It had been a relatively uneventful night of sleep for the three of us. Gertha and I slept facing each other, with the fire pit between us, so we could stay warm. Eggs woke me several times in the night, twice returning to my side fresh from nesting within the fire, and once devouring what I think was a mouse. I only saw the tail disappearing into Eggs' maw when my bleary eyes opened at the sound of a panicked, final squeak. Gertha had managed to sleep through all of this. I put it down to her being exhausted from the day prior; the dull glow of the fire revealed that she had rings around her eyes even when sleeping, and her cheeks almost looked gaunt. I wondered if she would last in these circumstances for very long before sleep claimed me for a final time.

  Golden sunlight streamed across my face, and branches cracked as the wind moved them. It was a peaceful moment, and so I was immediately alert. I wanted to have slept longer, but my own body betrayed me as it did every morning. Being conditioned to rise with daybreak for much of my youth by Peevan had never really worn off. It seemed my body rhythm, much like my ability with a blade, had been well and truly drilled into me. Perhaps the early mornings are the reason why every blademaster I have ever met has been a grumpy old sod. I’m downright cheerful by comparison.

  Gertha still slumbered, and I wanted her to rest, not just because deep down I’m nice, but because I figured her strange abilities would be more useful if she didn’t feel like death warmed up. Eggs wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so I poked my head over to the fire, and I could just see the tip of their tail next to the flame. It was a marvel to see, an animal like this not being burned or even scared of fire? If you got a Dragon this close to the flames, it would fall into a frenzy, and that would be a poor experience for anyone involved.

  I drew away from the fire so I didn’t wake either Gertha or Eggs, and I went about my usual routine of stretches. I went head to toe, making sure that I held them for a good amount of time to maintain, then develop flexibility. My ability to move was paramount to my ability not to get shoved down the gullet of some bastard lizard’s maw or to bring fame to an idiot with a weapon. The breeze cracked another branch, but it felt good on my skin, and as I finished my stretches, I retrieved my new sword from the patch of grass I called a bed. I drew it, admiring the gleam of the metal in the sunlight and gave it a few practice swings. I’d already bloodied it in a fight, but the training needed to begin anew from today, for too long I had been prohibited on pain of death from my practice. No longer, I was now Kingdomless, I belonged to myself and myself alone. It was as exhilarating a feeling as it was terrifying, given that my only companions are a former slave Magi and my mythical namesake.

  Falling into a rhythm, I went through each of the root parries from which all variations are expanded. I then flowed into the different strikes, cuts and feints most typically used, before throwing in a few of my own concoction. I was training against air, so I could hit as hard as I liked, and the swishing of the air accompanied each movement. It was probably because of the air being cut so loudly that I didn’t hear the arrow. It thunked into the wood of the tree just next to my head, my blood rising for the fight immediately. I ran behind it for cover, cursing myself; those branches cracking weren’t the breeze, it was whichever bastard was sneaking up on us.

  “GERTHA, TO ARMS!” I shouted, I dared a glance and saw she immediately moved. She had good instincts and could move fast, even if she was a little older than a typical soldier. An arrow thunked into the ground by her feet as she dashed for cover behind another tree a couple of feet away.

  “Who goes there?” She called as she withdrew a coin and tucked it into her mouth. We looked at each other and I mouthed ‘okay?’ to her, she nodded, and we turned our attention to our surroundings.

  From the direction of the arrows, whoever was attacking was now directly opposite us, which was good news for our choice of cover. What I didn’t know was if there were any others and if they’d be flanking us. It would be safe to assume they would be; people don’t last long on their own in the wilds. I tried to catch a sight of Eggs, but there was no sign of them. I hoped to the Godbody, the Hunter and the Mummer that they were in the fire pit still.

  “The meat is talking back!” Drawled a throaty voice, a voice ruined by a lifetime of shouting, no doubt.

  “I don’ts like it when the meats talks Brenyl!” This voice was higher, almost singsong.

  “It’s unnatural.”

  “Damned creepy is whats it is!”

  Gertha looked at me, raising an eyebrow. She gestured with her head toward them at me. Surely, she couldn’t mean for me to charge them? I’d likely be hit with an arrow in the process. With two near misses just now, it was likely they had found their range. I mimed being hit with an arrow, shaking my head, and she sighed before miming a talking noise. I didn’t have a sign for 'be more bloody specific next time.' So I opened my stupid mouth.

  “We ain't meat, we’re bloody people, and you’re pissing us off!” I growled.

  “Ooh, the meats is confused!”

  “Poor thing, we should put it out its misery.”

  The voices sounded like they’d gotten closer. I risked a peek, and an arrow whistled past my face, scratching my cheek. It was only one arrow, as the other figure approaching from the treeline held a long blade. I roared and charged them both, whirling my blade in a pommel flourish.

  “That’s a big knifes!” The one holding the blade squealed. He was a thin man with a leathery face and large bulbous eyes. He smiled with sharp, filed teeth, and there wasn’t a single strand of hair on him; from his skin, he was either Orlish, Avanish or Cemfyllian, but it’d clearly been a long time since he’d called any of them home.

  “Piss off, creep,” I spat, and I thrust at his throat with my blade, squatting as I did so to lower my height and counter the swipe I anticipated he’d throw my way. He didn’t, but another arrow passed where my head would have been, so it wasn’t a wasted move on my part. The Creep managed to block my thrust with a relatively well-executed parry. It threw me off my attacking line, so I immediately wheeled right, putting the Creep between me and Brenyl’s shot.

  “We’re going to eats you meats!” The Creep crooned, smiling wildly.

  “Yes, you’re cannibals, I get it!” I growled.

  “Fuck this!” Brenyl huffed, and I saw a longbow fly into the near area, landing not far from my spear and hunting bow. I kept circling and moving from the Creep as we felt each other's range and reactions out with small feints and movements. Brenyl was broad-chested with thick arms; he carried a hand axe with a large notch in the top. With a blueish hue to his skin, he was without doubt a Nargazian.

  “Where’s your horse, Narg?” I needled him with the most sneering voice I could, looking at Brenyl as I arced my blade at the Creep to catch him off guard. It worked, and my blade bit into the upper arm of his offhand.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “ARGH! The meats bites!” the Creep wailed.

  “I ate my horse!” laughed Brenyl, and my stomach practically fell out of my arse. A Nargazian eating their horse is akin to a mother eating their child. It’s one of their most taboo crimes. Mad opponents like this with no moral lines are, without doubt, the most dangerous to fight.

  The Creep launched a frenzied attack at me, cutting high, low, low, high, then tried to gut me with a vicious slash near the belly. Unfortunately for him, I was trained by a mad bastard, so I managed to parry his first three attacks, then break the line of attack and circle yet again out of the way. That is, until my shoulder hit a tree and I was stuck.

  “Balls!” I said, just as the wicked blade sliced me just above the hip bone. The Creep spun back in a flourish and laughed. He raised the blade to his mouth and licked the smear of blood I’d left on it.

  “You tastes good meat!” he grinned.

  I stole a glance toward Gertha, who had gone deadly still, apart from slight twitches of her head. Whatever she was cooking up, it rendered her defenceless, so I needed to keep these people eaters occupied.

  “May not even need to cook him.” Brenyl charged at me, swinging his axe with alarming speed. I darted to the side, and the axe bit into the wood. I hoped it would get stuck for a moment or two, giving me the upper hand, but he pulled it out with ease. Bastard. I wanted to attack but had to fend off three more rapid strikes from the Creep. I stepped backwards, drawing myself into a defensive guard. The trees limited my manoeuvrability, and against multiple opponents, it removed a lot of advantages.

  Then the leaves around us turned black.

  “Don’t you wonder?”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Strange voices spoke from the air between us all as the temperature dropped. My skin erupted in gooseflesh. Brenyl and the Creep looked around them, wary of the sudden change in atmosphere.

  “Whats?” The Creep whispered.

  “WITCH. GET THE WITCH!” Brenyl roared as he leapt at me, swinging his axe once again. This time, I easily caught his blade in a parry, which is exactly where my plan fell apart. As the Creep turned and ran toward Gertha, a sickening shock ran down both my arms as my sword absorbed the power of Brenyl’s strike.

  “The marks on your soul can be cleansed.”

  “She forgave you in the end.”

  The voices caressed my mind, but it was the shift in Brenyl’s face that told me that the voices were intended for him.

  “SHUT. UP!” He shouted as he drew back his blade for another swing.

  I span out of the way, slashing his thigh in the process, throwing him off balance as his momentum carried him forward. He circled me, clutching his thigh, but I’d turned and ran. I needed to catch up to the Creep before he gutted Gertha. I could hear Brenyl shouting as he came after me, and I just had to hope that the wound I’d dealt him would slow him down enough while I ignored my own.

  The Creep stood opposite Gertha, who had emerged from behind the tree at some point but now had her arm outstretched toward the Creep. As I got closer, I could see that the Creep’s limbs were jerking.

  “Their pain is your pain.”

  “Your satiation is now your very undoing.”

  I had just enough time to see a chunk of flesh the shape of a bite mark disappear from Creep’s shoulder before Brenyl’s roar told me he was coming. I dove right, away from the fire pit and where Eggs was likely hiding from the fray and jumped up to my feet. Brenyl and I clashed once more, my blade trying to find an opening through his frustratingly astute defence. He used both blade and shaft of his axe to catch or parry my blades, the hallmark of a competent fighter. If I were in my prime, I’d have cut him down, but I hadn’t practised enough, not for a hardened fighter who seemed to have thrived in the wilds.

  We were close enough to smell each other; he reeked of earth, blood and smoke. Our blades still locked, I drove a knee into his stomach, and it merely bounced off.

  “You’re weak,” he snarled as he took one hand off his axe and reached for my neck. With my two arms holding his axe at bay, I squirmed but was too slow; he found my throat and began to squeeze.

  Fuck.

  I gasped for air as Brenyl gradually squeezed the life from me. I tried to angle my sword toward his neck, but he was stupidly strong. I briefly flailed against the arm choking me, but the axe came down with the promise of ending my life faster than strangulation. I tried kicking him in the shin, and all I managed to do was waste precious energy and make him laugh.

  “You’ll taste sweet Dragon Face!” He leered.

  Behind him, I saw gouts of blood falling from the Creep, more bite marks appearing on his rapidly disappearing body. The sight horrified me almost as much as the feeling of my own impending demise. I strained against the axe, but it was futile; it was getting closer, and he had now forced me to my knees.

  He had to strain, though. I was stronger than I looked, and as my vision blacked, I pictured my blade locked against the guard who fought against me with Nimmond. When I flicked my wrist down, the resistance from my blade suddenly disappeared, and the guard lurched.

  I wondered if I could do that with myself? My head swimming and my vision blurring, I suddenly went limp, my entire body dropping to the floor, and my arms ceasing their resistance. Brenyl exclaimed in surprise and fell on top of me, loosening his grip, and I sucked in a huge lungful of air. The axe thankfully bit into the ground beside my head. My plan had worked, except that in my haze, I hadn’t considered that the much heavier opponent I was trying to kill was now pinning me on top, and I was now on the ground, helpless. I’d maybe bought myself a few seconds to a minute.

  “Dear oh dear, looks like you’re dying after all.” Brenyl cackled as he pinned my blade arm to the ground with his knee and held the other in a vice-like grip.

  “GERTHA! HELP!” I screamed, I’m not ashamed to admit it.

  “Shhh. Shhh now. It’s better than the Fugue.” The blue-skinned bastard raised his axe aloft.

  “Fugue? What?” I just had time to blurt out before a shrieking black mass smashed into the side of Brenyl, knocking him off me. Blood erupted from the side of his face, showering me as he screamed and flailed. It was Eggs! Their wings were flapping and beating Brenyl’s face as clawed feet and sharp teeth tore into the Nargazian. I stood up, still feeling shaky from the ordeal. I stole a glance toward Gertha, who was shaking her head. The Creep’s neck, torso and upper arms were the tattered remains of muscle, sinew and bloodied flesh. His corpse knelt in front of Gertha, like a devotee seeking a blessing.

  Eggs had ripped into the entire right side of Brenyl's face. I dashed forward to aid my…pet? Brenyl caught Eggs with the flat of his axe and sent them trailing off into the undergrowth. My little Wyvern squawked with rage, and I was filled with more rage than I thought was possible. As Brenyl wiped the blood from the ruined remains of his face, I sliced at the hand holding the axe, severing his thumb. He yowled in pain as the digit flew into the undergrowth, the axe fell from his destroyed grip as I span my blade around while side-stepping, slicing his hamstring, forcing him to one knee. He tried to rise, but I rammed my blade through his back, puncturing a lung. My blade rasped as I pulled it out, grinding against bone. Brenyl made a retching, gasping sound as my blade released and his blood flowed freely.

  “You could have approached in friendship, instead, you prey on humans. Like the worst of Wyrm’s,” I declared, my blood red hot.

  “It’s kill or be killed in the wilds, city dweller. You’ll learn that soon enough.” He turned to face me, blood trickling out of his mouth, flaps of skin hanging from the wounds Eggs had dealt him.

  “Perhaps,” I said, and I raised my blade, ready to strike Brenyl’s head from his shoulders.

  A small growl emanated from the ground next to me, and I glanced down. Eggs had crawled over, using their wings as front legs while their frill unfurled, making the silhouette of their head four times larger. Their tail swished back and forth, and a spine-tingling hiss escaped the Wyvern's throat.

  Brenyl retched up blood, “Clean death... please.” That was always the way of strong bastards who usually won; once you cut them down to size, they begged for the mercy they never gave themselves.

  I looked down at Eggs, jerking my head at Brenyl and clicking my tongue.

  Turning my back, I walked over to Gertha’s dazed and wandering form, as Brenyl’s high-pitched scream was cut short.