Their sweetness filled me. It was cloying, rancid, like eating rotten fruit drenched in honey, only a thousand times more addictive.
Don’t fall for their tricks.
The little voice in my head called me away from the brink. More blood welled as I bit my lips and reeled back from the call.
The gap between camps narrowed the closer we drew to the city. My shoulders tensed. It wasn’t long before light from torches near the leftmost camp spilled into the ditch. The sounds of fighting died away.
The edge of my sight darkened. The world gained an almost surreal quality as-
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The palisade shattered under his mount’s hooves. Bolts howled through the air like the cries of the damned. None found their mark. The sound of Hilda’s fight became more and more frenzied. Oswin examined the prison and was puzzled by what he saw. There was a… listlessness to the prisoners. Another bolt charged towards him, and he deflected it with his sword.
“People of Callow,” Oswin shouted, “Raise your heads and do your duties, for the hour of your freedom is nigh and your nation calls to war.”
A single prisoner turned his way.
The breath went out of him.
The heat of righteous rage swelled beneath his armour.
Zombies.
They were all corpses that had been brought back to life.
For what reason were the dead being held prisoner?
The Calamities deserved death for both this blasphemy and every other that had come before it.
He would do his duty as a knight and put them all to rest.
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-the shadows pulled near to me. I forced them away and blinked. We’d almost reached the end of the ditches. The light from torches flickered on the walls of Summerholm standing proud in the distance.
Images of the soldiers standing alert on the walls flashed through my mind. Not just Callowens who had joined the rebellion, but support from other parts of Calernia as well. The watch had sent a contingent of troops from Daoine and mercenaries from the Free Cities had been hired with money from Wolof.
Procer had refused to send aid. The thought of our western neighbours made me furious. They claimed that the Yan Tei fleet which had landed in Levant was a more pressing concern for them. Their heroes didn’t even bother to show up on their own. Never mind that every city that wasn’t under the control of Praes had fallen into chaos, or that our heroes could barely manage to keep the new villains — I didn’t count — contained.
The trembling of the earth shook me out of my reverie.
The tremble evolved into thunder.
Merton’s pace shifted from unhurried to urgent.
I strained myself to keep up.
“Why are we even here?” somebody complained. “Nobody ever tells us. Just kept in the dark and fed shit.”
The last of the moisture in my mouth dried out.
“Shut up and get to it,” another replied. “You know our orders.”
My eyes darted back and forth.
The Radiant Archer broke into a steady sprint.
We passed into the no man’s land between the Legion camps and Summerholm and came face to face with two full patrols.
Merton pulled back the string on his bow, but it was already too late.
“Alarm!” a sergeant with a hooked nose shouted from the back of a horse while reaching towards a horn.
We couldn’t afford to slow. There was no use hiding what I could do if both of us died. The sweetness called to me. It sang. It whispered. No, I couldn’t give them control. I needed to maintain possession of my senses while I fought against the enemy.
Don’t do this, Cat.
I ignored the voice.
I reached out towards the shadows and-
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Hilda’s axe arced through the air and tore through the throats of three more legionnaires. There was a dull thud as their heads hit the floor. Their bodies followed soon after. Over two dozen corpses stained the soil in blood.
She dashed forward and broke the palisade walling off horses near the prisoners. Oswin had ordered her to stay away from the prisoners and create a distraction somewhere else. Oswin could always be trusted to do two things. The first was to do his duty and the second was to keep his word.
Hilda would have obliged him had he given his word.
The trouble was that he had not.
So she fought within sight of the broken walls of the temporary cells. Oswin had carved his way through them with his usual thoroughness.
Her blade rose and a horse died. There was a flash. Hilda’s axe rose as she pivoted and deflected a bolt. A man holding a crossbow wreathed in a cloak of shadows stood behind her. Her lips puckered. Another puppet under the control of the Black Knight. She’d already killed four of them, and they showed no sign of giving her a reprieve. The man was clever. Always fighting from the shadows. Never giving an honest fight. She could appreciate that part of him, even if she hated everything else.
She darted forward and swung. A rain of splinters scattered to the wind as her weapon struck the toy. Her senses warned her of another bolt. Hilda leaned forward, then glanced towards the prisoners in the distance.
She smiled as she saw Cuthbert. It was him. Even if she couldn’t see any of his features properly — even if he was so far away — she knew that it was him.
There was a flicker of silver. Oswin’s sword rose and cut through the Gallant Youth. Her heart stopped. A traitor? Oswin was a traitor? Her eyes stung. They always died. Why did they always die? Her friends, her charges, everyone she came to care about. A heavy red wave washed over Hilda’s eyes.
Not again.
Not again.
She couldn’t save him.
She could never save them.
Useless.
Why were all her Aspects so useless?
Useless, save for one of them.
If she couldn’t save Cuthbert, then she would Avenge him.
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-half a dozen men were dead. I was on the back of the sergeant’s horse, staring into his wide, open eyes. I drew my dagger across his throat. He struggled against his bindings. My breath quickened as he fought against the shadows hidden beneath his armour. His efforts were futile. My heartbeat raced, my cheeks were warm.
Who should I kill next?
“Catherine!” a voice shouted.
Irritation. Should I kill him? No. I’d decided not to.
Resist it, Cat.
What was that? Ah, it was the whining voice of the little girl that I’d locked away inside a cage.
I ignored it and revelled in how alive I felt.
A wide smile stretched from one side of my face to the other.
The Radiant Archer was loosing another arrow. I could tell that he would miss. The shadows slithered beneath the victim’s armour and locked her in place. I heard a distant thud and almost chuckled in glee.
“Catherine!” a voice persisted.
Annoyance. He was the reason I was hiding. I could do what I wanted if he was dead.
Remember that this isn’t what you want.
What? Why wouldn’t I want this?
The shadows embraced me beneath my armour.
I padded the underside of my palms with shadows and pushed myself off the horse, hurtling towards my next victim. He let out a terrified shriek. His armour shattered, and his skin parted beneath my blade only a few moments later.
The beast purred as I pulled my knife clean.
“Catherine!”
I snarled.
A hand slapped my face.
Yes!
The bars of the cage bent, then broke.
Something weak pushed against me. The nagging voice that I hated so much. It never went away.
Another slap.
No, I pushed against it. The Evil thing that I became whenever I slipped. I hated it. I hated what it did to me. I hated that I could never be rid of it. That it was always there and that I always ended up needing it. One step at a time, I forced the darkness back. It felt like trying to lift a mountain using a teaspoon.
One last heave.
The cage slammed shut.
“Yes?” I gasped.
“There’s no point sneaking any more!” Merton shouted. “Run for the walls!”
I followed his advice and didn’t bother to reply. Both of us sprinted away from the Legion camp. The situation was grim. Legion soldiers were hot on our heels, and there were at least two dozen people peppering us with bolts. I reached towards the shadows and felt the beast reach back. I waged a silent war against the monster in my mind.
Syrup ran through me. My mind became fuzzy. I stumbled, but pushed through.
Now it’s easy.
I bit my tongue to avoid swearing at the unfairness of it all.
The beast was always less controlling after I indulged. The urges went away. Now I could wield the shadows without having them wield me. Not that it improved the situation much. I grasped upon the inky blackness around the bolts and nudged them. Their path shifted.
Why did heroes get it so easy? Well, all of them except Mabli. I saw the kinds of gifts the heavens gave them. Almost none of them had costs. None of them went mad the way that I did.
Then we entered the killing fields below the city walls and attacks against us ceased.
Both of us slowed. My breath was shallow. A sea of lights swimming over an ocean of walls. Stars, innumerable stars. Voices. No, one voice. Caverns beneath the bastion of Summerholm burrowing deep into the darkness. The jaws of monsters rising up to swallow me. Why were there that many walls?
No, it was only another nightmare, wasn’t it?
I smiled.
Nightmares for a Nightmare Child. There was a symmetry there. What kind of Novice was I? I wasn’t a Novice, I was a monster. A hand wrapped itself around my palm, only to slip. Ah, I forgot to heal myself again. I focused on the injury. Focused on my bloody dress.
Absorb.
The wound closed.
The blood faded away.
The fog within my head dissipated. Many walls resolved into two, caverns became ditches, monsters became stakes. The beast growled within my chest. It hungered once more. It hungered, and I knew that as much as I railed against it, I would feed it once again.
I swallowed a whimper.
“Nobody warned me you suffer from battle fury,” Merton spat. “To think they wanted me to follow you.”
“That way,” I pointed.
Merton raised his bow and loosed a radiant arrow into the sky, only for the sky to open. Red, then orange, then purple. One colour, then the next, then the next. An angry black. Blistering fire and lightning arcing from nowhere to nowhere else. My mind boggled. Boulders the size of mansions floated in the air above us and crackled with malevolent energy. They were swimming towards us. Not swimming, falling.
The beast inside me snarled.
The Warlock.
The thought was muted. I should have felt angry, upset, something.
Instead, I felt tired.
Why here? Why now? We’d almost reached safety.
The first rock that fell from the sky struck against Merton’s arrow, only to deflect the projectile back towards the Legion camp.
Then more of the hell-fire to start raining down.
“Run! Catherine!” the Radiant Archer shouted, “I’ll deal with the Warlock.”
I didn’t even consider arguing. Fighting would be stupid, I’d already broken into a sprint.
A wilting wind scoured its way across the ground outside Summerholm. Dust swirled, whipped around me. I raised my arm and shaded my eyes, then squinted up ahead. Traps lay between me and safety.
A rock slammed into the ground beside me. Blistering heat sent me scrambling back. I stumbled, then righted myself. A glowing arrow arced into the sky, then another, then another. One after the other, rock met arrow and rock shattered or diverted.
I reached towards the shadows and they answered eagerly. I couldn’t afford to slow for the traps. There was no subtlety to my working. A black fog spread out across the ground ahead of me and swallowed it all in darkness. I ran along the path I made, even as sweetness coursed through me.
Ran and made my way to safety.
The roiling scarlet above me faded away. I didn’t trust it. It was a lie. The safety was a lie.
I panted as my hand touched against the walls.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Words were said.
The sally port opened.
I was welcomed inside.
It was only then that I realized that the Radiant Archer hadn’t followed behind me.
A terse few sentences were exchanged before I dashed through the gatehouse, found a staircase and climbed to the battlements. A wind that was both hot and cold brushed against my face. I blinked. It was an odd blend of both normal air and the fires of the hells.
I ignored the voices of the soldiers and looked out over the killing fields. A light smattering of hell-fire coated the ground like hail during a storm.
Where is Merton?
I looked.
Was that him? There was a corpse in the distance buried beneath a boulder. I couldn’t see most of it, just the legs. No, it couldn’t be him. There was a radiant arrow piercing the heel. Merton was a braggart, but I didn’t see him shooting himself in the foot.
I looked again.
And looked.
And looked.
There it was. A hand sticking out from beneath a rock clasping a broken bow.
My shoulders slumped.
I swallowed.
I turned away.
So much for bringing the other heroes to our support.
My first day during the hell that was the Second Siege of Summerholm came to an end.