Chương 9: King's Gate

Fifteen meters suddenly felt like a very short distance. One of the monsters tilted its head at Thomas's voice, and that small, thoughtful movement was worse than a lunge would have been. Barghests had been hunger, smoke, and teeth. They understood motion, pain, and prey. This redcap understood that Thomas had spoken. Its smile widened by a fraction as the others shifted around it, small bodies spreading through the open gate passage with the ugly confidence of things that knew how to work together.

Thomas used Study, trying to make sure he understood. ┌──────────────────────────────┐ Redcap Rank: E- State: Hostile Danger: High in groups └──────────────────────────────┘"Danger level is marked as 'high in groups.' Do you think five counts as a group?' Chloe made a small, unhappy sound.

"I've heard three's a crowd, so five would most certainly be a group." One of the redcaps barked at the others in words that were almost English. Thomas could hear the bones of the language under it, old and twisted, but the meaning slid away before he could catch more than pieces. The others answered in quick, sharp bursts, and the moment of stillness broke. Two turned toward the open gate, while the other three began moving toward Thomas, Chloe, and Gareth.

"They're talking," Gareth said.

"Do you know what they're saying?"

"Unless you can get them to slow down and enunciate, no," Thomas answered, raising his spear. The nearest redcap came forward at a crouch, hooked blade held low, wet cap shining in the dying blue light. Another dragged a short iron bar behind it, the metal scraping slowly across the stone. A third skittered along the side of the passage, too quick and too low, its free hand brushing the wall as though it were feeling for a way around them.

Thomas closed his hand around the spearhead in his pocket, and the bond answered so quickly it felt almost relieved. Golden light spilt through his fingers and stretched forward into the familiar shape of the spear, but this time Mana Control moved with the skill before he had to reach for it. He felt the waste in the summon, not as the numbers or a neat explanation from the popups, but as pressure leaking into places that did not matter. Too much mana went into the glow, the weight, the shaft.

Thomas tightened his grip and smoothed the flow. The spear finished forming with a softer pulse than before. Less heat left his chest, less pressure dug under his ribs, and for half a second, Thomas stared at the weapon in surprise.

"Oh," he said. Chloe glanced at him.

"Good oh or terrible oh?"

"Currently unclear." The nearest redcap lunged, and Thomas barely got the spear across in time. The hooked blade struck the golden shaft and slid with a shriek that made his teeth ache. The creature was small, but the impact hit harder than its size promised, driving him back a step before he managed to shove forward. The redcap hopped away from the counterstrike with a sound that might have been laughter. Gareth stepped in beside him and swung the crowbar.

The second redcap ducked beneath the blow so smoothly that the tool rang against stone instead of bone, and Gareth had to wrench it back before the creature could hook his arm.

"Got anything longer?" Gareth asked. Thomas did not have time to argue, but he could still feel the spear, not only in his hand but in the bond behind it. The shape of the summon was open now in a way it had not been before. Mana Control had smoothed the first spear enough that the skill no longer felt like a pipe dumping mana into a single point. It felt more like a channel he could split if he were willing to pay.

"This might be stupid," Thomas said. Chloe was already moving toward the narrow stairs built into the gatehouse wall, torch in hand.

"Is that directed at me?"

"No."

"Then I support it." Thomas pulled on the bond again. The cost hit immediately. A hollow ache opened under his sternum, small at first, like something had scooped warmth from the centre of his chest. Golden light streamed from the first spear, thinning for a heartbeat, and a second shaft formed in his other hand. It came out rougher than the first, its glow fluttering along the haft instead of settling smoothly, and the spearhead at the end was less distinct, more memory than metal. But it had weight. It had reach.

Thomas threw it sideways. Gareth caught it badly, adjusted his grip, and stared.

"This going to vanish on me?"

"Probably not."

"You're terrible at reassurance—" The third redcap sprang before Gareth could complain further. He met it with the new spear like a man who had spent years using long tools, shifting heavy things, and keeping idiots from walking into danger. He planted the butt against the stone, braced his shoulder, and let the creature's momentum do half the work. The spear punched into the redcap's chest. It screamed, but it did not die.

Golden light sizzled against grey skin, and the wound looked painful enough that any sensible creature would have stopped moving. The redcap was not sensible. It twisted along the spearhead, blade flashing, and Gareth barely pulled himself aside before the hook could open his thigh. His weapon had hurt it, but it was not a disabling blow. Thomas drove his own spear at the first redcap's face and forced it to hop back.

"Chloe!"

"I see it!" She was halfway up the stairs now, one hand on the wall and the torch clenched awkwardly in the other. The redcap skittering along the side passage saw her moving upward and broke away from the others, scrambling toward the base of the stairs on all fours. Thomas stepped after it, but the first redcap cut him off with a low slash that nearly caught his knee.

He stumbled back, jabbed forward to keep it away, and caught a glimpse of Gareth ramming his shoulder into the wounded redcap hard enough to drive it against the wall.

"Go!" Gareth barked. Thomas went. Both spears pulled at him as he moved. The second one in Gareth's hands tugged every time it struck or scraped, each impact travelling through the bond as a jolt under Thomas's ribs. The hollow feeling widened with every step, spreading into his shoulders and making his breath feel thinner than it should have. It was like trying to run while someone reeled a rope tied around his lungs. The redcap reached the stairs and leapt forward.

Thomas stabbed upward, and the golden spearhead caught it in the side, throwing the monster off balance, but again the point failed to bite deeply enough. The redcap twisted in the air, caught the edge of a step with one clawed hand, and swung its hook toward his face. Thomas jerked back so hard his shoulder struck the wall. The blade missed his eye by less than a handspan. The redcap chittered at him, wet cap bobbing as it clung to the stair. Small body. Red cap. Iron weapon.

The thought landed with an ugly, jarring weight. Not because it was false, but because it was so blazingly obvious that he'd needed a hook in his face to realise it. He'd spent the last two minutes staring at the System's neat little warning about group tactics while ignoring basic myth. Redcaps. Fae. Iron.

"Idiot," Thomas muttered.

"I am busy!" Chloe shouted from above.

"Not you!" The old spearhead was still in his pocket. The real one. Rusted, ugly, excavated iron, old enough to have slept in the ground for centuries before being put behind glass and forgotten by tourists who wanted flashy history. The weapon in his hand was only an echo of the real thing. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The redcap on the stair lunged again.

Thomas let the golden spear dissolve, and for one terrible heartbeat the shaft unravelled into light between his fingers. The redcap's smile stretched as it saw the weapon vanish. Thomas shoved his hand into his pocket and grabbed the original spearhead. The bond flared so hard his vision sparked. This time, he did not let Summon Echo build the head from memory while the real iron stayed separate in his pocket. He pulled the old iron into the shape.

He forced the shaft to grow from it, golden light wrapping around rusted metal and finding the edges time had eaten away. The hollow in his chest became cold, but the spear slammed into being around the original head. Real iron sat at the tip. The redcap's smile vanished. Thomas drove the spear forward, and the iron head punched through its throat. The effect was immediate and horrible. The creature convulsed as if the weapon poured fire into its skin.

Black-red blood splattered the stairs, the hooked blade clattered from its hand, and Thomas shoved until the redcap hit the wall hard enough to crack old mortar. When he wrenched the spear free, the thing fell twitching at his feet. The other redcaps went silent. Not for long. The one fighting Gareth shrieked a word and came at the older man harder. Gareth's spear caught it across the shoulder, but the weapon still did not bite through. It slowed the creature, but the pain made it angry.

The redcap slipped inside the reach and raked its hook across Gareth's ribs. Gareth grunted and smashed an elbow into the side of its head. Another redcap rushed Thomas. He met it with iron. This time the spear did not glance away. The redcap tried to twist aside, but Thomas caught it through the upper chest, and the old spearhead sank in with little resistance. The creature screamed as it tore itself apart, trying to get the iron out.

Thomas planted his foot, shoved, and drove it back until it collided with the open gate leaf. Two down, but the hollow feeling spread into his arms. His hands were shaking now. He felt each tremor, but it wasn't bad enough to lose his grip on his spear. The second spear in Gareth's hands flickered once, and Gareth looked down at it with a very reasonable amount of alarm.

"Thomas?"

"Still here."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know, but I'm busy." Above them, the windlass groaned as Chloe reached the mechanism. The sound started as a reluctant creak, old wood and old metal remembering work they had not done for far too long. Chains shifted overhead. Somewhere inside the gatehouse, a counterweight dragged against its housing with a deep grinding scrape, and iron teeth began to descend from the slot above the passage. The portcullis moved, but only barely.

"You have got to be kidding me," Chloe said. One redcap looked up, and then another.

"Chloe," Thomas warned.

"I noticed." The windlass groaned again, and this time the whole mechanism shuddered. The portcullis dropped another few centimetres, then stuck with a heavy clank that sounded far too final. Chloe swore. One of the redcaps broke from Gareth and sprinted toward the stairs. Gareth moved to stop it, but the wounded redcap he had been holding away threw itself at him with a flash of iron.

He blocked with the echo-spear, the head sparking as it scraped along the hook, and the redcap ducked under the shaft before opening his forearm from wrist to elbow. Gareth made a sound through his teeth that was not quite a shout. Thomas tried to push more mana toward the second spear. The hollow in his chest yawned wider. His breath thinned, and for a second the edges of the passage sharpened too much. Every crack in the stone stood out. Every scrape of metal rang bright.

His body felt too far away from his hands. No. He fed the second spear anyway, and the echo brightened. Gareth saw the redcap coming in and changed tactics. Instead of stabbing, he swept the shaft sideways and slammed the creature into the wall. It hit hard enough to stagger, and Gareth followed with the butt of the spear, driving it into one knee. Bone cracked, but the redcap still managed to slash him across the thigh before falling back. Thomas reached the stairs before the runner did, but the redcap was faster.

It hit the wall, bounced, and came at him from the side. Thomas turned, but not quickly enough. A hook caught his jacket and tore through fabric, scraping ribs beneath. Pain flashed white and vanished under colder fear as the creature scrambled past him. It was going for Chloe. Thomas threw the spear. The moment it left his hand, the bond screamed through him. The iron-tipped weapon crossed the gap in a line of gold and rusted metal, catching the redcap low in the back and pinning it to the bottom stair.

The creature shrieked, clawing at the stone, legs kicking hard enough to chip old mortar. Thomas staggered as the hollow reached his fingers. For one awful moment, he had no spear in his hand, no warmth under his ribs, and no good idea how to remain standing. Then the redcap he had driven against the gate pulled itself off the wood and came at him again. Gareth saw it and tried to move, but his injured leg buckled.

"Thomas!" Chloe shouted. Thomas lifted his empty hand. The spear pinned through the stairs dissolved, and the original iron head snapped back through the bond in a rush of golden light that rebuilt the shaft around it as it returned to his grip. The motion nearly took him to his knees, but he caught the charging redcap on the point. The thing ran itself onto the spear because it was coming too fast to stop, and Thomas was too drained to do anything clever.

The iron entered under its ribs, and the redcap slammed into him hard enough to drive the butt of the spear back against his shoulder. They both hit the ground. Its face was close enough to smell old blood and wet wool. It spoke to him. The words were thick and furious and almost understandable. Something about a thief. Something like old debt and meat. Thomas shoved the spear deeper. The redcap spasmed once and went limp. Three down. No, four. The one pinned on the stairs had stopped moving.

Thomas rolled the body off himself and sucked in air that did not feel like enough. Above, the windlass screamed. Not a person screaming. Metal. Chloe had both hands on the mechanism now, the torch wedged between stones nearby. Pale light spilt over gears, chain, and a heavy wheel built for guards with time, strength, and nobody trying to murder them from below. Blue sparks crawled over Chloe's fingers as she pushed Modify into the machine.

"Move," she said. The windlass jerked.

"Move, you historic piece of shit." The counterweight dropped. The portcullis fell another half meter and only one redcap remained. It was the first one. The smiling one. Its cap shone wet and dark as it backed toward the narrowing gate, not retreating so much as changing where it wanted the fight to happen. Gareth stood between it and the chapel passage, bleeding from his arm, ribs, and thigh. His echo-spear flickered in his grip. The redcap glanced at Gareth's weapon and dismissed him.

Then it looked at Thomas's spear and hissed.

"Smart enough for that," Thomas muttered. His own voice sounded wrong. Thin. Far away. Gareth took a step, and the redcap darted in. It moved under the echo-spear, took another cut along its shoulder without caring, and drove its hook toward Gareth's stomach. Gareth twisted, but not far enough. The blade bit deep along his side, and he grabbed the redcap by the back of its neck before it could pull away.

"Got you," Gareth said. The redcap screamed and clawed at his wrist.

"Thomas!" Thomas tried to lift the spear. His arms did not like the idea. The hollow had moved everywhere now. Chest, shoulders, legs, hands. It was not pain exactly. Pain would have been easier to understand. This felt like absence, like his body had been built around a lantern and someone had blown it out. The portcullis dropped another few centimetres. The redcap saw the gap narrowing. It stopped fighting Gareth and threw itself backwards, tearing free with a wet sound that made Gareth stagger.

The creature hit the ground, rolled, and sprinted for the open space under the descending iron teeth. Chloe saw it.

"Oh no you don't." The windlass gave one last brutal crank. The portcullis dropped. The redcap was halfway through when the iron teeth caught it. The impact drove it flat against the stone. Its arms thrashed outside the gate, fingers clawing at the ground beyond, while its legs kicked inside the passage and scraped blood across the floor. Whatever it was saying came out in a shriek now, too fast and high to be anything but rage. Chloe hung over the windlass, breathing hard.

"Thomas?" He forced himself forward—one step, then another. Gareth leaned against the wall, one hand pressed to his bleeding side. He still had the echo-spear, though the weapon was barely more than a dim outline now. His face had gone grey under the dirt.

"Finish it," Gareth said. Thomas reached the trapped redcap. It twisted enough to look back at him, and for an instant he saw something there that was not animal hunger. Hate, yes. Pain. Fear too, maybe, though he did not want to think about that for long. The redcap bared its teeth and spat a word at him. Thomas drove the spear in, and the old spearhead punched through the red cap and into the skull beneath. The monster went still. Silence arrived in pieces. First the windlass stopped screaming.

Then the metal scraping. Then the echo-spear in Gareth's hands dissolved into tired golden light and streamed back into Thomas. The hollow under his ribs eased by a fraction. Not enough to fix him, but enough to prove the mana had not all been wasted. Finally, the windlass above them settled with one last wooden groan. The portcullis held. King's Gate was closed. Thomas tried to let go of the spear, but his fingers had locked around the shaft. The golden haft flickered, rebuilt itself, flickered again.

The original spearhead remained at the end, ugly, rusted, and dark with redcap blood. Chloe came down the stairs too fast, caught herself on the wall, and nearly tripped over the dead thing at the bottom.

"Everyone alive?" she asked. Gareth slid down the wall until he was sitting on the stone.

"Define alive."

"No."

"Then yes." Thomas wanted to say something. Probably something useful. Maybe something about Priya, or bandages, or how Gareth was bleeding too much. Instead, the System arrived. ┌──────────────────────────────┐ You have reached Level 4. You have reached Level 5. Your assigned attributes have been increased. You have gained ten unassigned attribute points. └──────────────────────────────┘ The warmth that came with the levels hit a body emptied too far. Thomas swayed, catching himself on the spear shaft.

The old iron scraped hard against stone as his vision swam. Chloe stared at the empty air where his System prompt had just faded, then looked at him.

"That looked important."

"It was."

"Good important or bad important?"

"Yes." Gareth laughed once, then hissed through his teeth as blood slid between the fingers pressed against his ribs.

"Priya is going to be cross," he wheezed.

"She did tell us not to be stupid," Thomas said.

"I was useful."

"She would say those overlap." Gareth gave him a shaky, blood-stained thumbs-up.

"Then we can tell her I didn't listen." Outside the portcullis, the slope beyond King's Gate had gone still again. Thomas wished it had stayed that way. Something moved below the hill farther out, where the dying blue light broke against the dark in thin, uneven patches. A shape slipped between shadows, then another. Smaller than a barghest. Lower than a person. Too far away to count properly. Chloe followed his gaze.

"Please tell me that's just the wind." Thomas looked at the dead redcaps, at the closed portcullis, at Gareth bleeding against the wall, and at the darkness shifting beyond the gate. He tightened his grip on the spear looking down at the incoming monsters.

"I don't think the wind wears hats."