The guard could not find focus to consume the flowery words on his favorite book. Its hard leather binding was withered to the touch. A small tea stain, soaked dry into the title page among others. The words handwritten out into neat little lines, weighted more heavily in personification and metaphors than gravity.

Above perched a hawk, searching every corner for a snack skittering the open field. Quilo heard his fellow guards drinking in the room next door, the men choosing to celebrate joyously before their inevitable deployment. He sat up straight on his stool, removing himself of his bad posture. The morning cold dulled his senses, and his alertfullness fell with it. This was the undoing of many a morning, but Quilo would have none of it. He jumped to his feet, to stretch sleeping muscles—thus warding off any unwanted negligence.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” his buddy Tripo asked within an archway, half indoors and half under the rising sun. “A drink to Lady Luck is never a bad thing.”

“No thanks friend. This book has given me more than alcohol ever could,” Quilo said, dragging his fingertips across the book’s cracked face.

Loudly in the sky came the screech of the hawk, flying full speed into the horizon. Quilo watched the soaring animal exit view. That particular hawk has never left so far from its perch, its hatchlings due by the end of the week. A curious change in behavior.

“Okay, your choice.” Tripo raised a bottle to his mouth and knocked back a swig.

A subtle stir that evolved into an earth shaking, jarring rumble shook the two. Tripo rushed inside up the tower stairs. His metal armor clanged and banged with each step. The air rushed past Quilo back and forth like a great tide and the ambient mana vanished from the air. His stool flailing around, thrashing anything in its path.

“The portal is activating! Ring the alarm!” Tripo shouted from atop the tower.

Not a moment later, sirens blared and soldiers scrambled. Without thought, Quilo surged his mana to match his blood flow. Then, he launched himself upon the walls connected to the tower, and stared out toward the glowing portal. It flickered periodically, a heart beat of magic, synchronized with the rushing wind.

The guards have never been in a situation like this, but it was what they were trained for. All gates closed as per procedure, including any secondary doorways. The men lined up waiting on the walls surrounding the portal, bows or spears at the ready, imagining what was to come, not quite mentally prepared.

Quilo made one last check of his gear, patting down for his knife belt and marble pouch, then tied a bundle of javelins over his shoulder for easy access. He couldn’t help but look over at Tripo who already had an arrow locked and loaded, a man less powerful but more driven than he.

With a final roar, the teleportation circle beneath the portal erupted, revealing a grisly sight. Flayed flesh dripped from face, strapped in imperial armor and weapons, the undead howled with fury. A large group, unhindered by the shackles of life, charged the defensive walls. The squad of archers upon wall turned fear into fight. At the sound of the commander, arrows released from tension — pelting bodies but doing little work.

Nerves steady as a rock, Quilo surveyed the attack, noting eastern and northern incursions, undead fodder clashing against fortified ramparts, morning sun turning frost into dew. A few faint screams could be heard, a breach among the hold. The wind slapped Quilo’s cheeks as he bolted for the eastern gate.

“Quilo the northeastern gate has been opened! We need to release the portcullis!” Tripo yelled from behind, barely keeping pace with him.

Arrows continued to rain, barbed ends ingrained into rotting flesh. Ahead on the wall, the dying screams of men entered Quilo’s ears. He saw a Klorian mage, drenched in blood, a sword protruding out the back of a young archer. Dashing with javelin at the ready, Quilo hopped over allied formed guards, weapon launched at full might. The rocketing missile impaled the already dead young archer and Klorian mage with it, a small patch to fight a bleeding situation.

Continuing forward, Quilo passed the eastern gate, eyes spotting several more Klorian mages battling their imperial counterparts. Undead were spilling into the city every second, a few groups of soldiers could be seen here and there blocking major roads, but small side streets and alleyways bred as enemy highways. To top it off, a large flash from the confiscated portal marked a second wave of horrors.

“Status report!” Quilo commanded a nearby archer.

“Enemy mages have opened the northeastern gate and the tower is under their control. Our own forces can’t push through,” the archer reported.

Tripo and Quilo moved onward, arriving just below the northeastern tower. A battle of three Klorian mages, two imperial mages, and a handful of guards. Death layered the ground they battled on, both sides taking heavy casualties. Quilo’s right hand reached for a javelin, gripping its shaft for a short throw, then fished for a marble with his left.

One of the Klorian mages swung their greatswords, cleaving an overwhelmed imperial mage in two, blood splattering across the cold stone. Two other Klorian mages engaged the last imperial mage while the greatsword user took a defensive stance for the upcoming Quilo and Tripo.

“Throw me!” Tripo demanded.

Quilo threw a javelin for distraction, and grabbed the nape of Tripo’s armor, locking hand to metal. Spinning once, he heaved Tripo up to the tower’s edge. Before allowing the enemy mages to respond, Quilo slid forward, flicking marbles at the three mages. A greatsword crashed down chipping floor, barely missing with sparks flying, then raised for a second strike.

Having dodged the deadly strike, Quilo snapped his wrist with knife in hand, piercing the man’s shoulder. Not pausing, he threw two more, the blades sank deep hitting neck and heart. The warrior collapsed leaving his allies backs exposed, an opportunity ripe for the picking. A few quick stabs with a javelin on the unsuspecting Klorian mages left holes for death to burrow into. Seeing the chest of one of the warriors still pumping, Quilo slid steel across the man’s throat, blood seeping down his neck. More a service to a dying man than a vengeance against a hated enemy.

With all obstacles before him removed, Quilo checked the injured imperial mage, then rushed up the tower only to find another Klorian mage, fire dancing in palm, burning skin from Tripo’s arms. Surprised at the unwelcome guest, the Klorian hurled Tripo into a corner and flared a bright orange. A stream of unending fire shot out, forcing Quilo to back away. Countering with a knife throw of his own, Quilo targeted the man’s face, but it was blasted out of the air. He searched for remaining things to throw, but eventually found none. Trapped as a mouse against a cat, Quilo could see the man’s grin grow wide.

“I guess you win,” Quilo said, secretly unlatching the book hooked to his belt.

“You imperials are…”

In a last ditch effort, Quilo threw his book, smacking the Klorian in the face. Through fire and smoke, he tackled the dazed man glueing hand to throat. The Klorian’s head was vigorously pounded to the ground, skull splintered and brain matter oozed. Exhausted of stamina, Quilo trudged over to the portcullis lever and released it from its locked position. After achieving his goal, he laid down to rest, in between two dead bodies — one friend, one foe.

0---0

“Wake up Esried!”

Moon? Couldn’t be, I would have been slapped by now. With first light piercing through a nearby window, the soft bed contoured to my every curve, melting fatigue I previously carried. The sheets, cleaned and silky soft to perfection, coddled silently like a mother’s embrace.

Thesi’s pretty face entered stage right, her electric green eyes looking directly at me and her lean, muscled arms taunt from shaking my shoulders. It was only then I realised this wasn’t a social call.

Having woken from a deep sleep, my mind still slogged through Thesi’s explanation, “... leave … attack.”

I threw off my sheets and hopped out of bed, hopefully convincing myself that I needed to be faster. Eyeing the mirror on the side, I looked like hell, sagging eyelids, bed head, and ruffled clothes. The only thing going for me was the bath I took yesterday.

Thesi must have lost patience during my awakening because she was now dragging me by the hand out the door. Eventually, we ended up in an armory, stocked with standard armors and weapons of all shapes and sizes.

“Put this on,” Thesi said, handing me one of the shiny armor sets piece by piece.

“What’s going on?” I asked, slipping into each one with Thesi’s help.

“Earlier this morning the Klorians used the city’s teleport circle to invade the city.”

No more words needed to be spoken, we finished dressing me and made our way to the previous conference room. The door was already propped open, filled with half the previous day’s numbers. We slid to the back, inside unnoticed.

“A report from the south portal gate states the west portal gate has been breached,” the governor said.

“They failed to hold? The city was designed to protect against this sort of thing. How did this happen?” an officer asked.

“This is no small attack, they are launching a full invasion. Other reports say the northeast gate was compromised but closed using the portcullis, since then our men have retaken that section of the wall. The city guards are doing their best,” Stiggs replied.

“We need to deploy immediately. Every second is a life lost,” the governor said.

“Of course, but we need a full assessment before jumping in,” Stiggs said, “The portal is located in the northern tip of the city, surrounded by ramparts. They have breached the west and northeastern gates of those walls. Many of those are undead along with Klorian mages. Any more details?”

“Klorian foot soldiers have been spotted with the third portal use. It’s safe to reason the amount of undead already here are most of what they have,” another officer chimed in.

“Good. Knight Strut, you are to reinforce the southern wall to the portal,” Stiggs ordered.

“Yes Sir!” The officer saluted and left.

“With Knight Strut and his troops holding the wall, that leaves us the remnant undead on the northeastern side of the city and the breach on the west side,” Stiggs said, pointing at small figurines on a mini city model. “The weakest undead can be stopped by our foot soldiers, the issue is containment more than power. Knight Kraama and Knight Sarum, you are both tasked with cleaning up the remains of the northeast breach. Knight Zarl will stay here and rally all incoming soldiers for a counter attack at dawn. The rest of us will be the vanguard and contain the western breach. Any questions?”

“...”

“Good. Dismissed!”

Stiggs walked over. “Esried, you are to follow Knight Kraama and Knight Sarum to the northeastern side. The biggest threat there are undead foot soldiers. Gain experience and protect the people.”

He patted my shoulder and left right after, followed by a large portion of the room. Honestly, I’m ready to put everything I’ve learned into practice. Pumped and ready to go, I spot Thesi returning from speaking with her superior.

“I’m getting stuck with you…” Thesi said, chin falling to chest.

Is that not a good thing?