Chương 59: Chapter 58

One of the miners' wives, a woman who I assumed was Soren's mother, snaked her hand out and pulled the seven year old into her arms. He tried to fight his way free, thrashing about as though she were trying to kill him, but the tyranny of stats when comparing an adult with a child meant his attempt was doomed to fail. In the dark of the common room, I could see Soren's tears mirrored in his mother's eyes as she held him tightly.

My gaze returned to the window as I watched the wounded miner pull the bone-tipped arrow free from his leg and staunch the bleeding with some ripped wool. The clatter of falling arrows continued but failed to find a home in the flesh of the defenders a second time. For me, my eyes were glued to Gramps where he hunkered down beneath another wooden table, using chairs to guard his sides as he waited out the rain of arrows.

Finally, after what felt like an age but was probably less than a minute, the chaotic volley came to an end. Many of the arrows had shattered on stone, sending skeletal fragments everywhere, making it difficult to move around on the now sharp and unstable ground. It seemed that must have been part of the Necromancer's plan as in the distance, the skeletal goblins started dropping their bows. Instead, they brandished a variety of weapons as they formed up into something that might loosely be described as lines.

Some held shoddy spears tipped in stone, others held little daggers made of bone, while a few lucky ones gripped rusty swords. There was no war cry from the walking dead. One moment they were clattering into formation, the next they were charging across the uneven ground towards Gramps and the few defenders between us and the Necromancer's forces. Gramps rose from beneath the table, and I felt aether begin to build. My eyes went to Gramps, thinking he was about to cast a spell.

Instead, as my Path ticked up, I witnessed the earth swallow the bone shards, clearing the ground for the couple of miners and Gramps. Earth magic, I realised. My eyes snapped to George who walked calmly towards one of the two gaps in the bulwark meant to funnel the skeletons with both of the miners following, though Soren and Brin's dad was already limping from the wound in his leg. I couldn't pay attention to them though, as my eyes were drawn back to Gramps as I sensed more aether in the air.

I had spent over a year training in the Path of Aethersensing with the old codger and whenever I had felt his aether it had been little more than a disturbance in the air. An intangible entity that felt similar to the Skill Seed I had stashed upstairs, oily and slick, yet not. The feeling of his aether now was nothing like that. The air inside the outpost was cool, despite all the people and the fireplace, yet staring at Gramps it was like I was being buffeted by oily waves of hot air.

I was cold, yet hot, and that juxtaposition would have left me confused if not for the undercurrent of aether in the air. The skeletons continued their charge, but the fires around them began to shift, roiling and flaring like living elementals. I guessed the Necromancer must have sensed it too, as the army of the dead began to scatter, the formation tearing at the seams as the skeletons raced for cover that didn't really exist.

All the while, the flames from the numerous campfires continued to build and grow, joining together until in one final conflagration they rolled forward like a blazing tidal wave of red, orange, and yellow. This time when the heat hit me it felt real and not like something I was imagining. The brightness of the flames kept me from seeing exactly what happened but as soon as my eyes cleared, I looked out.

Steam poured off the ground as the fires died down, dissipating as the aether was spent and the steps on my Path stopped climbing. I pressed up against the window, the warmth of the glass at odds with my chilly hands as moisture gathered around my splayed fingers. Just beyond the barrier Gramps slouched, clearly tired from his spell but still standing.

In the distance, charred bones littered the field of battle as the few surviving skeletons climbed out of divots in the ground or from behind rocks no bigger than a child. Wooden spears had been turned to ash, smoke still rose from their remains. The once bright campfires now burned fitfully with most of their fuel consumed. I counted the moving skeletons one by one. Of the undead army, less than a fifth remained. In one magical attack, Gramps had destroyed over eighty undead skeletons.

I had always known I wanted to be a mage, but this single experience had sealed that fate for me. I would become like my Grandpa, or die trying. A high pitched scream of rage from the forest accompanied that thought and I guessed the Necromancer was not as happy with the outcome as me. As the shrill screech of the enemy mage faded, the remaining skeletons charged the bulwark, their numbers now reduced to something manageable.

The two miners held the gap against the oncoming forces, mining equipment in hand in lieu of weapons, with Gramps standing behind them. I couldn't sense any aether from the old man, but that didn't mean he was spent. As the first skeletons arrived chopping at the miners like they were wooden posts rather than men of flesh and blood, I saw George slip through the wooden stakes. The pillars simply bent around him making way for Etta's dad, before shifting back.

I assumed the Earthen Spellsword was controlling the ground. Then he was moving, once more seeming to slide across the ground as much as run. I cheered even as I felt Etta tense up next to me. Her dad was definitely going to kill the Necromancer! If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. My elation was short-lived as a roar from the forest shook the outpost, the undead bear that had remained idle till now, charging forward to meet George.

The beast's paws glinted in the fading firelight and I wondered just how the Necromancer had managed to graft metal onto the gargantuan undead. Then George was in range and the two met in an instant of incomparable violence. A paw slashed out towards George who slid underneath the swipe, the earth carrying him farther than was natural. Beside me Etta gasped. My eyes were so glued to the battles taking place that I didn't even notice the first scream from behind me.

It was impossible to miss the second though, and I spun to see what was going on. Rats were streaming in like a furry tide from underneath the outpost front door. Kids and mothers were yelling and screaming as the scurrying rodents rushed towards us. My brain kicked into overdrive as I jumped down from the table I was standing on and drew my wooden practice sword. The first rat I hit went flying with a pained squeak, but it was merely the tip of the spear as the horde of rats rushed in amongst everyone.

I batted at the ones I could, my free hand reaching out to rip rats off me as they tried to climb up my body and bite at me through my clothes. Etta was beside me, screaming as she flailed about with her own wooden sword. I snatched a rat from her back that was trying to climb into her hair and tossed it away. The room had devolved into pandemonium, the floor like a living, writhing beast of fur and claws.

The thought was like a revelation as I tracked one of the rats that moved slowly, hiding in the masses, its overdeveloped claws marking it as different from its peers. A difference I recognised. A difference I had encountered before. I waded into the field, more rats scurrying up my legs as most poured around me trying to get to everyone else. Rats don't behave like this. You're controlling them, you little bastard. Just like your bastard cousin or whatever tried to control me! I raged mentally.

It noticed me at the last second, its beady eyes flicking up towards me as I towered over it, whiskers twitching in something like rat apprehension. I felt a pressure against my mind, trying to make me freeze with fear, but it was too late. My arm was already in motion, my wooden blade crashing down with enough force to pulp the skull of the mutated rat. I felt that same sense of something within the dying form of the rat and inhaled it like air.

A notification of steps went off in my vision but I ignored it, instead witnessing a portion of the rats flee, charging over each other as they tried to escape the room. It was a fraction of a fraction, but it was a start. It also told me that there were more of the mutated rats in the room, hiding amongst their kin and guiding the swarm. I brushed another rat off me, ignoring the burning pain as its sharp teeth found purchase through my coat and a dribble of blood stained the thick fur of my clothes.

Then Mum was beside me, dragging me back. I turned to her, seeing bites and scratches down her own pale arms.

"Look for the ones with big claws!" I yelled over the sound of people still screaming as they stomped and kicked at the skittering rats that continued to try and overwhelm them. Mum pointed one out but pushed me behind her as she carried a makeshift club out towards it, rats crawling over her ankles and nipping at her with sharp teeth. I wanted to follow but something else caught my eye as Soren made a mad dash away from the rest of the Pick Pack.

The twins and Brin were smashing rats with the wooden swords and crying in the corner near the window, but Soren was charging for the kitchen door with Etta giving chase. I moved to follow when a small figure, no bigger than Brin, stepped through the kitchen door. Soren ran straight into whoever or whatever it was, and even over the din of our rodent battle, I heard the 'urk' sound of air leaving Soren's lungs.

Then the boy was toppling backwards, something solid sticking out of his chest and a dark liquid leaking onto the floor. A woman screamed loudly behind me, but Etta was all I had eyes for as the figure grabbed my best friend by her hair and dragged her back into the kitchen.

"Bastian! NO!" Mum screamed, but I was already running, legs pumping and wooden sword in hand as I gave chase. The rats, for whatever reason, ignored me as I crossed the floor of the common room at a dead sprint. I burst into the kitchen to find the creature waiting for me. I had never seen a goblin before in this life, but I was pretty confident that the beast I was staring at was one. Pallid green and grey skin with sickly yellow eyes.

It wore bits of leather that looked to be made of goblin skin, the patchwork clothing not covering everything and showing a skinny frame with ribs jutting out like a starving beast. The goblin was barely taller than me but it held Etta's hair in a vice grip. The moment I entered the room, it opened its mouth, revealing yellowed and broken teeth in a rictus of a smile. It said something then, its words guttural.

I didn't understand what it was saying, which seemed to confuse it as it cocked its head to the side before throwing Etta into the table. Her head crashed against the wooden top and she fell bonelessly to the floor. I wanted to get closer to her but the moment I took a step towards her the goblin matched me, stepping over the top of her with clawed feet, not unlike the rats. I noticed that same mutation in the nails of its hands, though maybe they were naturally like that.

"You can stop pretending," it hissed in Helenian. In the room behind me, the sounds of battle and screams continued. I wondered why Kaylee and my Mother hadn't given chase. What was keeping them?

"Pretending?" I asked in confusion, buying time as I used my footwork training to circle away from the goblin.

"That's not going to work," replied the goblin, stalking after me.

"Genius, to manage to possess a human child and gain access to their Myriad Paths. Hiding out here, where others of our kind wouldn't find you and their blighted Holy and Radiance wielders wouldn't think to look. Oh so clever, so long as you had time to grow, but you won't. I found you, and when I am done devouring you, I will have enough power to break the shackles that fucker Kral placed on me. Now come here, and die!" I glanced behind me, noting the kitchen door leading outside was slightly ajar.

Then I turned and ran.