Chapter 6

  “Tiv, wake up,” Skorval whispered.

  Tivric jolted upright to find Skorval standing over him, already fully geared, blade drawn. That alone was enough to tell him he too needed to get read.. Tivric reached for his own equipment, strapping it on with practiced speed as Skorval moved to alert Vaeyra.

  She was already stirring. Moments later, Vaeyra was on her feet as well, armor going on in quiet, efficient motions, sword and shield in hand.

  After alerting Vaeyra, Skorval took something out of his pocket and put it into his pack, Tivric could not tell what it was though.

  The three slipped into cover among the trees, falling into a formation that felt natural—like they had trained together for years rather than days.

  They listened.

  At first, Vaeyra heard nothing. But both grimtails’ ears twitched, whiskers stiffening. Skorval pointed sharply into the darkness. Tivric nodded.

  Vaeyra followed their gaze. A heartbeat later, she heard it too—the faint clatter of bone and metal, uneven and unmistakable.

  Five skeletons emerged slowly from the trees, Selenar’s dying glow catching the stains in their bleached bones. More followed behind them, forming a loose, advancing line. And at their center stood something Tivric had never seen before.

  Most of the undead that assaulted the burrows were large—large for surface folk, enormous to grimtails—but this one was different. Taller. Heavier. Fully clad in armor that looked newly forged, not rusted or scavenged. An eerie, ethereal glow clung to him, outlining his form like cold fire.

  He carried a broad sword etched with green-blue runes. The blade looked pristine—untested, as if it had never cut flesh, as though it had come straight from the forge and into death’s hand.

  The three exchanged glances. No words were needed.

  They nodded.

  The next sound to break the silence was the low hum of crossbow bolts slicing through the night.

  Tivric fired and reloaded in rapid succession, bolts tearing into the advancing undead horde. Skeletons shattered as they closed the distance, bones exploding under impact. For a split second, instinct pulled him toward where a hatch should have been—then he remembered he wasn’t in the Burrow.

  Bolts snapped back into place. He kept firing.

  Vaeyra surged forward, shield raised, sword flashing as she smashed and cleaved through two skeletons that pressed too close.

  “How are we supposed to kill that thing?” she shouted.

  “They don’t have blood or organs,” Skorval called back. “I you break the structure—the magic holding them together fades.”

  “Oh,” Vaeyra said flatly. “That’s helpful.”

  She continued cutting through the undead, but the pressure grew. Skeletons closed in from both sides.

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  Skorval hurled his bolt satchel to Tivric and charged, a blade in each hand. He slammed into the skeletons threatening Vaeyra’s flank, slashing low and fast, breaking knees and spines.

  Vaeyra fought like a force of nature. With every heavy strike, a faint glow spilled through her hair, her blade flaring white as it burned through bone rather than cutting it.

  Then Tivric saw it—the revenant knight.

  It was closer now, towering over the lesser dead, its massive broadsword sliding free of its hilt. The blade hummed faintly, green-blue runes glowing along its edge.

  Vaeyra was mid-swing when the revenant cleaved through its own ally and struck Vaeyra. She barely raised her shield in time. The impact sent her flying backward, crashing hard into the forest floor.

  The revenant stepped forward.

  Skorval launched himself through the air.

  He slammed both daggers into the knight’s back, burying them between armor plates. Using one blade as a handhold, he ripped the other free and began stabbing relentlessly, driving steel into spine seams and rune-etched bindings.

  The revenant roared silently, thrashing. It couldn’t reach Skorval, but it tried—one massive hand clawing backward, the other still gripping its sword. Skorval swung, dropped, and shifted with each attempt, never stopping his assault.

  With a sudden lurch, the revenant slammed its back into a tree.

  The impact crushed Skorval against the trunk and threw him to the ground.

  Tivric was already moving.

  He rushed in, blade drawn, slashing as the revenant turned toward the fallen grimtail. Tivric drove his knife deep into the knight’s knee joint. As it twisted away, he seized the dagger Skorval had left lodged in its back, climbed up the armored frame, and plunged his blade repeatedly into the back of its skull.

  Vaeyra was back on her feet.

  She intercepted a downward swing meant for Skorval, bracing behind her shield as the revenant hammered blow after blow against her. Each strike shook her to the bone, but she held.

  Skorval staggered upright. He grabbed the knife embedded in the revenant’s knee and twisted hard.

  Bone shattered.

  The revenant collapsed to one knee, still fighting.

  Tivric continued stabbing into the skull. Skorval wrenched the blade free but was seized by the revenant’s free hand. He responded by plunging steel into its wrist and forearm, again and again.

  Vaeyra’s sword ignited with radiant light.

  She stepped in and swung.

  The blade burned clean through the revenant’s sword arm. The massive greatsword fell to the forest floor with a heavy thud.

  Both grimtails attacked together, stabbing into the cracking, collapsing frame as Vaeyra drove her sword straight through the revenant’s chest.

  The light flared.

  The bones collapsed.

  Tivric and Skorval fell to the ground as the revenant crumbled into lifeless debris.

  Tivric lay there, breathing hard.

  “I don’t think those skeletons belonged to the friendly necromancer,” he said.

  Vaeyra looked at him slowly.

  “…Wait,” she said. “You were serious about that?”

  They looted the corpses, salvaging what they could from the ruined remains. Tivric pried free the revenant’s skull and slipped it carefully into his pack.

  Vaeyra bore only shallow cuts, but her shield arm was deeply bruised from absorbing a direct blow from the revenant’s broadsword. Tivric himself was uninjured. Skorval, however, had taken the worst of it—his body marked by cuts and large darkening bruises. When the revenant had smashed him into the tree, something inside him had given way.

  “We’re going to need a healer,” Vaeyra said quietly.

  “The next town is Embercross,” Tivric replied. “If we move carefully, we can reach it by tomorrow.”

  They laid Skorval flat on his bedroll and wrapped him in layers of bandages, doing what little they could to steady him.

  “That’s the biggest undead I’ve ever faced,” Skorval groaned through clenched teeth.

  “Is it possible they’re tracking us?” Vaeyra asked. “Following our trail?”

  “It’s possible,” Tivric said. “We still don’t know who in the Still Shadow is orchestrating these attacks.”

  “They’re not even supposed to be coming after us,” Skorval muttered, his voice strained.

  Vaeyra turned to Tivric. “What does he mean by that?”

  “The undead aren’t attacking the Grimtails,” Tivric said grimly. “Not the burrows, not the clans. We struck first—and now something has taken notice.”