CHAPTER 48

  Rematch

  Bash dropped onto a narrow overlook at the back of the Beastmaster camp.

  > “We have perfect vantage. It appears the camp is preparing for something.”

  Looking down, he could see the Beastmasters lined up in formations, with the large wolves pacing off to the side. They were all looking towards the opposite slope. Across the pass, the undead massed in numbers that made his stomach drop. Every bone and rusted blade replaced since last time.

  > “Enemy ranks fully replenished. I estimate over fifty Bone Marauders.”

  He scanned the crowd for his friends. There. Just left of center Patrick, Nora, and Luis stood together with their backs to him. His chest tightened at the sight of them. After wondering if he’d ever see them again, they were right there. Alive. Waiting for him, even if they didn’t know it.

  He almost rushed down, nearly shouted their names, but caught himself. Instead, he took a slow breath and climbed down carefully.

  Landing in a crouch, Bash made his way through the camp, weaving between makeshift tents and cook fires. The Beastmasters had been busy. Sharpened stakes jutted from the ground at angles, creating fall back points. Ditches had been dug across the main approaches, shallow but enough to slow charging enemies.

  One structure stood apart from the rest. Reinforced. Barricaded. The only real building in the camp. A woman stood at the door, blade in hand, eyes tracking him as he circled wide. Through the gap behind her, Bash caught a glimpse of small children huddled together in the dark.

  He gave a small smile and a friendly wave. The woman's only reply was to tighten her grip on her dagger.

  Tough bastards, Bash thought. They got massacred, and instead of running, they dug in.

  > “Your friends right up ahead. Five meters past the last tent. You should have eyes on them in the next few seconds.”

  Bash turned the final corner and halted, suddenly becoming nervous. How should he make himself known? Maybe a jump scare, try to tickle Patrick? Throw a smoke bomb and deliver an epic monologue with an overly husky voice?

  Instead, he would play it cool. Planned to stroll up casually, slide right between Nora and Luis like he'd never left. Maybe drop a one-liner. Something smooth.

  A black shape burst from the morning sky and slammed into his shoulder, talons digging in, causing Bash to screech.

  "Where were you!" Lilly yelled. "I thought you died!"

  So much for a smooth entry. His friends spun around, weapons half-raised, and stopped when they saw him. Quickly regaining his composure, Bash blinked up at Lilly, then squinted. "Whoa. What have they been feeding you? You're getting fat!"

  "RUDE!" She pecked his head furiously. "NOT FAT! EVOLVED!"

  "Ouch! Stop! Okay, evolved, I'm sorry!" He laughed.

  Lilly huffed but pressed her head against his cheek anyway. "Don't leave me again," she whispered.

  The words hit harder than they should. He had to blink to keep his eyes from tearing up. Turning to the others, still frozen, Bash cleared his throat. "So. What'd I miss?"

  Nora’s sword dipped. Tears streaked down her face. She strode forward punched him in the chest, hard enough to bruise. “You... moron.”

  Luis’s jaw dropped. He scrambled for words, tripping over himself. “Back from the dead, hombre!”

  Patrick glanced him up and down and grunted.

  For the first time since remaking, Bash was whole again. The exhaustion. The fear. The guilt. None of it mattered. He was back where he belonged.

  He took a long-relieved breath. “Oh, and I brought help.” Bash cleared his throat. “Shai, do you want to introduce yourself?”

  The air shattered. Or rather, un-shattered. What looked like shards of glass spun together in reverse, clicking into place until they formed a floating mirror. The surface rippled once, then tore open.

  From it, Shai stepped through.

  Her face was porcelain-white with oversized eyes underlined by twin streaks of black war paint. Straight black hair fell down her back, and she wore armor that could only be described as a Victorian ballgown made for murder. All sharp edges and black metal plates arranged in folded origami. The friendly wave that she gave clashed wildly with the death-metal aesthetic

  “Hello! I’m Shai.” She spoke in her normal, almost too perfect voice. “Huge fan. Bash has told me all about you.” Pausing, she glanced at their stunned faces. “Save your big questions for later. Right now, we must prepare for battle.”

  Patrick blinked as his tactical brain registered a brand new variable. Luis’s eyes went wide. Nora’s mouth dropped open, but she half-smiled through the tears.

  Lilly hopped up and down, beak snapping in awe. “Pretty! Pretty!”

  Even Bash stared. She looked... real. Solid. Not at all like the glitchy placeholder he'd talked to earlier. "Uh... right. Shai here is our backup!"

  Shai smiled, giving a perfect Old Village salute. “Scout and decoy. I can’t deal damage, but I will distract the enemy and provide oversight.”

  Nora wiped at her face and met Shai’s eyes. “Thank you for coming.” She turned to Bash. “Both of you.” Her voice caught, just for a second. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Luis mouth curved. “Hermano, where’d you get such a stunning girlfriend?”

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  Bash sputtered. “She’s not my girlfriend!”

  Patrick cut in, turning to face the advancing horde. “Enough chit chat, they’re coming. Same as before. Bash, you provide the firepower.”

  ***

  From his place right behind Patrick and Luis, next to Nora, the world soon turned into non-stop motion and noise.

  The marauders surged up the slope by the dozen, bone-white, rotten flesh draping silvery skeletons. The group braced for impact. Exhaustion written in the sag of their shoulders but determined. Lilly still hunkered on Bash’s shoulder, feathers slicked down, eyes wide.

  > “Bash, their formation is different this time. They’re spreading wider, trying to flank. But the Beastmasters anticipated this. Check the left ridge.”

  Bash looked. A squad of Beastmasters crouched behind the stake line, completely hidden from the marauders’ approach. The undead were walking straight into a kill zone.

  With Bash’s return the game plan had quickly changed, their group was now the vanguard, with the Beastmasters forming up further back on the left and right flanks. The defensive preparations made all the difference. Where the first battle had been chaos and slaughter, this was controlled violence. The fortified positions gave the defenders every advantage.

  > “First wave incoming. Recommend Patrick and Luis hold the center while Nora covers their blind spots.”

  “Patrick, Luis, hold center!” Bash called out. “Nora, watch their flanks!”

  Patrick didn’t acknowledge the order, but he shifted his stance slightly, adjusting. Good enough.

  The first group of skeletons didn't stand a chance. Patrick, with a psionically charged spear, cleaved a marauder in half with a single swing. Pieces flew in every direction, marking first blood.

  Luis then took point with his sword and shield to fend off another two. His shield caught a rusted blade, turned it aside, and his charged sword punched through the attacker’s ribcage before it could recover. “That’s for last time, pendejo!”

  Nora circled quickly to the right, cutting down one that had tried to slip past Luis’s guard, giving Luis the opening to finish the other.

  Bash had weapons filled with power and waiting, hands moved automatically. Spears, swords, even a broken axe. Each touch sent a jolt up his arm, leaving every weapon thrumming with power. Each time he filled a weapon, he got better, faster.

  > “Second wave approaching from the north ridge.”

  Bash was already looking. Twelve of them, trying to flank. "Shai, can you slow them down?"

  > “On it.”

  A shimmer of light rippled beside him. Shai’s avatar materialized right in the middle of the chaos, a glowing figure waving frantically. “Over here, ugly!” she called, her voice echoing strangely.

  A half-dozen skeletons peeled off, charging after the projection as Shai zigzagged away. She led them straight into a cluster of sharpened stakes, where three impaled themselves trying to reach her. The others stumbled, slowed, easy pickings for the archers on the platforms above.

  Bash grinned, barely believing the absurdity. “That’s my girl. Super troll mode.”

  > “It’s working! I can keep this up for another minute. Also, Patrick is overextending.”

  Bash saw it, and shouted. “Patrick! Pull back two steps, you’re leaving a hole!”

  Patrick grunted, but he stepped back. A skeleton that had been angling for the gap found itself facing Luis’s shield instead.

  Lilly, much larger and faster than before, sprang from Bash’s shoulder. He tossed her a pouch of charged stones, and she caught it mid-air, clutching it to her chest.

  When her stones struck true, she cheered. “Got one! Yes! Got one!” She wasn’t just mocking death, she was defying it.

  > “The Beastmasters are executing a pincer movement. Watch the right flank.”

  Bash looked. A pack of dire wolves burst from behind a rocky outcropping, slamming into the marauders’ exposed side. They didn’t attack head-on, they darted in, hamstrung a skeleton, and retreated before it could retaliate. Then another wolf would hit from the opposite angle. The undead couldn’t form a defensive line because they never knew where the next attack would come from.

  “That’s brilliant,” Bash breathed. “They’re using the wolves like cavalry.”

  The marauders tried circling, but the Beastmasters never let them gain advantage. They worked in small packs, smashing into flanks with their own counters before falling back to safety. Dire wolves snapped at stray ankles, dragging down any bonehead that slipped through. Their tactics were ruthless and disciplined. Every time Bash’s group was threatened by encirclement, a pair of Beastmasters would burst from cover, harrying the enemy before vanishing again.

  > “Large concentration forming at the center. They’re going to try to break through Patrick’s position.”

  “Patrick! Big push coming, center! Nora, Luis, collapse on him!”

  They moved without hesitation. Patrick planted his feet, spear leveled. Luis came up on his left, shield raised. Nora flanked right, blade ready.

  A dozen marauders hit them like a wave. And broke. Patrick’s spear, overcharged with everything Bash could give it, swept through the first rank like a scythe through wheat. Luis caught the second rank on his shield, turned their momentum against them, and Nora picked off the ones who stumbled. The Beastmasters hit them from behind a moment later, wolves tearing at legs while warriors smashed skulls.

  Undead blood, black and oily, splattered the snow, mixing with the occasional streak of red. The air filled with the crunch and crack of bones, the shrieks of wolves, and the battle cries of exhausted defenders.

  Every move was a bet on survival. He caught Luis’s eye, saw the shared desperation, the silent promise to take one more step.

  “Go to the right!” he called out, waving his arm in that direction. He darted forward, grabbing more dropped weapons, constantly replacing depleted or broken ones.

  “You’re running low on charged weapons and energy. I suggest prioritizing Patrick and Nora, they’re dealing the most damage.”

  “Got it.” He grabbed a notched sword, poured power into it until it hummed, and sprinted to Nora. “Fresh blade!”

  Nora caught it without looking, discarding her dulled one in the same motion. The new sword carved through two of the skeletal creatures before they could react.

  Lilly screeched above, a black shape. She dove, dropping psionically charged stones through the eye sockets of two marauders, one after another, sending shards of bone spraying across the field. “Bingo!” she crowed, looping back for more, effortlessly dodging the occasional enemy swing.

  >“Enemy numbers dropping. Less than twenty remaining.”

  The onslaught continued. Piece by piece, they pulled the undead apart, scattering them before the relentless pushes and clever feints of Shai’s decoys.

  “Bash, you’re clear for thirty seconds. This is your window.”

  He nodded, seeing the opening. “Luis, Nora, collapse left! Patrick, take the center! PUSH PUSH PUSH!”

  Luis and Patrick surged forward, taking the opening. Patrick’s spear, aglow from Bash’s boost, carved a swath through ribcages and skulls. Luis’s shield and sword flashed red with psionic charge. Nora moved like lightning, darting in and out, separating a skeleton from their arm here, a leg there, always at the critical moment to protect Luis and Patrick from counterattacks.

  Weapons shattered skulls and ribcages, psionics sending shockwaves through the enemy ranks. Bash’s companions fought as if possessed. The ground beneath them became a mess of broken skeletons and churned earth, as they went on the offensive.

  The Beastmasters seeing the tide turning, committed fully, moving forward to close the circle. As they advanced, they finished off half-shattered skeletons still moving and crawling across the battlefield. The dire wolves stayed between the living and the enemy’s claws, running back and forth to always hit from the side, never head on. Every undead was isolated, then taken down with overwhelming numbers.

  At last, the final marauder fell, bones exploding in a cloud of sparks and dust. The field went still. The only sounds were the panting of survivors and the shuddering howls of the wolves.

  Bash sagged, exhausted. He wiped the black ichor from his brow, barely able to stand. The blessed screen appeared, flooding his senses with a jolt of levels and the sweet relief of a stat boost.

  !

  (Yes. I wrote this in the 3rd person)