Chapter 17

  The cold intensified the moment they passed beyond the outer palisade.

  It wasn't like the cold in the camp, where fires and bodies created some warmth. Out here, the wind cut through everything, carrying with it the scent of smoke. The brown-tinged snow stretched before them, marked with frozen pools of red and the occasional jutting spike of ice that rose from the ground like teeth. Gusts of wind would sweep through, blowing hard for a moment and then vanishing, an eerie silence left in its place.

  Francis wore his chain armor with a layer of fur over the top. He didn’t have as much as the barbarians wore, but enough to keep the worst of the cold at bay. The rest of the pack wore only pelts and leather, their bodies having adapted to the brutal temperature, and the cost of a full suit of chain mail was well beyond their wealth.

  They look comfortable.

  Hroden raised his hand, signaling the pack to halt. About fifty yards to their left, Nessa's pack was doing the same.

  "We split here," Hroden said quietly. "Our packs will stay within a hundred yards of each other. Lynxkin like to hit multiple groups at once, keeping us from helping each other."

  "They’re smart," Francis muttered.

  "They are," Helga replied. "Never forget that. These aren't mindless beasts like the ones you described in your kingdom."

  I’m not sure I ever said they were mindless. More of a horde mentality.

  Hroden looked at Francis. "Standard formation. I'll take point, you and Vornak—"

  "Let me take point," Francis interrupted.

  The pack leader frowned. "Why?"

  "Because my life depends on all of yours staying alive," Francis said. "I promised the Jarl that everyone would return. That means I need to be in front, where I can react first."

  Hroden studied him for a long moment. "You believe you’ll be able to detect them before me? I’ve been doing this for a long time, and most of the time the entire pack returns."

  "I do," Francis admitted. "My ability to do such a thing is why my General and my King sent me here. At some point, I’m going to have to prove to you and every other barbarian that I’m worthy to help."

  Selka scoffed, her voice carrying a challenge. “What, like you think you’re special? We know you're stronger and faster, but one needs to have good eyes and see everything. One’s Perception is sometimes more important than the other two.”

  "Mine’s Advanced," Francis replied, sharing his stat even though most would never do so.

  “Korvald’s blood,” Helga cursed. “His is higher than mine!”

  That drew surprised looks from everyone except Hroden, who simply nodded slowly.

  "Fine," the pack leader said. "But you call out anything you sense. Don't try to handle it alone. Understand?"

  "Understood," Francis said.

  They moved forward in formation. Francis took point, with Hroden slightly behind and to his right. Vornak held the center, his hammer ready. Eirik and Harald flanked the sides, while Selka covered the rear. Helga stayed in the middle, bow at the ready, her eyes scanning constantly.

  The crunch of snow under their boots was the only sound they could hear. Francis tried to move quietly, placing his feet carefully, but the frozen crust made it nearly impossible to stay silent.

  The Lynxkin already knows we're here. The real question is when they’ll show themselves.

  They moved deeper into the battlefield, passing frozen corpses half-buried in snow. Some were beastkin, others were barbarians.

  Francis's eyes swept constantly, looking for movement, for anything that didn't fit the patterns of snow and ice. The wind died for a moment, and in that brief stillness, Francis caught something.

  A shimmer. Barely visible against the white landscape.

  "Ahead, right, about twenty yards," Francis said quietly, not slowing down his gait. “I’ll shift us toward it.”

  The pack immediately moved with him, their weapons coming up, and the formation tightening.

  "I see it," Helga whispered.

  As she spoke, Francis's Battle Sense sensed movement..

  "Four of them!" he shouted. "All sides!"

  Four cat-like creatures with white fur materialized from nowhere. They moved quickly, their claws extended, their yellow eyes fixed on their prey. One came at Francis from the front, another from his right. The third went for Vornak, and the fourth he could sense was trying to circle toward Helga.

  Francis crossed his swords as the front Lynxkin slashed at him. Claws scraped against steel, and Francis shoved forward, breaking the beast's stance. His right sword came around in a quick slash that opened the creature's shoulder.

  The second Lynxkin tried to hit him from the side. Francis's enhanced perception tracked both attackers at once. He parried the claws with his left sword and drove his right toward the wounded one's throat.

  [ Quick Attack ]

  The blade pierced the white fur with ease, finding flesh. The Lynxkin gurgled and dropped, blood steaming in the cold air.

  One down.

  Behind him, Francis could hear the sounds of fighting. Vornak's hammer crashed against something solid. Harald shouted a warning. Helga's bowstring twanged.

  The remaining Lynxkin facing Francis tried to disengage, backing up to create distance. But Francis had fought these things too many times to let it escape.

  [ Flurry ]

  His swords became a blur. Three strikes in rapid succession—chest, arm, neck. The Lynxkin tried to block, but Francis was too fast. It collapsed into the snow, red spreading around its body.

  Francis spun to check on the others.

  Vornak had killed his attacker, the hammer buried in its skull. Eirik and Harald had cornered the fourth one, both of them bleeding from shallow cuts but working together to keep it pinned. Helga's arrow finished it, the blunt practice tip replaced with a real one that punched through the creature's eye.

  "Everyone alright?" Hroden asked, breathing hard.

  "Few scratches," Eirik said. "Nothing serious."

  "Good," Hroden said. Then his head snapped toward Nessa's position. "Damn."

  Francis followed his gaze. About eighty yards away, Nessa's pack was engaged with their own group of Lynxkin. But something was wrong. One of the barbarians was down, not moving. Another was limping badly.

  "We need to help them," Harald said, already moving.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Wait," Hroden commanded. "That's what they want. Classic Lynxkin tactic—hit both groups at once, then hit whoever tries to help with a second wave."

  He's right. If we rush over there, we'll get ambushed.

  "So what do we do?" Selka demanded. "Let them die?"

  "No," Hroden said. "We move carefully. Formation tight. Francis, you stay at point and call out like you just did. We had more time than usual thanks to you."

  "Understood," Francis replied, immediately getting into position.

  They began moving toward Nessa's pack, slower this time, weapons ready. Francis's eyes swept the landscape, his perception straining to catch any hint of movement.

  If Stenson were here with a mage, one area spell would clear this entire section. But I doubt he will be able to convince the mages to give us that luxury.

  They'd covered maybe thirty yards when Francis's Battle Sense told him things were about to get exceptionally worse.

  "Eight!" he shouted. "Two packs! All around us!"

  The Lynxkin materialized like ghosts.

  Eight white-furred predators, moving in perfect coordination. Four came at them from the front, two from each flank, and two more circled to cut off retreat.

  Shit!

  "Defensive circle!" Hroden roared. "Protect Helga!"

  The pack immediately formed up, backs toward the center, Helga in the middle. Francis found himself between Hroden and Selka, three Lynxkin advancing on their section.

  The first one lunged at Francis.

  [ Guarded Stance ]

  His body hardened as claws raked across his chest. The chain mail absorbed most of it, but he still felt the impact. Francis countered with a thrust that caught the Lynxkin in the shoulder, forcing it back.

  Two more came at him simultaneously. Francis's perception tracked both, his body reacting on instinct honed through hundreds of deaths.

  [ Riposte ]

  He deflected the left one's claws and redirected the attack into the right one. The two Lynxkin collided, snarling at each other. Francis took the opening.

  [ Power Strike ]

  His right sword came down with everything he had. The blade carved through the first Lynxkin's spine, dropping it instantly.

  The second one tried to retreat, but Francis was already moving.

  [ Flurry ]

  Three quick strikes. Throat, chest, belly. The Lynxkin collapsed, gurgling its last breath.

  Francis spun to engage the third, but it was already dead, one of Helga's arrows protruding from its eye socket.

  "Left flank!" Harald shouted.

  Francis turned to see Harald and Eirik struggling against two Lynxkin. Both barbarians were bleeding, their movements slowing.

  "Francis!" Hroden called out. "Help them!"

  Francis charged.

  He hit the first Lynxkin from behind, both swords driving into its back. The creature shrieked and collapsed. The second one turned to face him, giving Harald the opening he needed. The young barbarian's spear punched through the beast's ribs.

  "Thanks," Harald gasped.

  "Behind you!" someone screamed.

  Francis spun.

  Selka was on the ground, a Lynxkin standing over her. Her axe lay a few feet away, knocked from her grip. The beast's claws were raised, ready to deliver the killing blow.

  Francis didn't think. He just ran.

  The Lynxkin's claws came down.

  Francis's sword intercepted them, the clash of steel on claw ringing out. The force was nothing compared to the Ursaloth or his own strength.

  The Lynxkin snarled, trying to push through his guard. Francis shoved it back with ease and stepped between it and Selka.

  [ Power Strike ]

  His left sword came around in a brutal arc that took the Lynxkin's head clean off. The body collapsed, blood spraying across the white snow.

  Francis turned to Selka. "You alright?"

  She stared at him, blood running down her face from a gash on her forehead. Her expression was unreadable.

  "I... yes," she said quietly.

  "Get your axe," Francis said, placing one sword in the snow and offering her his hand.

  Selka took it. He pulled her to her feet.

  "Clear!" Hroden called out. "All down!"

  Francis looked around. Eight dead Lynxkin lay scattered in the snow. The pack was battered, bleeding, but alive.

  Vornak had a nasty gash on his arm. Eirik was favoring his left leg. Harald's face was covered in shallow cuts. Even Hroden was breathing hard, blood seeping through his furs.

  But they were all standing.

  "Everyone accounted for?" Hroden asked.

  "Here," Vornak grunted.

  "Good," Eirik said through gritted teeth.

  "Still alive," Harald added.

  "Same," Helga confirmed.

  Selka said nothing, but she nodded.

  "Francis?" Hroden asked.

  "I'm good," Francis replied. His chain mail had taken most of the damage, though he could feel a little bit of warmth where some claws had gotten through.

  I can’t play weak much longer… having to protect them makes it way harder to fight. It’s like the first few times back in the army with Michael and the others.

  Hroden looked toward where Nessa's pack had been fighting. They were finishing off their last Lynxkin, but Francis could see at least two barbarians down.

  "We need to get back," Hroden said. "Now. Before another wave hits us."

  "What about Nessa?" Harald asked.

  "They're already moving back," Helga observed. "See? They know the drill."

  "Then we do the same," Hroden commanded. "Formation. We move fast but careful. Francis, keep sensing. If anything else is out here, I want to know."

  They began the retreat, moving as quickly as their injuries allowed. Francis stayed on point, his perception stretched to its limits, searching for any hint of more Lynxkin.

  We managed to kill twelve of them, and everyone lived. That's... that's actually good.

  But as they passed back through the outer palisade and into the relative safety of the camp, Francis couldn't shake one thought.

  Selka was going to die. I saw it happening. And I stopped it.

  He glanced back at her. She was walking near the rear, her hand pressed against the gash on her forehead, her expression distant.

  Maybe that changes things. Or maybe it doesn't. Either way, everyone came back alive, just like I promised.

  ?