Ashlyn had heard stories about Blood Fiends. She hadn’t thought they were real; or at least, had assumed they existed in some long ago time that rendered them unreal.

  Then Blood Fiends had attacked Mer Khazer, and she had to adjust to their existence.

  It was Sharptooth who led the chase. His tail twitched, and his snout was pressed against the ground as he prowled back and forth, following the scent of the monsters. The warg had grown at an alarming rate, and was now almost the same size as the terrifying beasts they had fought last year.

  “Keep going, boy,” Twerk encouraged. The disparity in size between warg and gnome had become laughable, and yet the creature always did as it was told. Now he picked up speed, and Ashlyn and the others had to jog to keep up with him. Fortune, Pecs, and The Hoffmeister ran with them.

  Somewhere out in the wilds were Tree and Mental. The Hargon scout had proposed it was most likely the Fiends had come from the Deepwood—a forest he and The Explorer had briefly scouted, that lay to the northeast—and would consequently return there. He had decided to anticipate the Fiends’ route, with the hopes of catching the dangerous monsters in an ambush. Ashlyn sincerely hoped his plan would work, since Tree and Mental were their toughest fighters.

  She glanced at the pommel of Greenblade. The green gem glowed as it always did when Sharptooth was around, not distinguishing the fact that the warg was now an official Rotten Apple. It meant her weapon wouldn’t warn them when the Blood Fiends were near, which added to her anxiety.

  “You set too fast a pace,” Fortune complained to the gnome, puffing and panting at the rear of the group. “I’ll have no energy left when we catch up to them at this rate.”

  “Then we’ll deal with the Fiends without you,” claimed Pecs boldly.

  “I’d like to see that,” Fortune snapped back. “Besides,” he added, drawing his own weapon, Blueblade. “I need to see what this weapon does. That was the whole point in bringing it.”

  “Did you ever stop to consider that it doesn’t work?” the big Livanian asked him. “What if it’s broken? We’ll all take the Fiends on with our magic weapons, and you’ll have nothing but a dim sword. You shoulda brought Redblade.”

  “I already know what Redblade does, and it don’t work on Fiends. So why would I bring it, you great lummox?”

  “At least it ain’t broken.”

  “This one isn’t broken,” Fortune bit back. “Finding out what it does is likely to be of vital importance.”

  Sharptooth growled a warning, and they all stopped. All eyes were on the densely packed stand of trees and bushes ahead. Sharptooth barked at the location. Ashlyn drew her sword, then wiped suddenly clammy hands on her leather trousers.

  The Blood Fiends abandoned their attempt at an ambush. Six of them emerged, evidently ready to deal with their chasers.

  ACTION ROUND

  The Blood Fiends were fearsome. As tall as Pecs, they had a purple-black, scaly hide; a lupine muzzle with protruding fangs; and red eyes. Worst of all was their four clawed hands, their arms splitting in two at the elbow joint.

  It was probably the fear they engendered that prevented Ashlyn from shouting out instructions for a shieldwall. It was only once the six creatures were nearly onto them that she pulled herself together.

  Knowing she couldn’t afford to let them all get their strikes in first, she moved and attacked.

  Greenblade killed with her first hit, its damage bonus proving deadly. Her next two actions were all misses, neither sword or shield striking their target. The Fiends presented a confusion of sharp claws, making it hard to find a vulnerable spot to hit. Thankfully, she struck with Greenblade on her final action, with the same result.

  Two dead Fiends evened the contest, but now the creatures were free to attack. The first, inevitably, went for Ashlyn. Each slashing attack with an arm led to two attacks from each clawed hand. Her Armour of Resilience helped, but couldn’t withstand a direct hit with the combination of ferocious power and piercing claws.

  She lost 4 hit points on its first action; then 7, taking her down to 14. The creature struck with both hands on its third action, and Ashlyn was suddenly down to 9 hit points. Desperate, she swerved to avoid its final strike, leaving her standing, but with only two actions to use Greenblade next turn.

  Twerk manoeuvred himself in front of Sharptooth to take the next Fiend’s attacks. Its claws came down on his head, but failed to penetrate the Helm of Fortitude. Its second action was a repeat, the huge creature seemingly confused about how to crack such a small opponent. It solved the problem with its third action, both hands slicing up from the ground, getting under his breastplate. It repeated the successful tactic on its final action. 11 points of damage left him on 14.

  Pecs was the next warrior with the task of withstanding a Blood Fiend’s claws. The big man had no magic armour like Ashlyn or Wilson, but his giant frame encased in chain mail made him a tough target to hurt. It landed its first hit with its second action: but it sliced deep, taking 8 hit points. One more hit left Pecs on 13 hit points.

  The Hoffmeister was the last Fiend’s victim. It struck with its first attack, dropping him to 17. He blocked the second with the Spear of Riposte. Damage of 5 then 8 left him wavering on 4 hit points.

  Twerk was ready for revenge. With only 3 action points, he had to make his chance count. He got a hit with his first attempt. A crushing 18 points of damage left the Fiend on only 6 points. Two follow up strikes were more than enough to finish it.

  Sharptooth seemed to sense that The Hoffmeister was the most in need. With its final attempt, the warg clawed through the tough hide of the Fiend. 2 points of damage wasn’t much, but it was the young warg’s first ever hit. The Hoffmeister, with his one chance, managed an accurate strike, a huge blow that killed the Fiend outright.

  Pecs now had his chance. A strike nearly as big as his friend’s dropped the Fiend to 5 hit points. He missed his next one, but struck home with his third, Breaker completely severing one of its two-handed limbs.

  Fortune took the final turn of the round. Despite Blueblade obstinately refusing to glow, blows of 17 & 12 were enough to dispatch the Fiend facing Ashlyn.

  With no Tree available, they did their best to staunch The Hoffmeister’s bleeding until the medic could take a proper look.

  “Six,” Fortune commented. “Only half of those who raided Mer Khazer.”

  “Means we were kind of fortunate not to face them all at once,” Ashlyn suggested.

  Fortune nodded, glaring at his sword, as if it had somehow betrayed him.

  They were ready to set off after the remaining Fiends when Sharptooth growled. The trees ahead rustled, then Henning and Mary arrived on the scene. They glanced at the dead Fiends, neither showing much emotion, though Tree wore a disgruntled look.

  “Something up?” Ashlyn asked him.

  “I was wrong. There aren’t any Fiend tracks coming from the Deepwood. Looks like they are escaping to the northwest instead.”

  “Should we keep going?” Ashlyn asked doubtfully. Four of them were injured, and The Hoffmeister badly.

  “Of course we keep going,” Mental snapped. “All I’ve done so far is chase after this lanky fopdoodle!”

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