Absolute chaos!

Nagu, the lupine smoke demon, ripped and clawed at the Order of the Silver Chain. Eles saw that while the Order strived to attack as a synchronized unit, some appeared to be recalling their ancient assault tactics better than others. But here raged no ordinary lycanthrope (is there such a thing?) and Nagu ripped through armor and into the stomach of her nearest opponent, smoky tendrils coiling off her body, before they had a chance to align ranks.

One of the Order must have wisely decided that he was much more likely to survive his original order – to detain Dargon – than to attack Nagu. He backed from that battle and lashed out with his chain, catching Dargon at the ankles. With a jerk, Dargon crashed onto scorched earth.

Most of the Darkbridge swords froze, too awestruck to react immediately. Not The Maul. He salivated at the chance to claim the title of Slayer of the Butcher of Deeprun, and he attacked with a speed that alarmed, considering the size of his weapon. Kelshar pulled back just in time to avoid a blow that would have knocked her head off her shoulders. She counterattacked with a pair of strikes of her own, but The Maul wore hard leather gauntlets covered with iron plates that pulled up past the elbows, and he used them, coupled with his maul, to parry the incoming attacks.

The exchange gave the rest of the Darkbridge swords time to gather their senses. They began to position around Kelshar, surrounding her, a maneuver that they happily executed, as it meant they moved farther from Nagu.

Rakana cried out, clutching Nadja’s arm, “They’re going to kill her!”

“They should have surrendered!” Nadja was clearly frustrated with the turn of events. Perhaps she imagined Dargon and Kelshar as political prisoners, escorted back to Greyarch to face a tribunal, Eles thought. She should’ve known better.

“We’re past surrender and there’s too many for her!” Eles urged as the soldiers swarmed.

Nadja grimaced. “Damn, damn, damn.” 

She fired a crossbow bolt between the shoulder blades of one of the Darkbridge soldiers who had circled around Kelshar. He gurgled in pain, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth, and dropped to the ground, quivering. “I hate you all,” Nadja whispered to Eles as two of The Maul’s comrades turned to face their traitorous informant. Nadja dropped her crossbow and drew her short broad sword. Forged with an extended pommel, the heavy blade could be gripped and controlled with both hands.

By now, Nagu had already torn two of The Order apart, but the other three members were surprisingly holding their own. Their silver chains didn’t have the same efficacy as they might against a real lycanthrope, but still, their carefully synchronized attacks slowed and frustrated the smoky demon. The Order employed their long chains to attack from a distance, sometimes entangling limbs, sometimes lashing at its body.

Nearby, Kelshar used all her focus and energy on not getting overwhelmed. She slashed and bobbed, swung hard and shifted her weight, all focus on defense, trying to keep her enemies from engulfing her. The Maul kept pressing mercilessly, and with Kelshar forced to avoid three other attackers, she had little chance to counter. It wouldn’t be long before one of those blows struck. With The Maul, all it would take is one.

Dargon’s attacker tugged at the silver chain wrapped around the lord’s legs to keep it taut, yanking to get close enough to Dargon to slash, in case that became necessary. The Order member happily accepted this less-perilous role in the battle, always keeping one eye on the skirmish with Nagu. He screamed shouts of encouragement to his braver Order members, promising glory for them all.

The two Darkbridge swords who broke off from Kelshar to punish Nadja and Rakana stalked forward, but Nadja stepped in front of her friend and counter-attacked the two with a ferocious charge that forced them back on their heels. She roared as she charged, and Eles heard echoes of the Exum bear she so admired.

Kelshar slashed one of her assailants on the arm with the tip of her blade, sending him skittering back. Then, in her attempt to avoid The Maul’s blows, she got an inch too close to another Darkbridge guard and caught the tip of a sword through a crack in her breast plate. She grunted in pain. That assailant, in his fervor to get the right position on Kelshar, unwittingly backed too close to Nagu. His compatriots called out in warning, but too late. Nagu slashed into the back of his neck. Flesh, muscle, and blood sprayed, a rainbow of gore. Gone.

One of The Order slashed the wolf-demon’s claw with the blade end of its chain and the creature growled in pain. Black goop dripped out and hissed as it hit the ground, a protest to having to contact anything of the natural world. The thing bled. The attacking members of The Order swelled with hope.

Dargon called out to his captor, “The battle with the wolf will be won by your comrades! This story will live forever in your Order. Don’t be labeled a coward! Join the fray before it’s too late.”

The man hesitated, considering.

Dargon used the distraction to jerk the chain as hard as he could with his legs. It came out of the man’s hand and came skittering to Dargon’s feet.

Another Order member stabbed Nagu in the back, and deftly jumped away, careful to keep her distance as her comrades pulled on both sides, out of reach of the wolf. The synchronized yanks and drags were working.

The Maul bull rushed Kelshar. She crashed to the ground, pulverized by the man’s massive body, which came thundering down on top of her.

While Dargon worked furiously at removing the chain around his legs, his Order member chose to cement his legacy. He charged the injured Nagu, intent on the glory that would come with delivering the killing blow. His attack, however, broke the carefully arranged assault of the other three, and he lunged too close at the wrong time. Nagu used the chance to lash out and grab the man’s wrist. The wolf-demon spun around and whipped the man with tremendous force into one of The Order that held a restraining chain. Both rolled to the ground in a pile. Now, only two chains held Nagu, and both on the same side. Without the opposing force keeping her in place, she leapt on one of the chain-wielding Order members and ripped him to pieces, hissing in anger as a black viscous fluid seeped from her back and violated the soil underfoot.

Nadja’s tall, lanky frame gave her a reach advantage on her opponents and with a low, backhanded sweep she caught one of them in the thigh, just under his chain shirt, hobbling him. He screamed, rolling on the ground in a panic.

The haft of the Maul’s great maul pressed down on Kelshar’s sternum, the crushing weight of the man behind it. What can I do? Eles thought. Enemies surrounded Kelshar, and Eles had no weapons. He carried some blurring powder, sure, but he’d never get close enough to an armed combatant to be effective.

Dargon finally got untangled and to his feet. He moved to assist Kelshar, but the last two Darkbridge soldiers involved with Kelshar slid over to cut him off, leaving the Maul to crush the Butcher of Deeprun on his own.

Rakana saw the opening. The lithe Venaisin escort grabbed Nadja’s fallen crossbow and rushed to where Kelshar lie. She swung the crossbow as hard as she could, smashing The Maul on the side of the head and sending him to the ground as blood poured from his cheek.

Kelshar let go a massive gasp, able to breathe again.

The wolf-demon pounced to Dargon’s side, a whirlwind of dagger-sized claws and teeth. In a split second she lashed out with both claws. One claw ripped the arm off one of Dargon’s enemies, chainmail snapping like twigs.

The other claw tore deep into Rakana.

The dreamer screamed in agony as blood, flesh, and silk clung to the demon’s cruel nails. Rakana tumbled into the grass, spasming.

“No!” Nadja screamed in horror. She attacked her remaining enemy with a rush of fierce energy and motivation that he couldn’t match. She used her first three blows, successive blows to the head, drawing his defenses ever higher, only to switch it up and lunge low, piercing his chainmail with the razor-sharp tip of her blade, just below the belt. The force knocked him to a sitting position, blood seeping out between the links of his mail.

The two Order members who had been thrown prone climbed to their feet. One of them, a woman with wide-set eyes above dark circles, attacked Nagu from behind and surprised her, whipping the silver chain around her neck. Unprepared, Nagu jerked back, losing her balance, and crashing to the ground. Another Order member used the opportunity to entangle one of Nagu’s back legs. The dual snares had the lupine horror splayed on the ground.

Nearby, the Maul, blood oozing from his cheek, and Kelshar, wheezing, both clambered to their feet. Weapons clashed again and again, a pas de deux of hostility.

As the wolf-horror struggled with the chains, prone, Nadja didn’t hesitate. She charged forward in a rage and drove the tip of her blade down, two-handed, using the weight of her body, and through the chest of the smoky demon. The nightmare conjuration writhed and hissed in agony, steam firing out of its chest, until all at once, its body burst into a huge cloud of black, ash-choked smoke. The cloud billowed out, engulfing Nadja and the three remaining members of The Order of the Silver Chain.

Eles dashed forward and pulled Rakana back and away from the cloud. She flailed and wailed in agony. Blood seeped out of the slashes at a distressing pace. “Shh! Be still!” Eles urged as he reached into his pack, rushing to save the dreamer’s life, but fretting that it might be in vain.

Outside the cloud, The Maul and Kelshar continued their face off. Now, however, Kelshar could focus solely on one enemy. Each of The Maul’s attacks, while brutally powerful, sapped his energy and arrived a second late. The longer the contest went on, the more it favored Kelshar’s lighter, faster strikes. One on one, and tiring, The Maul slipped from offensive blows to defensive parries, using all his effort to keep his gauntlets and maul in front of Kelshar’s blows. Eles regarded her a maestro, the rhythm of her blows constantly changing, defying predictable patterns, until, finally, her primary blade caught The Maul between gauntlet and pauldron. Eles saw his confidence slip, and in martial combat, confidence is paramount. After that first crucial wound, he succumbed to a flurry of slashes that slipped inside his defenses. The gashes increased exponentially, until, finally, the mountain of a man fell to the ground with a thunderous crash.

That left one wounded Darkbridge soldier, circling Dargon warily, shoulder hanging limply, but with the fall of his leader, he went wan.

“Yield,” Dargon commanded, “and you may live.”

The man had seen enough of Dargon Lodern and his demon. He ran with haste for the cover of the woods.

Dargon turned and yelled to Eles, “How is she?”

“Not well,” Eles answered, honestly. His patient had gone silent in a semi-conscious haze. He tried to cover the wounds on Rakana’s back with strips of aloe-cloth, but the gashes cut deep.

Dargon turned to Kelshar, “And you?”

“I’ll live.”

One of The Order came stumbling out of the cloud, which began to disperse, coughing violently. Kelshar grabbed him and pushed him to the ground, disarming him.

Dargon waded into the sinking smoke. A moment later, he emerged with Nadja, pulling her clear.

Her eyes watered with irritation, and she struggled to catch a breath of fresh air. As the soot washed out of her eyes and she saw Dargon at her side, she whipped her fist into a roundhouse that caught him on the jaw and sent him staggering back. Frenzied with adrenaline, she thrust her broad sword forward, but Dargon spun aside quickly enough to avoid being impaled.

He backed away quickly, calling to her in an even voice, “Nadja, stop. STOP. Rakana needs our attention.”

Nadja, panting, turned to see Eles treating Rakana. She abandoned her attack on Dargon and threw herself to the dreamer’s side.

“Give her some water,” Eles instructed, and Nadja obeyed while whispering encouragements to her struggling friend and stroking her hair. Animal handlers require an acute sense of empathy, Eles decided, and he finally got to see that side of Nadja, the side forevermore withheld from Dargon.

By now, the smoke cloud had dispersed enough to reveal the last two Order members kneeling on the ground, covered in soot. They sat there, exhausted, half blind and gasping for air.

Bodies littered the woods in all directions.

Three members of the Order.

Five Darkbridge swords.

The Maul.

Rakana.

The survivors had no appetite for continuing the fight. After a quick check of the bodies, the Darkbridge soldier struck in the thigh was still alive. Eles predicted that Rakana and the other injured should survive, provided they lie still and rest. Though not a proper physician, every alchemist receives rudimentary healing instruction in their quest for a belt.

The Order of the Silver Chain agreed that they would set camp nearby so that the injured could rest and the dead be buried. The Order betrayed a sense of unease around Dargon, wincing every time he passed close. Eles imagined they silently wondered what kind of man would willingly summon such a demon to do his bidding. So, when Dargon announced that he must leave them, the Order of the Silver Chain said nothing, content to be left alone.

Nadja was not so silent. “Of course. Go! You’ve gotten what you need out of Rakana.”

Kelshar, frustration boiling over, shot back, “Enough! Did you consider that none of this would have happened had you not betrayed us to Volans? Barbs and disrespect I can tolerate, but your treachery nearly got us all killed! For what? Revenge? Coin?”

Dargon placed a calming hand on Kelshar’s arm.

“It’s safer you stay here with Rakana,” Dargon reasoned to Nadja.

“Go. You are cursed. More fiend than that demon you conjured.” Nadja spoke it plainly, guilt simmering just under her ire, Kelshar’s accusations having drained the venom out of her.

Dargon whispered. “I never meant her harm.”

Eles believed him, and that’s what made the ring so frightening. It could have just as easily been Eles sprawled in a bloody heap.

“I will pray once more to the gods that our paths don’t cross again. Next time, if they don’t heed my prayers, I’ll kill them all,” Nadja swore, stroking Rakana’s hair.

If Dargon hoped for sweeter parting words, he would be dissatisfied.

Dargon, Kelshar, and Eles left Nadja and Rakana, the bodies, and the carnage behind, wading back into those ancient giants of the White Owl Wood.

The day would soon turn to night.

The night of the eclipse.

The uncanny ability of Malus Volans’ soldiers to track them here only lent credence to Eles’ belief that Volans was the noble who had originally contracted with Garakul. If that be true, he could only imagine what they would find at the Crown.