III. THE AMAZON AND THE WOLF MAGE

The wind churned in the trees at the edge of the field. The Queen turned to The King, a question in her eyes. The King pushed his lady behind him as the first ghoul broke out of the brush. The King fixed his sword in his hands and faced off against the beast.

Even as he struck, Gerwinder dashed to her Queen. There was a sickening crack of metal through flesh as The King hammered the first ghoul’s head. Gerwinder took The Queen’s bow and knocked an arrow covering the royal’s retreat. Although she nodded to them, her eyes never stopped scanning the treeline.

There was a crack from the woods and an arrow leapt from the bow to the shadowy green foliage. A ghoul stumbled out, chest transfixed by an arrow. Gerwinder had already replaced the first arrow with a second before the ghoul fell to the ground. A pair of ghouls appeared and she struck them dead, too. Justo raced past her on the left, stopping in front of her half an arrow shot away. He held his sword two-handed, to bar a path to her.

It was eerily quiet, Justo could hear Father muttering orders and the boots of men crunching in the fields to follow them. He scanned the trees for threats. He saw nothing so he hazarded a glance behind him.

The King and Queen were climbing on horses, with a dozen strong men surrounding them. Sister Serena was also on horseback, her mount turning worriedly. Father had his sword out, pointing at this and that as farmers and soldiers scurried around. Gerwinder held an arrow loosely in one hand also scanning for targets. Leon was next to her with Rolf and Geoff, ready to fend off anything. A strange look crossed Rolf's face and his right hand flicked his dagger to the ground as if it was red hot. A confused expression crossed his face and the other three looked at the dagger stuck in the ground, also questioningly.

The moment for questions passed too quickly for any to be asked.  

Gerwinder’s arrow found the string and sailed true, another ghoul fell dead. Justo turned with the next arrow and watched as it collapsed another target. The arrows rained down onto targets first quickly, then slowing more and more as Gerwinder emptied the quiver. Justo bowed his head and gripped the sword tightly as the last arrow ripped by him finding the eye of the closest horror.  

A rigor took him as dozens of ghouls sprang from the woods. Justo felt old, tired and sleepy. He could hear the struggle behind him as the men forced Gerwinder to retreat. Father yelled for them to run. Justo bit his lip and his whole face pulled tight as he watched hundreds of ghouls come from the forest. The tip of his sword wavered as he clenched the hilt too tightly, but he was so tired he felt like he would drop the weapon at any moment. As the first ghouls noticed him, the blood flowed from his mouth and nose freely.

Gerwinder didn’t know if she should fight the boy who dragged her backward or run. Justo had frozen like a rabbit before the wolf. He looked pitiful, frightened, and shaken as the horrors closed in on him. He barely registered ghouls closing in.

At that moment, she felt a curious feeling pulse through the boy’s hand. Heat and light surged into her, with the force of the noon sun over the sea. It didn’t hurt as it raced to her lungs, filling her whole body with energy and power. It felt good.

The boy priest ripped his hand from hers and turned to face the horde. Lacking his guidance, she wanted to turn with him. But what happened next made her surge the other way with all the strength of the messenger god.

Justo let out a terrifying snarl, which dissolved into bell-like peels of laughter. Not the bright, cheerful laughter of fey folk or elves, but the ominous tolling of myriad alarm bells in a gale.

It was too much to process in this time and place, but something the priest had given her allowed her to process the action later. It was good that she did not do so at the moment, she would have collapsed in awe and terror. She recalled Justo tormented snarl, and on reflection parsed the words:

“They protect her.”

A foul smell washed over the field as she fled with the men stumbling along in her wake. The smell of burning tallow candles, meat, and hair. As horrible as the ghouls were, something worse was leaving the shadows of the woods and advancing across the road and fields. The ghouls advanced on Justo as much as they fled the flaming things in the woods.  

        As she blew past Father and the men gathered to protect the retreating folk, he look very much like the younger man he was when he sacked her city. Like then, he was immune to the smell of burning bodies and homes. And now he held a bow, just like the day he held her bow as he stood over her.

        This time, however, she was free to run. So she did, dragging Leon and Geoff with her.

        Nettie flashed past her and she tracked him as best she could. The damn nag of a horse was going into the field, going to Justo. The horse was burning with anger, if it could have snarled and howled, it would have. Nettie charged the closest ghouls, shattering their little mob. Men slashed or stabbed the creatures down as they rolled into the royal party. Having broken up the attack, the horse continued onwards to Justo’s side.  

Sister Serena was knocked from her horse but landed on her feet. There was a tear of fabric as her pretty stola came off. Serena kicked her shoes off in the direction of the ruined stola. Gerwinder hadn’t noticed how oddly Serena was dressed before. The stola must have represented her dedication to her demi-god as it was usually reserved for married women.

Under the stola was a plain white tunic, belted as little girls or as a slave-woman would wear. But unlike a child’s belt, this one was made of leather with a large metal clasp. It was neither womanly nor modest.

The ghouls bounded over her downed horse. As the first one struck at her, she dance back catching the elbow of the offending arm. With a leap, she slammed the creature face-first to the ground. It twitched like a crushed bug. Serena’s tunic had slid down off of her shoulders revealing her bound breasts. She picked up a rock and smashed a second ghoul’s head from a truly herculean distance. Her hands came to her hips, tucking her tunic into her belt as if the belt was the most important part of her outfit.

Serena picked up a piece of wood, perhaps a roughly broken handle from a farm implement, and chased several ghouls away from the horses. She let out a hoot as she ran after them. The chaos allowed The King and Queen to escape at the head of a small band of riders.

In the distance, the boy priest looked far more holy and modest than his sister. He held a fist in the air and a bow of pure white sunlight erupted from it. The bow grew in size as it rotated skyward. Soon it was a dozen or more paces wide and as tall as the manor house. Under it, Justo’s washed-out form weakly hacked at a ghoul. Then the bow struck the ground just in front of Justo, separating him from the onrushing ghouls.

        Justo faded to invisibility in that blinding light, but the ghouls remained vaguely visible. A dozen or more were etched with that pure white light and when the light diminished, so did their bodies. Twisted ghoulish faces, flatten in peace. The somber peace of the dead. Their faded rags transformed into long white cloaks or togas before they faded away as the bow raced away from the boy priest. They looked like friends, neighbors, and family as they vanished.

        In the middle of it, Justo reappeared. He rocked from side to side like a drunk or someone struggling to stay awake. More often than not, his slashes missed targets by a whole arm's length. He looked like he was struggling to remain on his feet.

The fading light revealed the source of the smells. Out of the forest ran mightly bears. Bears draped in angry ashen flames and smoke. They were terrorizing the ghoulish horrors. Bodies by the dozens were being thrown and rent with hideous strength, claws, and gnashing teeth.  

Gerwinder shook her head as she took it all in with lightning-fast glances over her shoulder, between the men she dragged behind her. Suddenly, a small house flashed by and Geoff ripped himself away from her grasp. He fell and tumbled to a halt, coming to rest on his back.  

“Don’t stop!” rumbled Leon.

A minute later he said, “We must reach my manor.”

He clasped her hand with both of his as if she was actually dragging him behind her. It wasn’t until they overtook those who fled first, those with horses, that she realized the boy priest had used magic on her. It explained why Leon’s voice was deeper and slower and slow clop-clop of hooves.  

“We must get home,” said Leon.

What seemed like minutes later, he said, “To warn them.”

The priest had done something to her vision, too. She could recognize individual sheep on the hill beyond the manor. Aden was with them, carrying a stick like hers. Perhaps it was hers. It would please Justo that he was far, far away from the manor house.  

She looked back at her love and her heart sank.

Father’s men were fighting to gain the boy-priest and slave’s side, but streams of ghouls flowed around the two and struck at the flanks of the body of men. Justo and the boy were hunched forms before the horde of ghouls, appearing and disappearing from sight as the battle moved to and fro.

Justo slashed and flailed like a sleepwalker. His movements were slow and jerky. He stumbled from one attack to the next. The boy-priest fell to his knees behind the slave, clearly praying. Unlike her prayers, his were answered with a soft glow of light that surround Justo and himself. Whatever it was, it daunted the ghouls. They surged towards the men only to be repulsed by the light, like waves pushing deadwood in every direction.  

\Beyond fierce battle were the terrors, the burning bear folk. The ghouls breaking out of the woods had slowed to a trickle as smoke and angry red flames lit the trees. They were easily countered by the bears who rolled into the backs of the ghouls striking at Justo and the boy priest. Father and the defenders surged forwards with a mighty warcry before the sun passed behind the clouds.

The sun god’s power granted her eyes one last vision before everything closed in like stepping into a dark cave from a bright day. Justo’s face had been torn by the ghoul, three gouges across his right cheek. Blood flowed from a wound on his forehead. And then his head collided with the boy priest’s head. For one brief moment, she made out Justo’s face in raw, bloody detail. His eyes were closed. All of the sunlight raced out of her lungs and she saw the burning bears evaporate into nothing.    

It was like she hit a wall. Gerwinder felt everything leave her. But Leon was there to scoop her up. Exhaustion replaced the light she had held inside her lungs. She burned in reaction to losing the glorious heat and power. She tried to hold on to it as all of her senses collapsed inwards. She was dimly aware of passing through the manor’s gates.  

        “Horses and Arms!” shouted Leon. “Sword and Spear for King and Lord!”

        Leon’s voice had returned to normal, no longer deep and slowed. Although higher-pitched, he sounded self-possessed, commanding.

        As they crossed into the plaza, Gerwinder was aware that they were in the light, but everything was growing dim. The cost of covering miles in minutes. The last thing she heard was Leon’s bellowing:
        “A bow for this slave girl! And an ax for any who will fight for Father and King.”