Renni was washing the blood from her hands. It was not an easy thing, being a witch on some days and a midwife on others. Especially not when she needed to be both at the same time. Those that try to do two things well will only do half of them right, afterall.

  A man came to stand next to her. He didn’t say a word, but by the sound of his footsteps, she knew him. She had heard those footsteps fretting the whole time she was trying to work.

  “What else can I do for you, Olan Whitewater?” she asked.

  The chieftain was a tall, square shouldered man with a hard face. His lip was stiff in his beard, and his eyes were narrow under his bushy, curly, brown hair. “Is she going to live?”

  “I hope so. Only a blood mage can be sure. A thaumaturge can only do what they can with the spirits they have.”

  “I feel like only a spirit could have done this. Everything was fine until… I mean.. An evil spirit would at least explain the fires last month. Could be a Raegg maybe.” Olan said.

  “Ain’t seen no Raegg round these parts for eleven years. Not likely one will just show up after a storm. If a Raegg was hauntin’ about, you’d know it in the dry season.” Renni whispered.

  “You don’t think it’s… an omen, do you?” he asked.

  Renni lifted a brow as she shook the water off of her hands, and turned to face him. “An omen?” she asked.

  “The child, I mean. Born after a storm, nearly kills her mother…”

  Renni barked a laugh. “If every child born after a storm were a sorcerer, there’d be a lot more of them. No, I think this is a more mundane sort of trouble. It’s not uncommon in the rift region.”

  Olan stared out in the direction of the dead city. A single gray spire was just visible on the distant horizon. “Maybe the city’s cast its gaze on us.”

  “Where’s all of this coming from? You never struck me as the superstitious sort, Olan.”

  “You get a lot more superstitious around these parts. The strange isn’t so uncommon in the deep places where the dark things crawl.”

  Renni stared at him, puzzling. It seemed to her that he wanted answers, but he didn’t even know what questions to ask.

  “Again, where is this coming from? What did you see?” she asked.

  He stared at her, unsure of what to say until he muttered, “Well, I just… No one thing, but…”

  “Does the great Olan Whitewater not know something?” she asked, amusement stretching over her face. He look flustered as she asked, and she already knew the answer. She saw his son standing behind him, gripping his father’s shirt, and a spark of realization bloomed.

  “You didn’t see anything, did you?” she asked.

  He froze.

  She turned to his son.

  “What’d you see, boy?” Renni asked.

  “Nothing.” Olenn said. “He didn’t see anything.”

  “Answer the question.” Renni said to Geran.

  “Lay off him, witch.” Olenn said, louder this time.

  “You let that boy speak, Olenn Whitewater, or I’ll have your hide.” Renni said, and a cool breeze slipped through the air. She reached into her pocket to produce a battered coin with a hole in its center, wrapped in blue thread. It dangled, bobbing back and forth.

  She turned back to the boy, and flicked the coin to spin it. As it spun, she asked, “What did you see, Geran?”

  “Don’t hex my boy, witch!” Olann said before barging between them.

  “I fuckin knew you’d be more trouble than you’re worth. Fuckin Yishanti always asking questions and cursing people.”

  “What are you hiding, Olann?”

  “What are you so fuckin keen to know? The boy didn’t see anything. He would have told me if he did.”

  A ferocious battle was taking place in the few inches between their pinched eyes, but neither of them faltered.

  “First, you had my curiosity. Now, you have my undivided attention.” Renni whispered. “Pray you know what to do with it, fool.”

  “Get out of here, you old hag.” he said between clenched teeth.

  “You just saw your 50th harvest last year. If I’m fuckin old, you must be ancient.” Renni said, bowing up to him.

  The staring match lasted a few seconds longer before Renni took a step back and put her hand out, palm up.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Olann demanded.

  “What I am owed.”

  “A trifle. You do this all the time.”

  “Then you’d better pay me before it becomes a feud.”

  The other village folk were unwilling to approach the simmering verbal duel until Geran took off his necklace and placed it in Renni’s hand.

  Her eyes flicked to the necklace, then back to Olann before she lifted it to inspect it. Oiled leather cord, woven and wrapped around a carved bear made of opal. No cracks to be seen. A warrior’s protection charm.

  “It’s worth a bit. It was my gran’s.”

  “It belonged to your Gran’s Husband, I’ll bet.” Renni said, before turning her attention to Olann who was now fuming and on the brink of exploding.

  “Your father’s pendant will do nicely, Olann Whitewater. Unless you have something else you’d like to trade.”

  “We’re square. Get out. Don’t come back.” Olann growled.

  Renni smiled at him, tucking the bear amulet into her pocket. “Oh, I’ll be back. The next time you need a mystic, I’ll be here. The next time there’s a fire - the next time there’s a monster you don’t understand- the next time there’s a stuck child that you can’t free… I’ll be here.”

  Renni lifted the coin to her eye, and it glimmered as it spun between them. “When your brother returns with an arrow in his shoulder, I’ll be the one to mend the wound.”

  “You don’t fuckin know that.” He grunted.

  “Goodbye, Olann Whitewater. I will see you again when the time is right.” With a flick of her hand, the coin was gone, and she strode away from him.

  As Renni began off toward her home, the antler statue shifted, and knelt down for her to climb on top of it. As it hefted itself back up, she waved to the townsfolk, then disappeared into the dark wood.

  It was a time consuming process cutting leaves and buds. She wasn’t used to collecting anything from a vine that produced almost no usable material. Eventually, Noriah pulled out her gloves and began pulling the vines through a tight grip. The tiny, spiky leaves were no match for raw hide, and the vast majority of them ripped away from the stems. She pulled out her bag, and was dumping the contents of the basket into it when Vandasa put her hand on her wrist.

  The vitrian’s eyes were trained on the treeline while her ears twitched. Lihada yanked her axe free from the log nearby.

  “Get under the bluff. Now.” she said, pointing to the short drop in front of the meadow.

  “What? Why?” she asked.

  Vandasa hissed “Don’t argue with me. Bluff. Now.” she said, turning to face her, and pointing.

  The three of them shuffled to the edge of the meadow and hopped down into the ditch, the edge of the forest brush obscuring them.

  Noriah looked up, through the crop of thorny hedge bushes to see dark, humanoid shapes emerging on the other side of the clearing, a shimmering mist around them.

  “What…?” she asked.

  “Riftmarked.” Lihada said in a low voice.

  “Shhh-” Vandasas’ barely audible whisper trickled. “Let’s see what they do.” she said, her voice barely distinguishable from the wind.

  “Why are they here?” Noriah asked.

  “If there’s only a few of them, they might be scouts. It looks like a good bit though, so… maybe they just found a new escape route.” Lihada whispered

  “Escape route?” Noriah asked.

  “Yeah. The watchers are here to alert nearby towns if anyone is leaving the dead city. It’s actually really hard to get in and out without being seen. If they have a way out that we don’t know about though…”

  “Shhhh-” Vandasa hissed. “We have to get the others.”

  Lihada stared at her. “We don’t know exactly where they are.”

  “Yes, that is why I think we should get the colonel and the others at the tower… it is… more than an even wager that Madrisi and Constan are already dead. Constan is not known for his subtlety, and Madrisi? I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  Lihada looked stunned, almost sick.

  “I am sorry, but we must face reality.” Vandasa said. “We were complacent. This is… what happens when you forget where we are.”

  They each considered the mass of bodies as they emerged from the wood. Two dozen riftmarked were exploring the area, before they split up, and began to survey.

  “So what do we do?” Noriah asked.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Wait, stay hidden, and stay alive.” Vandasa said, pointing to the cliff nearby.

  “There are stone steps leading up the cliff. You can’t see them from here, but they are there, and they are narrow. Barely wide enough for a person. They lead to a berry trail we can use as an escape route. Plus, IF we have to fight, I would rather do it from the high ground with a single choke point to defend. Let’s move.”

  Noriah began to follow Vandasa as she crept along the rim of the meadow. She turned back to see Lihada considering the place in the brush where Constan and Madrisi had vanished into the woods. She closed her eyes, and wrapped her fingers around something tucked into her shirt. A necklace of some kind.

  “What are you waiting for?” Noriah asked.

  “I’m not waiting for anything.” she said. “If Constan were dead… I would know…”

  Noriah wondered what she should be doing until Vandasa grabbed her shoulder.

  “Ktzss -”the vitrian clicked. “Lihada. The berry trail. Now.”

  Lihada’s eyes fluttered back open before she tucked the necklace back into her shirt.

  They made their way around the edge of the clearing before most of the riftmarked could make it half way in their search. Some of them remained in the meadow, but others turned back. There was seemingly some other task they had set about, and they were intent on returning to it.

  As the trio made it to the edge of the stairs, Vandasa stopped them, suddenly.

  “What is it?” Noriah asked, but she hissed back at her, ears laying flat to her head. She drew an arrow, knocked it in her bow, and drew it back, waiting several seconds before the bushes shifted slightly.

  Noriah was holding her breath as faint footfalls came closer. She saw a man clutching his shoulder, but both of his hands went up instantly upon stepping into view.

  “Oy, watch where you’re pointing that thing. It’s me.” Constan murmured.

  “Tulveriq Mosavag”, Vandasa evoked. Her voice sounded dark, and otherworldly as she spoke, and there was a shimmer of magic in the air, but nothing happened.

  “It’s really me, and this is really our charge.” He said, gesturing to Madrisi, who was only wearing his undergarments and his fine boots.

  The string slackened, and Vandsasa stepped aside just as Lihada brushed past her, and swept the bard up in a hug. Noriah could hear his back pop as she grabbed him, and she winced as she saw him grimace.

  “How? What happened?” Lihada asked.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. It’ll make for a really good story, I think.” Constan said, struggling to catch his breath, and grabbing a gash on his arm.

  “Vandasa, will you do the honors?” He asked, gesturing to the bloodstain on his shirt.

  She closed her eyes, and began to sign. A smokey aura emanated from the fingertips on her left hand as she reached out with her right. Constan took her hand, and clenched his teeth.

  “Do it.” he muttered.

  With her smoking hand, she grabbed his shoulder, and Noriah heard a faint sizzling noise as his face shifted into a mask of agony. He gave a slight whimper as the veins on his neck bulged, and his eyes watered.

  He took a step back, breathing harshly.

  “Up the stairs.” Vandasa said.

  “You just fuckin branded me, can I have just a second?” Constan said.

  Vandasa stared at him, before motioning to the steps.

  He seemed as if he wanted to protest, but thought better of it, as he glanced back at the clearing.

  Lihada put her hand on his unwounded shoulder, and he shrugged her off as he made his way toward the steps.

  A throaty growl sounded perhaps twenty strides away. Noriah turned to see a creature that didn’t look like a person anymore. Something about it was uncanny to her eyes in the shade of the forest, but she couldn’t tell what. It was one of the riftmarked, eyes wide, and drawing in air to scream.

  Vandasa whirled, pulling the string and releasing the arrow in a single, fluid flick. It sailed through the air, and sank in the man’s skull. It was automatic. Instinctual. Noriah almost couldn’t believe her eyes.

  As the corpse sank to its knees, the rest of the scouting party turned toward their dead comrade.

  “Run.” Lihada shouted, grabbing Madrisi, and shoving him toward the steps.

  “Make a choke point!” Vandasa said.

  They raced up the steps, Lihada waiting to go last. She stopped midway, and pulled out a stick of chalk.

  Noriah was going to ask her what she was doing, until she saw the lines she scribbled into the rock, and heard her whisper the words.

  “You’re a mage?” Noriah asked, but Lihada didn’t reply.

  “What is this?” Noriah urged, but again, the giant said nothing.

  When she was finished, she closed her hand, channeling a spark of mana into it, and pressing her fist into the rock. It rippled like water for an instant before becoming hard again.

  “Demon trap. Old geomancy trick. Works on Scorn, too.” she said, before climbing up the stairs, and taking a position at the top.

  In the time it took her to cast the spell, the rest of the scorn had closed the distance. As they pounded up the steps, Lihada chopped down with her axe.

  In the light, all was revealed to Noriah.

  Black blood and yellow ichor spilled out of the creature’s guts as it screeched. Its eyes were black, and its veins bulged as sharp, needle-like teeth flexed from its distended mouth. Plates of maroon and shimmering violet chitin protruded from places where the skin had split, and something else pushed its way up to the surface. It had been a man at some point, Noriah could tell, but it certainly wasn’t one now.

  A tattoo on Constan’s arm began to glow as he ran the flat of his blade over its surface. Whisps of fire crawled along the edge as ethereal whispers echoed through the air.

  “Shaping up to be a real story, aye? Get back. We can handle this.” he said, half grinning.

  As Lihada made her way up, the next one’s foot plunged into the seemingly liquid stone. Constan slashed downward, taking the creature in the face, but not stopping it. It grumbled as part of its face split open, and a black glassy skull was revealed underneath. Teeth fell out of the wound as it gazed up, and jabbed with a wicked knife. Constan shoved himself back away from the edge while Vandasa sank a shaft in its head.

  It was all so surreal. There were perhaps fifteen scorn still in the meadow, altogether, and they stepped over the corpses of their fellows. They trod over their bodies and faces as they stumbled up the stairs. They didn’t fight like men. They fought like… machines… or monsters. They did not recoil in pain at a grotesque injury, and they spared no reverence for bodies of their dying allies. They just climbed the steps. As if there was nothing else.

  Vandasa drew a long, thin, curved, vitrian saber from its sheath. It looked just like the blade Seigmoor carried, except it had a white oak handle instead of dark ebony.

  “Don’t let them get a foothold. Keep them at the stairs.” Vandasa said, and they all closed in. She swung the blade, and took a hand off. A decayed arming sword clanged on the rocks before coming to rest in the grass.

  As the riftmarked made it to the top of the steps, two of them were cut down in the first seconds, and a third got split open by Lihada’s axe.

  The two swordsmen pushed their way to the top only for Lihada to shove them back with the haft of the axe. Three of them were thrown from the steps.

  Noriah was panicking trying to figure out what to do while the watchers fought. She turned to Madrisi to look for inspiration. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a very wide bracelet with more runes than Noriah could count. He was frowning at it.

  “I should have brought my armor.” He said, before there was a glint of magic in one of the gemstones. Instantly, a narrow bladed fencing sword spring from the bracelet, and it shifted to become the basketed hilt of the sword.

  Madrisi stared wild eyed at the creatures ascending the steps before screaming at the top of his lungs. He leapt to his feet, and dashed bodily toward them, skewering a hairy one with his blade.

  It reached for him, and he punched it in the face with his off-hand. It staggered before coming at him again, and this time, he withdrew the sword before pinning it through the neck.

  The wooly riftmarked took a step back before grabbing its neck, and tumbling off the side of the bluff. A hollow eyed mummified corpse rose to the top next.

  Noriah wasn’t sure if Madrisi was still screaming, but it certainly seemed that way. She thought maybe she was screaming after a moment.

  Maybe she was, she considered, and grabbed her mouth. Certainly, it had been open, but she couldn’t tell if she’d be screaming. Was she sweating? She caught herself. What was she thinking? She had to do something useful! She fished for anything that might help as they fought the growing wall of riftmarked and shambling corpses. Her pouches, the grass, the sticks, her pockets, her fucking pouches again- nothing. She was useless. She couldn’t do anything right. Why did she even come? Why had she even left her home? Had she said goodbye to her mother? Would she ever get the chance now?

  She caught herself again. Her mother had been dead for four months. Now was not the time. She saw the crowd, saw the watchers. She saw the pile of bodies growing at the foot of the hill, and felt her entire body in that moment for literally anything that might be useful.

  Mender’s tonic. Deuro Amp. Yallic snaketongue. Dagger. Amorine.

  Amorine.

  She glanced at the swarm. One or two came up at a time. Even now, they weren’t rushing them. They weren’t climbing the wall, they were climbing the steps. No need to do anything rash.

  She looked at Vandasa’s bow as it sat in the grass. She hadn’t touched a bow in years. Not since she was very small. She regarded the other watchers as they fought, then saw the discarded, rusty sword that laid in the grass by Constan’s feet. The handle was moldy, and the metal was pitted with years of neglect. The crossguard and pommel was corroded with patina, and a streak of black blood ran up its edge.

  She reached down, and plucked it from the grass. Constan glanced down at her, and fear spread over his face.

  “Put that thing down!” he shouted.

  Noriah stepped back in shock, but wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Constan!” Lihada shouted, but he remained fixed on Noriah.

  “Drop it! It’s poisoned!” he urged, and she dropped it, panicking.

  Constan turned back toward the fight, just as a lunging blade speared him through the gut. His eyes went wide with shock as the creature stepped in. Its teeth seemed to flex outward toward his neck as it reached for him with its mouth. Before it could get there, Lihada lopped its head almost entirely off. It collapsed like its strings had been cut while Constan fell to his knees next to it. The ghostly fire on his sword evaporated in the seconds after it left his grip.

  Lihada stared frozen in shock for half an instant before rage overtook her face, and she whirled around to cleave another riftmarked.

  Noriah looked down at Constan, who was shaking as he gingerly touched the blade still lodged in his midsection as the poison flowed into him.

  The poison.

  She lifted her hands. The faint black stains of vile blood were sinking into her skin. She shook as she stared in horror. She could have used the Amorine. She could have brought balefire powder with her. She could have stayed out of the fucking way, and any of those would have been better than what she chose to do.

  Constan’s long shadow fell flat as the bard sank to the dirt, and before she knew what was happening, the fight was over.

  “Constan-” Lihada said, cradling the bard as he threw up blood.

  “I’ll be alright… I just… need to find a blood mage…” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  Lihada looked at Noriah. “You're an alchemist, right? You have to have something!”

  “I… I, well-” she stammered. “I gave Lomren a…”

  She couldn’t bare to be the subject of Lihada’s scrutiny. She froze with panic as she considered the poisoned blood on her hands.

  “You gave Lomren what, exactly?” Vandasa asked, wiping the ichor from her sword with a scrap of cloth.

  Noriah pulled out the Mender’s Tonic, before handing it to Lihada. “This should help, but… Vandasa - you can heal, right?” Noriah asked.

  “This is beyond my abilities. If I tried to brand him now, it would most likely make things worse. It might even kill him. Now, answer the question. What did you give Lomren?”

  “Gebberdine’s Panacea.” Constan said, weakly. “But you can’t give it to me. I’m a watcher. I’ll resist the poison. You… You need it. I need…” he said, before coughing droplets of blood onto Lihada’s face and neck. She wiped her cheek with her shoulder as she uncorked the tonic and gave it to him.

  “We’d never make it to the tower for it anyway. We need an answer now.” Lihada said, shifting Constan’s weight, and leaning his head into her shoulder as he lulled to the side.

  “There is a Dolmenpath.” Vandasa said. “It will take us directly to Ecard’s Bastion. It’s a few minutes walk from here, and the path is even shorter.”

  “Let’s go.” Lihada said.

  “But we can’t all go.” Vandasa said.

  “A Dolmenpath? Will that be less dangerous than this?” Madrisi asked, panting, and leaning on his sword.

  “For us, maybe. You and Noriah need to get that blood off of you. You may be able to resist the poison if you keep your exposure low, but you are… drenched…” she said, looking at the still shirtless Madrisi. “You will need the panacea in the next three days, or you may be dead before the week is out. Noriah… Is probably fine.”

  “Can I not wash up at this… Ecard’s Bastion? Would it be worth it to risk the Dolmen path for it?”

  “You could - if we are not stopped by the Wild Hunt. Something that is infinitely more likely if you are with us. You are of noble blood, Madrisi. The Wild Hunt will sense you the moment you step foot through the Dolmen.”

  “What if there isn’t any Wild Hunt?” Lihada asked.

  “What if there is? We won’t know until we get there.” Vandasa said.

  Constan wiped the blood and tonic from his mouth. “What do we do?”

  “Noriah will have to help carry you, and I will guide you through the path.” Vandasa said.

  “I can carry him.” Lihada said, a stalwart look on her face.

  “No. You can’t. Because you will need to get Madrisi back to the tower.”

  The immediate silence grew severe as they locked eyes. Lihada knew that Vandasa was right, and there was a reason she was always in charge.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” Constan said. “Help me up, and get this sword out of me. I’m not carrying this thing all the way to Ecard’s Bastion.