Luck

The stay in the village had been good for the spirit.

At first, the people had been wary, their eyes lingering too long on Lysara's unfamiliar form, their hands twitching toward tools that could double as weapons. But fear had its limits, and need had a way of pushing past hesitation.

Lysara had healed a few minor wounds—nothing grand, nothing that should have mattered. A sprained wrist. A boy with a nasty cut on his foot. An old man's aching joints soothed with a touch. But it was enough.

One act of kindness became two, then ten. Soon, nearly every villager had come forward, hesitant but hopeful, seeking her aid. By the second night, she was surrounded in the communal hall, patching up old injuries, her hands glowing faint with divine energy as she worked.

Aldric watched from a distance, leaning against a wooden fence. She was in her element here—not in battle, not as a warrior, but as something else. Something closer to what she had always been before all this.

It was strange, he thought, seeing her so at ease.

For a little while, it almost felt like they weren't on the run.

Aldric had no such easy escape from attention.

The hunters had approached him, half out of curiosity, half out of need. The village had been struggling to gather enough meat for the coming weeks, and extra hands were always welcome.

"Can't say I'd be much help," Aldric admitted when they asked. He gestured toward his hip, where his sword sat, chipped and dulled, barely more than a battered length of steel. "No shield, no blade worth a damn."

The hunters exchanged glances, then one of them—a burly man with a braided beard—grinned. "And what in the gods' names did that?"

So Aldric told them.

He started with Vadore, with the dark depths of the underwater city, with the Sea Queen's blessing and the glow of the coral towers.

Then came the betrayal, the Keeper's greed laid bare, the silent horror that had crept beneath the surface of sanctuary.

And finally, the Dark Templar, a nightmare made flesh, a force that had shattered everything in its path.

By the time he was done, the village had gathered around, listening in rapt silence, the firelight flickering across their faces. Even Lysara, seated on a wooden bench nearby, seemed amused, her arms crossed as she watched him spin the tale.

"You fought a Dark Templar?" one of the hunters asked, disbelief and awe warring in his tone. Most had no idea what a Dark Templar was, but it sounded impressive.

"More like survived it," Aldric corrected. "Barely."

That seemed to be enough.

By the next day, children were running through the village, waving sticks in mock battle, pretending to be heroes and Dark Templars.

Aldric groaned when he saw it.

Lysara only smirked. "You've made quite the impression, hero."

Aldric rolled his eyes. "That's the last thing I need."

Storytelling hadn't excused him from work.

He was still put to task, helping mend fences, repairing tools, and hauling supplies. The hunters, eager to see if he could back up his words, pressed a short spear into his hands and shoved an old wooden shield at him. The leather straps were worn, the wood dented from years of use, but it was better than nothing.

His sword, now too damaged for reliable use, was left in his pack. He would need a new weapon soon.

Hunting with a spear was different from swordwork—less about power, more about patience. He was no expert, but he learned quickly enough, bringing down two hares on their second night.

By the end of three days, they had stocked up on provisions, filled their packs with supplies, and even gained some equipment.

And when the time came to leave, the village was reluctant to see them go.

"We're in your debt," the village elder said, clasping Aldric's arm.

Aldric shook his head. "You gave us a place to rest. That's more than most would."

The villagers gathered to see them off, offering quiet blessings and well-wishes. The children, still buzzing from Aldric's tale, waved sticks like swords, shouting about heroes and monsters.

Aldric sighed.

Lysara laughed.

Then, with the village behind them, they turned their sights north, toward the Wall.

--

The fight had gone wrong before it even started.

They had been careful—always careful—sticking to high ground, watching the wind, avoiding open fields where a sharp-eyed scout could spot them. But luck couldn't last forever.

The Karnaxians had found them.

Aldric didn't know if it was the wind shifting, betraying their scent, or if the bastards had sensed the divine mark on his chest like a beacon in the night. Either way, they were running now, boots hammering against uneven ground, heading for a rocky outcrop where the terrain might give them an advantage.

But the war hounds were gaining.

Four of them, massive, their thick black fur bristling, eyes gleaming with unnatural intelligence. They weren't ordinary beasts—Karnaxians bred them for war, trained them to tear through men in full plate.

And then came the handlers.

Three soldiers, their bronze-plated armour catching the dying light, closing in with the unstoppable certainty of men who had never once been overpowered. They moved like mountains, each carrying weapons no ordinary person could hope to lift—one wielded a massive greataxe, another carried a warhammer that could break a man in half with a single strike, and the last bore a greatsword so large it nearly dragged along the ground.

Aldric clenched his jaw. Karnaxians weren't mindless. Most weren't even corrupted. They were warriors—followers of the War God, blessed with unnatural physical strength, wearing armour thick enough to turn aside arrows like rain. If their leaders reeked of corruption, these men did not.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't kill him.

"Here!" Lysara shouted, reaching the rocky outcrop first and leaping onto an outcropping of stone, her staff already glowing with divine light.

Aldric followed, turning just as the war hounds launched themselves at them.

The first beast hit him full force.

He barely got his wooden shield up in time before the creature's weight slammed into him, knocking him backward into the rock wall. Its fangs scraped against the wood, splintering it. The strength behind the attack was monstrous—if it weren't for the shield, those teeth would've found his throat.

A second hound lunged, its jaws snapping inches from his arm.

Aldric shoved the first beast off, raising his short spear. The hound circled, growling low, calculating. These weren't mindless beasts. They had been trained for this.

The moment he shifted his footing, it lunged again.

Aldric twisted, bringing the spear up—too late. The hound slammed into him again, its claws raking his arm, sending him sprawling.

Lysara moved before the beast could finish him.

She brought her staff down hard against the hound's ribs, light crackling along its length. The divine energy sent the creature skidding across the dirt, yelping as it hit the ground.

The reprieve didn't last.

One of the Karnaxian handlers leaped down from his horse, his greataxe gleaming as he moved with terrifying speed. He didn't hesitate—he brought the axe down in a deadly arc, aiming straight for Lysara.

She barely dodged in time, the blade carving deep into the stone where she had been standing.

Aldric surged forward, ignoring the pain in his ribs, driving his spear at the exposed gap between the man's helm and gorget.

The Karnaxian turned—too fast.

The axe came up in a brutal counter, knocking Aldric's weapon aside. The sheer force of it numbed his arms.

Lysara struck while the man was focused on Aldric, her staff cracking against the back of his knee. It barely staggered him.

Aldric gritted his teeth. Too strong. Too fast. Too armored.

Another hound lunged. Aldric twisted, driving the broken edge of his shield into its mouth before ramming his spear into its exposed flank. The beast let out a choked snarl before collapsing.

Two left.

Lysara ducked beneath another swing, moving with unnatural agility, her staff deflecting a blow that should have shattered her ribs. She moved like water, never staying in one place long enough for the Karnaxian to land a solid hit.

But he wasn't tiring.

Neither were his men.

The second handler with the warhammer advanced, his weapon held low, waiting for an opening.

The third swung his greatsword in a long, sweeping arc, keeping Aldric from closing the distance. The hounds snapped at his heels, forcing him to split his attention.

We can't win like this.

Aldric's breath came hard and fast. Their only chance was to break the formation.

"Lysara!" he shouted.

She didn't need more than that.

She shifted, letting the first Karnaxian overcommit to his next swing. As his axe cleaved through empty air, she rolled to the side, her hand slamming into the ground.

A pulse of divine energy surged outward.

The ground beneath the warhounds exploded in a bright flash of holy light. The shockwave sent them yelping and staggering backward, momentarily blinded.

Aldric seized the opportunity.

He lunged, driving his spear deep into the nearest handler's exposed thigh.

The man grunted in pain, stumbling.

Lysara capitalized, her staff striking the base of his skull in a brutal, final blow. He dropped.

One down.

The second handler roared, his warhammer swinging in a devastating arc. Lysara barely avoided it, the sheer force of the impact cracking the stone beside her. She stumbled back, her footing momentarily uncertain.

Aldric turned as the last hound leaped at him. He brought his damaged shield up—not to block, but to guide the attack. He let the beast's momentum carry it past him before stabbing his spear clean through its chest. The warhound collapsed with a final snarl, twitching once before going still.

The handler saw the beast fall and snarled, gripping his warhammer in both hands. His muscles flexed beneath his plate, the sheer force of his movements sending loose dirt scattering with every step. His strength alone could break them if they weren't careful.

Lysara saw it too. She pivoted, baiting him into another reckless strike. He swung downward with enough force to shatter bone, but she wasn't there when the hammer struck. The weapon slammed into the ground, lodging deep into the stone.

Before he could wrench it free, Aldric surged forward.

With a grunt, he thrust his spear low, driving it into the gap between the handler's greaves and his knee. The Karnaxian let out a strangled roar, his leg buckling beneath him.

Lysara capitalized. She spun, her staff igniting in divine light, and brought it down on his exposed neck with brutal force.

The impact sent a sharp crack echoing through the night. The Karnaxian collapsed forward, his warhammer still embedded in the ground. His breath hitched once before going silent.

Two down.

Lysara feinted left, then pivoted, slamming the end of her staff into the remaining handler's wrist. The Karnaxian, wielding his massive greatsword, had been fighting with sheer, unchecked fury. His rage had consumed him, his attacks wild and unrelenting, ignoring everything except the need to kill. He had lost all sense of his surroundings, blind to the shifting battlefield.

Her strike made him snarl, his grip loosening for just a moment—just enough for Aldric to rush in, closing the gap.

With a sharp thrust, Aldric drove his spear up beneath the man's arm, piercing through the weak joint in his armor.

The Karnaxian let out a choked breath, his strength faltering. His greatsword, raised for another brutal swing, slipped from his fingers as his knees buckled. His massive frame hit the ground with a heavy thud.

The last warhound, wounded, slunk back, its ears flattened. Then, as if sensing its masters were gone, it turned and bolted into the darkness.

The fight was over.

Aldric stood there, panting, gripping his spear tightly. His shield was ruined. His arm ached from the strain.

Lysara exhaled sharply, her scales shifting through shades of deep blue before settling.

"Well," she muttered. "That could've gone worse."

Aldric let out a breathless laugh. "Could've gone better, too."

She smirked, but her gaze flickered to the Karnaxians they had just killed. Her expression sobered. "They weren't corrupted."

Aldric wiped the blood from his face. "No."

Just warriors, following orders.

Lysara stared at the bodies for a moment longer before shaking her head. "We need to keep moving before more show up."

Aldric nodded, shouldering his pack.

The Wall was still far, and if this fight had proven anything, it was that luck wouldn't save them forever.