They came running out of the forest, a great naked mass of muscles, horns, claws and blades. Vergil barely had time to draw his weapon before the attackers were on them, eating up the distance like it was nothing.


    Tallah whistled and the monsters slammed into an invisible wall. Sil was already moving away, heading for Tallah’s side.


    Swords and maces slammed against the barrier. A layer shattered but a second was already up.


    Tallah whistled again and, in the moment where the barriers fell and the monsters stumbled forward, back ranks pushing the front, fireballs flew into their midst and detonated with deafening cracks. Offal flew. A stench of scorched meat, hair, and sulphur rose into the air.


    The sorceress whistled again and the push was staggered again.


    “Get your brains working, boy,” she called. “This is only a scouting force. We need to head to the gate.”


    “What gate?” he called, confused and torn between standing his ground and running in the direction Tallah had started on.


    “Just move. There must be a battle line nearby.”


    Sil grabbed his arm and pulled him resolutely backward through the snow. The creature brayed and snapped at the barriers, trampling their dead to red mulch. In the wane moonlight it was as if the night itself had come to attack them.


    Tallah loosed her lances and followed up with bolts of lightning. Her attacks killed many, but the horde emerging out of the forest looked endless.


    “What’s happening?” Vergil asked, finally turning to run together with Sil.


    “Of all the places. Of all the times. It had to be here!” the healer mumbled under her gasps for breath. “It doesn’t even make sense.” She was outrunning him easily.


    Something came loping out of the forest and leapt for Sil. Vergil caught it with the back of his axe, the thick metal smashing into bone and muscle. It squealed as it dropped into the snow, black blood squirting. He reversed the axe and brought it down into a two-armed swing where he thought the thing’s head lay.


    More skirted Tallah’s defence line and made for the two of them. Sil blocked with barriers as Vergil swung his weapons.


    “Can you whistle?” Sil called.


    “Yes.”


    “Then whistle when you need a barrier in front of you. Again for me to drop it.” She was unarmed and moving in a circle together with him, just a couple steps behind his back.


    She’s my shield, he realised with a jolt.


    Two black shapes crossed the narrow clearing. Swords glittered in the moonlight. One made for Sil, one for him. Vergil whistled and his foe slammed face-first into the barrier. He drew his sword and engaged the second, ramming into it before it reached the healer.


    The first blow of his axe was parried and cast aside as easily as if it weighed nothing. It left the creature open to his sword. He thrust at the creature’s stomach.


    His sword skidded off black armour, sparking on the metal. The thrust sent him reeling.


    Tallah was there in the next moment, as if come from a bolt of lightning. Her hands flashed fire and the monster illuminated for a moment before it melted like wax in her inferno. Heat hit him. Snow flashed to steam.


    It was like nothing Vergil had ever seen before. A goat’s head atop a mound of writhing muscle, like snakes twisted into ropes. Two great horns had adorned the creature’s head, pointed and curved. Two oddly curved legs remained after Tallah’s attack.


    A goatman? The image of rat-headed creatures flashed across his mind and ignited deep rage in his gut. It took all he had to resist the urge to rush and attack the other monsters.


    Those, by the light of Tallah’s fire, were various amalgamations of animal and humans, all screaming and braying and howling. For each one that Tallah immolated, two more emerged from the forest.


    Sil enhanced him when they gained a moment’s breath. Horvath still lay sealed by Argia, but Vergil could feel the dwarf’s strength in his veins. He whirled the axe as if it weighed nothing and buried it in the thick neck of a wolfman attacking with a flail of bones. Black blood spurted onto his hands as his sword parted the monster’s head from its shoulders.


    Tallah fought with an ease that he hadn’t seen of her in Grefe. Against these odds, she was calm, killing with pinpoint efficiency. Each fireball found its target, each firefly took a kill. She moved through the battle as if she’d done it before a thousand times.


    And so did he.


    His body reacted on its own. Wherever a beast swung, his axe was there to meet it and deflect. He settled into a rhythm of parrying, slashing, killing, and moving forward another step. His muscles screamed with the effort and his heart beat a steady, fast rhythm into his ear drums, but he fought on. The dwarf revelled in his vision, spitting invective on each kill.


    Part of him understood this was Horvath’s skill and he could not hope to match it on his own.


    Another part paid attention and took notes.


    Tallah whistled, turned, and ran out of the clearing. Sil followed. Vergil kept pace easily now, tethered as he was to the healer.


    A beast dropped from the high canopy and brought him down into the soft snow. He rolled with it, kicked out and punched his way free of it. They both exploded from the snow.


    Vergil was slower to swing the axe, but Luna had taken the initiative. It crawled and bit into the monster, making in thrash and roll through the snow. Vergil’s axe swung the moment Luna was thrown off and the monster reared its head. The crescent edge bit into the snakeman’s flat face. He yanked back the axe and swung it down again. The monster died with a long hiss.


    Luna ran atop the snow and climbed his leg to its usual perch.


    Five more beasts surrounded Vergil among the trees, laughing in some alien tongue. Wherever he turned he could only see more gleaming eyes staring at him from the darkness.


    “Tallah!” he called out as he retreated. Step by step until his back hit a tree trunk and he could go no further.


    The monsters encroached. They stank of offal and some otherworldly miasma that sapped his strength. Flies buzzed in the air. The stench made his head light. It was hard to focus on any one shape as they all encroached.


    “Head down!”


    He hit the snow the next moment without even thinking.


    A bolt of lightning tore through the air. It buzzed as it cut into his enemies, killing in a wide arc. It lashed out into the trees and horrid screams echoed out.


    He crawled forward underneath the snow and emerged several paces away, Luna gripping desperately to his back.


    Tallah was there, firing lance after lance into the forest. Fire billowed. Shapes of various sizes ran through the inferno, charging blindly. The sorceress grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.


    “Did any of them hurt you? Did you get bit?” she asked urgently.


    “No. I don’t think so.”


    “Good. Move. We’re nearly out of this.”


    He could make out the unmistakable trenches in the snow that signalled Sil putting up barriers in their wake. The monsters slammed bodily against these, braying and screaming for blood.


    More shouting lay ahead. For a moment Vergil hesitated, but when Tallah and Sil didn’t stop running, he kept on.


    Soon the shouting became clear. Voices. Human voices. Orders. Someone else was in the forest with them, and they were fighting back.


    In a burst of muscle burning effort, they exploded out of the still frozen thickets and onto a clear plain. Ahead, against the dark horizon, lay a fortress that made Valen seem pathetic by comparison in sheer size alone. Tall walls blocked sight of the horizon. Torches burned atop its crenellations. It was a sight that tore at the sky itself.


    Flaming arrows rose high into the air and fell like hailing rain somewhere far to the side of their position. Something screamed in that direction, and it made the braying of their own monsters seem quaint by comparison. It filled the world, like some great titan come to tear down those walls.


    “Keep running. Don’t look back,” Tallah urged.


    An open field separated the forest from the fortress, and it was packed with fighting shapes.


    At the base of the walls there were lines of men fighting to hold back the monsters. Great fires burned across the plain and their light silhouetted the warriors clashing there.


    It was slaughter on both sides. Men fell and screamed in the frozen mud. Beasts bellowed and were brought low by arrows, hacked to pieces by swords.


    “Where are the bloody mages?” Tallah huffed out, her breath coming in thick clouds as she kept running ahead of them. “There’s no cadre fighting.”


    They were almost upon the fighting men when the world turned upside down.


    Or, rather, Vergil did.


    Something had slammed into the ground with the force of a meteor and sent everyone nearby sprawling through the mud and snow. The boom of the impact registered only later.


    He came to his feet in time to see—


    No way…


    A dragon had landed in the middle of the field. It could be nothing but a dragon! Black as pitch. Great bat-like wings flapped and sent gales knocking over anyone unprepared. A maw filled with fangs the size of a man’s arm opened up and tongue of fire licked out at the defenders on the walls. They screamed as they died. Men were incinerated, their armour running in white-hot rivers down the walls.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The dragon charged forward on muscular limbs, opened its great maw and filled up with soldiers, living or dead. It crunched down savagely, blood spurting.


    Immediately, the remaining defenders retreated and monsters streamed past the dragon as it set to devouring its prey. Arrows fell. They did nothing. A boulder whistled out from beyond the fortress’s wall and smashed just paces away from the great lizard.


    It raised its head and roared at the attack. A beat of its great wings pulled it up into the air, bodies still caught in the trap of its fangs. Soldiers screamed in agony.


    As sudden as it had arrived, it departed, taking flight, powerful wings beating to push its bulk high into the night sky until it was nothing more than a speck against the Mother moon. It roar filled the entire vale with blood chilling echoes.


    The defenders lay in disarray. Monsters fell upon them and killed and hacked with impunity.


    “We need to help them,” Vergil called as Sil and Tallah both stared after the dragon as it rose high into the air and arced its flight towards the mountain.


    Tallah shook off her stupor first and rose into the air as well. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes swinging from the fighting to the forest.


    “Blast my soul,” she cursed and rose into the air. “So much for blending in.” Red orbs of fire popped into being around her like a halo.


    “If the soldiers end up firing on me, hide,” she said before blasting across the battlefield.


    She rose higher and higher into the air, seeming to try and chase after the dragon. Her flight took her straight above the lines of dying men. The arrows paused as a horn screamed over the din.


    “What’s she doing?” Vergil asked.


    “Showing why her call name is Cinder,” Sil answered. “Keep running. Don’t stop.”


    The flame orbs grew in intensity and spread out from her figure, more coming into being every moment. Vergil stole fascinating glimpses of Tallah’s attack as he and Sil crossed the killing field towards the far side of the battle line, where the fortress wall met the mountain. Some bat-like animals tried to approach the sorceress but her fireflies chased them off.


    When the fire orbs descended, night turned to day with the light of the explosions that followed. Pillars of flames rose and consumed the pyres, spread and engulfed the lines of the attackers. The line broke and ran, misshapen monstrosities turning tail and fleeing back into the forest.


    Some caught sight of Vergil and Sil, and rushed them.


    Vergil whistled and the first one rammed its bull-like head against the wall. It toppled back and did not rise again, pink foam coating its long muzzle. Its friends skirted the wall, running on all fours like animals.


    He met their blades with axe and sword. Horvath’s skills had him meeting every blow with one of his own, his strength of arm equal to his foes’.


    Vergil ducked and wove beneath the killing strikes, shoulder tackled the first mountain of muscle and tore it down to the ground. He crushed its windpipe with the back of the axe. Luna leapt clear of him and landed on a wolf-headed monster, biting into it as it tried to grab at the spider.


    The third swung a great double-headed axe at Vergil. He dove aside. His sword flashed up and the blade bit deep into the monster’s wrist. It yowled in pain but Vergil slammed his helmet horns forward into the monster’s face. One horn dove into an eye socket. Horrid screams made his ears vibrate.


    Sil put up a word between him and the flailing wolfman. Vergil whistled. The wall dropped. His axe caught the monster on the side of the head, shearing half its head off in a single strike. Grey brain spatters his armour.


    They were still running as he left the final monster bleeding black ichor onto the snow. Some soldiers noticed them, raised their weapons, but hesitated a moment later.


    Tallah still rained fire from above, her attack now reduced to simple fireballs and lances. But it had been enough. The moment of defeat had been turned. The monsters ran.


    A ragged cheer went up from the defending line as Tallah lowered herself to the ground. Vergil couldn’t see a way to reach there or signal for her.


    “You two!” a man called from behind a palisade ahead. “Are there more with you?” he asked as he waved them forward.


    “No.” Sil stopped by the man, gasping for air. “Just the sorceress over there.”


    “Are you a healer? Is either of you a healer?” the soldier asked in a rush.


    Sil was stunned for words for a moment before she rallied. “I am.”


    “Follow me.” And with that the man turned and jogged away behind the lines of pikes and destroyed war machines.


    Sil shared a look with Vergil. He shrugged and they both followed the soldier deeper within the camp. Tallah would find them eventually.


    “So much for us not drawing attention,” Sil groaned.


    Vergil heard it too.


    A cheer—No. A chant went up from the fighting lines. Faint at first, then confused, then stronger and stronger as more throats called out the same name.


    “Cinder!” hundreds of voices screamed. The warriors renewed their assault, gathered around Tallah’s position, and pushed back the last of the beastmen.


    “Inside the walls. Quick,” the soldier said as the great black gate of the fortress loomed into view.


    The iron gate rose ponderously on its chain, high enough for people to walk beneath, and fresh soldiers streamed out. The wounded were being collected from the killing field. Vergil hesitated for a moment in front of the gate, looked back out into the mire of smoke, and made a choice.


    “Luna, go with Sil, “ he urged the spider. It had been clutching hard onto his back and now peeked out over his shoulder.


    “There are many here,” it said. “We are afraid.”


    “I know. So am I.” He pulled aside from the gates so the wounded could be carried in. “But I need to help. Go and keep an eye on Sil. I’ll be close to Tallah.”


    The spider reluctantly climbed down his leg. Sil was already inside, talking to two other women. They seemed to come to some agreement and headed deeper inside. For a moment, she turned to him and their eyes met. He pointed out towards the field and she followed the line of his finger. A silent nod was all the confirmation he needed.


    Vergil ran back out after the soldiers collecting the wounded, heading for the first man to look like he was in command. “How can I help?” he asked. The soldier looked at him oddly for a moment, then turned and pointed to the fires.


    “Go with Guillan and collect as many of the wounded as you can. Focus on those still alive. Do you have any experience with triage?”


    “No, sir,” he answered honestly.


    The soldier shook his head. “More’s the pity. Listen to Guillan and get going. We don’t have long until they’ll be back. It’s going to be a long night.”


    Guillan was a brawny human wearing a beaten and weathered suit of armour that might once have been painted blue. His helmet was as dented as Vergil’s, wearing the scars of too many battles to count. He didn’t say a word as the two of then braved the no man’s land in search for the living and the not-yet-dead. It had been slaughter in the field. There were too many bodies to count, most of them surrounded by a disproportionately large number of beastmen corpses.


    Tallah was still fighting but her efforts had reduced to casting her lances into the retreating lines of monsters, chasing them only as far as the edge of the no man’s land. Farther on, Vergil could make out larger shapes moving among the trees, gathering in fresh packs.


    He found his first survivor heartbeats later. A young man cradling the stump of his right arm. He’d lost his helmet and his armour was drenched in blood. Wild eyes stared about as he tried to crawl to some safety.


    “Pick him up and take him to the infirmary,” Guillan said in an exhausted voice.


    “Where’s that?” Vergil leaned over the man and lifted him gingerly over his shoulder, just how Tallah had shown him. The soldier didn’t protest.


    “Straight through the gate and to the right. Follow the screams.”


    Vergil did. All around him he could spy other soldiers carrying wounded comrades in their arms or on their shoulders. Men and women alike. Those retrieving the victims were constantly replenished by fresh-faced soldiers from the garrison, so much so that there looked to be a constant stream in and out through the gate.


    He found the infirmary just as it had been described, and with that he also found Sil. She was bloodstained up to her elbows and the front of her clothes were reminiscent of a butcher’s apron. She took one look at the soldier and indicated a bed for Vergil to lay him down on.


    While she got to work on several others that were brought in, Vergil ran back outside and once again found Guillan. He was struggling under the weight of a man nearly Tummy’s equal in size. Vergil rushed to share the burden and, together, the two men got the soldier inside.


    It went on for most of the night.


    He barely saw the faces of those he helped. Some were burned but still drew laboured breath. Many were missing arms. Legs. Guillan put several out of their misery before moving on to the next.


    It was backbreaking, gruelling work. The more he saved, the more there were that he couldn’t reach in time, or who expired before he got them to Sil’s help.


    Once he dragged a man half-way to the fortress before realising the soldier was trailing entrails and missed both his legs. He died on Vergil’s back and was dropped in a boneless pile.


    His nightmares would be filled to bursting with the blank stares of all those he couldn’t get to in time. Dead eyes staring out at a moonlit sky… that was an image he’d take to the grave. No Experience had ever shown him this dark, painful side of a large battle, nor had any featured the way some men cried for their mothers or father. One died, his chest split open by a cleaver as large as Vergil, crying blood and begging to see his son one more time. Guillan offered mercy.


    The helmet’s enchantment cut off halfway through the late bells. Sil used a valuable pack of dust and repowered him just as he struggled to get back out.


    Another wave of monsters was repelled by Tallah and the soldiers. The counterattack was halfhearted at best, and it looked like the creatures were confused by the presence of the sorceress. Guillan repeated that it couldn’t last.


    Even with Horvath’s strength, the work wore on him. He could barely walk by the end of the night, helmet or no.


    The fragile peace earned by Tallah’s intervention did last. By the time light crested the mountains and warmth spilled into the valley, there were no more monsters rushing the defence lines. Silence spread across the army, breath hitch in hundreds of chests, waiting for the inevitable. They were spared. This time.


    Vergil could no longer feel his legs or his back. His chest and back burned as if hot nails had been driven under his skin. He could scarcely stand. And he could not walk anymore. He’d sat down in a crook of the wall, just past the gate, and found he could no longer pull himself up to his feet.


    Soldiers streamed in. Some cast him a glance. Most just stared ahead in dead-eyed stupor. They carried their lances atop their shoulders, a look of utter exhaustion etched on all their faces. Finally, after an endless procession, Tallah appeared as well, flanked by several men much more heavily armed and armoured than the rest.


    “Taking a break, bucket-head?” she asked. Exhaustion coated her words like fine powder.


    “Just a short one while the enemies hide.” He managed to force a smile and raise his hand. “Help me up?”


    She did. “Where’s Sil?”


    “Triage ward. She’s helping.”


    “Lovely. We’re all prisoners, by the way. Try and play nice with our hosts, yes?” She said all of it in a breath, the smile on her face forced. “For now.”


    The three men looked one to the other but made no move to get near them. Instead, one of them removed his helmet to reveal an old visage that might have been Ludwig’s father. The soldier was ancient and, like his gear, worn out and weathered.


    “Vilfor needs to see you, Cinder,” he said. “You can take your companion with you. It won’t be an issue.”


    “I would expect so.” She gave him a wide, tired grin. “I did just save your worthless hide, Dorin. A bit of civility goes a long way.”


    “Then I suggest we all remain civil.” He took a deep, exhausted breath. “Gods know, morale needs it. Come, follow me.”


    Vergil found himself sandwiched between the other two veterans, with Tallah walking in the centre of this strange group. They entered one of the side rooms of the fortress, past the gate, and climbed five sets of stairs to a room that looked out over the field. A single murder hole let in some of the early morning light.


    Tallah stepped into the small room as if it were her own. The man waiting inside, looming over a desk filled with maps, could have been Barlo’s twin. A four-armed figure nearly three heads taller than Vergil and winder than Tummy, he cut an imposing figure. He was decked out in battered armour, the white and blue still visible on some parts of it.


    Bright yellow eyes widened as he took in who had just walked in.


    “And here I’d thought some of those worthless adventurers finally pulled their weight. I’d heard you were dead,” the man rumbled in a deep, cavernous voice.


    “And I see you’re in deep shit, Vilfor,” Tallah said. She offered her hand to the vanadal.


    Vilfor stared at it for a long time and studied the sorceress head to toe. “You came here as friend? Or another foe to harass me?”


    “Quite friendly for the time being. You need help. I’m amiable to the idea.”


    The vanadal took Tallah’s hand in his, shaking it.


    “Gods above, it’s good to see you here,” Vilfor said, his demeanour warming. “I never believed for a heartbeat the boy had stones enough to put you in the ground.”