Corian charged the first soldier, striking them to the ground with the iron obstacle. Their bow went flying as they fell, landing in front of a soldier who charged with their sword. Corian swung the door like a hammer, striking the man in the side and feeling his body crush from the impact.

  The soldier slumped on the door and fell to the grass, the sword slipping from his hands.

  Corian picked up the blade, feeling a strange rush tickle his body as he beheld the two downed men. It grew as another soldier charged him, and he thrusted the blade straight through their shield and plate. Their blood drizzled down his sword and over his hand. He felt the blood soak into his sleeve, the pleasure rising.

  He knew what the feeling was. Elation. A strange glee in seeing the red stain the grass at his feet, and fill the air with a sweet scent. He wanted to cover himself in it, listen to more metal and bones crush under his strike.

  A creak of wood met his ears, and he swung around, instinctively raising his arm to block the arrow that whistled through the air. It dodged the door, sinking into his arm. But he only felt a soft impact. The pain was completely gone, simply filling his body with another rush.

  Corian dropped the sword, ripping a gauntlet off one of the fallen soldiers at his feet. He eyed the hesitant archer as they lowered their bow, a laugh involuntarily slipping from his throat as he threw the piece of metal. It flew so fast it whistled itself, impaling the archer’s chest before they could turn tail to run. They dropped, Corian’s laugh rising to a cackle at the way the piece of armor stuck out of their body and caused the blood to trickle into the grass. Even he was struggling to place the humour as he picked the sword back up. Maybe it wasn’t funny at all. It just felt so good, so fantastic, to make everything bleed.

  He looked around the campsite hungrily, the excitement buzzing through his body when he saw another soldier. They stood back, their sword wobbling in their hands as they beheld the carnage Corian had left. He flicked his sword, welcoming the man to approach and fight. But he did not, backing away even further.

  Corian’s voice dipped to a feral growl. “You. Come here.”

  They dropped the sword as he stepped closer, irritation swelling in his chest. There was no fun in that. He stepped closer, kicking the sword in the grass to the man.

  “Pick it up.” His voice rose to a roar as the man clasped his hands together in prayer instead of obeying. “Pick it up!”

  He moved to strike the man, his body freezing as a chilling sound met his ears.

  A scream.

  His mind whirled. He was forgetting something.

  The scream was important.

  Why had he left the carriage?

  The elation faded as his memories settled back into his mind. “Justin.”

  He had forgotten him.

  He dropped the door, the panic returning twofold. Had those screams been ripping through the forest this entire time?

  He looked at the trembling man, and ripped off their helmet, shoving it on his head.

  Was that enough protection?

  No.

  He took their shield too, locking eyes with the terrified man and eyeing their plate armour.

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  The fit was close enough. He had put on the pieces he needed to cover his vitals but still run. Towards the screams in the woods. He recognized the trail they were on. The arcane hounds had lead Inprobus’ squadron backwards. To the familiar makeshift bridge of vines, where the strange trail he had seen once - and unfortunately smelt - split off into the grass. There wasn't a doubt in Corian's mind that this revelation had irritated his father to no end.

  And there they were. What he assumed to be the remainder of Justin’s squadron were lined along the bridge, Inprobus’ remaining soldiers behind each one of them. But instead of a blade, a familiar necklace of rope sat tauntingly around each of their necks, and they were poised at the edge of the vines, ready to be dropped at any moment. Three ropes had already gone over the side. Three more remained.

  Justin was not among his kneeling squadron, instead standing to face Inprobus, his arms bound by vines. Rikki was close, their bow drawn and at his side.

  Corian could hear Justin’s voice, booming at Inprobus’ back as he paced the remaining three members of his squadron. “There is no plot against you.”

  “You’ve been saying that.” Inprobus replied, “And yet, I find one of you dismantling the enchantment on my hounds and the rest sleeping in their armour... Interesting.”

  “I don’t run a tight dress code.” Justin bit back, flexing his hands to try and squeeze out of Rikki’s binds. “But Rayao will hear of this. You’ve executed without evidence.”

  Inprobus wandered to the first taut rope, drawing his sword and driving it through. It snapped, and whatever body was attached to the other end fell to the trees below. “Executed who?” He eyed Justin as the commander simmered with rage, wandering to the next rope.

  Corian stepped into view, his presence spurring Rikki to load an arrow. He spoke loud enough to pull Inprobus' attention before he severed the next rope. “I don’t need a squadron’s help to escape, you paranoid prick.”

  Inprobus stopped, eyeing the blood that soaked Corian’s arm and sword, his lips twitching with disappointment. “How many?”

  Corian smiled. “Go count them.”

  Inprobus lifted his blade, poising it to rest below Justin’s chin. A stoic calm remained in the commander, his jaw clenched as he held the Archon’s stare. He lowered the blade to the roots binding Justin's wrists, tapping them to pull away and release the commander.

  “Well, if you’re telling the truth, capture him.” Inprobus mused, motioning his blade to Corian.

  Justin eyed Corian, paying Inprobus a sour glare. “Can I have my sword?”

  Inprobus nodded to one of his soldiers, the man stepping forth to offer the sword strapped to his side. Justin tugged the sword from their grip, eyeing the arrow Rikki had aimed at his skull with a scoff.

  Justin turned to Corian, discarding his billowing white cloak at his feet along with the Heroguard emblems that pinned it. He raised his blade, memories of their spars during training flooding back to Corian. For scoring, they were always evenly matched. For fun, Corian had a recurring problem of falling for every trip Justin snuck on him.

  This was going to be just like training.

  As soon as Justin was in range of a strike, Corian spoke through his teeth. “Shoulder,” he made a swing over his head to cut Justin’s left shoulder. Justin raised his guard to deflect it, stumbling back as the blade rang in his hands.

  Corian grimaced. He had tried to be gentle.

  Justin gave Corian’s right leg a very obvious look, Corian deflecting his strike in kind.

  They exchanged a few more blows, Justin never taking charge to strike first. His lack of forwardness allowed Corian to keep pushing him back, and before long, they were on the vine bridge once more.

  Corian’s senses were still sharp. He could smell the fresh blood on his body, and the minty spread under the bandages on his father’s limp arm. Inprobus had only moved to the side to watch the scuffle, and Rikki still held their bow drawn, their aim moving between Justin and Corian.

  He needed to make her fire it somewhere. If his sister was still behind that mask, she would care more about the childhood friend who wouldn’t recover from an arrow through the skull.

  He moved to strike Justin from above, twisting his aim at the last second. Justin’s shock was apparent as he tried to readjust, but missed. Corian felt his sword snag in the air before it could meet Justin’s ribs. The commander’s magic forced the blade to turn in Corian’s palms, the flat side of his sword striking Justin instead of a sharp edge.

  He hadn’t swung hard anyways.

  A loud ftang! rang in Corian’s ears as the arrow struck his helmet, barely missing the eyeslot. It ricocheted off the metal and sailed into the dark ravine below, and Corian didn’t even have to signal Justin, he was already running straight for Rikki. He tackled them before another arrow could be loaded, the bow flying from their hands as he locked their hands behind their back. They struggled for a bit under his hold, but he had fitted his hand under their mask to cover their mouth, and weighed on their hands with his body. The struggled had lasted perhaps five seconds, and Rikki suddenly relaxed, and then went limp.

  Likely not by spellwork, but he had successfully knocked her out. Corian’s body lifted with hope. There was one problem left.

  Corian raised his blade to block his father’s sword, the strength behind the blow much stronger than what Justin was delivering. Justin was afraid to accidentally cut Corian open, meanwhile, Inprobus wanted his head off his shoulders. The difference in force made sense.

  And he was going to return it in kind.