Book 5 - Chapter 35 (Patreon)

The news that Zilly had finally been found wasn’t met with any sort of cheer, not when they’d been right about to start heading back to the main camp and their first meal in two days. But looking around, the men didn’t seem as mutinous as he expected, just resigned.

“What shape is her unit in?” asked Cid.

“She’s alone, but she seems fine,” said Brin.

Cid raised an eyebrow, but many of the others stopped what they were doing and looked at Brin with wide eyes. Even stoic Cowl looked appalled.

Meredydd dropped his sharpening stone and said, “Alone? A woman should not be travelling these lands alone!”

“She’s a [Scout], though. That’s her job,” said Brin with a shrug.

“[Scouts] normally move in groups of six. Three at least,” Cid explained.

“That one we met in Talra was alone,” said Brin.

“He was keeping an eye on a dead town, far behind the front lines. He wasn’t exploring enemy territory,” said Cid.

“I’m… I’m sure she has a team nearby. Maybe I just haven’t spotted them yet,” said Brin. He was pretty sure she was alone, though. She was exploring Arcaena’s wastelands solo so that she wouldn’t have to share the experience with anyone. It was such a Zilly thing to do.

“We must go to her at once!” said Brych.

Brin held up a hand. “Now, hold on–”

“Anwir, how is your leg? Can you travel?” asked Cid.

“I won’t slow you down,” said Anwir.

“Slow us down if you need to. If she’s survived on her own this long another few minutes won’t hurt. Someone help Anwir onto his horse,” said Cid. “Brin, lead the way.”

“You heard him! Mount up!” said Brin. He helped Anwir himself, and the Lance set off.

Anwir was as good as his word, and didn’t seem overly taxed by the motion of the horses, but they kept it to an even trot. Cowl left his injured arm curled up in his lap. They’d need to watch out for that injury as well, he didn’t think either men could fight in these conditions.

Brin set a moderate pace, as fast as the horses could travel without jostling their injured too much, and headed towards Zilly. It would take forty minutes to reach her at this speed, but right now she just seemed to be observing and tailing the four undead elites.

After ten minutes, she burst from hiding and lunged at one of the undead, striking it four times in the blink of an eye. The undead blocked the first strike and the other three rang harmlessly off its armor. It slashed at her and she ducked, then retreated. The undead chased, but lost her in the warren of channels and canyons.

Once she’d well and truly lost them even to their heat-senses, she wrapped back around and did it again. This time as well she didn’t manage to even scratch the enemy armor, and again it was only a narrow dodge that kept her head attached to her shoulders. But Zilly literally had a Skill called [Dodge], so it might not have been as close a call as it looked. Still, what was this about?

She ambushed them a third time, again with the same results. This time, as she was fleeing the agitated undead, she tilted her head to the side, listening. Then she stared directly at Brin’s oncoming Lance. She'd heard them, or some other sense alerted her to them, which was impressive, since she was still five miles away. Brych couldn’t sense her yet, not even close. She grinned and then ceased her retreat. Instead, she returned and charged the undead.

It was gut-churning to watch the fight that followed. The undead weren’t push-overs by any means. They were fast, and they were skilled, and they were used to fighting together as a team. They hemmed her in, coordinated their strikes, and attacked together.

And somehow, Zilly always stayed one step ahead of them. She darted around them like a ghost, like a shifting leaf in the wind. She lashed out with her sword everywhere she went, unleashing a never-ending series of blows that did no damage, and in return the undead never touched her.

Her armor wasn’t anything to brag about. Soft leather that didn’t inhibit her movements, lined with small plates of metal wherever they could cover something that didn’t need to bend or twist. Brin didn’t think it would stop a single solid his from the blacksteel weapons. Fortunately, the armor didn’t need to do anything. Zilly dodged everything. When the undead grouped up and surrounded her to the point that any dodging was impossible, she used [Dash] to leave them all behind, only to [Dash] right back in again.

Then, one of her glancing blows sent an undead stumbling to the side. The next strike pushed an undead spinning to the ground. So that was it; she was priming [Senseless Battery]. It would make every blow stronger than the last, at least until she was hit in return, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

Brin thought she might turn it around and actually win, but she suddenly [Dashed] away again. She fled from them, and by now, the undead had noticed the Lance and didn’t pursue her.

Brin led the men towards Zilly and the armored elites. As soon as they turned a bend and got a view of the undead, Zilly leapt from hiding and stood atop a mound of earth, posing like a storybook hero.

Govannon gasped. “That’s her. That’s your friend?”

That confirmed it. When she’d heard the Lance coming from miles away, she’d heard horses and armor and correctly deduced that they were friendlies. Arcaena had few armored horsemen, and she wouldn’t waste them by sending them out on patrol unaccompanied. So instead of finishing off the four undead she’d been harassing, she’d decided to wait for them to assist her in taking them down. It was the right strategic move, and he was glad she at least had some sense.

The undead, seeing a new threat in the Lance, sent only one of their number to fend off Zilly while the rest squared off against the Lance. They knew they couldn’t run now, not with Zilly’s speed, so they’d try to do as much damage as they could before the Lance took them down.

“Dismount!” Brin called, and the men moved awkwardly and slowly, none of them wanting to take their eyes off Zilly. To his eyes she looked sunburned and thin. Hunger had stolen any remaining baby fat from her face, and nothing but muscle and bone remained. She was rabid and fierce compared to the girl he’d known. If you didn’t already know her, though, he supposed she didn’t look all that bad.

He [Inspected] her, just in case.

Name: Zilyana Mentirose

Age: 16

Class: Scout

Level: 39

She was stupidly high level, but at least she hadn’t broken forty like he and Davi. If he’d found her and she was higher level than him, he’d probably have a nervous breakdown. More importantly, he didn’t get any alarm bells from the Wyrd. Whether or not she’d had an evil Class in the past, she really was a [Scout] now.

“That’s Zilly. Come on, men. Let’s go help her out!”

Brin only noticed her eyes widen in surprise because he had an Invisible Eye on her. She’d recognized his voice, and she dialed the cocksure hero pose straight to eleven. She tossed her hair and then put hand on a cocked hip, lightly tossing her sword in circles.

Once the undead heading her way had separated itself enough from the rest, she [Dashed]. One [Dash] brought her in, working in tandem with an [Overload], she struck and then [Dashed] again, forward and through. The whole move taken together looked like she moved straight through the undead, and its head only fell to the ground when she was far past it.

Unfortunately, that brought her to the other three. She leapt in the air, striking down at a mace-wielder. It struck back and the clash pushed her higher in the air, where she flipped over a spear-wielder. She landed on the ground, crouched, and then grabbed the spear-wielder around the waist as she came up, stabbing it a dozen times under the armor like a prison-shiv until it stopped squirming.

“Amazing,” Brych said in awe.

“Like a valkyrie in flight!” Rhun exclaimed.

Brin shook his head. No, she hadn’t been waiting for them because it was smart to wait for backup. She’d been waiting for them to be in visual range so that she could show off. Typical. He started charging the Fire Jelly core in his armor with a Laser.

A sword chopped down at her, and Brin nearly fired the Laser that he’d been preparing, but she dodged around the undead she’d been stabbing in a quick, fluid motion. The sword struck the other undead’s helmet. Zilly kicked them into each other, and then with two [Dashes] she swept around and took the head of the undead with the sword.

Then only one armored undead was left, the one with the mace. That was a poor weapon for a speed-based fighter, but it didn’t back down. It stepped forward and spun the mace in a dizzying series of swings to push her back and leave no openings.

Zilly threw everything she had at him, stacking [Dashes] on each other, and putting an [Overload] into every swing. Her first blow bounced off his armor, her second as well, but [Senseless Battery] was still stacking; she hadn’t been so much as scratched yet.

At last, Zilly [Dashed] back to get some space. She swept her sword around dramatically, and then pointed it at the elite. It stared grimly and  gripped the mace in both hands. The unspoken words were clear: this match would be decided in the next blow.

She [Dashed]. The undead swung. She stopped early, the mace whiffed, and then Zilly leapt forward. This time, it was a clean stab. She pierced the blacksteel plate and drove her sword straight through the undead’s heart.

Zilly flicked the blood off her sword, then sheathed it, and gave the Lance a bow. They thundered their applause, fists clanging against their chests.

“First the [Skald] and now this,” Hedrek marveled. “How many titans are born in Hammon’s Bog?”

“A worthy display of skill,” Cid said.

“She’s incredible,” Brych mooned.

“Come on. It was impressive, sure, but any one of you could do the same,” Brin groused. 

“No way,” said Brych.

Brin wasn’t really sure of that either. A few of the men, Hedrek mainly, could take down four of those elites alone, but none of them could do that. [Knights] trained to fight in teams, which meant that they didn’t practice the kind of movement and positioning that Zilly had demonstrated. Maybe they should’ve pushed Brych to practice those sorts of movements.

The men were pulling off their helmets to introduce themselves and Brych had already removed a gauntlet so that he could take her hand. Brin supposed it would be weird to reunite with a friend while wearing a metal mask of his own face, so he took his helmet off as well.

“Truly a marvel, my lady, like an angel of Solia,” said Govannon.

“If only they made women like you in Prinnash,” said Rhun.

“Beautiful. Stunning. You fight like a word of art,” said Brych.

Zilly returned their smiles, lapping it up. She walked through the men like Scarlett O’Hara at an engagement barbeque, reveling in the attention. She accepted each hand that was offered to her, and giggled when Brych lifted it to his lips. She accepted a handkerchief from Rhun to wipe off a bit of undead goop from her shoulder, and he took it back with a grin as if she’d done him a favor.

He supposed he should’ve expected this. You didn’t become one of the Golden Children of Hammon’s Bog unless you knew how to work a crowd.

“Are you well? Are you injured?” worried Cowl.

“Oh I’m fine.” She sniffed. “You’re the one who’s injured. You poor man! Oh, I hope you didn’t run all the way over here for little old me.”

“It was nothing, my lady,” said Brych. “To see you fight like that was worth any trouble.”

“It was nothing much. I’m sure you all could have done the same,” said Zilly.

“Sure, any of us could’ve done the same,” said Govannon. “But we’re [Knights]. You’d never expect a [Scout] to be able to fight like that.”

“Oh, you’re going to make me blush,” said Zilly. “Now who’s missing here. Brin, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Brin rolled his eyes. “I guess you’re right. Everyone, this is Zilyana Mentirose, a trouble-maker from my home town. Her friends call her Zilly.”

“And you must all call me Zilly,” she said.

“Zilly, this is my Prime, Sir Gurthcid Trevorrow.”

“A true pleasure, Zilly,” said Cid.

“Likewise.”

Brin went down the list, introducing each of the men, who took the opportunity to clasp hands with her a second time.  Brych took such obvious delight in the proximity of a female that Zilly stepped forward and patted his cheek.

“You’re sweet. And it’s such a pleasure because you’re like me, right? You also.. .or perhaps I shouldn’t say,” said Zilly.

A furiously blushing Brych stammered, “No, no, my lady–”

“Zilly,” she corrected.

“Zilly,” said Brych. “No, it’s quite alright. I evolved from [Rogue]. You as well?”

She pretended to consider her answer, tapping her cheek. “I suppose it needn’t be a secret any more. Now that I have an honorable Class, I don’t feel any shame in my beginnings. Yes, I was a humble [Rogue].”

“Zilly has never been a humble anything,” said Brin.

“Oh, you’re one to talk. Sir Mistaken!”

“How have you been, Zilly? And how are you so high leveled? I thought I’d finally widened my lead, and yet here you are. It’s exhausting,” said Brin.

“Oh, you know, a [Scout] has a lot of opportunities, it’s just a matter of whether she’ll take them. By the way, got any food?”

Everyone looked at each other, each wanting the other to speak first. Brin put a little poll into each of their displays, just a “Yes” and “No”. He wouldn’t decide for them, but if even a single member of their Lance voted no–

All the responses came in yes before Brin could even vote. Cid nodded to Cowl.

“We can spare only this much.” Cowl gave her both loaves, and the sausage.

She bit into the first loaf, eating it like she hadn’t seen food in weeks. Which… might actually be the case.

“So what happened after you were conscripted?”

“They sent me straight up to the army. There were a couple weeks of training, and then they set us to patrolling the border between Prinnash and Arcaena. It was pretty boring most days, but the senior [Scouts] taught me a lot about naturecraft. You know they don’t feed us? They say that a [Scout] should be able to forage.”

That would be fine in most places, Brin ventured to guess, but this part of Arcaena had very little greenery and virtually no animals. It wasn’t just that Zilly was alone; she was scouting out the very worst area.

“Water?” she asked. Brin looked at  his men, but didn’t need a poll to know the answer. He handed her the bottle with the last of their water.

“Thanks. Then when the war started things got a lot more exciting. Now we were actually moving through territory that Arcaena controls. I’ve seen monsters, undead, human soldiers, and even a few Easterlings. There’s always something to fight if I feel like fighting. Oh, but we shouldn’t tarry here too long. Whenever too many patrols go missing in the same area, Arcaena sends one of her great ones to investigate. Jhaartel himself wiped out a whole team of [Scouts] just three weeks ago. We do not want to meet someone on that level. Maybe it’ll be different now that we’re sending the whole army out on patrols now, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Good to know,” said Cid. “But I’m more interested in why you’re out here alone. [Scouts] do move in teams, correct?”

“Eh… That’s a long story,” said Zilly.

The men were practically salivating to hear it. Or maybe they were salivating from watching someone eat the rest of their food. Brin was growing less and less bothered by that, because the details Zilly had slipped were starting to paint a picture of sheer desperation, despite how she wanted to present herself.

“Where are your teammates? Did they die?” Brin asked.

“No… not quite,” said Zilly.

“I’m starting to get worried,” said Brin. “Maybe you should come back to the Order with us. We could always use more [Scouts].”

Zilly waved her hands in deflection. “No, no it’s not that bad. When the war opened up and we were sent out, [Scout Captain] Leonel started making all these noises about how women shouldn’t be sent out into that kind of danger. He started making hints about how I would be better off joining nighttime patrols, if you catch my drift. It wasn’t just me, there were three other women [Scouts], but they all had a lot more experience, so he didn’t mess with them.”

Cid frowned. “A [Captain] Leonel, you say? I’ll have words with him when we return. Such things–”

“No, no please don’t!” Zilly said. “It’s over with, regardless. When he couldn’t get his way, he sent me to the Frenarian contingent in the western army. It’s a smaller group, and a lot more tight-knit.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re out here alone,” pressed Cid.

“Well, Leonel kind of poisoned the well a little bit. He told my new commander, [Scout Captain] Adrian, that I was a troublemaker. The five guys that he sent me over with actually were trouble, too. Lots of disciplinary issues.”

“Your record is completely clean, I’m sure,” said Brin.

“It is! Mostly! And anyways, the point is I’m doing fine,” said Zilly.

“Come with us back to the Order. You’ll have a place as a [Scout]. I might even be able to put you on a Lance,” said Brin.

Zilly shook her head. “I’m not abandoning my post. Not when there’s still so much to be gained. I haven’t given up on catching up to you, you know.”

“I’ll still be having words with [Scout Captain] Leonel, no matter what you say,” said Cid.

“Please, it’s not something you can fix.” Zilly glanced at the horizon. “We shouldn’t dawdle. Someone will miss those undead soon.”

“One last thing, before we go. Have you met a man named Gerin? Gerin Baines?” asked Cid.

“I know Gerin. Why?”

“He’s Brin’s half-brother,” said Cid.

Zilly stepped back in shock. “What? You never told me you had a brother!”

“I didn’t know,” said Brin.

“Likely story. I’m glad Brin has opened up to you guys, at least. Getting him to tell us about himself was like pulling teeth back in Hammon’s Bog,” said Zilly.

“It still is,” said Cid.

“Hey! I’m an open book!” Brin protested.

No one dignified that with a response and even Brin had to admit it had come across kind of weak.

“I can see it now. He looks just like you,” said Zilly. “He’s out here, not too far away. He normally runs with a team, but he’s alone today, too. He’s just over there. Maybe twenty miles.”

Zilly pointed, and it was near the same direction they’d have to travel to get back to camp. There was no reason not to do it. He was going to meet his last brother.