by Sam Ryder
I already knew. We’d all be killed, no matter how hard we fought. Our numbers were simply too small.
Beat said, “I don’t know. The other Warriors are okay, I guess. Kloop’s a good leader. He cares about us. Dravon’s a decent dude too. Ton is, well, good to have on your side. Merlin is—”
“Merlin?” I interrupted, picturing the wizard from Camelot.
“The tall gilled guy from Oceania,” she explained. “He was born to be a warrior. King is the blue lion. His real name is something ridiculously long that I can’t pronounce, but everyone calls him King because he was supposedly the king of his pride back on Primo—that’s his home planet. Ton’s from there too. They come from the same place.”
I tried to picture a world full of blue lions and giants. There were probably all kinds of other crazy creatures there too.
“Want to make a deal?” I said.
Beat licked the remaining juices from her lips. “What sort of deal?”
“Whatever we decide, we decide together. Stay or go, you and me.”
“We only just met.”
“It’s not a proposal. Just a pact. For survival purposes.”
She seemed to consider it, and then stuck out her hand. I smiled and took it.
~~~
Beat and I survived the next ten Blacks, beating the crap out of the average life expectancy of a Warrior.
King, the royal blue lion, did not. He was taken down by a horde of Maluk’ori during one terrifying Black where we faced three different types of monsters in short succession. My own wounds had been so grievous I’d required a primordial ooze bath to heal.
Ton, the giant, didn’t make it either. He died a few Blacks later. The winged gargoyles known as gargats got him. There were so many in the flock that we couldn’t count them. They literally descended on us like a swarm, targeting our resident giant, hundreds of them picking him up and carrying him away from our demonfires. We heard his bellow as he fell a few minutes later. The ground shook on impact. We never found his body.
Afterwards, Kloop admitted he’d never seen a flock of gargats act like that. Usually the winged monsters roamed in small packs that didn’t mingle together. I could tell he was troubled.
Lace was still alive. Dravon too. On both of those horrible Blacks, Merlin had fought like the wizard of his namesake, using a long pole to kill monster after monster.
I guess I fought well, too, because I survived. Beat was getting stronger and more powerful each and every day. We discussed our pact over leafrats and waterskins.
“We can’t just abandon them,” I argued one night.
“What have the Three done for us?” she said. Beat was beginning to sound more and more like Vrill. I could tell the Black was wearing on her. It was wearing on me too.
I glanced at the newb sitting by herself with her back against the rock. Her name was Millania. She was like Merlin, from Oceania, tall and sinewy. According to Merlin, all his people’s names started with the letter M, some tradition dating back centuries. Millania had been here two Blacks. She’d fought well her first two nights. It was strange—I felt no connection to her. It was like I’d been here a hundred years and she was a baby by comparison. I wondered if that’s how the others had felt when I arrived.
Merlin had tried to talk to her, but she’d refused to engage. I wondered what she’d seen and done during her time in the Circle. Nothing good, that was for damn sure.
I realized Beat was still waiting for me to answer her question. “They brought us here,” I said.
“That’s supposed to be a good thing?”
“You said before you wouldn’t go back even if you could.”
“I know. I haven’t changed my mind. I’d rather be a Warrior here than an Outcast on Earth. But that doesn’t mean I need to put myself on the line every night for a few so-called goddesses who never do anything but sleep.”
I understood where she was coming from. Since my conversation with Persepheus, I hadn’t been summoned by any of the Three. Hell, I hadn’t even seen the one named Airiel. None of the Warriors had. Protector Kloop let it slip one time that she was the worst off. If she died, it wouldn’t be long before the others were gone too. I don’t think anyone believed the wards would last longer than the Three, but that was looking like a possibility we needed to consider.
Eve had barely said a word to any of us since that day she almost ripped my head off. She looked withdrawn and lost, especially after bringing back a fresh group of Outcasts. The first group she’d brought back after mine all died in the Circle. Of the second group, only Millania had survived.
“I’m not ready to leave,” I said. Despite the way Persepheus had sent me away ten Blacks ago, I didn’t hold it against her. I could tell she was trying to distance herself from anyone and everyone. I’d suspected for a while that was why she summoned all the newbs after their first Black.
She’s given up. For some reason, that knowledge made me unbearably sad.
“Well, let me know when you are,” Beat said, standing. It was late in the Bronze day, and the sun’s rays had turned coppery as they cast longer and longer shadows from the mountains in the distance.
The Black was coming.
I stood as well, cracking my knuckles. Though no signal had been given, it was the same as every night, each of us drawn by some unspoken instinct. Without speaking, we climbed the hill, ghosts heading to a haunting.
The bulk of our training generally took place around midday, giving us time to rest and recover before and after. During my first few days with the Warriors, there was a second training before the Black, but Kloop had stopped requiring it because he thought we needed to conserve our energy.
He was right. Despite our leveled-up bodies, we were all exhausted.
The first few trainings I’d tried a few other weapons—a sword, a bow, an axe—but none of them had felt as right for me as my war hammer.
Now I hefted it over my shoulder, the weight a comfort to me. It was a rare solid thing in a world that seemed full of holes.
Kloop stood before us, shuffling his massive feet, and I could tell he was working himself up to one of his speeches. I couldn’t fathom how he still had the energy for such things. More than a hundred Blacks and he was a steadfast rock amidst a tempest.
He opened his mouth, but before he could get out a single syllable, a shout emerged from the gully. The only ones down there were the Three and Eve. A hand reached over the edge, pulling at the vines growing from the apex. Eve looked frantic and out of breath—which scared the crap out of me. She never looked frazzled.
“They’re attacking the wards on the other side,” she said in between pants.
“Who?” I asked. It was a genuine question, because it wasn’t even that dark yet. We still had a half-hour or more before the Black was fully upon us. Yes, some of the monsters didn’t mind the daylight as much as others, but they still stuck close to the shadows. None ventured across the vast, open wastelands that surrounded our cliffs and gully. That was one of the main reasons the Three had survived here for so long.
“Fucking monsters, you moron,” Eve said. “Go. Do your duty before I end you.”
It wasn’t nearly as rousing a speech as Kloop would’ve given, but it had the intended effect. We took off running, all of us. Some didn’t even have weapons yet, so they frantically scooped them up before giving chase to the rest. Because I already had my hammer, I started out in the lead, but was soon outdistanced by those, like Merlin, Millania and Lace, who were fleeter of foot. I stomped along heavily behind them. Beat caught up to me, her shield and spear clanking against each other as she ran.
“How is this happening?” she asked.
I didn’t answer because I had no idea. This world was a truly scary place, but something that had made it bearable was that it had rules. Like one of my video games. Monsters generally only attack during the Black. One hour a day. It was as reliable as the chime of a clock on the hour. Now, however, that was all out th
e window. An attack outside of the Black was a game changer, and not in a good way.
There was no fast way to get to the opposite side of the canyon, which was one of the few negatives of our setup, something I’d learned back before that first Black, when Minertha had pranked me. The shortest distance would be to climb down into the gully and then back up the other side, but climbing took longer. Instead, we ran around the outside, skirting the slither pit.
When we slipped past the edge of the sheer rock face, we saw the truth of Eve’s warning.
This is not a drill, popped into my head.
We couldn’t see the monsters yet, because of the wards, but we knew they were there all the same, because of the way the shield rippled, like the waters of a vertical lake displaced by a stone thrown into it. It was the ward equivalent of someone beating on the front door.
The fastest runners had slowed enough so the rest of us could catch up. Everyone looked to the Protector, Kloop, to tell us what to do. The rhino-man wasn’t a natural runner, but managed to give us a command as he stopped to catch his breath. “We’ll exit the wards here and flank them,” he said. “Focus on the largest monsters first, as they can do the most damage to the wards. Understood?”
There were nods all around and then we moved out, heading directly away from the hillside. At this point, I could already predict within a step or two when I would pass through the amorphous ward shield, but others were ahead of me again, disappearing one by one. My turn came and I felt the familiar sucking pull and pop! and then I was through.
Fuck.
Though the group of monsters that were gathered on the plains appeared small compared to the vastness of the space they occupied, it was bad for two major reasons: One, the waning rays of bronze sunlight should’ve stopped the creatures from crossing the empty terrain; and two, there were three different types of monsters. The latter wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself, except for the fact that they seemed to be working together. Normally this many species together in one place would cause strife and in-fighting, like when the Maluk’ori had banded together to take down the troll while Vrill and I escaped the Circle.
Now, however, there was a horde of at least thirty demons standing alongside a dozen hellhounds and two massive trolls, each of which wielded a club the size of a California redwood.
Just ahead of me, Lace stopped and dropped to one knee, drawing a bow and arrow from a satchel strapped to her back. It was one of many valuable items that Seekers had managed to find and bring back to the Three over the years. One night when Lace was feeling particularly chatty, she’d told me about how the Seeker, one of the blue lions named Goruth, had stumbled into camp, wounded and bleeding, and laid the bow at her feet before dying. Usually, all finds went straight to the goddesses, but for some reason they’d allowed her to have this one. Perhaps it was because Lace was the only member of the current guard who could shoot straight.
Now, she proved just that by firing off a single shot. The bow, however, was no ordinary weapon. It was infused with power. Not only did its satchel of arrows never go empty, but each arrow split into three.
The fun wasn’t over. The three arrows arced overhead, barely visible against the backdrop of the spilled-ink sky. Several of the demons had turned toward us, sensing our imminent approach.
One took an arrow in the chest. It managed to get off one hiss of anger before detonating, its body torn apart by the magical arrow’s blast. The two demons on either side were caught in the explosion as well. One lost an arm and the other a leg. The latter tried to hobble toward us, but tripped and fell. The first, leaking blood from its shoulder socket, began to wander aimlessly, looking confused.
It accidentally wandered too close to the ward shield.
As soon as the small but vicious creature got within range of the ward’s defenses, there was a bright blast of light and it flew backward, colliding with the chest of one of the trolls. The troll was scratching its head and staring at the arrow lodged in its own gut. The second of Lace’s three arrows.
There was a whump! and part of the mighty creature’s stomach caved in. Despite the power of the explosion, however, the monster held its ground. As I ran toward it, I could see its ribcage and organs, blood flowing from the mortal wound in raging torrents.
The troll wanted to go out with an even bigger bang than the one it had just experienced, lumbering toward the ward shield, shoulder lowered as it trampled any demon or hellhound that got in its path.
I had to stop it, or else the impact would be less like pounding on our front door and more like a battering ram slamming into it.
I veered left and tried to choose the right angle to ensure I would arrive at the shield before it did, but I’d never played football nor pool, and I’d gotten a C+ in geometry.
Luckily, the troll was tiring, slowing, taking one slow plodding step after another. The remaining demons and hellhounds managed to leap out of its path without being crushed.
I arrived first, turning hard to the right and facing the troll like a matador standing before a stampeding bull. Not quite fearless, but with enough courage that nothing warm trickled down my leg. It’s the sort of bravery you get after two weeks of living a nightmare, forced upon you like a bad Christmas present by a misguided but well-intentioned aunt who thinks a sixteen-year-old boy would like a pair of pink bunny slippers.
Thankfully, I had a plan.
It was a bad one.
I threw my hammer, which was a heavy weapon I’d only just grown strong enough to throw.
Unfortunately, the troll found it to be about as powerful as a gnat assaulting its leg, kicking the weapon away as it took another weak step.
I had another idea.
It was suicide.
I rushed forward and leapt, grabbing onto the troll’s leg hairs and digging in my heels. I climbed like a carefree kid who’d discovered a gnarled old tree with low-hanging branches. I went straight up, knowing I was running out of time and hoping Lace wouldn’t choose this moment to fire another grenade-arrow.
I was in the troll’s crotch-area—based on the feel of what I was grabbing at, it was a dude—when the troll noticed my presence. It released a bellow that nearly shattered my eardrums and swung a meaty fist in my direction. Acting on instinct alone, I performed an expert rock climber maneuver, throwing myself to the side and crossing over my arms as I scaled rapidly from left to right.
(You can picture what’s going to happen next, right?)
(Yep, you guessed it.)
The troll punched itself in its ginormous man-pillows, air gasping from its lungs as it hunched over even further. I had the urge to release my own bellow of victory, but the fight was far from over, so I continued my ascent, skirting its decimated gut.
I reached its powerful chest, which had plenty of long hairs for me to use like ropes, and then mounted its shoulder. The monster was convulsing now as it retched a mixture of blood and whatever it had eaten for dinner. Still, it was too close to the ward shield. One good shot and it might do irreparable damage.
I needed to finish the job.
I crouched down and then leapt as high as I could, grabbing onto its thick but soft earlobe and using my momentum to swing onto its face, grasping the underside of its nostril. Gross? Yes. But what’s a Warrior supposed to do?
Time for the old eye trick. I clambered onto its brow while it continued to vomit, and then swung down and kicked it in the eye. Hard. Like I was trying to knock down a brick wall. Except, unlike something solid, the eye had give to it. It didn’t break, but I could hear the damage I’d caused, both from the impact and from the noise the troll made.
I figured I’d done one, so what the heck? I scaled over to the other eye and added a kick there as well.
I was feeling pretty good about myself until I realized I had no exit plan. The troll was in a bad way now, blind and dying, its legs finally losing their final bit of strength. Climbing down wasn’t going to work, not when the troll had lost
its mind now and was pounding at its own body repeatedly, as if trying to ground itself into mush.
So I went up. It was counterintuitive, but this world wasn’t exactly logical in the best of times. It had a mess of thick, greasy hair atop its scalp. I furrowed my heels in, grabbed a couple handfuls of the nasty stuff, and held on with everything I had.
The creature beneath me wavered and my entire world shook like I was standing on a mountain during an earthquake. My vertical position turned horizontal as the troll fell with frightening speed, the ground seeming to rise to meet me.
At the last possible second, I released my hold and dove clear of the troll, leading with my head and shoulder but tucking both forward to avoid the concussive impact, rolling free. It wasn’t as perfect as it sounds, and I didn’t manage to come out of the maneuver on my feet. But I was alive.
For now.
A hellhound launched itself at my throat, jaws snapping. I didn’t have time to roll away, so I reached out and punched it in the face. Unfortunately, its teeth sunk into my wrist and I felt bones shatter even as the devilish canine’s fiery breath scorched my skin.
Pain roared through me and out my mouth in the form of an anguished growl, but I’d been injured worse on three other occasions now. Not a habit I could get used to exactly, but I didn’t succumb to death like I might’ve back on Earth.
Instead, I hit the hellhound with the other fist, connecting with the side of its head. It yelped and released my ruined fist, bounding away and shaking its head to clear its wits. It blinked twice and then launched itself at me again.
This time I was able to roll rapidly to one side, hearing its teeth snap together in a near miss. I fought to my feet and immediately lifted a foot high in the air for a kick, anticipating another attack. This one didn’t come, however. Dravon stood over the dead hound, grinning. He’d snuck in behind and snapped its neck.