by AC Cobble
“You know where it is now. If we survive this,” suggested Rhys, “you can come back at your leisure.”
“You won’t take it?” asked Corinne.
“All yours,” assured Rhys. “Now, I personally do not want to be climbing down when a thousand-strong demon swarm gets here. I’m ready to go.”
Ben swallowed a lump in his throat then made his way to the edge of the butte. He tried to ignore the towering plume of black smoke and the continuing booms, cracks, and shudders that echoed down from the north. The rock was just barely moving, he tried to tell himself.
He glanced down and immediately wished he hadn’t. Both his and Rhys’ packs weighed heavily against his back. He turned and scooted his boots to edge. He knelt down and started slowly working his way back.
Rhys looked at him and rolled his eyes. Amelie gave him an encouraging smile. Corinne ignored him, her eyes were locked on the still growing cloud of smoke.
One foot over, and his boot hung unsupported in the open air. Shaking, he laid down on his stomach and scooted back further, testing with his foot to find the bumps and cracks he’d used on the climb up.
Amelie knelt beside him and looked over the precipice. “Move your right foot about a hand to the left,” she suggested.
He did and sighed with relief when his foot was able to slip into a firm crack in the rock. Resting his weight on that foot, he slid the rest of his body off the top. He was hanging on the side of the cliff.
“Left foot straight down four hands,” encouraged Amelie.
Slowly but surely, he descended toward the narrow seam they used to climb up. Amelie guided him on where to place his hands and feet the entire way.
He would have to take her dish-washing shifts he thought ruefully as he finally reached the relative safety of the icy seam. His body was shaking. His fingers were already numb from the cold and strain of gripping the rock.
Amelie started down after him and the rest followed. Ben kept edging his way down until he was a man-height above the loose snow-covered scree that reached half the height of the butte. There, his foot found a slick patch of ice. His boot slide across it and he lurched, trying to maintain his balance. Arms flailing, he felt himself leaning backward.
“Ben!” shouted Amelie, watching him helplessly get pulled away from the rock by the two heavy packs on his back.
Each heartbeat seemed to take a minute. His body left the rock, and he fell.
He landed almost instantly, cushioned by the packs and the waist-deep snow covering the slope.
Staring up at the others, lying in an upside down snow angel, he groaned in embarrassment.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” called Amelie, just two man-heights above him.
“You look ridiculous,” added Corinne from higher up.
Grumbling, he thrashed around in the snow while the others reached the bottom. He was trying to get his snowshoes on but he was already half buried from the fall. Flailing wildly, he was finally able to somersault back and get settled atop firmer snow where he could strap the bindings onto his feet.
Panting from the effort, he collected the packs and rose to see the rest of his companions with snowshoes already on, waiting for him.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Letting him keep the little remaining dignity he had left, they followed without comment.
After two days sitting inside the warm chamber in the mountain, the brutal cold of the Wilds hit hard.
They stumbled and slid down the loose snow and rock slope, several of them flopping over and having to be pulled out by their friends. By the time they reached the bottom, everyone had cold snow in uncomfortable places. Ben drew ragged breaths as they stepped onto the flatter area surrounding the butte. Walking in the snowshoes was easier than breaking a path through deep powder, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
At the bottom, Rhys took charge. “Let’s keep moving,” he said. “The days are getting shorter. The more distance we make during the available light, the better.”
They all agreed and started moving, heading toward the creek bed they followed on the way in. It wasn’t perfect, and Ben was nervous about passing the site of the battle with the demon swarm, but it would be the quickest route back to Northport.
Slogging through the snow with both his and Rhys’ pack on his back, Ben realized that despite the discomfort, they were exceptionally lucky. Had they walked into the valley as they originally intended, surely they would have been found and overwhelmed by the demon swarms. Instead, they were able to accomplish their quest and were on the way home.
“You know,” he said to Amelie who was striding beside him, “This could have been worse.”
She nodded in agreement. “It could have been much worse.” She glanced back at Rhys who was following with Towaal still in the sling.
“When we get back to Northport, do you think Rhymer will help you and send troops to Issen?” asked Ben.
Amelie adjusted her pack, buying time before responding. “With what we saw in the far-seeing device, he can’t leave Northport unprotected. Besides, it might already be too late. If the Coalition was just waiting on Lord Jason to arrive, then he’s had plenty of time to get there now.”
“What will we do then,” Ben wondered, “if Rhymer can’t help?”
Amelie smiled at Ben. “I’m glad you’re not giving up. I don’t want to either, but…” She sighed. “I really don’t know what we can do next.”
“We’ll think of something,” encouraged Ben.
Smiling at Amelie, he stumbled and nearly fell when a large clump of snow fell from above and landed directly on his head.
Corinne barked out a laugh.
Ben brushed the snow out of his hair and looked up at where it fell from. Descending right at him was a slender demon with wings spread wide.
“Demon!” he shouted.
In a smooth motion, he shrugged out of the two packs and reached for his longsword. His hand closed around the wire-wrapped hilt, and he swept it out, cutting above his head. He met the falling demon with his mage-wrought steel.
The blade cleaved through the demon like a hot knife cutting butter.
A spray of rank purple blood splashed onto the white snow. The demon’s body crashed through the top layer and disappeared from sight.
Looking to where it fell, Ben saw several dark shapes racing through the trees.
Corinne saw them too. “More of them!” she called. She nocked an arrow on her bow.
“Form a circle, backs together,” instructed Rhys.
All around them now, Ben could see dark shapes circling. How many were there? Ten? Fifteen?
“Amelie, look above us,” shouted Rhys. “Corinne, shoot some of the damn things!”
An arrow sprung from her bow and a howl of pain followed.
“I can’t get a good shot because of the trees,” she snarled through gritted teeth.
“It doesn’t matter,” challenged Rhys. “Slow them down, or we’re going to be neck deep in claws and teeth. They’re waiting on something, let’s not let them do that.”
More arrows flew and most of them hit a mark. Ben couldn’t tell if she felled any of the demons, but she caused enough damage that suddenly their tactics changed. From all directions, the creatures surged forward, charging at the companions.
Ben felt his friends around him, all focused outward on the oncoming attack. Rhys had his longsword out. Corinne scrambled to drop her bow and raise her two hand axes. Amelie held her rapier and dagger defiantly in front of her.
“Step high to avoid getting tripped up in the snow,” advised Rhys. He dumped Towaal in the middle of the group.
Ben kicked his feet, knocking the accumulated snow off his flat snowshoes.
Sensing that this could be the end, he lost himself in a battle haze. Just like when he’d taken the charge of the first demon in Farview, his instincts took over. His mind forgot everything Saala and Rhys had taught him. Muscle memory from practice and repetition took over.
Without thinking, he stepped forward, shielding Amelie and instructing her, “Watch my back.”
Shining silver mage-wrought steel spinning in front of him, Ben stepped carefully forward to meet the first wave of attackers. He lashed out at the incoming demons. Body parts and blood flew freely in the wake of his blade.
The first demon that came near him didn’t have a chance. Ben simply stepped forward and lopped off its head, brushing aside its body as the momentum carried it into him.
The next wave came in a pair. They were two thick-armed squat demons. Ben shuffled to the side to throw off their charge, reminiscent of what he’d seen Saala do at Snowmar. The demons turned toward him but not quick enough to prevent him stabbing into the chest of one, using its body to block the other. He then slid out his sword and flicked it over the dead demon’s body to cut across the eyes and into the brain of the second.
His blade cut cleanly through muscle and bone. He marveled at the ease he was able to use the light weapon with great effect.
Glancing back, he saw Corinne expertly dancing around one of the creatures. It was struggling after her, fouled by the deep snow. She hacked at it with her axes, chopping deep lacerations in its skin. While Ben watched, the demon left an opening. She darted in, burying one of the axes in its skull. The body joined one just like it at her feet.
Ben didn’t bother looking toward Rhys, he knew his friend would hold his own. Amelie, though, was being pressed back by one of the thin ones. She was efficiently defending with her rapier and dagger, but couldn’t get in a lethal counter attack.
Ben stepped up behind her opponent and thrust his sword deep into its back, the tip of the silver steel sliding out the creature’s front.
“Thanks,” breathed Amelie, then pointed over Ben’s shoulder.
He turned and met the charge of a large, shoulder-height attacker. He ducked under a set of razor sharp claws that slashed toward his throat. Then he drew his blade along the thing’s abdomen, spilling its tangled white guts onto the snow.
Seeing nothing in front of him, Ben turned to check on his companions. Amelie was standing wild-eyed, looking around for more threats, but she seemed fine. Rhys was delicately picking his way out from a pile of dead creatures and body parts scattered and him. Corinne was wincing with a hand pressed against her side. Crimson blood leaked down her fur-lined leathers.
Ben hurried to her but she waved him off.
“Just a bad cut. I’ve had worse,” she said. “I’ll need to get stitched up eventually, but I can move.”
“Move?” asked Ben, confused.
“There’s an arch-demon out there somewhere,” warned Rhys. “That must be what they were waiting for.”
A piercing howl sliced through the air. Ben turned to see the arch-demon staking toward them. Wings tucked in behind its back, it still brushed against the trees as it came forward. The stark contrast of the white snow and the black nightmare approaching them was jarring.
Not as big as the one from the creek, saw Ben, but still half again as tall as a man. Not as big as a house wasn’t very reassuring.
It howled again, enraged at what they’d done to its swarm.
“Where are…What is happening?” mumbled a confused voice.
Lady Towaal was weakly pushing against the thick cloaks that bound her in the sling.
“Don’t worry,” said Rhys. “We’ve got this.”
He glanced at Ben and then down at Ben’s new longsword. “Ready?”
Ben turned toward the arch-demon. It was twenty paces away but approaching rapidly. “Right behind you,” he said nervously.
“I thought we’d trained you to be a hero,” chided Rhys as he stepped forward.
Ben came beside him, on his weak-hand side.
“I’ll go high. You go low,” said Rhys.
“What do you mean high?” asked Ben.
Rhys was already charging forward, stepping high so his snowshoed feet danced lightly across the top of the snow. The roaring arch-demon sped up to meet his attack. Its thick legs churned through the deep snow, slowing it down.
Ben groaned then followed his friend. He was stunned when Rhys leapt into the air, jumping higher than Ben would have thought possible.
The arch-demon reacted by swinging a powerful, claw tipped hand at Rhys. The rogue was ready and lashed out with foot, kicking the hand. The force of the blow sent him spinning into the snow.
It left the demon open for Ben, though. He came in right behind his friend and slashed a deep cut into the demon’s thigh and a second, shallower laceration across its thickly muscled stomach.
Ben jumped back barely in time as the demon reacted. He felt a sharp breeze sweep by his face as long claws passed less than a finger length away from ripping his head off.
The demon attacked again, slowed by the injury to its leg. Ben scrambled backward, without a thought of counterattack, only survival.
Rhys came to his rescue, swooping in from behind and severing the hamstring on the demon’s good leg. It crashed down in the snow and tried to swivel toward him. He scrambled backward, escaping safely.
Both legs wounded, the huge creature struggled toward Rhys on its knees.
Both of Corinne’s hand axes flashed into Ben’s view and smacked into the arch-demon. One sank deeply into the creature’s ribcage and the other bounced off its horned head.
Roaring, the creature turned to see the new threat. Rhys took the opportunity. He surged forward and stabbed his longsword up through the beast’s neck and into its skull.
Instantly, it stopped moving and toppled forward. Rhys jumped free with his blade before the heavy body crashed down into the snow.
“That was close,” said Corinne with a sigh of relief.
That evening, they stopped as soon as the sun began to set. It was early, but Corinne’s injury was steadily leaking blood. Rhys insisted they tend to it. Lady Towaal had fallen back to sleep after briefly and wildly looking around.
Behind a large boulder, they found an area relatively clear of snow. Rhys brushed away what was there and Ben strung up the tarps for additional shelter. They both collected firewood. Ben allowed Amelie to tap him for heat to generate a fire. When she did it, he practiced hardening his will and shutting her off. She punched him in the shoulder harder than he thought was necessary.
After the fire was started, handfuls of snow were added to the tea kettle to melt and make water.
Amelie pulled out a needle and thread and gestured to Corinne to pull up her shirt and show her injury.
“Have you done this before?” Corinne asked Amelie skeptically. “I wouldn’t think stitching people is something they teach at mage school.”
“She did it for me,” said Ben, defending his friend. He pulled down one sleeve of his leathers to show the scars he’d gotten climbing over the wall and getting cut by the glass shards.
“I remember those scars. Pretty nasty looking,” remarked Corinne dryly.
“I didn’t say she did it well,” joked Ben.
“Shut up, both of you,” instructed Amelie. “Someone’s got to do it. So, it’s me or one of those two.”
Both girls looked at the men.
Rhys was standing by the tent, stealing a sip from one of his flasks. Ben was struggling to retie one of the tarp strings that had come loose. They both looked back at the girls, grinning.
Amelie continued, “I haven’t had much reason to practice, but I was taught to sew by my nursemaid.”
“Your nursemaid taught you to sew? Very well.” Corinne sighed. “Do your worst, Amelie.”
Amelie pushed up Corinne’s leathers to reveal three hand-length cuts along her ribcage. They ran deep, nearly to the bone. Amelie whistled between her teeth and frowned at the amount of thread she had.
“That isn’t a good look,” cringed Corinne.
“This may take a while,” murmured Amelie, placing a tender hand on Corinne’s pale skin.
“Here,” said Rhys, handing over his flask.
“What’s in it?” asked Corinne.
“Don’t worry. It will get the job done,” assured the rogue.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” she snapped back, but she tilted it up and took a big swig anyway. She then splashed some down on her wounded side. She cringed as the alcohol poured over the open wounds.
Amelie went to work. After a few false starts and unnecessary pokes, she finished up some rough stitches in reasonably efficient order. She took out a rag and bathed Corinne’s side to clean the wound. Gently, she wiped the blood away.
Corinne caught her hand and met her eyes. “Thank you,” said the huntress. “I owe you.”
“Hopefully, you don’t need to do this for me,” replied Amelie with a smile.
They traveled quickly after that and pushed themselves to the point of complete exhaustion. The risk of stumbling into a demon was real, but they knew what was behind them. They couldn’t allow themselves to be caught by the swarm from the Rift valley.
Anytime they needed a reminder, they could look back and see the black tower of smoke still rising from where Towaal released the magma.
A soft layer of ash joined the snow, giving the world a sickly grey tinge. Ben wanted nothing more than a bath.
After two weeks of nothing but hiking and sleeping, he was mindlessly putting one foot in front of the other. The occasional demon broke the monotony, but luckily, it was individuals and not a swarm. Ben had no regard to which direction they were heading. He hoped Rhys or Corinne knew.
Towaal and Amelie were in worse shape than Ben. The night before, both the mage and the initiate slumped down in their bedrolls and were snoring before dinner was served. Rhys shook them awake and insisted they eat. If they didn’t, they’d lose the remaining energy they had.
The only thing that kept them going was the haunting specter they’d seen in the far-seeing table. Thousands of demons fleeing the valley were now out in the Wilds. They would be looking for food. The only place that could sustain a swarm that size was Northport. They had to get there. They had to warn Rhymer.
That night, as Ben sat by the fire, he estimated that the next morning they would arrive in Free State. They weren’t close enough to hear the chopping yet, but he could sense it was close. After Free State, it was a day and a half to Skarston. Pulling his cloak tightly around him, Ben watched the flames flicker lower.