Will – They Bleed #2
Malin collapsed hard into the brush behind her. Before Will could scream her name, three of the gore-streaked monsters swarmed her fallen body, their rusted weapons raised to butcher her.
Will surged forward, tearing through the thick undergrowth, but there was too much distance to stop the attack. The exact, paralyzing nightmare he had been terrified of was unfolding right in front of him.
But as the first creature drove its blade down, the pile violently erupted.
A blinding flash of white-hot fire blasted the nearest monster backward, its rotting flesh incinerated instantly.
Malin rolled through the brush, using her momentum to sweep her leg in a brutal, practiced arc that shattered the second creature’s kneecap.
She forced herself up, gasping in obvious pain, but her hands ignited with a desperate, roaring flame, creating a blazing shield to push the third attacker back.
She fought fiercely, but her movements were ragged. The golden glow of her healing magic was already emanating from her body as she battled to stay on her feet.
Relief washed over Will as the General hit the remaining attackers like a force of nature.
A blur of silver steel cut through the smoke, cleaving the creature pressing Malin and severing its rotting spine in one fluid arc.
Without missing a beat, Aldrik stepped in front of his daughter, forming an impenetrable wall of armor and wrath to dismantle the next threat.
Safely behind her father’s blade, Malin caught her balance.
The ambient heat spiked across the clearing just before a roaring spout of flame erupted from her palms. The white-hot blast caught a charging brute square in the chest, igniting it from the inside out until it crumpled into a twitching, smoking heap.
Forcing himself upright, Will lunged at the enemies still crowding his own flank, but the bleeding wound in his side ruined his momentum. Every step was a blinding burn of agony. Slick warmth pooled in his boot as he swung his blades, killing two more.
A heavy, wet thwack echoed through the trees as Aldrik drove his entire weight into the last standing brute.
The General took a long, ugly gash to his thigh, but the sheer force of his broadsword swing pinned the monster directly to the trunk of an ancient oak.
It thrashed violently for a second, then went permanently limp.
Will braced for another charge, his bloody sword raised, but the next attack never came.
Slowly, he lowered his weapons and turned, scanning the ruined, trampled clearing.
The only movement was the drifting smoke and the erratic twitching of severed limbs.
Mangled, rotting corpses littered the ferns.
Some were reduced to smoldering ash by Malin’s magic, others brutally hacked apart by his and Aldrik’s blades.
The heavy, unnatural silence of the forest began to settle back in, broken only by the ragged, painful sound of their breathing.
As the battle-high started to recede, the white-hot agony in Will’s side roared back to life. He swallowed hard, pressing his hand tightly against his bleeding ribs, and looked over at the veteran commander.
“Is that all of them?” Will asked, his voice hoarse. He eyed the nearest corpse, mistrusting the terrifying tenacity of dead flesh. “Should we burn the bodies?”
Aldrik leaned on his sword, breathing hard for the first time. “We need to move. If these are the scouts, the real threat’s coming up behind them.”
Furiously wiping a streak of soot and blood from her cheek, Malin let the remaining magic fizzle out from her palms. “We’d have beaten them faster if you didn’t insist on playing meat-shield every time I had a clear shot,” she snapped, her voice trembling with a heavy mix of adrenaline and terror.
“You almost got us both killed trying to be my armor.”
Pressing a hand tighter against the throbbing gash in his side, Will flashed a strained, bloody smirk.
“I’ll try to be less of a martyr next time.
But you have to admit, ruining your aim takes a lot of talent.
” A forced laugh escaped his lips, only to be immediately cut short as a brutal spasm rocked his torn ribs.
“You’re welcome, by the way… for saving you. ”
Throwing her hands up in absolute exasperation, Malin scoffed. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed away toward her father.
As Will stared at her retreating back, a fresh wave of panic momentarily eclipsed his pain. Pushing himself off the tree, he swallowed a groan as his ribs screamed in protest, and limped after them.
“Sparks,” he called out, unable to keep the breathless edge of pain out of his voice. “Did you want to heal me, too?”
Stopping dead in the dirt, Malin’s shoulders went rigid. Whipping around to face him, her eyes blazed. “You wanted to take them all on by yourself,” she spat back, her voice dripping with venom. “I figured you wanted to heal on your own, too.”
But the threat was entirely empty. She was already marching aggressively back toward him, her hands flaring with golden light. She grabbed his blood-soaked shirt, pulling it back to press her hot, glowing palms against his bleeding side.
“We trust each other, Will. Or we die. Those are the only options.”
The magic flowed into him like liquid warmth, immediately soothing his screaming nerves.
Beneath her fingertips, he could literally feel the deep gash stitching itself shut.
But the exact second he was out of mortal danger, she pulled away.
The golden light snuffed out, taking the comforting heat with it.
An angry, raised red welt violently throbbed with every breath.
She had closed the fatal wound, but the lingering, white-hot sting made it clear she wanted him to feel the weight of her anger.
Aldrik wiped his broadsword clean and slid it into its sheath, his expression grim.
“We do not have time to linger. We are already late for the crowning ceremony as it is. If we miss it, Anariel’s wrath will be the least of our problems.” He looked down at the mutilated corpse of the hook-armed brute, his jaw setting into a hard line.
“I expected poachers or wild beasts to be behind the missing livestock that sent us out here. I never would have brought us out here alone if I had known we’d be walking into an ambush of the undead.
I need to send in a full patrol to clear these woods. ”
Will nudged a rusted blade with his boot, wincing as the movement pulled at his half-healed side.
“I have hauled cargo from one edge of the territory to the other. I have seen raiders, mutated beasts, and magic gone wrong. But I have never seen or even heard campfire stories about dead men coordinating an ambush.”
Stepping closer to the hook-armed brute, Malin furrowed her brow at the cruel, surgical precision of the grafted metal. A visible shiver ran down her spine, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
“I have heard rumors of things like this over the years, but they were near Lumara and spoken of like they were nightmares… not real. Never this far south. We must consult the Minsters.”
She looked at her father, her eyes wide with a heavy, unspoken dread. “Why would they have come here?”
With a grim shrug, Aldrik led the trek back at a fast clip to the Citadel.
Will trailed behind the others. His wound stung with every step, the pain a sharp reminder of the ambush, causing him to lag behind.
“If we are late for the ceremony because he is injured and you could have healed him, I will be displeased, as will Anariel. Perhaps you can finish your healing,” Aldrik said to Malin, walking beside him.
She fell back beside Will. He immediately pointed to the uneven ground. “Stay in the center of the path, Malin. Watch your footing.”