by Hugo Huesca
Katalyn cursed, and by instinct tried to go back the way she’d come—but the three specters had gained on her with her back turned to them, and she had to jump down the slope to avoid their charge—they passed right above her head as she fell, going through a strand of her hair, and took their places next to the wraith. The Thief rolled on the ground, pain shooting through joints as she landed.
“Ah, dearest Katalyn,” Torst said with that artificial voice—utterly devoid of human warmth. “We are reunited once again.”
“You’re dead, asshole!” Katalyn exclaimed, standing up. She threw a knife at it, but the blade harmlessly disappeared into the black shroud.
The fact that the dead thing could speak—that the creature remembered the way her father had talked at her when she was younger, before the ambition and the drinking took their toll on him… it was worse than its fear aura. It’s not really him, she reminded herself. It has a Mind score, but no Spirit. It’s just a damned afterimage.
Maybe someone ought to let the wraith know. It sighed, as if making the death throes of a dying man, while the wind spread its tattered shroud behind it. “Why won’t you come here and give your old father a hug?” It extended its bony arms toward her and flew in her direction.
THE FLAMING EDGE smashed against the extended black hand and disintegrated it as magical feedback sparked around the impact—like a thunderclap going off during a quiet night.
Ed dodged the specter’s counterattack and struck it through the chest with a jab as fast as lightning. The undead wailed and disappeared like it had never been there.
Then his eldritch edge reached its limit, and the flames died down. The sudden lack of the green flame’s brightness blinded him for a moment—he instantly felt the cold, terrible bite of a specter’s fingers as they went past his armor. It was a strike meant for his heart, but at the last second, somehow, his armor had pushed the fingers away. He still felt the fingernails raking lines of emptiness across his chest, and his Endurance lost another two points. His improved reflexes managed to buy him a second to retreat, dashing a stride away from the specter.
The short sword in Ed’s hand was now as heavy as a claymore, his breathing was wild, uncontrolled, and his legs burned with the effort of moving across the snow.
Behind him, Kaga’s dagger reached Ed’s specter, cut its hands off, and the kaftar finished it with a jab to its neck. “Cast that spell again!” Kaga suggested.
“There’s still the wraith,” Ed muttered, trying to get his mind away from the pain in his chest. He had three spells left, and the rune that Lavy had given him. He needed the rune to strike at the wraith from a distance, and the spells to minor order it to stay away.
On the other hand, if the specters killed him now, it wouldn’t matter how many spells he had saved.
“Watch out, Lord Wraith!” one of the spiders called out, and jumped to his right. She tried to bite one of the specters, and although her fangs managed to hurt it and force it back, Ed saw with his Evil Eye how her Endurance was reduced by half. “Ah!” The spider’s legs buckled under her as her entire body shook with unexpected tiredness. Three specters approached her.
Ed jumped over her trembling body. “Eldritch edge!” His blazing sword sliced the middle specter in half. With every swing, the weight of the blade increased, and his arms further burned with effort. Red pain pulsed at the edge of his vision, marking the veins of his eyes. Without Kes’ hard training, he suspected the constant Endurance loss would’ve floored him minutes ago.
With a scream, he brought the sword down hard across the second specter’s torso, then against the third. It was like fighting underwater, or in a dream.
“We can’t touch them,” the spider complained behind him as he traced a circle with his sword to keep the specters at bay. “As soon as we do, we lose Endurance. We’re useless.”
“Use your webs!” Ed told her over his shoulder. At least it would slow them down.
Kaga darted inside his field of view. The kaftar’s tongue was out between his yellowed teeth. “Had I known we’d be having so much fun tonight, I’d have brought the rest of my cackle!” A string of web went past his shoulder and smacked a specter in its blank face, and Kaga killed it before the creature knew what had happened.
There’s too many of them, Ed realized. He and the kaftar had managed to keep them at bay, but they were still surrounded, and Ed could barely protect the spiders. So far, no help had come from the Haunt, which could only mean they had problems of their own. We’ll never win if we defend forever, they’ll just wear us down, he decided. He had to go on the offensive.
He couldn’t give in to panic. The stats of the specters flew across his eyes:
Specter, humanoid. Necromantic Construct. Brawn and Endurance: 5, Agility: 5, Spirit: 0, Mind: 5, Charisma: 5. Skills: ?, Talents: Vitality Drain (Touch), Incorporeal Presence, Summon (Torst, Wraith)
The wraith! The specters weren’t the problem. It was the wraith who controlled them—they weren’t even creatures, they were summons. He was getting his ass kicked by conjurations.
“Kaga!” Ed punctured the throat of a specter that had come too close. The brief arcane thunder that resulted illuminated the distant tree line, revealing more incoming specters. “We need to find the wraith!”
“And miss all the fun here?” the kaftar replied. As he spoke, a specter charged him with unexpected speed. It managed to strike against Kaga’s fur a second before he jabbed at its transparent jaw and rammed his dagger up to the hilt inside the undead’s head.
Kaga’s Endurance had lost several ranks—he now had about the same as Ed in a good day.
The circle of specters was thinner near Kaga’s flank. Ed stared back at his spiders. Two were busy protecting their fallen comrade with strings of web that came out thinner and thinner with each shot. “Can you stand?” Ed asked.
“Are we retreating?” the spider asked weakly. “If so, leave me here. I’ll cover your retreat.”
“We are charging.” Ed gestured at Kaga’s side, then had to dodge a swipe from one specter. Two more used that opening to rush him, and he had to jump away from the spiders, toward Kaga. The world slowed down as his improved reflexes burned through his energy reserves with a vengeance. He changed his center of gravity—like Kes had taught him—and threw a horizontal slash that cleaved through the three undead, destroying them. The magical feedback surged around him, and he could smell burnt hair and ozone. “Now, follow me!”
He rushed past Kaga, killed the specter the kaftar had been fighting, and launched a series of strikes that forced the rest to pull back. To his sides, and behind him, the rest of the specters closed in—only seconds away from engulfing them all.
Instead of standing his ground, Ed pressed the attack. His teeth were gritted together so hard that his jaw flared with sparks of pain, but he didn’t care. Pain meant he was still alive. It meant he could still fight.
Next to him, Kaga rushed and danced among the specters, drawing the heat away from Ed. The kaftar had discarded his scimitar since his daggers, forged out of a spider Queen’s fangs, could actually hurt the undead.
A rain of webbing shot from behind Ed’s head and fell over the specters in front of him—they weren’t smart enough to ignore it, and Ed used the opening to punch through the circle of undead, sword slashing and jabbing and stabbing around him as he charged, blindly, through the mob of undead, using his improved reflexes to give him the extra speed he needed.
Two points of icy pain spread across his back. Without his pledge of armor, he’d be dead already.
Endurance at eight… He could barely keep his sword raised, and the world was but a blur of motion.
But the motion was behind him. He had pulled through.
His fingers rummaged through his pockets. He ignored the agility potion, which had a metallic feel, and grabbed the crystal one. Vitality. He uncorked it with his teeth and poured the warm liquid through. Thank you, Andreena, you beautiful Herbalist.
> Reality came back into focus. Kaga, a few steps away, was trying to follow in Ed’s direction—but the specters had already closed ranks once again.
Unlike Kes, who had a defensive fighting style, Kaga relied on sheer speed and reflexes to overwhelm his opponent. It was a hunter’s style, not a soldier’s: he was built around finishing the fight as fast as he could. The Evil Eye registered a kaftar version of improved reflexes, along with talents to improve potions’ effects, enhanced senses, and minor regeneration. Nothing that could let him tank repeated drains to his stamina. Just the opposite, sadly.
So he and Ed were at a disadvantage against big groups of weak enemies. Ed had to do something, and fast.
Time to drone it up, then. With an effort of will, Ed summoned a dozen of them right above the battlefield, and had them fall over the specter’s heads.
The drones screamed sharply as they fell, purple tunics flapping in the wind, horrified eyes fixated upon the incoming undead. On impact, they were automatically unsummoned in puffs of smoke—they were useless against the touch-activated drain.
But it took the specters’ attention away from Kaga and the spiders—just like the web had done, moments earlier.
Ed ran back into the fray. Working with the kaftar and the spiders, they managed to pull through. He could feel the vitality potion consuming itself in his veins from the effort of keeping the drones raining down. He stopped the instant the last spider had made it through the throng. At the same time, his eldritch edge ended.
“Run!” Ed exclaimed, then set the example.
“We’re heading toward the forest!” said Kaga. Next to them, the spiders tried their best to keep up the pace.
“Wraith’s that way,” Ed panted. “We kill it, we end this.”
“My father killed a wraith once,” Kaga said. Or at least, that’s what Ed thought Kaga had said, because his tongue was flapping out of his mouth as he ran. “I’m eager to match his feat. Although I wish we were better prepared.”
“Trust me,” said Ed, as they reached the trees. “So do I.” He jumped over a thick root, evaded an oncoming specter, and kept moving forward. He summoned a few drones as he moved and had them scatter behind him and his group to distract the pursuing specters.
As he was focusing on his drones, he realized with a pang of panic that he was losing drones inside the Haunt, left and right. Nicolai! It had to be. Protect the villagers, Ed ordered his Haunt’s drones with desperation. It felt like he was running away from his dungeon. And my friends. Have them survive until I come back. No matter the fucking cost!
“Where are we going?” one of the spiders asked. It was hard to find the way, with only the moonlight to guide them across the dark forest and the snow at their feet weighing down their every move.
“We find the path with the most enemies,” Ed told her. “There’s always a Boss fight at the end.”
“WHERE IS ED?” asked Alder, right before plopping down into his seat in the Mess Hall. “He was behind you, Kes.”
For a second, the mercenary wanted to ignore the Dungeon Lord’s absence. She was tired, dammit, and Ed could take care of himself.
“Probably got distracted on the way,” she said. “Let me check real quick. Grab me one hell chicken leg, won’t you?” She could smell it all the way from the kitchens, and her stomach rumbled accordingly. Oh, was she hungry.
Ed wasn’t around the entrance hall. Back outside? Or he got sidetracked, had gone into one of the other tunnels—left would’ve brought him to her Training Center, Lavy’s Laboratory, or the hell chicken farms in between them. The others would’ve led him to the Brewery, near the batblins’ quarters.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up when he’s as hungry as I am.” After all, she wasn’t a babysitter. She was about to turn back when she heard a clattering coming from the entrance tunnel. A horned spider rushed inside—a princess, judging from her chitin’s ridges, but really the same size as a normal warrior. She was excited, body language implying she was ready for a fight.
Am I really able to read a spider’s body language now? Kes wondered with dismay. What am I turning into?
“Elf!” the spider exclaimed, mistaking her for her distant cousins. “We are under attack!”
A chill ran down Kes’ spine. Despite that, her martial training took over and allowed her to remain calm. “Explain yourself.” Please, let it be a giant bear. Gods, have it be something stupid.
“Specters!” the spider exclaimed. “Dungeon Lord Wraith has gone to face them. He fears an ambush is coming to the Haunt. He has orders for you: defend the Haunt, kill his enemies!”
“Motherfucker.” Kes clenched her hands into fists. “Specters? He went to face them alone?” Is he deaf? Just a few hours ago I told him to let us protect him!
She made for the tunnel, but the spider stopped her.
“You have orders!” the critter hissed.
Kes was prey to many mixed feelings boiling inside her at the same time. Anger. A few months ago I’d have killed you without a second thought, spider. Denial. I am not a fucking grunt, and Ed isn’t a fucking General. Shame. Because she kinda was, and she had her duty, and she was wasting time.
At some point, she had drawn her sword and shield. She turned briskly and almost impaled Alder.
“Whoa there!” Alder almost dropped the chicken breast he was eating. “Careful where you put that thing.” Then he noticed Kes’ maddened expression. “What the hell is going on?”
That did her in. She wasn’t a grunt, and Ed wasn’t a General, but there was a chain of command. Gone was the avian woman—the soldier was back at the helm.
Her hunger became but a distant memory. “Sound the alarm,” she told him. “We’re under attack. Nicolai’s using specters as a distraction. Either he sent the wraith this way, or he’s coming himself.”
Alder paled. “Is this a joke? Where’s Ed?”
“The sensible thing for him to do would be for him to hide in the Seat room. Where do you think he is?” Kes said, almost hissing like the spider had.
“Light’s mercy,” Alder whispered, staring behind Kes’ shoulder at the darkness outside. “We have to help him!”
“Sound the alarm!” Kes exclaimed, grabbing the Bard by the shoulders and shaking him. Has the world gone mad? Why is he still standing here? She didn’t need to search for the answer. He’s but a civilian. He knows nothing of what’s coming. “You’re faster than me,” she said softly, letting the terrified Bard shake her off. “Ed’s facing undead, so grab our tools as you go. Silver, holy water, blessed knives, runes… But you must hurry! Every second you waste is a chance for him to die.” And us, Alder. Us, too. She kept that thought to herself.
For a second, she feared that Alder would just stand there, paralyzed by fear. Then she saw his pale blue eyes gain a hint of steel. Trembling all over, he nodded. “Nimble feet!” Fast like lightning, he disappeared into the tunnel to Lavy’s Laboratory. “Attack! We’re under attack! Everyone, get ready! Whoever can fight, arm yourselves—” His voice came fainter and fainter.
“What about me?” the spider asked.
“The other tunnel!” Kes barked.
While the spider ran, the mercenary headed outside.
“Oh, Alita’s tits,” she whispered sadly. A small part of her had hoped that the spider had merely been joking, or mistaken somehow. But there were specters about, all right, black humanoid blots in the distance, coming down the slope that led to the Haunt’s valley. The villagers from the camp were running away from the incoming wave, some of them carrying men and women covered head-to-toe in spiderweb. What the hell happened here? Then she caught a glimpse of Ed—a flaming green sword challenging the darkness, and a gleam from his Evil Eye as he rushed the specters. He had the kaftar—Kaga—running next to him, cackling like a madman, and three spider warriors guarding his rear. The green sword clashed against the shadows, stemmed the wave, and forced it to part around the flames—then it was enveloped by the inky, shifting mas
s of specters.
From her vantage point, Kes saw the Dungeon Lord and his minions make a brave stand against the undead, a small circle of eldritch light defying the darkness.
It was like one of the Bard’s stories come to life, but every detail was wrong. Instead of a noble King leading a desperate charge to save his kingdom, it was a minor Dungeon Lord in the middle of nowhere. Instead of valiant knights clad in golden armor, Ed was surrounded by allied monsters. And instead of a kingdom, he was risking his life for a bunch of drunks and ne’er-do-wells, some batblins, and—
And you, you asshole, she told herself. She jumped down without thinking, as if she could reach him and join that mad stand herself. As she did so, the outskirts of the valley came into view. There was a silver glimmer of moonlight over polished steel.
Kes’ heart thumped in her chest. Red capes, flapping in the wind. A score and half, from the looks of it, coming from the edges of the valley, a perfect flank to the specters’ attack. They’d arrive moments after the villagers—if the gods were merciful.
Men and women, mostly Starevosian, with a few elves thrown into the mix. She saw faces covered by hoods, the hoods engraved with minor defensive enchantments. Armed to the teeth, the lot of them. A tall man led them. He had a dark, proud countenance and was attractive in a cruel way. His long black hair rained over his shoulders and onto his breastplate.
He saw her standing there atop a small rocky hill, exposed, nothing to her sides but empty air and slanted rock. Had she been naked and taking a bath, she would’ve been about as vulnerable. And he knew it—for a second there, Kes could almost read his thoughts. He made a gesture to his caped men.
Kes saw the hands raise, saw them take aim. Short bows, runes, fingers loaded with arcane devastation. “Son of a bitch,” she said with a raspy voice.
Devastation soared toward her.
24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
