Like a spurned lover –which I was apparently becoming– I crept up behind Lancet and Windthrow as they chatted.

  “Morning guys!” I inserted myself between them. “What you up to? Planning without me?”

  Lancet flashed a smug smile, pushing long blond locks from her eyes.

  “You can’t be serious Vylet! You were asleep, and I don’t know if your species is nocturnal or not. Besides, is it our job to wake you up? Are we your mother?”

  “No but– Windthrow usually wakes me up.”

  I looked to him for confirmation, or to back me up a little. Those battle plans must have been very interesting, because he wouldn’t take his eyes off them.

  “I don’t know what your issue is, Lancet. But I’m not doing this now. Explain the plan to me already,” I said.

  Delemin’s jolly laugh signaled his approach. Mental note: Be more like Delamin, he doesn’t give a single fuck about petty drama.

  “Now now, let's not fight kiddos,” he said, standing across the plans opposite us. Like a proud grandfather at the head of the table.

  “Windthrow and I are a lot older than you Del,” Lancet replied coolly.

  “Yes, but I haven’t had romantic drama in a decade! She was a pretty half-orc with a powerful overbite…anyway you’re all still kiddos to me!” he bellowed. “Isn’t that right, Miss Vylet?”

  “This is not any sort of drama! Everything is fi-” I started.

  “What’s the plan Del?” Windthrow interrupted. “We should start preparing soon.”

  “Ah yes the plan, it’s simple. So, as you can see, this is the ruined fortress we’ll be attacking.”

  He gestured to the roughly drawn map. “Lancet had her scouts piece this together over several expeditions. Can’t say much about their drawing ability, but it’s accurate.”

  The map depicted a walled fortress, with large jagged gaps in several areas. Past the walls was an open courtyard, which led to a keep. From this view it didn’t look intimidating… but one glance towards the real thing atop the nearby hill was enough to get my heart racing.

  “The undead’s utter disregard for proper maintenance will make our jobs far easier! We’ll assault the fortress from head on! A small strike team will support us from atop the keep’s tower.” With a shard of charcoal he drew arrows leading towards a gap in the wall, then he circled the square representing the keep. “Our job on the ground will be to hold the bulk of the enemy in place, while the strike team racks up the kills!”

  Less of a plan, more of a basic outline than…I raised a claw to ask a question.

  “Arrows aren’t great for killing skeletal undead, how can we rely on the strike force to do most of the killing?”

  Lancet snorted and shook her head in faux outrage. This was new…a sort of passive aggression that women directed at other women.

  “Windthrow didn’t tell you? My Rangers have special arrows.” She placed two strange looking arrows on the table. “This one, with the flat metal head, is made specifically for cracking and breaking bone.”

  She showed me the next arrow. It looked normal, aside from a thick viscous fluid spread over the tip. Like it was glazed in black icing.

  “These arrows are coated in pitch. You do know what pitch is, right? We can easily set it alight; with a little bit of fire those dry bastards will go up like a bonfire. Any questions, lizard?”

  Each word was coated in an equal dose of derision and sarcasm. I felt my body tensing, each talon digging into the dirt. Three seconds. In just three seconds, I could lunge and slash her, before she could aim that stupidly big crossbow.

  “She understands.” Windthrow put his arm between Lancet and I. “Vylet is a fighter after all, a Spellblade actually. She’s fast. Comfortable on the front lines. Fearless.”

  “A Spellblade!?” Delemin exclaimed. “You should have said something! She can be part of the strike force, we need a close range combatant for when the undead try to climb up there!”

  Lancet’s eye twitched, a small break in her facade.

  “Surely Windthrow and I are strong enough to handle things without her!” she snapped. “The girl is inexperienced! Look at what she’s wearing! She looks more likely to please a man than kill one. And we don’t even know what she is, or if she’s really on our side!”

  Delemin slammed his colossal fist on the table, a single long crack appeared running the length of the grain.

  “And I’ve forgotten more about battle than you ever knew Lancet!” He took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his beard. “Now, you may not like her. But I won’t have you question her loyalty. She’s on the strike team. That’s final.”

  “You have no authority over me,” she countered.

  “And you have no right to put my men at risk because of your emotions and ego.”

  The moment dragged; we overheard the sounds of our fellow fighters preparing nearby. Chatting excitedly about returning home as heroes.

  “Fine. If she messes up, it's on you.”

  Lancet stomped away, shouting to her rangers, “Alright, gather round. Here’s the plan…”

  Delemin, similarly, marched off to explain the plan to his Warriors. Windthrow and I were left alone.

  He grabbed my hand, looking down at me with his piercing green eyes,

  “You can’t attack people just because they’re rude, Vylet!”

  I ripped myself loose.

  “My body just tensed a little! And what was that earlier! Flirting with Lancet before I was awake, huh?”

  “She was asking me about my background, that’s all. And what do you care if we were flirting?”

  “What do you mean!? After what happened in Six Dice? How could you even ask that?”

  “You don’t own me, Vylet.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Wasn’t it implied that we were exclusive? Weren’t we like, boyfriend and girlfriend? Fuck, I needed advice right now; I wish Cleyre was here. Either way, I wasn’t about to give him the last word. So I went with the old reliable.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “You’re being an asshole Windthrow, you know that?”

  I turned my back on him and ran towards the scent of cooked meat. Might as well grab a bite to eat before the battle.

  Windthrow was left looking down at the plan; expressionless, so calm I couldn’t tell if I’d hurt him or not.

  By the time the plan had been reviewed (and re-reviewed) with the Warriors and Rangers it was the afternoon. The sun was high in the sky, and the air was still. Stale. Everything was coated in a flat light.

  Atop the hill, the fortress loomed over us like a tombstone. Occasionally, a shadow flicked across the dark stone walls. A trick of the light, or a long dead imperial soldier?

  Windthrow, Lancet, about six Rangers, and I were gathered outside the camp. We were the strike force. Our first job: Scale the rear walls, then the tower. Hopefully, without getting caught.

  Delemin, meanwhile, had gathered dozens of heavily armored Warriors, along with a token force of Rangers. On our signal, they’d charge into the fortress through the broken walls. If all went to plan, the bulk of the battle would be fought in the courtyard.

  Lancet stood in front of our team, explaining our job(again) down to the most minute detail. She made eye contact with everyone, and answered any and all questions. Lancet could be a real b-word, but she undoubtedly had earned the respect of her women(and men).

  “Remember, this battle is for yourselves and your own futures. You no longer fight for any masters or for the benefit of those who see you as lesser. Never forget that. Let’s go,” she announced.

  Fighting for ourselves…what was I fighting for? Was I fighting to help people? To “level up”? I’d never gotten in a fight before I came to this world. What part of this was me, and what part was driven by my instincts…I’d have to think this through after the battle.

  We trekked into the forest, taking a route with ample foliage. The scouts said the undead barely kept watch, but we wouldn’t risk approaching openly at this time of day.

  Soon we emerged from the tree line, where the rocky slope of the hill ran up to the rear walls of the fortress. 25 feet of wall. Heavily worn, with chunks having broken off in areas. Tufts of grass grew from between the blocks, and a carpet of moss covered some of the stones. Behind the wall was the tower, the sturdy shell that would act as our shooting platform.

  “I’ll climb up, and then run a rope down. Look for my signal,” Lancet said.

  She turned to start her solo climb, but I grabbed her shoulder.

  “Wait! Lancet!” I said, probably louder than I should.

  “Quiet! What is it?”

  “I can jump up there, pretty easily actually. If you give me the rope I can do it.”

  She stared daggers at me. I could tell she was going over the probability of me embarrassing myself, versus the damage I could cause to the mission. She must have come to a satisfying conclusion, since she handed me the rope with a grin. It was stored in a sack, I almost fell forward when I took it. Turns out almost 40 feet of rope was heavy!

  “Don’t get caught,” Lancet told me.

  “The only thing they’ll be catching are these claws!”

  Blank stares. Windthrow cracked a subtle smirk. Dammit, that sounded cooler in my head.

  I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder, stood back a few feet, and started sprinting. With wide strides I scrambled up the hill, keeping my eyes fixed upon the wall. Praying that a stray undead guard wouldn’t spot me.

  All clear. A few feet from the wall, I activated my Jump spell. Power flowed into my legs and I leapt into the air, my cloak fluttering behind me. I silently landed on the wall, before lowering into a four legged crawl.

  Let’s see. Nearby was a big stone, a perfect anchor for the rope. Awkwardly, I tied the rope around the stone –despite my “lizard claw debuff” I think the knot was decent! An additional leap took me atop the tower, where I used an old parapet as the anchor for the rest of the rope.

  I peered over the edge, and waved a claw to my comrades below. It was hard to tell from this distance, but I think Lacet was impressed.

  Atop the tower I hunkered down, examining the rest of the fortifications while I waited for the rest of the strike team.

  I saw a few bleached white skeletons, wearing rusty armor, patrolling in aimless loops around the front walls. About 12 in total, all with bows.

  In the courtyard, dozens of sword wielding skeletons. Some leaned or hunched against the walls, others sat around long burnt out campfires, and more just wandered aimlessly. In shredded tents I could see some lying down, as if they were actually able to sleep. They were like hollows from Dark Souls, which was a game in my old world. I think.

  The biggest threat were the 20 guarding the door to the keep, directly in front of our tower. Dried flesh hung off them in ribbons, their white bone gleaming under the midday sun. They stood in two rows, at attention.

  What was in the Keep? Was it so important that these poor soldiers would guard it, even after death? Despite myself, I felt sorry for them. No! They were part of a slaver empire, they didn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy! I pushed the feelings aside. Far aside.

  Someone tapped my shoulder. It was Windthrow.

  “Soon,” he whispered.

  Everyone was in position. Each Ranger had kneeled around the front edge of the tower, with arrows at the ready. Lancet stood behind them, holding onto her crossbow.

  She walked behind each Ranger, and silently touched the top of their heads. When she came to me, she repeated the same gesture. Some sort of battle ritual? I didn’t like how she lingered when it was Windthrow’s turn…

  After finishing, she used tinder to quickly light a torch. It would serve as the fire for the pitch arrows, and as the signal to Delemin’s men. Lancet didn’t hesitate, immediately waving the torch in her outstretched hand!

  The booming sound of a horn answered from the forest.

  A chorus of war cries followed, Delemin’s chief among them! Moments later, before the undead could react, the Warriors flooded towards the courtyard! Two skeletons tried to block the gap in the walls, but Delemin charged at them. Swinging his hammer in a wide arc, he sent a hail of bones into the air.

  “That one’s for my father!” he shouted.

  Three more surrounded him.

  Without losing momentum, he brought his hammer down directly atop one with a crunch! Then he grabbed another, tearing its skull from its spine with just his bare hand. Still, the third was about to bury a rusty sword in his back…when a dull bolt transformed it into bone shards from the neck up.

  “Idiot,” Lancet muttered under her breath, she loaded another bolt.

  Is this what Windthrow and I look like to other people? Am I like Del?

  By now the battle was in full swing. The orderly rows of undead, in front of the keep, broke ranks and rushed into the fray.

  Swords, hammers and maces carved through the horde. But more kept joining, flowing out of every corner of the fortress. Our strike team’s Rangers quickly took out the enemies on the walls, and then started shooting into the horde from behind.

  Effective, but the numbers weren’t in our favor! Our melee fighters below looked like an Island in a sea of the dead.

  “Flame arrows, flame arrows!” Lancet cried.

  The rangers rushed to the lit torch, lighting up their pitch arrows. Soon large bursts of fire started exploding around the bulk of the undead forces. And it spread quickly –must have been the dried flesh, or the rags under their armor.

  “Vylet! Look sharp, we have some climbers!” Windthrow shouted.

  I peeked over the edge. Like awful spiders they clambered up the tower, gripping swords in their skeletal smiles.

  From this angle it would be impossible to my fire Frost Ray effectively, it coming from my horns at all. That left me with my buddy, Tanglewood.

  They neared the top, looking at me with their empty hate filled sockets. As they approached, I finally enacted my genius plan!

  Poking them in the face with the business end of my spear. My first victim fell to the earth with a thud, cracking into pieces. Next! I poked a second, then a third, then a fourth! Eventually they caught on, trying to avoid me by taking different routes up the tower.

  I had to run around, squeezing between archers. “Excuse me, sorry!”

  Then I would batter the enemy off the wall and move onto the next. This shit wasn’t glamorous. But it was kinda fun. Windthrow got his wish, I wasn’t in any danger at all!

  As I played my bizarre minigame, the courtyard became a sea of flame. Intense enough to force the Warriors to back off. They picked off any that tried to escape the inferno. Meanwhile, the base of the tower looked like a horror show from the growing pile of skeletal corpses.

  The battle became a massacre, and soon it was over. Not a single casualty on our side.

  Lancet stood atop the tower, lifted her crossbow to the sky and screamed, “Victory!”

  Cheers rang out across the fortress. I ran to Windthrow and jumped into his arms. He spun me around and kissed me like he didn’t care who watched.

  In your face Lancet!

  Tinkerers Trinkets! It's in a similar niche to my story! Look at that beautiful hand drawn cover!