As Via Draconis left the mountains to traverse the marshy flatland, it circumvented a small hill with a bushy thicket crowning its very top. From this slightly elevated vantage point, one could see the road bending and crawling between the trees. But since the surrounding lands were little more than a swampy bug-heaven, no one had ever considered making use of this natural watchtower, safe for the occasional hunter and an even rarer robber. Only beasts roamed these lands and today one had occupied the small hill.

Sitting on a thick tree branch, the Duke of Norden viewed the area through his spyglass. His gaze kept lingering on one particular part of the road bellow, his lips – curving into a blood-thirsty smile. Even though seemingly preoccupied, he didn’t miss any movements in his surroundings, so, when the leaves next to him rustled and a white head popped out between the thick foliage, he wasn’t surprised.

“You are grinning like a hungry wolf. Does it mean that they are doing well or..?”

“Have a look for yourself.” Noah handed the spyglass to Gregor and stretched his arms with a groan. “I’m going down. The fun part was over too quickly anyway.”

With that said, he nimbly climbed down the tree. Reaching the last branch, he swung and jumped on the ground, landing almost silently like a big black cat. Noah dusted his clothes and looked around, spotting Duncan and the Shadow under a nearby tree. The two were chatting quietly while the old knight chewed on a piece of dried meat.

“I see you are having a leisurely pastime while we do all the hard work.” Noah tilted his head as a bemused smirk stretched his lips.

“Bah, trees are made for squirrels, not men,” snorted Duncan and continued munching on his treat. “This argali jerky is really great! Do you want some?”

“Why not?”

Noah shrugged and took the piece the Shadow handed him. Just as he was about to bite down, the sound of breaking branches startled everyone and Gregor landed on the ground.

“Big trouble!” the young knight shouted and ran towards them. “Someone is using a hex and has summoned corpse-dolls where the barons are!”

“What!?” Noah tossed away his food while Duncan and the Shadow jumped up.

“You mean zombies?” the old knight asked while grabbing his weapons.

“No.” Gregor threw his knife-belt over his shoulder and hurriedly explained. “Zombies are autonomous corpses with summoned spirits bound to them. Corpse-dolls are puppets controlled by the caster.”

“Enough semantics! To the horses!” shouted Noah but the scout interjected.

“The horses are at the foot of the hill to the west. It’ll take too long to get down and lead them out of the thicket. If we run down the eastern slope we will reach the barons in less than ten minutes.”

“Let’s go then.” Noah clenched his sword. “Lead the way.”

“Step only where I do,” said the Shadow and leaped between the bushes, his voice trailing behind, “unless you want to break your legs in a mud pit.”

The rest followed him through the thicket as fast as the traitorous terrain allowed them.

***

Foul wind engulfed the barons, choking them and making their eyes sting. Coughing and rubbing tears away, they were caught off guard and ill-prepared to face their uncanny attackers. As the clanking of weapons filled the air, it soon became evident how big the gap between the two parties was.

Stepping quickly to the side, Lady Sugurd barely escaped a lance aimed at her heart but before she could retaliate, the man attacking her used the pole of his weapon to sweep horizontally. The hard wood met with her breastplate with such force that it made the metal cave in. Robbed out of breath, the baroness rolled on the ground, but there was no time to even register the pain in her ribs. There was a hissing sound and an eruption of mud and gravel as the shiny tip of the spear almost hit her head. The baroness continued rolling two more times and used the inertia to shakily get back on her feet. Her opponent didn’t leave her time to even look around. Blow after blow, her sword barely deflected the heavy spear. And after each blow, the blade in her hand grew heavier. Every time she blocked the attacks, it felt like hitting an iron bar. The pain traveled up her arms, her fingers becoming numb and almost letting go of her sword’s hilt. On the other hand, her opponent seemed unfazed, his empty face and even emptier eyes staring down at her as vestiges of death.

Ignoring her burning ribs and screaming tendons, Lady Sigurd pushed herself to the limit one last time. Her steps a graceful dance, she feinted and, for a brief moment, managed to outpace her attacker. Coming to his right, she grabbed the shaft of the spear and pulled, her sword hand moving upward in a stabbing motion. The blade dug into her opponent’s neck and came out in a gushing fountain of red.

The man’s body swayed and dropped in the mud, almost pulling her down with it. Panting heavily, Lady Sigurd looked around, trying to assess the situation. Sir Aiden was keeping two enemies at bay together with the young Allen De Mar all the while protecting Rowell’s son who had fainted. Baron Argente was swinging his heavy mace but his opponent was on the nimble side, his speed now further increased by whatever black magic the damn Elgar Rowell was using. The one having the hardest time was the old Lord Harald. Pinned by his opponent, he looked like he was going to collapse any second under the endless onslaught.

Mumbling a low curse, Lady De Vindur gritted her teeth and stepped forth to assist the old baron. Suddenly, something clawed at her foot. An iron grip crushed her ankle, followed by a mighty pull. With a sharp cry, Lady Sigurd fell, her weapon flying out of her hand. Twisting her neck, she saw a grotesque figure rising from the mud, a bit of blood still gurgling out of the hole her sword had left behind. Her opponent was still alive! No, that thing was definitely not alive!

She kicked and tried to wriggle out of its grip, but the creature attacking her tightened its fingers. A cry escaped her lips as her bones bent and were about to snap. With another strong yank, the creature dragged her closer. It released her leg only for its hands to claw at her neck. Lady Sigurd kicked with her good foot but the fiend didn’t flinch. She pulled her dagger and thrust it deep under the monster’s armpit where it remained lodged. That human-like abomination remained unfazed. All her efforts were futile. The next moment, the unnaturally strong fingers started crushing her throat and she knew it was her end.

“Mother!” Through the ringing in her ears, she thought she heard a familiar voice. Her heart trembled. The last thing she had done was to insult and belittle the lad. She had hurt him, she had hurt Saya, and now… It was too late for reconciliation. Her guilt was going to haunt her in her grave…

A silver spark split the darkness that was engulfing Lady Sigurd. Heaving a loud breath, she coughed and gasped for air, her blurry vision slowly clearing up. There was the body of the monster twitching on the mud right beside her, a silver blade embedded between its eyes. Someone gently helped her sit up and she saw a familiar mane of white hair and a pair of blue eyes that were full of anguish.

“Ge… rash…” a raspy voice left the baroness’ lips and she coughed some more.

“Sorry, mother, but we need to move.” The young Binshi pulled her up and half-carried her across the muddy field.

Despite everything around her still being foggy, Lady Sigurd noticed a shimmering dome of light a couple of meters away from them. Hanging heavily on Gregor’s shoulder, she tried to hasten her limping step and, in a few heartbeats, the two stumbled into the protection of the barrier.

“Turgan, is everything alright?” a middle-aged Binshi sitting on the ground hurriedly asked.

“All is fine,” responded Gregor. “Concentrate on the barrier.”

He then turned to his mother-in-law and his strained face mellowed.

“I am sorry for being so late, mother,” he said, helping Lady Sigurd to sit down. “We never expected something like this.”

“We?” Only now did the Baroness get a chance to have a better look at her surroundings. On the other side of the shimmering barrier, a nimble black figure and a burly man were pushing back the attacking abominations.

“The Duke!” she gasped.

Just then, the surface of the light dome rippled to let in new refugees. Out of breath and with torn surcoats, Sir Aiden and Sir Allen jumped inside the protective hex, dragging the unconscious body of Baron Rowell’s son with them. A moment later, the bear-like figure of Baron Argente entered the barrier, the old knight carrying the senseless Baron Firmon over his shoulder.

“Harald!?” Lady De Vindur trembled and felt her blood running cold.

“Don’t panic.” Lord Thomas carefully laid the man on the ground. “He just fainted from exhaustion. It was a bit too much for someone his age… not that I have any right to brag myself.”

Lady Sigurd saw a big gash on Sit Thomas’ neck that still oozed red droplets of blood. Something jugged her memory and she almost jumped up.

“Gerash! Those things… they wounded us! Did they ghost-touch us?”

“No, don’t worry, mother. These are no bound or summoned spirits but half-dead men being controlled by a dark hex. They couldn’t infect you.”

The woman heaved a sigh of relief. She was just about to ask more questions when her son-in-law stood up and took a step toward the barrier.

“Have some rest now.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll go help with the cleanup. It won’t take too long.”

The Baroness wanted to shout after him, to stop him. Instead, she just bit her lips, her eyes never leaving the lean, white-haired figure out of their sight. Next to her, Thomas Argente rubbed the sweat and mud off his face while his sharp gaze also followed the battle outside the barrier.

“It’s been quite a while seeing the Duke in action,” he mumbled. “And it’s as infuriating as always. That lad makes everything seem so easy when we just had our assess kicked by those things.”

Lady Sigurd remained silent, staring unblinkingly beyond the hex. Outside the barrier, three blurry figures engaged in an unequal fight against four monsters. As weapons flashed and commands were shouted, the abominations started dropping one by one and, most importantly, remained down – dead and unmoving.

“Yes!”

Baron Argente bellowed when the last enemy slumped on the ground cut in half by the duke’s sword, his cheers accompanied by the ones of Sir Allen and Sir Aiden. Lady Sigurd too had to strain herself not to shout, a wave of relief engulfing her. She secretly brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye and allowed herself a small smile. At that moment, the ground beneath her violently shook.

The cheers inside the barrier died out as waves of black smoke swirled around and tried to envelop the three victorious warriors.

“Gerash!” the Baroness shouted and was about to rush out but a harsh voice stopped her.

“Don’t leave the barrier, my lady.” The face of the middle-aged Binshi casting the hex had become tense. “They will be fine as long as the turgan is there but if you head out now, you will be ghost-touched and…”

Before he could finish, the large body of Duncan De Moran came flying through the barrier, almost crashing into them.

“Damn, that was close!” he heaved, holding the side of his chest. “I’m getting too old for sprints!”

“What happened?!” Lady Sigurd grabbed his surcoat and shook him. “Where are Gerash and the Duke?”

“Easy, easy!” Duncan patted her shoulder. “The lads said they’ll finish the cleanup.”

He then turned to the Binshi.

“Do you happen to have an elder potion on you?”

“No, sorry, Sir Duncan. It’s not standard equipment, especially not when tracking a Limerian.”

“I swear, next time I’m drinking an elder potion before we set off just in case!”

“Aren’t you going to help them?” Baroness De Vindur interrupted the two, piercing them with a killing glare.

“My task is protecting you, my lady.” The Binshi shrugged. “I will only be in the masters’ way if I try to intervene now and might put you all in danger.”

“You…”

“Relax, Sigurd.” Duncan sat down and crossed his legs. “Those two are not children. They have fought much worse than a little evil spirit or two. Have fate in them.”

Baroness De Vindur clenched her fists and her lips trembled. Her eyes returned to the two figures outside the barrier, now facing a churning ball of darkness.

“If you die," she whispered, "and make Saya and Soraishu cry, I will hunt you and drag you back from the Spirit Plane!”