The silence was a held breath, thick and suffocating. Then, the forest exhaled death.
The Glimmers did not charge. They unfolded. One moment, the trees were still. The next, mottled forms dropped from the canopy like rotten fruit, their shadows detaching mid-fall to become liquid, skittering horrors that raced ahead of them. The air filled with a chittering that was the sound of bones grinding against stones.
The Ranger line held, but it buckled under the quick impact. Steel met chitin with a sickening crunch.
Viktor's roar was the first answer. He became the eye of the storm, a large and violent whirlpool of polished steel. His greatsword was too large to be elegant; it was a force of physics. He didn't bother with precise strikes. He swung in wide, devastating arcs, smashing a Glimmer into the next, using their bodies as bludgeons.
Just as a pack of three Glimmers broke through the Ranger line, their shadows converging on a isolated soldier, Elvis didn't hesitate. "On me!" he shouted to the two nearest Rangers.
He didn't charge. He flowed forward, his small size making him a difficult target. He ducked under a sweeping shadow-claw, his own blade scoring a deep cut along a Glimmer's flank, drawing its ire. As it turned on him, snarling, the two Rangers he'd called upon moved as one, their spears taking it from both sides.
Seeing the opening, Viktor bellowed, "Pushing through!" and used the distraction Elvis had created. He bulled forward, his greatsword carving a path through the other two Glimmers like a scythe through wheat, their corrupted bodies falling apart before his overwhelming force.
The rescued Ranger gave a sharp, grateful nod to Elvis, who was already turning, his eyes scanning for the next point of failure in their crumbling line. "They're testing the seams!" he called out. "Reinforce the right!"
A shadowy claw raked against Viktor's pauldron, scoring the metal. He ignored it, grabbed the shadow's originating Glimmer by the leg, and hurled it into the treeline. His eyes, however, kept flicking to his left, tracking a different kind of storm.
Crimson's voice cut through his head."You're doing good but your rear is exposed."
Alexander moved. He was a ghost, a ripple in the chaos. A Glimmer lunged for his throat; he sidestepped, his black sword moved faster than sight, leaving the beast stumbling past, its head cleanly severed. He didn't watch it fall.
"To your left. The shadow is independent. Kill the body."
Alexander obeyed without thought. He pivoted, his blade slicing through the neck of a Glimmer just as its detached shadow swiped at where he'd been standing. Both dissolved. His edge of his eyes caught his friend.
Elvis was no frontline brawler, but he was far from helpless. He fought with a physician's precision, using his smaller stature and surprising speed to his advantage.
He ducked under a Glimmer's wild swing, his own slender blade licking out to sever the tendon in its hind leg, crippling it for a nearby Ranger to finish off. He was a battlefield surgeon, expertly disabling threats with minimal effort.
They were so immersed in the battle, they didn't even realize they were already in Mournwood.
Nikolai fought with the polished, lethal grace of his royal training. His sword was a streak of silver light, parrying a claw, feinting, and driving his blade through a Glimmer's eye socket. He was a brilliant duelist, but the battlefield was a chaotic mess.
He saw two Rangers on the right go down under a pile of snarling bodies.
"Reform the line! To the right!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the commotion.
But the Rangers were being overwhelmed. Their discipline was the only thing keeping them alive, but the Glimmers' speed was unnatural. One Ranger raised his shield a fraction too slow; a shadow-claw sheared through his gorget. He fell, gurgling.
"Their speed!" another Ranger yelled, barely deflecting a flurry of attacks. "It's just like the Clawstriders in the square! Unnatural!"
Viktor, hearing this, grunted as he blocked a pouncing beast. "Then stop treating them like natural beasts! Crush the unnatural bastards!" He demonstrated by bringing his sword down like a guillotine, splitting a Glimmer from skull to tail.
The left flank was on the verge of collapse. Three Rangers were back-to-back, completely surrounded by a coordinated ring of Glimmers and their weaving shadows.
It was Alexander who saw the pattern in the pulse of their malevolent energy. He saw the larger, smarter Glimmer directing the assault while hiding under the hanging leaves of a willow tree, its aura a cold, commanding beacon.
"The left!" Alexander's voice wasn't a yell, but it carried an unnerving certainty that sliced through the battle. "They're focusing the left! Viktor, hold the center! Nikolai, with me!"
For a heartbeat, Nikolai froze. 'The order came from him?' But the sight of his men about to be crushed overrode his pride. With a curse, he broke from his own duel and followed.
They moved as one. Alexander was the scalpel, Nikolai the hammer.
Alexander flowed through the fray. He ducked under a shadow, his sword severing the Glimmer it was tethered to. He parried a blow aimed at Nikolai's blind spot without even looking.
"Looks like my taking over in the tournament has yielded profit. You cannot deny the edge it gives you, Alexander."
Nikolai, seeing the opening Alexander created, followed with brutal efficiency. When Alexander crippled a beast's leg, Nikolai's sword took its head. When Alexander drew the aggression of two shadows, Nikolai lunged, severing the beasts' heads in one fluid motion.
They reached the beleaguered left flank. A pack of five Glimmers, moving in perfect, terrifying unison, prepared to overrun the last three Rangers.
"Nikolai, now!" Alexander barked.
Nikolai didn't hesitate. He planted his feet, his entire body flaring with brilliant, golden light. This was not a sparring trick. This was the heir to the Illyrian throne unleashing his full, Awakened power.
"AUREFLARE!"
A wave of pure, concussive force, bright as the sun, erupted from him. It wasn't a single blast, but a wide cone of devastation. The five Glimmers and their shadows were caught in the heart of it. They didn't just die; they were incinerated, their forms turning to ash and motes of fading darkness. The shockwave sent leaves and dirt flying, clearing a temporary dead zone in the battle.
It was a controlled, tactical use of power, a world away from the desperate blast he'd used on his brother during their spar.
In the momentary silence that followed, Alexander acted. His eyes were locked on the conductor in the tree. He pointed with his black sword. "The leader!"
Nikolai, panting from the exertion, saw it. He nodded, gathering his energy for another, smaller blast to shatter the branch.
But the conductor was smart. It saw the threat. It shrieked, a sound that made the remaining Glimmers disengage and swarm towards the two princes, a final, desperate bid to protect their master.
It was the opening Viktor had been waiting for.
While the Glimmers were distracted, he lowered his shoulder and bulldozed through the swarm. He reached the willow tree and, with a final, ground-shaking roar, brought his greatsword down on the trunk itself. The ancient wood splintered with a crack like thunder. The branch, and the shrieking conductor upon it, crashed to the earth.
The conductor was disoriented but before it could rise, Alexander was there. His black sword plunged into its core. A pulse of darkness flared from the point of impact, and the creature dissolved into a pool of viscous shadow that seeped into the ground.
The effect was instantaneous.
The remaining Glimmers froze, their coordinated purpose gone. The intelligent light in their eyes faded, replaced by bestial confusion. The fight went out of them. Some were cut down by vengeful Rangers. Others simply turned and melted back into the oppressive green of the Mournwood.
Silence descended, broken only by the heavy panting of the survivors and the moans of the wounded.
The ground was a charnel house. Of the twenty Rangers who had set out, six were motionless. Several more were badly wounded. Only few escaped with minor injuries.
Viktor stood chest heaving, his armor gouged and smeared with green blood. He looked over the carnage, then his gaze settled on Alexander. He gave a single, grim nod of respect. The dagger had been tested, and it had cut deep.
Nikolai leaned on his sword, his fine clothes torn, his face smudged with dirt and sweat. He stared at his brother, who stood calm and unruffled amidst the carnage, his black sword now clean and sheathed. The emotion in Nikolai's eyes was a turbulent storm of resentment, awe, and a deep, chilling fear.
As the survivors caught their breath, Elvis wiped his bloody blade clean on a patch of moss. He looked at the fallen Rangers, his face a mask of grim exhaustion.
A Ranger, the one who had commented on their speed, spat on the corpse of a Glimmer. He looked toward the deeper ends of the Mournwood, where the true depths awaited.
"Well," he muttered, his voice dripping with weary sarcasm. "That was a hell of a 'welcome'."