Deli’s heart was beating quickly. She was descending into the mountain to rescue a kidnapped woman from an Empire plot. Into the buried winter storage areas, not the ones meant for every winter, but the ones built in case of true disaster. Every few decades, the winter would eat one of the other seasons, and every few centuries, the whole year. There were legends of a time when the lands gained their name, almost two eons before her time.

When the snow fell for over a decade, and an entire generation of her people grew up underground. An Eversnow. When the great wyrm of the north was roused, and spread its cold breath across the lands, and the dead armies marched on the living.

But that was a distant tale, of a different time. The Confederacy was at peace. Or as peaceful as it could be, with the Winter Winds to one side, and the Empire and the Nomad Clans to the other.

They’d gone down the spiral stairs to emerge into the stone halls of their ancestors. Frank was surprised by the carvings and the length and breadth of them. He’d expected more cramped tunnels, as above, and said as much.

“That’s silly, Frank. They’re cramped to keep the warmth in. No point in making the floors chilled as well. The frost will dig into the earth for the first few marks, but after a few marks, the stone is warm enough.”

The songs told of Dwarves coming up from the Deeps to aid her people in the Eversnow, but if it had happened, that link was long severed. Still, to walk the halls of her ancestors as a warrior woman filled her with pride. Pride, and caution. The weight of her furs and the axestaff in her hands was a constant reminded of her limits and responsibilities.

They’d emerged into a wide avenue, under torch and runelight. Frank had carved more lightstones during her training, and now seven of the twelve lightstones shined among the company. Theirs was one of five such coming down the stairs. One to guard the exit, and two to head each way, with two more to come after.

They were in the first. Frank could recover mana faster than the stones ran out, so they needed fewer torches and could stay in the dark as long as their Stamina held out.

It was different down here. The march of their boots drowned out other warnings. Deli and Frank were near the middle, so she could listen in as hunters and scouts slipped into and out of the formation, bringing news of side passages, and what came ahead.

They weren’t good. The company had to halt every few tens of steps as forerunners ran into traps. Multiple traps, from multiple demons. That was bad.

“Do you think there are any True Demons down here?” She whispered to Frank.

“If there are, we’ll deal with them handily.” He said loud enough for his voice to echo. He was using that tone again, the one where his face blanked, his voice flattened and carried. He could lash out with it, or cut a woman down. He’d certainly done it enough times when correcting her form for Deli to feel her spine straighten out just hearing it.

She didn’t understand why he’d done that. She was only whispering. Deli felt a heavy gaze on her, on them, as she was covered by his Leadership. The company captain was looking at her, then at Frank. He gave him the slightest of nods.

“What did I do? Is whispering wrong?”

She looked to Frank for instruction but he gave her an almost invisible shake of the head. She didn’t understand. But looking around, she was starting to.

They were all doing it. Every warrior around her was either stoic, or boisterous. Most were bragging about how many Bones they’d already lugged to the fires, and how many more they would. Among them, a few were quiet, calm. Eyes sharp like the edge of an axe. Like Frank.

Battle.

This wasn’t a patrol. They were challenging the dead to battle. Some may die. Deli felt her heart pick up again, her stomach nearly rebelling. She shouldn’t have eaten so much at the celebration. She forced it down, as she could. While marching. It may have been an unkind thought, but she hoped they would not need her for some breaths yet. At least until the food settled.

Listening, looking around her, she decided she wasn’t one of them. The quiet ones. She didn’t understand how they did it, with all this energy running through her, waiting to jump from her limbs.

As the man next to her spoke up about the time his party ran into four Bones, she cut him off.

“Five of you against four Bones? No wonder you ran them over. Now me and my friend here, we got into a rumble with four Bones, a Demon, and an Ice Shade!” She shouted.

She didn’t need to look to feel Frank’s approval. The “Hear! Hear!” and shouts of support from others made her feel like she could take on anything.

***

Frank was in his battle space. Command wasn’t back, not fully, not yet. But it was coming.

“The greatest asset a good commander has, is the ability to fight and command at the same time. If you cannot duel a champion and still manage your troops, what good are you?”

He did not have his Tactics 4 up. But he was pretty sure that if he did, he would not be impressed with this performance. Then again, he was the fool who couldn’t let go of Science or Biology, to take it up again. Not that they didn’t have their applications, when it came to fighting monsters. But they were a lot less useful, against the dead.

Still, he felt it was the right choice. Tactics as a skill was useful for coordinating multiple parties, not managing one. And no one here was about to give him command. Which was probably for the best. He was already attracting enough attention. He didn’t want to be known or found until he recovered from the Curse and could fend for himself. If anyone was actually looking for him.

No, he marched besides everyone, looking them over critically. The main job of a Commander in a fight wasn’t tactics. Most of that work had to be done in advance, in training. It was morale. Parties would break long before their Health was fully exhausted if they could see it coming. The degradation that caused in their combat performance was significant. The difference between a soldier that fought to the last point of Health, and one that started thinking of retreat at a quarter, or half, was often the space where victory or defeat were decided.

So far, he was impressed with that part. The Empire always spoke of the Confederation as barbarians. But Frank was starting to understand what their living conditions and culture did for them. They built themselves on self-sufficiency, on honour and pride, on survival. Looking at all the braggarts around him, he had a feeling none of them would run at half Health, if only for the shame it would bring them.

Deli being one of them was no surprise. She was participating in the company spirit building exercise. It was much better than hearing her speak in furtive whispers about True Demons. Few things undermined morale like barely overheard furtive whispers among the ranks about enemies they might face.

***

The few nearby Bones were running. No, they were retreating.

Deli wasn’t sure of the difference, but both Frank and the Fellhanded were giving each other significant looks when they heard the scout report. They marched on and came upon a turn. As the company rounded the bend, the scouts came bursting out of the dark, running like the dead were on their heels. Arrows and slings were raised, as Deli strained to look over the shoulders of other warriors, and beyond the shieldwall.

She was only average in height, and couldn’t see. Then Deli found a crack between two shields and did. Her heart climbed into her throat and she raised her axestaff.

Trailing sickly green and purple smoke, more Bones then she could count came on, at a run, their footsteps silent. A wall of them, running right at her. She didn’t think, her foot stepping back on its own and she slammed into someone behind her.

“Steady now.” Frank said calmly into her ear, his hand raised past her face.

“Clear!” he shouted, loud enough to rattle her skull.

The four warrior women and men before her all ducked and leaned to the side as one, opening the shieldwall. Deli looked right into the skulls of more than ten Bones sprinting for her, almost on them.

Then the world was fire.

Frank stepped back, the shieldwall closed, and Deli cut down three burning Bones in one swing. The three that had made it past the opening. She had no memory of seeing them, of starting the swing. Just the knowledge that at the speeds they were going, they’d be in reach just about then and then jarring blows traveling down her weapon as she cut them apart.

Worse still, none of the warriors turned. They didn’t even look. Three Bones made it past them and they’d trusted her to deal with it. Deli swallowed, feeling pride war with the weight of that responsibility. If she hadn’t cut them down, she’d be fighting them now. Or they might have struck the back of the wall, and distracted them. Her stomach rebelled at the thought she could be responsible for their deaths.

To her relief, the shieldwall itself took the charge with ease. They had neither the weight, nor the strength. But that was where the horror of the dead came through. Battered, the first line fell, and started crawling, clawing at the feet of the warriors.

They stepped back as one, Deli guided by a pull on her shoulder from behind. Here and there, a Bones managed to crawl through the stomping warriors, and was broken by members of the reserve. Deli got a few herself.

Then, while they were still bogged down with the first wave the dead, the second arrived from the darkness, just as silent as the first. There were Demons among them.

To the left of her, a massive horned shape slammed into the shieldwall, throwing men like pebbles. The Fellhanded charged it with his party. Deli didn’t have time to worry about them. As a flying demon flew over them, he threw down multiple bottles of choking smoke. Worse, as the smoke rose, two pale ghostly forms emerged from the floor, and unleashed a terrible wail that made the world wobble, and her fingers stiffen.

Deli nearly blacked out, but still swung her axestaff with desperate speed, cutting right through the two of them. It hurt them, but they were still there. Their fingers were lengthened unnaturally, nails like knives, and they came for her.

Deli dodged, rolling across the floor. That’s what she’d always been trained to do for ghosts. But as she did, she left Frank open. She hadn’t meant to. Yet she felt like she’d been pulled to the side by an invisible hand and saw the edge of where the massive furry form had broken the ranks. She didn’t think, swinging at the Bones curving around the edge of the shieldwall. Cutting them down like saplings with large, powerful swings. She wasn’t the only one. Most of the shieldwall used one handed axes, but here and there, amidst the madness and smoke, she saw other figures taking a toll on the Bones.

Deli felt something in her scream. She turned back, hardly believing she’d forgotten about Frank, only to find him pressed back. Blocking the blow of one Wailing Woman, stabbed by another, and the two about to strike him again.

The world spun and her breakfast tried to escape.

He smiled, just as he burst into pale flames.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream his name. But what Deli shouted was: “Burn those bitches right back to the afterlife Frank!”

The flames were odd. They all but jumped from Frank onto the Wailing Women, whose wails rose in pitch and volume. And strength.

Deli came to on the ground, quickly getting up. She wasn’t alone. More than ten warriors were flat on their back, struggling with Bones on top of them. One caught her feet as she rose, but she kicked its head off. With the wail gone, it was easier to stand, to fight. There was a massive, pained howl from the large monster fighting the Fellhanded and it ran back the way it had come, trampling the dead as it did. It left its clawed hand behind.

Deli hurried to where she’d seen Frank last, finding him still on fire, teeth clenched. She needed to put him out.

He saw her coming and waved her back. She hesitated for only a moment.

Frank called more fire, as if it would help. Red this time, and he did a strange thing with it.

Forming a fishing web out of it, he dragged it across himself with a pained hiss. But where the web passed, the ordinary magefire caught and held the pale flames, pulling the remaining ones off him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another Bone coming at them on all fours like an animal. Her swing slammed it into the stone floor, and cut its spine in half, before it could slam into Frank.

Frank balled up the mixed flames and threw them into a crowd of Bones pushing on a still standing part of the shieldwall. They lit up like kindling, but the fire didn’t jump to others.

Deli looked around and almost waded into another fight, but she saw Frank’s bearing. He was putting on a strong front, but that was it. He was ragged, already. Instead, she stayed by his side and helped him reposition for another blast of flames, clearing the way.

By then, the Bones were losing numbers, and there was no third wave. They tried to turn, run, but were cut down as they did, the faster among the warriors running down those that managed to break away. Her feet longed to join them, but stayed pinned next to Frank.

Deli wiped sweat off her brow. She wasn’t out, not yet, but she’d felt that. More, she’d taken a few scratches somewhere, and they were painful, burning.

There was a short talk between the party leaders while she rested, and they headed back. Switching out with another company.

When they came back to the steadily spreading camp in the big hall where the stairway emerged, Deli learned that it hadn’t even been a bell since they left. It felt like several.

They’d killed two Skeletons but she’d missed it. Hadn’t seen them in the fight. They’d also found out what the smoke did. It cursed open wounds, when they were made by Bones with Miasma.

She’d finally gotten back up to full that morning. Now, her Health worried her.

Health = 35/37(-4)

It was slowly going down. “Poisoned and Cursed.” It was not a good start. At least they had a priest on hand, above.

He’d get to her, eventually. She’d just rest for a little while.

***

Frank was stuck, both feeling like shit, and being really happy. Sure, his mana was dry. And yes, he had burned himself all over again. And his Health wasn’t doing too well.

But that had been quite the fight. Quite the fight.

Health = 9/42

Mana = 0

Frankly, he was ready to go for another, if he only had the Health and Mana for it. Wailing Women hurt. He felt a chill just thinking of one. It was like being stabbed with ice.

Still, watching the Bones break and burn, the screams all around him and shouts raised in defiance, working his spear into their dead bodies? The rush of battle always got him.

He wanted Quel. Her hands, her breasts, to throw her on a bed and fuck her like a man possessed. Hell, he was almost drunk enough from the fight to consider Deli. But it would pass. It always did.

He never felt like this Before. On Earth. About fighting.

There was something in the air here, in this new body. It just loved it. Combat. It was like a drug. Frank was always careful in the moments after, coming down. To make sure he was alright, check his wounds. And his people. Not lose his head and hurt someone when his passion ran wild. He’d seen plenty of other Heroes fall to that trap.

But fighting with someone else worrying about everything was a pure rush.

His habit to check was how he found out that Deli was poisoned and keeping quiet about it, so as not to be a burden on people who needed it more. While in theory noble, it was stupid. The cursed wounds were nasty, but expected. The Reclaimers had come prepared, with holy salves for the condition. This was the first time smoke did it with Miasma, but cursing wounds was a favourite tactic for many Demons.

It wasn’t her duty to manage the companies and their Health. That was the Captain’s job, and Frank was glad to leave it to him.

He had enough to worry about with one stubborn woman under his command.

Their company wasn’t the only one to run into Skeletons and Bones, but it was the only one to run into Demons supporting them. From everything the hunters could gather, they were on the right track. But by now, most felt this was more revenge than rescue. The dead would have killed Katri by now, if the Demons didn’t stop them.

Which they might, if they’d taken her to turn into a Binder. Rumour was, that was why the Empire woman had taken her. As a bargaining chip for the warlock’s papers. There was a growing agreement among everyone that the trade had already been made. Because the Demons were working together, they felt they were dealing with a power mad warlock, in addition to the dead.

Their answer?

“This will be quite the story to tell the children, when I’m old! Bwhahaah!”

Yeah. This place had its problems. It was the people who made it liveable. Even Deli, when she was being a child. Looking at him with those wide open eyes, pleading like a massive puppy.

“No, you may not remove the bandages until the salve has done its work.”

“But it’s so itchy!”

“Really? Did you prefer the poison’s burn?”

“Yes!”

Frank believed he’d be a good Dad. But the kids he was supposed to deal with were meant to be his own, not a twenty year old axemaiden.

“Well, at least it’s good practice. And she isn’t as dreary anymore. But I have to watch that darkness. She isn’t fully well, if she was content to just sit there, poisoned.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

…

“How about now?”

“No-o.” Frank sang-sung.

Deli pouted at him.

He hugged her, on impulse.

It took her a moment, but she hugged him back. Leaning on him, heavy.

Frank could feel her smirk as he stumbled back.

“Damn it woman, get off! You’re as heavy as a barrel of bricks!”

She pushed off him, looking him in straight in the eye. "Frank."

He didn’t like the pause. It was filled with foreboding.

She asked him, flat out: "Are you saying I'm fat?"

There was no winning that.