It was a long trip.

Like Ceri said, they had to go on foot. So they went trudging out of Eloh’s gates, catching more than a few looks for having a knight walking around with them like a commoner. Tom didn’t care, firing a two-fingered salute off his forehead at one of the local watchmen, who gave him a lot of confused blinking.

Saying the walk was long was an understatement. And that was only the walk to the edge of the woods. Caiden learned a few things along the way: Tom never stopped talking or bragging, Ceri rarely stopped retorting, and Gwen was very willing to pitch in, usually to show off knowledge of some kind or another.

Caiden didn’t say anything, or at least as little as he could get away with. He hadn’t come here to socialize, even while Tom tried to provide a fair amount of narration.

The forest hardly crept up on them. The line of trees stood fast against the plains, tall and thick, with a distinct lack of saplings, underbrush, or any new growth. There were only trees, twisted and gnarled and old, their bark various hues of grey-black like the skin of a dead thing or ash off a dying fire.

And he felt nothing. Except the noise and energy from the other three with him, there was nothing. No voices, no feelings. Even walking alone in the woods would usually give him passing… sensations, as much as he hated it. Here, there was only silence.

Somehow, he almost hated the silence worse. This place, this forest, felt dead – and yet even death seemed more peaceful than this. The silence here wasn’t meant to be here. It didn’t have any peace in it. Felt wrong. Like something he should be fixing, something in him said, which made even less sense than anything that had come before it.

Caiden’s shoulders twitched. He squinted into the woods and saw only darkness beyond the perimeter of the trees, thicker than any darkness should be. The locals were right. Something about this forest wasn’t natural.

As he stood there scowling, quiet footfalls padded up to his side. They brought with them a twitching emptiness. He’d be damned if he could explain it.

Ceri peered at him, then back at the woods, and said, “You’re right, they’re cursed. Some people call it the Shadowvale; others, the Forest of Shadows. Real simple, I know, but most folk are.”

Caiden threw her a look, but she only shrugged and took the first step into the silent forest. As she went, she drew a knife off her hip and left a tiny mark on each tree she passed.

“I thought elves didn’t do that to trees,” Gwen commented.

“When people say ‘treehugger,’ we don’t actually hug them,” Ceri replied as she sliced another fine line into a tree’s dull ashen bark, carving a thin streak of stark white. “‘Sides, these trees don’t feel a thing, and they’ll be good as new in a few days… Or as ugly as they were before, anyway. They get over it. We won’t, though, if we get lost, so we keep going straight as we can.”

Their surroundings became darker the deeper they went. The ground turned grey, and a fine, black mist-like haze made of darkest shadow grew around their feet. Caiden removed his crossbow from his back, keeping it at the ready.

Each tree looked blacker than the last, and always with no leaves and barely a whisper of wind to rattle their dry, seemingly dead branches. Yet not one was rotten or fallen over, and thick, twisted, black roots still turned the ground treacherous. Made them have to watch their every step.

Caiden felt that the roots lowered his guard, as he had to make sure he didn’t trip, and he didn’t like it. He had marched armies across plains, led smaller teams through cities and ruins, across mountains, and onto battlefields. He’d led men into forests a few times, sure, and he even liked to think he was pretty sure-footed. But he had never walked through anything like this.

More than once, one of his boots got stuck in a root and he had to pry it free. Other roots, he crunched underfoot and didn’t give it a second thought, but they weren’t half as brittle as anything dead should’ve been.

There was no smell here, either. No forest detritus, no pine needles or scent of fresh bark. Not even the smell of dirt, like the forest was a void in the world and wasn’t meant to exist. There was nothing but the silence, like what hung over a night of newfallen snow but not peaceful and not pleasant, which amplified everything he felt from the three others with him.

Like that same pull he had noticed before – not outside, for once, but in. Inside him. An emptiness. Felt almost like hunger, a void waiting and wanting to be filled. But hunger, he was all too familiar with. This was something else.

And the silence in these trees only made it that much worse. There was no distraction, nothing else to turn to. Only the silence, the hunger, the curiosity, the fire, or the trepidation – the forest, himself, Ceri, Tom, or Gwen.

He didn’t like any of his options.

But as it was, he glanced back at Tom and slowed enough to walk alongside him. Tom threw him a look and glanced him up and down, like he still wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“You said you’re from Redfield, right?” Tom said. “What’d they feed you? I’ve seen Nordlings like half your size.”

Caiden huffed and didn’t answer. Meanwhile, Tom almost tripped on a root, only just catching himself before he went face-first into the faint mist floating above the ground – but not before Caiden’s hand shot out and landed on his shoulder for support.

Tom threw him a look: decidedly embarrassed, but not without a hint of surprised gratefulness. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be glad when we’re out of this malakes forest,” he added in a mutter, straightening up and trying to look like he had lost none of his pride, though Caiden felt a brief flare in the eternal burn coming off him.

After a moment, Caiden said, “What is that; Old Achaean?”

Tom gave him a look. “What?”

“That word. You’ve said it before.”

“Malaka? Yeah, that’s Old Achaean. I think you figured out the general idea of what it means, huh?”

Caiden snorted. “I’ve heard it before.” He paused. “I didn’t expect to hear Old Achaean this far north.”

“Yeah, well, we surprise you sometimes. Me especially. I’m loaded with surprises – you’ll find that out.” He furrowed his brow. “Or maybe you won’t, since they’re surprises.”

Caiden threw him a glance. “Right.”

“So if we’re trekking into creepy forests and swamps together, might as well know who has your back. Me, I grew up in Illikon. Lived there my whole life, wouldn’t have had it any other way. And I’ll be a knight soon, and that will be awesome, going around and protecting people with nobody looming over your shoulder.”

Tom’s gaze drifted a little then, a small smile tugging at his lips. A lightness lifted the heavy heat in Tom’s soul, if only a little. Enough for Caiden to glimpse something underneath, though he wasn’t sure what. A warmth, gentle and kind – different from the dangerous flames that made up so much of him.

Didn’t make much sense when he thought about it, tried to put it into words, but when he felt it, that made all the difference.

Tom seemed to snap out of it just a little, his gaze focusing on Caiden again. “But I guess you do that anyway, huh? Go around protecting people, nobody giving you orders.”

Caiden huffed. “That depends.”

“So nobles try to give Venatori orders too, the way Marks was doing?”

“Sometimes. If they want us around at all.”

Tom frowned, but he scratched at his neck and, suddenly, asked instead, “Ever been to Illikon?”

“No,” Caiden said.

“You should go, maybe when we’ve saved all these people. It’s only the best city in the Empire – or, well, anywhere. There’s nothing like smelling the sea breeze, watching the ships come and go. I’ve always heard people talk bad about her – Illikon, I mean – back in the Empire, but everybody who does hasn’t ever been there. I can guarantee it.”

The warmth from before rose up in Tom again, like his heart swelled at the thought of something. Illikon, if Caiden had to guess, just from the way he said the name. More like a woman he loved than a city he called home.

All Caiden said was, “Maybe.”

Tom flashed him a quick grin. “Wow. ‘Maybe.’ Don’t get excited or anything. You’re a real stoic guy, huh, Caid?”

‘Caid.’ He was someone who used nicknames without permission, then, if he could figure one out or make one up. Wasn’t the first time he had been called that one, though. Caiden glanced at him and huffed.

Then, something else tickled his senses. Caiden stopped in his tracks, arms tensing, hands squeezing the grip of his crossbow and his finger itching to slide to the trigger.

Gwen froze with him, and so did Tom, his impatience blazing – like usual. Caiden was quickly learning Tom always burned, no matter what he was feeling, and it only made Caiden burn with him.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tom said quietly, while Gwen slowly drew back her bowstring. “You hear anything?”

Caiden didn’t answer. Neither did Gwen, because she looked at him with the same confusion as Tom.

Ceri answered, but not with words. She thought something was funny, but she didn’t laugh. Her amusement practically tried to tickle at Caiden’s ribs, and frustration flared in him like breath over hot coals.

“What?” he almost snapped, rounding on her. Ceri’s eyebrows shot up and she gave him a look of surprise. Genuine, at least this time.

“What what?” she said. “What, yourself.”

Caiden narrowed his eyes at her. She was cheating. Something was off. She didn’t know these woods, and it was written all over her. Coming off her in waves, but she hadn’t gotten them lost. She was too confident for that.

Still, she also wasn’t relenting with whatever it was she found so funny. Caiden’s eye twitched, and a low rumble stuck in his chest, all of which only made Ceri shrug and turn to continue leading them into the forest.

The frustration came back, worse this time. More demanding. It came to nudge the want in him, then settled in to stay, making itself comfortable right next to the very physical hunger gnawing at his stomach.

Caiden released one hand from the crossbow to find his water canteen. Back in town, he’d filled with whiskey instead. Not anything weak, either.

“Do knights always drink on the job?” Ceri asked almost suddenly.

He huffed.

“Hope that wasn’t you saying it’s water. Lying doesn’t fit on you so well, Sir Redfield. Must be a knight thing.”

“I’m not a knight.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Caiden got a light elbow in his ribs and turned to see Tom giving him a look. Gesturing a finger near his temple, he shook his head, all of it to say, She’s crazy.

Caiden huffed. Bit like the pot calling the kettle black.

“Do elves have knights?” Gwen asked, confused.

Ceri shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You… don’t know?”

“We have nights. They’re very dark.”

“So, ah, Ceri?” Tom said, trudging forward to walk alongside her while Gwen fell back to Caiden’s side. “I’ve got a really important question… Are we there yet?”

She shrugged again. “Why? Your feet getting tired?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna pop off and go find a shortcut if we do much more meandering through completely unchanging creepy-ass cursed woods. There are people probably dying, and we’re taking a really slow walk through a forest. This isn’t what I had in mind when I said I wanted to go save lives.”

“What is the curse, anyway?” Caiden asked.

“Shadow magic, supposedly,” Tom said. “Darkness that you can feel and that’ll drown you, stuff like that.”

He blinked. Gwen went a touch paler. Caiden glanced at their feet, down to the shadows lingering there – ones that curled and shifted as they walked by.

“Like those?” he said.

Ceri glanced back at him, then down at his feet. “Mhm.”

“What?”

“Yessir. Those. All up north of here, where the woods turn deadly and the air eats people’s insides out and such. And there’s—”

Something splashed. A wet, sloppy splash of something thick. The rotting stench of a mire lazily drifted toward him.

Tom swore and lifted his boot from the patch of swamp muck he had stepped in, shaking off his foot like an animal with a wet paw. He muttered something in another Imperial language Caiden didn’t understand.

“Plenty more where that came from,” Ceri said.

In what felt like just a few paces further, the forest of black trees, stillness, and no smells, became vast auras teeming with life – and smelling intensely of rot and sulfur. Each step was muddier than the last, the ground turning from black and grey to dull greens and rich browns, moist and soft enough that Caiden felt his feet sink a good inch or two. He had to pry his boots up from the muck with a squelch that made Ceri’s now-familiar amusement come nudging again, like someone trying to tickle his neck.

“Trouble there, Voros?” she asked coyly.

His eyes cut her way for half a second, long enough to see that amusement written plainly on her face this time. He grunted, pulling one foot free again.

Ahead, Rognosst Swamp stretched out before them as far as the eye could see. Which wasn’t far. Mist hung in the air as thick as what had surrounded the mansion in the Blackrock Foothills on his first hunt, leaving the distant weeping willows only vague, drooping shapes made of long, thin limbs with leaves to match. At least they had leaves, though, unlike the trees they now left behind them.

A sharp rush of air interrupted the steady, rhythmic hum of crickets and frog songs as something dove straight for Ceri. Caiden ducked and leveled his crossbow, rounding to face it – in time to see a little bird of prey land on Ceri’s shoulder, and she already had her fingers on the freckled feathers of its chest, giving it some scratches.

And he realized: the bird was what he’d felt earlier, in the forest, flying overhead the entire time. Watching them.

Guiding them, he realized now.

“Down, Voros,” she snapped, twisting so the shoulder supporting the kestrel faced away from him.

Caiden growled. “You didn’t know where you were going.”

Ceri frowned, then screwed up her mouth, shrugged, and said, “No, but you’ll still pay me, won’t you?”

“So, wait, when I got a guide, I actually… hired a bird?” Tom said, stepping up alongside Ceri and leaning down to give the kestrel a look.

“Lots of elves keep animals,” Gwen put in. “Don’t they? There’s a pair of elves in the Venatori who always talk about getting animals to help during hunts.”

But Caiden kept bristling. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was everything chewing at him. Whatever the case, he turned without a word and kept walking deeper into the swamp, taking point. Behind him, he heard the others still talking while they trailed along behind him in no formation whatsoever.

“His name’s Rat,” Ceri said.

“Rat?” Gwen echoed, surprised. “So you don’t like him?”

Ceri scoffed. “Of course I like him, who says I don’t like him?”

“’Rat’ is kind of degrading,” Tom agreed.

“What’s wrong with rats? They’re cute.”

“Cut the chatter,” Caiden ordered over his shoulder, glancing back only long enough to see Tom give him one of those halfhearted two-finger salutes, sending off a wave of annoyance. Gwen fell silent immediately. Ceri, on the other hand, stuck her tongue out at him.

He’d heard stories of wood elves: living out in the forests, pulling pranks, ambushing people now and then with dark magic when they came too far into ‘their’ woods… Some people claimed they were all insane, that sometimes the way they thought didn’t even make sense to Men.

Maybe some of those stories were right.

Something in him stirred and pulled again, harder this time. The empty hunger in his core that wasn’t physical but still left a void waiting to swallow something into it, and it begged him to do something about it.

“Not like anyone’s eavesdropping,” Ceri added, eyes wandering the swamp and settling on a nearby pond. “Except maybe that fat toad on his lilypad, and I don’t think he gives a toss what we s—”

Caiden stopped and rounded on her, halting her under a sharp glare and scowl of carven stone. Ceri paused and stared up at him. In the corner of his vision, Caiden barely paid attention to Tom and Gwen exchanging awkward glances. Tom shrugged at her, his naturally low-set eyebrows raising high enough in confusion to be out of sight under the narrow facial opening of his horsehair helmet.

This time, however, Ceri only glared.

“We’re in enemy territory,” Caiden growled. “Shut up and fall in line.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Something almost seemed to reach out and try snapping at him, but it recoiled fast. Caiden set his jaw, and Ceri set hers even harder.

“I’m not some bloody Imperial. I’m not one of your little soldiers,” she said.

He huffed. “Right now you are.”

Turning, Caiden resumed leading the way, one heavy step after another. One suction of his boot against the thick mud after another. The sound became routine even after a few minutes.

Behind him, Ceri muttered, “Arse.”

Nothing got better. His nerves kept teetering on the edge of a knife, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

As they kept trudging to Ceri’s halfhearted pointing and directions, trying to avoid the various ponds of swamp muck, they saw a point of light hovering in the distance. Unnatural, from the look of it. Instead of a lantern’s warm yellow, a harsh, pale blue broke through the thick, gathering fog of the evening.

Something had found them. Probably thanks to all the fuss they insisted on kicking up, between Tom and Ceri.

Like a devil spoken of, Tom stepped up alongside Caiden as he squinted at the light. In the corner of his eye, he saw Tom tilt his head slightly – and then start walking straight toward it.

Caiden snapped a hand up and grabbed Tom’s arm.

“Whoa-hey, I didn’t know we brought a vice,” Tom blurted, freezing and locking Caiden in a glare. Tom’s fire burned higher, but Caiden met the stare and narrowed his eyes.

Behind him, he heard Gwen say, “Uh. Don’t kill each other up there.”

“They’re getting along swimmingly,” Ceri remarked. “Manly bonding. Hey, we should bond. Got any cute human fairytales? My favorites are the ones with nasty elves bewitching poor blokes.”

Caiden stopped listening after that. His nerves felt run through a grater, but he took a breath and released Tom’s arm, tightening his shoulders. That got Tom to glance at those shoulders, frown, and shrug.

“What’s the big deal, exactly?”

“Following lights in a swamp is—” Gwen started…

Just as Ceri came tromping past all of them, toward the lights.

“—a bad idea.”

“Ceri,” Caiden snapped. It almost surprised him when she actually stopped. Hesitantly, but she did – and then she turned and frowned hard at him in a way that, mixed with her hot waves of frustration, told him she probably wasn’t stopped for long.

“We should probably set up camp,” Gwen put in hastily, eyes darting between everyone. “It’s getting dark.”

“Don’t tell me we’re already tired,” Tom said. “Or you’re already tired; I’m not tired.”

Ceri glanced at the lights again, shrugged, and seemed to lose interest that fast.

Only she didn’t. Caiden could tell. The curiosity stayed, as did the determination. He narrowed his eyes at her when she passed him by again, but she only tossed him a look and threw her hands out dismissively.

“Is there any actual land around to camp on?” Tom remarked, nudging at the edge of a puddle with his boot. “This place is made of muck.”

“I’m sure we can find something on rock somewhere,” Gwen said, turning almost in a full circle in an apparent desperate bid to point them in a direction and get them moving again.

Caiden was a little busy keeping an eye on Ceri, who kept glancing at the points of light in the fog. When she kept looking at one for longer than a few seconds, he gave a low growl that made her pay attention to him again instead.

Either spotting something or deciding to get moving, Gwen pointed them away from the lights and started walking. Tom went next, and Caiden waited, staring at Ceri until she rolled her eyes and set off too, letting Caiden take up the rear.

“How do you have any fun with that guy around?” he heard Tom remark to Gwen, up ahead. “Was he born with that stick up his ass?”

Gwen actually let out a quiet little laugh. “I haven’t known him that long,” she replied. “But he’s not as bad as whatever you might be thinking. He’s just… intimidating at first. And you have to keep him fed.”

Tom scoffed.

“Oi,” Ceri called up to the pair of them, “you know he’s back here hearing you with ears like that.”

“His ears aren’t even that big,” Gwen shot back, a small bout of sheepish apprehension coming off her. Probably from thinking about but not referencing Ceri’s long elf ears.

“So, wait, are you trying to defend him, or defend us talking about him?” Tom said, gesturing vaguely to go along with it.

“I didn’t say anything he doesn’t already know. You’re the one who said he has a stick up his ass.”

“Hey—!”

“If this swamp really is infested with monsters,” Caiden said, “they’ll hear the three of you coming from a league off.”

Tom opened his mouth to retort – but he paused. Gwen frowned.

They didn’t say too much after that.

After a walk made of silence save for all the loud souls and the new, hungry emptiness gnawing at his insides, Caiden finally found a decent patch of land. A few weeping willows stood on the perimeter, their long, drooping branches dangling into the surface of the murky water that surrounded their would-be island in the sea of mud and stink.

The sun had set all too quickly as they’d walked. Twilight followed soon after, barely giving them time to toss down some bedrolls and build a fire. All around them, starlight bounced back off the thick and ever-present fog hanging over the swamp: fog that did little to dampen the spirits of the various insects and frogs singing together in one great cacophony, somehow blending together to form a rhythm.

Humidity still lingered, barely letting Caiden catch his breath. The moisture felt stuck to the inside of his chest and left sweat collecting on his forehead.

Something else lingered too: the lights, following after them. The same blue-white lights, like undead lanterns. They hung ominously in the mist with no apparent owners. No hands held them up, shrouded in fog or otherwise.

Undead. He would think that, wouldn’t he? Caiden set his jaw against the memories that yet again flooded unbidden against his other thoughts, dashing many of them to pieces.

“If the monsters didn’t already hear us, they might just smell us,” Gwen said as she took off her cloak and made a face at it.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to distinguish between scents in a place like this,” Tom replied.

“At least the beastfolk don’t seem to be hanging around this region much, and if there are trolls, those usually try to ambush individuals or small groups. Smaller groups than us, anyway.”

Tom gave her a look. “Trolls,” he echoed, lifting a brow. “I’ve never seen a troll.”

“Most people haven’t – including me, I’ve only read about them…”

“You can read, huh?” he asked, with a slowly blooming grin.

Gwen perked up a little at that. “The priestesses back home taught me. Not that I was a priestess, but that’s a long story…”

Caiden drew his blade and turned his attention to oiling it instead. That got Ceri to side-eye him, her amusement nudging its way closer. Brow furrowed, he threw her a quick glance.

“What?”

She wore a little smile and said, “Nothing.”

He scoffed.

Things didn’t change much that night, either.

The sun set quickly, so Caiden wolfed down the food from his pack while Ceri was busy criticizing the “dried scat and old bread” they were eating. Tom pawned more than his share of jerky off Gwen in exchange for a smile and a wink.

After that, they settled in to get some sleep. Or, at least, that was the idea.

Ceri gleefully took first watch as Gwen lay down to sleep, and Caiden stretched out a little way off, staring into the mist. What Tom did, Caiden didn’t know. Probably, he wasn’t sleeping, either – apparently no one around here slept except Gwen.

A few minutes after they had all settled down, or seemed to, a short silhouette appeared in the corner of Caiden’s eye: a silhouette with pointed ears, trailing mischief and curiosity in need of satisfying as she padded quietly toward the lights still hovering tirelessly in the fog.

Without a word, Caiden got up.

The instant he moved, Ceri stopped and whirled to face him, looking like a startled fox that had been caught stalking.

“Does no one bloody sleep?” she muttered.

“Apparently not,” he said, glancing at the lights again. “Are you even really from around here?”

She folded her arms and eyed his sleeping conditions instead of looking at him: the cheap bedroll too short for his legs and too narrow for his shoulders, a skin of drink, a canteen of something stronger, and another satchel for food – all empty, except one more, currently opened canteen of ale.

“Are you actually pregnant?” she said. “I heard you’re not supposed to drink when you’re eating for two.”

Caiden met that with a scowl. “Answer the question.”

“I’m from the Shadowvale, where the light doesn’t touch, and the elves grow short and rude. No, I’m not from a swamp at the arse end of everywhere.”

“So you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ve been here before.” She shrugged absently, eying his bedroll again. “Once. I made it to the edge of that beastman city too, so I’ve seen it. Never seen those funny lights, though.”

He threw a wondering look at what was so interesting about his would-be sleeping arrangements – as if he did much any sleeping there, which he hadn’t so far. But he only saw the same thing as before.

So he prompted, “What’re you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just a lonely fellow and a whole lot of drink, with not so much as a book for company.”

He huffed at her.

“Got a lot on your mind, do you?”

He grunted.

“Grunt, huff.”

“More than you do.”

“My mind’s full of things, Voros.”

“None of them make much sense.”

“Caught on to that, I see. And what about yours does? What you seeing – ghosts? Why do you wear all those lines on your face?”

She asked too many questions. Caiden grunted again, giving her a look and then jabbing his chin in the direction of the camp as a clear signal to go. Now.

That didn’t even deter her. She went right over to his things and hefted up his crossbow.

That crossbow had become quite a contraption at this point, and one he often felt like only he really knew how to work. He’d heavily customized it until it was something a lot of weaponsmiths asked him about. Finger trigger, since hand triggers were inefficient – too bulky, didn’t let you get a good grip. He had put a good stock on it, one he could couch against his shoulder and steady his aim…

“Do you carry any small weapons?” Ceri asked, staring at it. “This thing is heavier than me.”

Caiden shrugged one shoulder and drew his machete. Ceri blinked, frowned at it, and measured it with her forearm. It was a little longer. The knife, not her arm.

“That’s a no,” she declared, before holding up the crossbow again. “Never seen one like this.”

Caiden rumbled and sheathed the knife. “That’s because I made it.”

Genuine surprise came off her then, her eyebrows riding up her face. “Okay. What’s this?” she asked, touching a finger to the flat of the blade attached to the very front of the barrel.

“Bayonet.” He stepped a little closer, taking the crossbow and turning it over in his hands… then frowned and set it aside, throwing her another look.

“Get back to the camp,” he said, taking a seat on his bedroll.

Ceri headed in the direction of camp – stopped, turned – and then sat down right beside him, dragging the crossbow over again.

“What about that?” she asked, tapping the wooden cartridge attached to its base, on the front underside of the barrel.

Caiden huffed. “Magazine.”

“Strange word.”

He grunted. “That’s what they call the place where siege ammunition is stored. It works. Are you done yet?”

Ceri was staring at him.

“What?” he prompted, halfway in a growl.

“I found something you seem to care about,” she said, a smile playing on her lips and amusement whispering fingers along the back of his neck.

Caiden shivered half a second and shot her an aggressive huff.

“We’re supposed to be getting some rest,” he said, “not sneaking off to look at swamp lights.”

“Or talking about crossbows. Not that you’re… talking a lot. ‘Cept with your eyes and that awful scowl.” She picked up an empty canteen, gave it a shake. “These talk too. So why you drinking so much?”

Caiden grunted.

“Lose a girlfriend? Lose a war, maybe? You’re a soldier, got it written all over you, even with your face all scratchy. Much too neat and proper and… grr, to be anything else.”

He took a deep breath, deep enough to lift his shoulders, and he wondered if she would go away on her own.

“Good at barking too. So is the drink ‘cause you were a soldier, or because now you’re a… whatever you—”

“Are you always this annoying?” he said as he stood.

Ceri barely paused at that, but she stood with him. “I can be much worse.”

“I can believe it. Now get back to the camp.”

“But you got something all funny about you and you won’t tell me what it is. Seeing things? Hearing things?”

Maybe it was because she was an elf. Caiden didn’t know and, at this point, didn’t want to ask.

When he turned to face her again, though, she was already gone. All she left behind was an annoying touch of curiosity, amusement, and something almost like pity. He didn’t know why, but all of it prodded the emptiness he had felt before and made it come back with a vengeance. Even when he finally resigned himself to lay down and try to get some rest, it was still there, gnawing at his stomach.

Maybe he should be asking someone about this. Maybe elves. Maybe… No. All of it would only be trouble. He didn’t know what this was, and if anyone else did, it wasn’t like a bunch of half-mad elves would want to help him, anyway. Chances were, they would crack jokes about it and move on.

All he did know was he had a hell of a headache.

Sunrise didn’t do much to burn away the fog, and sleep didn’t do much to burn away the nightmares that chewed at his mind. Feelings and sensations only got worse; the images of undead clawing for his throat became clearer, more real. Smelling their rotting flesh again, knowing they’d once been human.

The plagues, the people he couldn’t save, the lashes he had gotten for saving any at all. And, more than once, the unwelcome memory that wasn’t his own. A dream, maybe. He’d never known. That night, he saw Ceri. A tower, that bird of hers circling overhead. Eloh far below her.

She looked up, seeming to see him. Then it faded, threw him back into the visions he was used to and never wanted to see again.

Much like those memories, mist seemed eternal in this place: constantly hanging there, unchanging. Clouding everything, leaving them almost blind, and making the air a chore to breathe.

But with the dawn came the realization that the blue lights hovering around the camp had finally left, managing to not lure someone off with them. When Caiden took a look beyond one of the thick willows and back into their proper camp, everyone was still alive and lying in their bedrolls, asleep.

No one else was awake yet. That gave him some time to mull things over, pace around the outskirts of the camp and scope out the area. He walked right into some tracks – boot tracks. Human. Too big to be Gwen’s, far too big to be Ceri’s, and about the right size to be Tom’s.

So, he had left camp last night too. Maybe scouting, the same way Caiden was, or maybe he had gone after those lights.

Caiden turned his pacing toward where he had been resting, planning to gather his things. But the smell of food prompted him to follow his stomach back to the camp itself instead.

“Snores like a dragon,” Ceri was saying when he approached. “Heard him all night.”

“I’ve never actually heard him snore,” Gwen commented, with apparent suspicion, “and he didn’t wake me up. He was so far from camp, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”

“Dragons don’t snore,” Tom put in promptly.

“How do you know?”

“They just don’t. They’re too regal for that.”

Caiden pushed aside some of the willow branches again and saw the three of them sitting around the blazing fire, with a sturdy iron pot over it that bubbled with something vaguely greenish. It didn’t look half as appetizing as it smelled. Ceri leaned over it, stirring with a wooden ladle.

“I’m blaming you that I dreamed about a dragon last night, Drake,” she said, throwing him a look.

Tom’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“Big green one.”

Gwen was the first to turn at Caiden’s approach, offering him a smile. “Good morning, Caiden.”

Caiden grunted. And, shortly after, added, “Morning.”

Everyone was so cheery he almost could’ve believed they were all on vacation.

“Okay, Ceri,” Tom prompted, giving her a nudge with his elbow. “Caiden’s here now, so you wanna tell us what you were holding out on earlier?”

“Sure.” Ceri paused stirring the ladle in the thick stew. “The beastman city you want to get to is still a ways off, but they got outposts littered around the swamp from here to there.” She snatched up a little bowl from her things and filled it with whatever was in that pot, sticking a wooden spoon in it afterward. “I know where a few are. I’d bet Rat’s tailfeathers they got the prisoners there.”

In a tree just over her head, the kestrel squeaked oddly and cocked its head down at her. Caiden almost snorted some quiet amusement at the alarm the bird let off. But that also proved it could actually understand her, keeping his amusement at bay.

Made him wonder a few things too, about elves and their magic – and what they might know about whatever was wrong with him.

“So you don’t think they’ve reached the city yet,” Tom said, quirking a brow.

“With prisoners? No. But once they do, that’s it.”

Gwen frowned. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“It’s a city. Like your cities,” Ceri replied as she stood. “Big and walled and crowded. Even if Caiden Stompos—”

Caiden grunt-huffed.

“—and the rest of you manage to get in, you can’t be herding a lot of spooked sheep on your way out.”

Ceri shoved the bowl into Caiden’s nearest hand and then went to sit back down, around the same time Caiden started eating it. It wasn’t bad, actually. Not that he knew what it was made of any more now than he had before, but it tasted like meat with a tinge of a few spices.

Gwen made a face. “Ew, Caiden. You didn’t even ask what it is.”

Caiden halfway shrugged with one shoulder.

“See?” Ceri said, shoving a bowl into Tom’s hands next. “He likes it. And shame on you, Duck. If I’d been trying to poison everyone here, Voros would’ve taken the fall for you. Told you he’s a knight.”

“He’s not a knight,” Tom muttered.

“Besides,” Gwen added with a coy smile, “it’s hard to poison a Venator.”

Caiden silently got a stew refill, getting a glance from Ceri, before she finally seemed to hear what Gwen had said and blurted, “A Ven-what?”

“Venator,” Caiden said. “Monster hunter.”

“Oh, right. What d’you do, drink poison?”

Gwen shrugged. “Practically. We have to inure our bodies to potions and the things they’re made from. Sometimes it does involve certain venoms, or at least monster parts that would make you very sick if they didn’t just kill you outright.”

Tom tilted his head. “That’s why people say the Venatori eat monsters, huh?”

“We don’t eat them, that’s crazy. We just… sometimes use… elements – reagents – from their bodies, and…”

Tom and Ceri stared for a moment. Caiden knew where this was going.

Then they said at once: “Malaka, that’s – that’s gross.” “And Men say elves are weird.”

“Gwen,” Caiden said, getting her attention at once. Everyone else’s too. She gave him a look. The ridiculing hurt her, he could tell.

All he said was, a bit gentler than usual, “Remember what I said about telling too much?”

She paused, then snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. You usually are right…”

“You said something once?” Tom remarked coyly.

“Yeah, I did.” Caiden got to his feet. “And I’ll say something else: let’s move.”

At least, for the most part, they followed his orders. But as Caiden let Tom and Ceri take the lead, he eyed them sidling up alongside each other and chatting. The waves of powerful emotion from both of them made him pinch his brow together.

Gwen trailed along just off to his side. He glanced back at her, nodding for her to come closer. She did so only too eagerly, looking up at him.

“What’s up, Caiden?”

He grunted quietly. Kept his voice low as he asked, “What do you think of those two?”

She shot Tom and Ceri a quick look, frowned a touch, then shrugged. “They… seem to have their hearts in the right place, for the most part? I really couldn’t say. Tom is a good man; I know that much.”

He huffed, wondering how much of that was her actually reading him and how much was her giving in to his constant flattery, since it seemed to work every single time.

“Ceri? I’m not sure, but she’s led us right so far, even through the Shadowvale… Forest of Shadows… whatever they call it. I think she really does want to help.”

Caiden scowled, cut his eyes off to the side. The swamp and its clinging mist didn’t offer any answers.

“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Don’t tell her, something in him said. Insisted. Those memories of the last time he’d almost admitted the things he felt, saw, heard – they came shouldering back into the forefront of his mind, presenting him with every manner of unpleasant ending to what he sorely wanted to do right now.

No. He shouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it.

Gwen’s gaze held steady, watching him. He saw genuine concern there. Worry. Care. Loyalty. Things he’d felt before from soldiers he had worked with, commanded. The men who sneaked him food and water when he’d been left tied to a post in the town square as an example, even after he had been relieved of his command. They had become more than just soldiers and their commander. Something more like brothers.

Him as the big brother, sure, but a brother all the same. Not like he wasn’t used to being the big brother, either. Even if he had often felt like he was terrible at it – and still did.

Tom’s persistent fire, the eternal burning of his soul, came back to remind him why he had dared to bring this up to Gwen in the first place. It felt wrong.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “There’s something… off, about Tom. And I’m not sure I like it.”

That didn’t do much to convince her. Gwen’s frown etched a little deeper, twisted her mouth around worse, but she nodded.

And they kept following the others in silence until they got there.

Ceri put a finger to her lips for them to be quiet, then motioned them into a patch of monstrously tall reeds, thick and scraping coarse against what skin on Caiden’s arms was left bare by the short sleeves of his jerkin.

From the fog far beyond them rose a wall made of interwoven leaves and branches: more a deterrent than any kind of actual fortification. Something to keep animals out. But in this swamp, the animals were monsters, usually twice or more the size of men. Caiden scowled. There was no way any of them were jumping that fence.

“I can climb that,” Tom scoffed once they reached the gate and crouched before it. “Give me a break.”

Caiden said, “They’d shoot you down before you had the chance.”

“That’s only if they could hit me.”

“Maybe there’s a postern gate somewhere?” Gwen said, leaning up a little higher.

“You think these guys know about postern gates?”

They kept talking. Caiden barely listened, busily scanning the area. He didn’t like it, kneeling out here so close to the encampment’s walls and discussing tactics none too quietly.

“I didn’t bring any rope,” Gwen halfway muttered in frustration.

“What you gonna do with rope?” Ceri asked.

“Throw a grappling hook over the wall?”

“Same difference as climbing it. You get shot down. We need to sneak in, but there are guards around the gates. Just a little distraction, and…”

“Distraction, huh?” Tom put in, sounding all too confident.

Caiden didn’t get the chance to contribute.

Something crept up his neck, slowly, quietly – voices, emotions. None of them familiar and certainly none of them as haltingly hot and confusing as Tom, but still concerning.

Tom was the first one to pause, other than Caiden. Furrowing his brow, he finally went quiet—

Then the point of a spear touched the back of Caiden’s neck.

He went still, crouched there in the dirt and muck, the other three lined up in a fairly neat row in front of him. Slowly, Caiden turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of a bright orange, reptilian eye staring back at him from a dark, scaled hide painted in oils and mud.

The lizardman peeled back its lips to show a flash of sharp, yellowed teeth, its long, clawed fingers twisting tighter around the jaggedly-cut shaft of the spear it held.

All at once, the water off to their left shifted. What looked like a log that’d lingered a few feet away from them slowly rose to two legs, arms thick as tree trunks hanging lazily by either side of a humanoid chest broader than the counter at that tavern back in Eloh. Every inch of the thing was covered in scales, dark and muddy green.

Topping it all was the head of a crocodile, made mostly of jagged teeth with a pair of bright red eyes set so deep in its head they threatened to glow in the shadows of its monstrous brow.

The crocodilian held no weapons, unlike the lizardfolk that seemed to appear out of nowhere around them. Crept up – probably on all fours, bellies flat to the ground, judging from the mud on them – when no one was paying attention, if Caiden had to guess. Because, after all, they’d all been stupid enough to stop paying attention for longer than ten seconds.

Caiden growled.

“Ah…” Tom started, slowly lifting his empty hands. “Shit.”

The crocodilian stepped forward, dragging a massive tail behind it. A single footfall displaced enough water to splash a good deal up in Ceri’s face, making her splutter and curse, when it stopped before them.

“Weapons,” the crocodilian demanded, a disturbingly human voice clawing up its throat, distorted by a deep, thunderous, and continual growl that slowed and emphasized each syllable it managed to pronounce. “Now.”

Tom’s fingers twitched, the heat in him flaring. Caiden grunted sharply, getting his attention long enough for him to glance at him over his shoulder.

As subtly as he could manage, Caiden shook his head.

You’ll get us all killed, he wanted to say, but Tom seemed to get the message.

Reluctantly, Caiden reached to his shoulders, undoing the harness there and taking with it a good deal of the gear he wore on his back and sides. A lizardman stepped forward to snatch it from him. With its other hand, it reached for his leg, for the dagger he wore there.

Too bad it was his silver one.

The lizardman recoiled immediately when its fingers brushed the round pommel, and with a deafening snarl, the beastman jabbed the head of a spear into Caiden’s jerkin almost hard enough to pierce it. The crocodilian bellowed out a laugh and barked something in a coarse, halting tongue that, not too surprisingly, sounded more like the grunting of beasts. But they spoke fluently, all starting to argue and snarl until the crocodilian snapped one word that shut them all up.

“You,” it said then, fixing its beady red eyes on Caiden, “throw it. To the water.”

Caiden nodded, reaching for the dagger and drawing it, throwing it into the water near the crocodilian’s feet.

Once they were all stripped of their weapons, the beastfolk carrying many of them, the crocodilian directed them to follow with a sharp jerk of his head – and the points of spears at their backs – as it turned and led the way right into the gates of the encampment.

Gates thick and made of sturdy wood, crafted like portcullises – operated with ropes and pulleys, built solid and heavy. The beastfolk seemed to have no trouble at all lifting them, holding them open by the levers until the patrol and their newest prisoners had passed underneath.

The camp itself was simple: a few huts, mostly made of reeds, on thickly packed earth. Seemed to be just over a dozen beastfolk around… Not many in human numbers. But if Caiden had to guess, each of these beastmen amounted to three or more human soldiers at least. Maybe five or six. No way they could survive numbers like this head-on, monster hunters or not.

Their captors poked and prodded them into the sturdiest building in the camp. One by one, they ducked past the heavy skin hanging in the doorway.

Lazy torchlight lit several cells along the wall, their iron bars some of the only signs of metal in the entire camp that weren’t the weapons or armor of the beastfolk. Maybe the purpose of the camp itself was for prisoner transport, judging by just how many cells there were, many of them already full of prisoners: the farmers the beastmen had carried away from Eloh.

So many cages were filled that Caiden and Tom ended up shoved, together, into one of their own. Tom froze full-stop in the iron bar doorway until he was encouraged by a sharp crack of a spear butt against the back of his skull. He cringed and yelled, dazed long enough to be pushed in, with Caiden shoved along after him. Though when the lizardman behind him pushed, Caiden raised his nearest arm and sent the beastman back a step, lifting his spear with the point forward this time.

Ceri ended up in her own cell far to one end of the room, the beastfolk around her growling in their language and gesturing more than once at her pointed ears. All Ceri did in return was stick her tongue out at one lizardman through the bars, a gesture the beast-man returned with his own forked one before the pair of monstrous guards chuckled their way out of the primitive prison.

Gwen, meanwhile, was put in a cell with two farmers, and she promptly went over to check them for wounds and ask if they were alright.

But Caiden could barely pay attention to anything for the sheer, maddening, unshackled fear gnawing at his back, sinking teeth into the nape of his neck and injecting venom that shot ice up and down his spine.

Turning, he saw Tom there, eyes darting everywhere in the cell, everything on him twitching. Fingers, shoulders, the tendons in his neck that pulled hard at the same moment his lips pulled over his teeth at one corner of his mouth, showing a flash of teeth and almost resembling that beastman’s curled snarl.

“Tom,” Caiden said.

Tom’s head snapped in his direction instantly, his eyes on fire. Caiden steadily met that gaze, scowling.

“Stay calm.”

“Oh yeah – sure, calm,” Tom blurted, voice wavering, as he approached the iron bars and gripped them until his knuckles turned white. “While we’re – y’know, stuck in this tiny freaking cage—”

“Psst!” Gwen hissed from two cells away. “Caiden – did they take all your gear?”

He grunted an affirmative.

She snapped her fingers. Ceri, on the other hand, looked happy as a lark, fiddling with her mess of long, dark hair. Then she pulled something – two somethings – from somewhere inside a thick, messy braid. She stuck her tongue between her teeth as she leaned over toward the locked cell door, fishing her hands through.

Without a word, she inserted a pair of what he assumed were lockpicks into the door, starting to work on it.

Caiden huffed.

“Stop growling,” she snapped at him. “I need to hear.”

Tom’s fear got worse, just as Caiden thought it couldn’t. And, abruptly, he kicked the iron bar door.

It rattled deafeningly and didn’t budge, sending vibrations back up Tom’s leg and making him snarl and swear. He bunched the muscles of his shoulders, eyes wild, and glared at the door like breaking it was his last chance at life.

And he looked ready to try again.

Everyone was staring now. The other prisoners who had been talking to Gwen all fell silent. Ceri paused her lockpicking, head appearing from behind the heavy lock on the door as she stared.

“Tom…” Caiden started. Tom didn’t hear him.

He let out a maddened roar and prepared to fling himself at the bars—

“Get a hold of yourself!” Caiden snapped, lunging forward and grabbing Tom’s arm in an iron grip.

That set him off like a sprung trap. Tom swung for Caiden’s face, his fist connecting hard enough to knock Caiden’s head to one side, sending pain shooting down his jaw and making his ears ring.

Then everyone started asking questions. The prisoners, Gwen – and Ceri gave a low whistle.

“Tom, what the—”

Wrenching his arm free, Tom rounded on him, swinging wildly again – Caiden ducked and got an arm up and around Tom’s neck, squeezing it hard enough in the crook of his elbow to give Tom something else to think about.

It worked, at least briefly. Tom struggled and pulled at his arm, clawing, beating on him, kicking and lashing out at the air around him like it was just another living thing he wanted to kill.

Caiden kept his hold firm, even wrestled him off his feet more than once, pulling him along by the arm around his throat. If he had to choke him out, fine. He would just carry him back through the swamp.

He almost thought he might end up doing that until Tom’s elbow rammed hard enough into Caiden’s stomach that he grunted hoarsely and staggered. Tom clawed harder at his arm and up at his face until he let go.

When Tom faced him again, he at least seemed to be thinking. He stopped and stared for a second, a growl building in his chest. Caiden straightened up, met the stare, and wiped blood from his mouth on the back of his hand.

Whatever was going through Tom’s head, Caiden couldn’t fully understand it. Primal, raw fear and insatiable fury, so powerful it was confusing – not to mention a bloodlust that kept Caiden on his toes, holding his hands open and ready before him. He’d seen people lose it before, but never like this.

Then the door to Ceri’s cell swung open with a rust-eaten creak.

If nothing else, that made Tom look a bit saner again – if he had ever been sane to begin with, which Caiden wondered now more than ever. When Tom looked in Ceri’s direction, Caiden felt it safe enough to follow his gaze.

“Eeeasy, Drake,” Ceri crooned as she padded over to their cell door, like she was trying to calm a horse. Then, just as she inserted the lockpicks, she added, “I know you’re all frustrated that Voros is taller, but you shouldn’t go punching him over it.”

Tom’s fingers twitched.

Caiden grunted. “Not helping.” He threw a look to the single animal pelt hanging in the doorway to the next room – not exactly something that would muffle all the sound they just made. “Ceri, they’re probably—”

A lizardman with mottled black and yellow-orange scales burst into the room, a spear in his hand.

Not the tallest or the broadest beastman Caiden had ever seen, but not short, either, standing maybe about a head taller than the average man. Runt of the litter, maybe, since beastfolk seemed to range from tall to gargantuan.

The lizardman’s green eyes immediately fell on Ceri, who froze and stared at him, fingers still busy with the lockpicks. Bellowing something in his strange language, the lizardman rushed forward, swinging the butt of his spear for Ceri – or at least where Ceri had been, because she was already gone.

Ducking to one side, Ceri’s foot shot out, trying to knock the beastman off his feet. The sweeping blow to his ankle didn’t even budge him. But as his spear dove for her point-first, she snapped her foot up between the beastman’s legs instead.

He doubled over with a choked yowl, dropping his spear and giving Ceri time to spring to her feet and simply shove the lizardman on the shoulder, sending him staggering in the direction of Caiden’s cage.

Before he had time to move, Caiden was there, fitting his arms through the bars – not without some trouble – just far enough to get the beastman around the neck and pull him hard against the cage. Sputtering, the lizardman flailed his arms and legs, long tail waving around erratically as Caiden choked him out.

Letting the limp lizardman sink to the floor, Caiden looked up again to see Ceri standing there grinning at him.

“I didn’t even have to say ‘sic him,’” she remarked, just before setting to work on the lock again.

Once she got the door open, Caiden stepped out and pointedly removed a set of keys from the belt of the beastman he had knocked out.

Ceri only shrugged. “Picking it is more fun.”

He huffed. “It also takes longer.”

Freeing the others from the cages, he got a quick look from Gwen. Concern, confusion – probably thinking back to what he’d said earlier. He grunted and nodded toward the door, prompting her to nod and motion some of the villagers to follow.

Tom was already by the doorway leading out, still looking twitchy.

“Ah… Guys?” he said, though when he turned, he looked only at Caiden. “We might wanna hurry.”

Caiden scowled. “What is it?”

“There’s a lot of chatter out there. Movement too.”

Gwen quirked a brow. “You can hear it from in here? I don’t hear a thing.”

Even Ceri, with her elf ears, frowned and went over to the door with Tom, having to listen close. After that, she said, “He’s right, though.”

“Alright – everyone stay close to her,” Caiden ordered the nervous flock of villagers, all huddling together like the frightened sheep Ceri had called them before, as he gestured them toward Gwen.

“Why not you?” Ceri asked promptly as Caiden joined her, Tom, and all their endless waves of excited energy at the door. All the while, Tom’s angry, barely-restrained, hungry energy kept howling for Caiden to go wild with it, like some primal urge to give in to a buried animal side.

“Because I’m finding our weapons,” Caiden answered, looking past the skin hanging in the doorway.

The beastfolk in the camp were certainly growing suspicious. If Caiden had to guess, they had sent out another patrol to look for more Imperials, from the relative emptiness of the camp as compared to before. And the beastmen that were left kept throwing each other looks and talking. A set of four kept their eyes on the prison, and Caiden promptly let the rough pelt go and leaned away from the doorway.

“Maybe someone else should go,” Gwen said hesitantly.

Ceri, on the other hand, snickered and said, “You? The giant, the stealthiest of us all? I can get the weapons. I just need those lizards to glance away one little moment.”

Caiden said flatly, “I don’t trust you with it.”

“I’m hurt. Then what would you do, knock out the back wall and go get them?”

He furrowed his brow. Frowned. Then huffed, turned, and walked toward the back of the building.

“Wait. Voros—”

“Caiden…” Gwen started.

Tom only stood up even straighter than he was already, seeming to prick his ears up.

Caiden kept walking. Picked up the pace, longer strides – and as he reached the wall, lifted a boot and kicked it with all his might, like he intended to walk right through it.

The wall gave a brittle snap. A portion of the wall came loose, flying apart, debris scattering across the ground outside. It wasn’t the largest hole, by any means. No way he would fit through it. So he turned and looked at Ceri again.

“Go get them,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

Ceri’s mouth hung open as she stared, blinking. She lifted a finger, curled that hand into a fist shortly after, shrugged, and darted toward him to duck right out of the opening he had made.

Caiden joined Tom at the doorway again, leaning and looking past the skin to see the beastfolk still in the camp springing into action. They gestured, readied weapons, and started gathering around the prison entrance.

As they watched, Tom said, “Hey, Caid?”

He grunted. Still trying to ignore the impatient emptiness inside him that was smoldering angrily over – something. He didn’t know.

“Thanks for not snapping my neck, buddy.”

Caiden paused, gave him a look. Tom put on a weak, sheepish little smile. He meant it; there was genuine regret there, even embarrassment, and no small amount of respect. Actual respect, tinged with loyalty – like a soldier gave their commander.

It was a feeling he didn’t realize he had missed so badly.

In answer, Caiden only nodded.

Something told him Ceri was close. And at that same moment, he turned to see her standing there behind him, one arm full of weapons.

Outside, the beastfolk voices pitched up into yowls and shouts, and Caiden smelled smoke. He lifted a brow down at Ceri as she handed Gwen her bow and arrows.

“They shouldn’t leave fires unattended,” Ceri commented.

Caiden snorted, but he returned his attention to outside again. Wasn’t much to see from here or from this angle, but beastfolk streaked by, some carrying buckets of water, while others gestured wildly at the prison, snapping and snarling.

“There’s something else going on out there,” she added. “Somebody’s attacking the camp from the south – other beastfolk, looked like. Knew we were getting out much too easily.”

He grunted. That would make sense, otherwise they would have immediately stormed in here and easily overtaken them. Right now, they had more concerns than a few weak humans trapped in one of their buildings – whether they were in cages or not.

That meant they had one chance before they got caught in the middle of some beastfolk war. When Caiden turned to reclaim his crossbow, though, he saw Tom reaching for it first, snatching it up along with a magazine of bolts and tilting his head at it.

“What in Hades kind of crossbow is this?”

Caiden answered, “It’s mine.”

Tom managed to get it loaded, aimed it, then held it almost straight down in a resting position that let the bolt slide right out from the sticking place, skittering down the barrel and landing on the floor.

Gwen snickered, Ceri joined her, and Tom shot the crossbow a scowl like it had done him an incredible wrong. Caiden snorted and took it from him, picking up the bolt and reloading it.

“Problems shooting?” Ceri said, elbowing Gwen, who snickered into her hand.

Tom pulled the pair of belts carrying his sheathed swords onto his back and shot both of them a decidedly unamused glare.

Everyone was armed now, weapons in hand. Gwen and Ceri with bows, Caiden with his crossbow, and Tom drew his twin blades, flourishing them so suddenly he nearly took Gwen’s head off, and she ducked back with wide eyes. That earned her a quick look and an apologetic, lopsided grin.

“Tom,” Caiden said, “we’re leading. Gwen, Ceri, you take up the rear. Everyone else, stay between us. Don’t stop for anything, and don’t do anything stupid. We won’t get to try this again. Let’s move.”

Raising his crossbow, Caiden shouldered past the skin hanging in the doorway. Tom hung close by his side, his furious energy mingled with focus and a taste for blood. With it so close, Caiden almost thought it would start chomping at him just for something to take itself out on. From the way Tom had been earlier, he didn’t think that was much of a stretch.

The beastfolk saw them immediately. The way to the gates was clear – but that single, heavy gate of solid wood now stood firmly shut. That would be a problem.

At least a dozen bestial eyes set upon them when they started moving. Half a moment’s pause was all it took for a lizardman to let out a yowl, shouting some kind of orders – and they started descending. Running fast on their animal legs, faster than a human could ever hope to achieve, carrying spears and nets. They wanted them alive. That, at least, put the monsters at a severe disadvantage.

Disadvantage or not, they would be on them in seconds.

“Go!” Caiden shouted, shooting a bolt into the leg of one beastman and staggering him. Behind him, he heard the almost harmonic thwapping of Gwen and Ceri’s bowstrings, sending more arrows toward the charging line of lizardmen.

“Keep loosing!” Gwen called. Thanks to his magazine, Caiden didn’t have to reload before he turned for another, hitting it in the knee, and quickly aimed for a third. One thing the Venatori told them before they went on any hunts: if a hunt went foul and the monster was bearing down on you, try to disable it. Aim for the legs.

Otherwise you would only piss it off and it would still keep coming.

At his back, Tom’s rage flared hotter as the three of them efficiently took down the lizardfolk who got too close, but this line of defense wouldn’t last much longer.

Turning, Caiden made for the gate winch. With one hand, he took hold and began to pull. The other three had their hands full trying to keep the beastfolk back from the herd of frightened peasants in the middle of them – and Caiden had to sling his crossbow over his shoulder, using both hands to hoist the heavy gate up high enough that they would all fit through.

“Go, go!” he yelled as he hooked the rope off to hold the gate up. “Gwen, take point!”

Nodding, she whirled and ran right out the gate, bow once again at the ready. Around him, the fires of frustration and rage burned ever higher – and, beyond the walls, he felt something else. More beastfolk.

The peasants spilled through the gate, and Caiden could only hope the other beastfolk forces weren’t on the other side waiting to snap them up. He watched as the last peasant disappeared out of sight, into the thick swamp fog…

Somewhere in the chaos, Tom roared. Caiden turned to face it – only to see Ceri streak by next. She bolted like a deer without a single command, disappearing under the gatehouse and into the mist, never looking back.

Then he saw Tom. He was there, right in the thick of it. Blood painted half his face and ran in hot strands down his left-hand blade. Around him lay two lizardfolk, one with his throat cut and still flailing in his death throes, another already dead from the same treatment.

For a moment, Caiden froze. It wasn’t often that he froze, but he did now. Tom looked like an animal himself, the way he fought. Instinctual precision guided his every strike, knocking aside the spear of another lizardman who ran forward and delivering a sharp slice to the side of his neck that sent it reeling. One almost clipped him in the side with another spear, but he managed to dodge and whirled, knocking the beastman aside with blows from both swords.

One man killing even a single beastman bordered on unbelievable, at least if they weren’t a Venator. This was something beyond that, and Caiden wasn’t sure what to make of it.

But there were too many. Even with fury driving him, Tom didn’t stand a chance alone. Caiden paused his movement toward the gatehouse and raised his crossbow – only for the bow to snap forward, the magazine clicking empty.

“Shit—”

That same moment, a much larger monster appeared.

The crocodilian from before rounded a building, clawed hands open and bared, eyes set on them. He charged forward like a bull, almost barreling through his own men as he closed in faster than the other beastfolk.

Caiden stopped just beyond the gate, throwing his empty crossbow over one shoulder. Didn’t Tom see he couldn’t stay here? Did he plan to die holding them off?

“Tom!” Caiden shouted over the din.

Tom stood there, like he’d frozen at seeing the crocodilian bearing down on them. From the rage lighting the entire camp on fire and overwhelming every other emotion, every sensation and every whisper, Caiden knew that wasn’t the case.

He knew Tom was about to do something stupid. But if he planned anything, he had to do it now or get his spine broken by the open and rapidly approaching jaws of that beastman.

“Tom, move!”

That snapped him into action, except it was the wrong one.

Blade flashing, Tom’s nearest sword lashed out and sliced cleanly through the rope holding the gate up. With a snap and a creak, the whole thing came crashing straight down, ready to trap Tom inside the camp – and keep the beastfolk from chasing them through the swamp.

And Tom would get himself killed.

Caiden was almost too late. He ran, skidded, and stopped once he felt the gate crash down.

It nearly blew his knees out from under him, shocked pain through every inch of his body and made him wheeze out a hard grunt, but he remained standing. He caught the barrier as it fell and lifted it just enough to shoulder it, bracing his legs to keep the gate up.

He still heard it. Tom roared like a beast, louder even than the crocodilian he fought. The sing of a sword, the sound of boots hitting the ground. Boots, not beastman feet. Caiden twisted his neck around, trying to look.

“Tom, get the hell out of there!” he roared, swearing again as he felt his boots sink into the ground under the weight on his shoulders.

Caiden could hardly tell what was going on. He saw Tom leap to one side, land a blow on the crocodile-man’s hide. Saw him cut one of its hamstrings, sending the massive monster toppling – then Tom lunged for its throat. He moved like an animal – even more than before now, almost more than the beastfolk themselves.

After that, Caiden briefly pinched his eyes shut and focused all his strength. He couldn’t hold this gate up for much longer.

Movement came at him from outside the camp. If it was more beastfolk, he was dead.

Gwen appeared, bow in hand. Dropping, she slid right under the gate, loosing an arrow – he caught a glint of silver as she passed right by his feet – and immediately nocking another.

A horrible, semi-human cry split the air. In the corner of his vision, Tom appeared, painted in spatters of blood – some of it his own, from the grimace he wore and the pain he carried with him. At the same moment, he dived under the gate while Gwen started scrambling out.

“The beastfolk attackers are on the south side, but they won’t stay there for long!” she called as she left. “We have to go now!”

The beastmen in the camp rushed for Caiden, growling and snarling, maybe swearing. A wall of frustration, humiliation, and fury crested to his left, ready to crash down on him harder than the gate that had threatened to snap him in half.

Steeling himself, Caiden hefted that gate just high enough to lift it from his shoulders— just high enough to leap out from under it and throw himself to the other side.

It worked. From some bout of dumb luck, they had gotten out. Caiden landed hard on one shoulder at the same moment the gate slammed into the earth, shaking it underneath him and – for now, at least – stopping those beastfolk on the other side.

A hand grabbed him, helped pull him up without asking. Tom clapped him on the shoulder, wearing a wild, crooked grin, even while hot blood streaked down a set of three gashes carved into his right arm. On his other side, Caiden could almost sense Gwen’s blood rushing from terror as she pretended to be calm and glance him over for wounds again.

Then they started running, all three of them together.

“The villagers are up ahead, hiding in the fog – but are you alright? You caught a gate, Caiden,” Gwen said, and Caiden huffed between heavy footfalls, his shaking legs protesting every single movement.

“I’m fine,” he said, then he shot Tom a quick glare. “You crazy son of a bitch.”

Tom just grinned wider. “Guilty as charged. Thanks for the save.”

Caiden grunted.

As they ran back into the would-be safety of the swamp, behind them, the sound of battle raged on. Caiden could scarcely imagine the horror and carnage of witnessing a clash between opposing beastfolk forces. Right now, all they could do was keep moving and hope to get enough distance that they could slow down again.

Slow down and talk. He had a few choice words to share with Tom.

When they finally found opportunity to slow their pace to something more reasonable, Caiden made a beeline for Tom. But confronting him about the stunt he had pulled clearly didn’t do any good, from the relentless, confusing mixture of self-assured and scolded frustration that came off him the entire time.

“It wasn’t a damn compliment,” Caiden snapped, nerves pulled taut.

Tom threw his hands in the air. “I just saved all our asses. Are you really mad about that?”

“We would’ve made it out with or without you pulling a stunt. When those other beastmen attacked, they gave us that chance. You don’t have to throw your life away just because you think it’s a good idea.”

The frown Tom wore now bordered on a pout.

“Or because you think it’ll get you knighted,” Caiden added.

That lit a fire in him. Instantly, Tom’s eyes locked onto him again.

“You really think that’s what this was about?” Tom said, clearly fighting to keep his voice under control. “Getting knighted? Who the hell is out here witnessing this, huh? Sure, I want to get knighted, yeah – who wouldn’t?” His voice rose. So did the fire in him, burning higher, threatening to singe anyone who felt it.

Someone like Caiden, but he stood there and folded his arms.

“But we didn’t have it covered, Caid,” Tom almost shouted. “They would’ve come after us, even if it was just a few troops. They would’ve come after us, and they would’ve tracked us through the whole swamp, and it would’ve been a lot harder to keep them from killing villagers if I hadn’t slowed them down – and that’s the reason we’re out here, is to save these people!”

Fear. Caiden could feel it. All around them, from the villagers still licking their mental wounds over everything they had witnessed and been through, from Gwen, and even from Ceri. She only watched, occasionally exchanging looks with her kestrel that conveniently reappeared now that the danger was gone – much like its owner.

Reluctantly, Gwen took a step forward, showing her palms as placatingly as she could. “I… think he’s right, Caiden,” she said slowly, cautiously.

Caiden drummed his fingers on one folded arm and rumbled a thoughtful sound.

“Maybe,” he said. “But when you fight alongside someone, you fight together. When you become a knight, I hope you remember that.”

Something made Tom pause then and actually look convinced. The fire died down, if only a little, and… he nodded.

“Good,” Caiden said, turning and jabbing his chin toward the distant Forest of Shadows. “Let’s move.”

With that, they resumed walking. The villagers stayed in the middle, with their protectors taking up each corner of the formation. Caiden knew Tom was right about one thing: the reason those beastfolk weren’t tracking them was because they had been under attack – but also because Tom had essentially shut their own gate in their faces.

Admitting that aloud, though, would only condone him flying off the handle. So he kept his mouth shut.

Taking point, Caiden led the way back into the Shadowvale. Ceri’s kestrel descended once again to lead her over to the trees she had marked. Once they reached them, it fell asleep perched precariously on her shoulder as she followed her own path back.

They stopped for nothing. By the time they reached Eloh, the sun was already rising again. The villagers were exhausted – battered and worn, physically and emotionally. But they didn’t complain. Almost every single one of them seemed genuinely thankful for the rescue, and more than a few had expressed those feelings several times on the journey.

Caiden didn’t realize how badly he had needed the reminder that being a Venator was the right thing to do.

It was a reminder sharply punctuated when they approached the city gates. Despite being tired enough that they looked ready to fall to their knees, several of the villagers ran forward, some knocking on the doors of houses to summon mothers, fathers, siblings, husbands, wives, children, friends, whoever they had— others, entire families who had been captured together, finally felt safe enough to stop and embrace.

And many of them took the time to come back around and shake their rescuers’ hands. Thank them, one by one, for returning them home.

Gwen beamed at it all, while Tom put his hands on his hips and exuded a satisfaction whose smugness was at least tempered by a deep and profound sense of duty fulfilled. Ceri blinked at the ones who were brave enough to shake the hand of an elf with such long and pointed ears, shrugging most of them off.

Then, Ceri suddenly said, “Say, Voros.”

“Hrm?” he prompted with a grunt.

“What’s your little spirit animal or whatever you knights put on your things?”

He huffed. “I told you, I’m not a knight.”

Ceri opened her mouth to say more, only to be cut short.

Horse hooves galloped down the street as a group of knights descended on the four of them like cavalry on a charge, led by Earl Marks. None of them were dressed for battle, wearing the colorful, decorated, and – in Caiden’s opinion – ridiculous garb of nobles in place of their suits of armor, though every one of them retained a sword hanging from his belt.

Earl Marks didn’t bother dismounting as he managed to fix all of them in a single glare – even if his eyes were set specifically upon Tom.

“Hey, if it isn’t the Cod King himself,” Tom said, “and he even brought his little codling. How’re you doing, Cassian?”

The younger knight who had shouted at Tom before – Earl Marks’s son, who shared his father’s blue eyes and pitch black hair – wore an enraged scowl behind his goatee. “Better than you will be when you’re rotting in my father’s dungeons!”

“Silence,” Earl Marks ordered, his tone even and calm. He allowed a tense moment to pass before he spoke again. “Tom Drake, you disobeyed a direct order from your blood superior, while fighting under his name and on his land. How do you plead?”

Caiden felt that familiar rage flare again, right beside him.

And Tom shot back, “Oh, I’m on trial already, huh? What, does the house of Marks try people in the streets? Sure, I’ll plead: I’m guilty as hell, but you can’t touch me. I’m a Drake, not a fish.”

The sheer pride from him almost made Caiden wince. Only for it to fade as quickly as it had erupted as another figure on horseback swept toward them from a side road – Earl Warren Drake, wearing his armor from before, unlike his peers.

“Earl Cassius,” he snapped, “we will be returning to Illikon to decide his punishment.”

Tom froze, but he set his jaw and said nothing. Caiden rumbled in thought. Not even Tom’s father had his back – not completely.

So Caiden cut in. “There shouldn’t be a punishment. He did what none of you would do: he went out and he saved lives. If anyone needs to go before their king and queen, it’s every knight here who refused to do his duty.”

The knights fell silent. At least until Earl Marks rounded on him and barked, “A Venator attempting to mete out noble judgment? Tell me, do you fancy yourself some disgraced high-born, or are you truly this arrogant?”

“Not high-born, Earl. Captain Caiden Voros of Redfield, Red Legion.”

“Ah. A Legion commander, very quaint…”

“Earl Cassius!” Earl Warren interrupted again. “You and your knights may ride with us. We leave immediately.”

Tom scoffed out an outraged swear, and Gwen shrank more than a little under the stares of the knights as they, all four of them, were ordered to get their horses. No one said a word. The knights hung close, keeping an eye on them as if they were criminals likely to bolt, Ceri in particular.

When they returned to their horses, they realized Ceri had no horse. She opened her mouth to point that out, only for Tom to lean down and offer her a hand, which she accepted with a quick grin.

“’Course you know if you try me, you’ll have it real nasty with the elves in the Shadowvale,” Ceri said, very loudly. “But I’ll ride along for fun.”

No one answered that.

Then he set off with the others as they, surrounded by knights, left Eloh once again – to doubtlessly be punished for doing what was right.