“Wizard Grishilde, you are hereby under arrest for desertion,” the nicely-dressed, lanky man at the front of our little platoon wailed. Unlike the rest of us, he wore no armor, instead having opted to wear “only the finest silks.” I hoped the prick was happy, his clothes had gotten covered in dirt and sap along the journey to our target.

My armor clinked as I looked around at the group around me. Breathing heavily, I clutched the spear at my side with an ever-growing fervor.

There were barely any other soldiers, perhaps only fifty or so amongst the mud and foliage that surrounded us. Fifty? A fair amount to be sure, but against a wizard? This was a joke. We were all going to die. Sent to capture a lone wizard for desertion, in the middle of a war, instead of fighting at the front lines.

There would be no honor in my death. No glory.

And yet, I could not refuse the call to action.

The wizard’s dark, dull robes flowed with the wind. The features of her face barely registered under the shadow of the brim of her leather, tapered hat, yet I could feel her ever-so-slight frown.

“Mm. I shall fight in no war with such little purpose.” Such bold speech. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about. This war would make history. We would be the greatest kingdom–

The wizard lifted her gloved hand.

“Fall.”

Fall.

It was not uttered as a command. Simply a statement of fact; as though reality would trip over itself to bend to her every word.

Fall.

The word wormed its way into my weary mind, bouncing and pounding and screeching and stabbing.

Fall.

The word hammered once more, as my hazy mind feebly resisted its demand. My thoughts screamed tears.

Fall.

The world went dark. I could see nothing, nothing other than my knee trembling and the reflection of the wizard on my armor.

Fall.

I closed my eyes. The word held no real meaning anymore, as my mind denied all rhyme and reason, yet my body understood what was expected of it.

Fall.

My eyes opened. My shoulder was already deep in the ground, my spear far from my grasp. I must have dropped it as I responded to the compulsion.

“Those without power bend and break under its pressure,” the wizard’s cold voice bit against my ears, despite her distance. “Your king demands my presence? Very well. He shall receive it.”

She walked forwards, towards us.

Skwunch, skwunch. The mud splattered with her every step.

Skwunch, skwunch. Towards us… south. South towards Evansmoor.

Skwunch, skwunch. Her pace was slow. My right arm trembled, reaching out.

Skwunch, skwunch. She neared me. Yet her gaze never lowered.

Skwunch, skwunch. I was beneath her.

Skwunch–

Grabbing my spear, I barely managed to lift myself before once more collapsing, but I had managed to stab the tip of my spear into her ankle.

The wizard slowly turned towards me, shifting the now red-covered steel out of her foot.

Now, close, I could truly see her eyes.

They held no fear as the wound closed. The very leather on her boots where the spear had struck seemed to begin to reach for itself, as though it were woven from thread.

Her hand flicked, and I snapped into the air.

I hovered there, filled with fear, for only moments.

And then my chest slammed right back into the muddy ground.

“Do not test my patience.” She paused, as her gaze fell upon my right arm.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“Burn.”

###

It was hours before any of us were able to move again. A fellow a bit to my left was the first, and I followed not long after.

I stared at my arm as the charred flesh stitched itself together.

I nearly threw up as it once more burst into flames.

The metal of my armor had long since melted into my skin, stopping at the shoulder. It was the only part of my body I still couldn’t move as I slowly lifted myself, leaning against the shaft of my spear with my good arm.

The other man only stared in horror as the flames on my slumped arm began to recede, the burnt carrion regrowing and stitching itself back together.

I turned my shoulder towards him.

He steeled his gaze, and nodded, grasping his sword.

I grit my teeth as the blade came crashing down.

Thunk.

My arm clanged as it fell, fire beginning to rise just as it separated from me.

I looked to my shoulder as pain ran rampant within my mind.

No fire.

It was over.

I groaned as I walked to the battlefield medic, using my remaining arm to grasp at the man’s bandages stored on his belt.

The other man followed, and assisted me in covering my shoulder stump as blood poured.

He held out his right hand, toward me. “Aleck.”

I stared at it, stinging pain still overwhelming my thoughts. “Ewan.” I grasped his hand with my left arm, the handshake somewhat awkward with the positioning.

No more words were shared as we sat in silence, waiting for others to ascend from their paralysis.

None did.

They would certainly starve to death if none rose, surely they would come up soon?

Yet hours had passed, and still, Aleck and I were the only two standing.

We couldn’t reasonably manually feed them all.

But then, only one of them truly mattered.

The noble arse. He was a scion of somesuch family. I couldn’t care to remember. He’d wanted to score some notability by borrowing some troops to bring the deserting wizard “to justice.” But his parents would not be happy with the news of his passing.

We would need to bring him back, well-fed until the wizard’s magic wore off. We had already avoided the whims of lady luck once. We did not need to test her once more.

Looking at Aleck, I nodded toward the noble. It wasn’t like I could carry him.

His shoulders slumped slightly, but he firmed himself and walked towards the whelp, before picking him up and carrying him on his back.

I stared at the limp man, his eyes filled with fear. Tears streamed his cheeks, yet he made no movement.

Aleck and I walked towards one of the carts in the back, where we kept our rations. Laying the noble atop the sacks of food, we sighed.

The horses pulling them had already left long ago, unaffected by the words of the wizard.

We threw out some sacks of food, lightening the load. Perhaps those who regained their mobility after our leave could eat from them.

I gave the sacks a longing stare, before we retreated to the back of the cart and pushed.

There was a long journey ahead of us.

###

As we walked south, the noble had gained a modicum of his ability to move once more.

Barely.

Just enough to open his cursed mouth.

“I hunger.” The voice was barely more than a whisper, all the man could manage, yet it was still enough to leave my head in pain.

“We ate not a league and a half prior,” Aleck groaned. “Perhaps two and a quarter-hour ago. You cannot possibly already be hungry.”

“I apologize that my superior upbringing has led to a body that demands more sustenance, but I demand–”

“You are lying still on a cart. You have done nothing but complain since you regained the ability to speak,” I bit, stopping my steps to turn towards the voice. “I am pushing a cart with one arm. One. Arm. The very least you can do is make the trip back tolerable.”

There was a slight mumble, “Well you have help. He’s pushing it too.” I assumed I wasn’t meant to hear that. I inhaled, but I did not respond.

I could only take solace in the fact that the man was not likely a true heir. The heir of his family would have been groomed from birth to be the perfect leader, and that man’s younger brother, and that younger brother’s even younger brother.

I doubted this noble was even a fifth son. Pitiful, but he was clearly able to lead a life of luxury off the backs of others. It was a small sacrifice for the elegant leadership of our nobles and royalty.

A fallen tree branch cracked under my boot as our trek resumed. I sighed as I heard bread fall to the ground, the scion rummaging around through what sacks of food remained in the cart.

My eyes turned towards Aleck’s, who responded to my gaze in kind.

Silence reigned between the three of us, aside from the noble’s occasional complaint. Which was, I supposed, more than just occasional.

But we persisted.

We had long ago abandoned our armor, save for our boots and gauntlets, in favor of greater mobility. My spear was strapped to my back, and Aleck’s shortsword swang at his hip. I noted the man’s red, curly hair. He was a northerner, or at least his lineage was. I was filled with pride that our kingdom was so great that even our former enemies would choose to fight alongside us.

The north had been ours for a great many years now, its conquest finalized just a year after my birth, so twenty-and-three years ago. The northerner to my side seemed like he must have been born just around that time as well, perhaps a touch younger or older like myself. But how great it was to share one’s early years with an event so grand, so–

I snapped myself out of my thoughts.

There was spilled bread on the floor ahead of us. Our bread.

Just a bit further, a familiar broken tree branch lied.

“Oh, tits,” Aleck groaned.

“Damn fae,” I muttered.