“Archers,” Garett called out to the ones behind the sword-casters. “Stay within bow-shot, and infuse if necessary. Otherwise, aim for the gaps between their scales around their shoulders. That should slow them down enough for one of the sword-casters to take it down fully,” he barked.

They pulled back and spread out two to a side, while the rest of us organized ourselves to make a miniature boar’s head formation. Garett pulled back towards the rear center to better view the battlefield, while one of the seniors took his place. The glicks were still approaching the downed cart, moving incredibly fast. The four of us rode in formation just behind the more experienced Synners.

As we got closer, I got my first look at one of the glicks in person. There was something to be said about seeing something like that in a drawing in a book versus seeing one in real life. Nothing in a book could ever have prepared me for the smells, sounds, or anything about their existence.

It was a humanoid creature, with olive green scales that ran from the top of its head to the base of its feet and down its back, forming an external spinal cord that ran from its hip up to the base of its neck, fanning out towards its arms and running down their lengths. Its mouth was primarily covered in needle-like teeth that dripped poison to aid digestion of its prey, and lined the inner part of its mouth.

Is there even an antidote for that? I tried to recall the lessons I’d had since childhood, but nothing came to mind as I drew nearer to the creatures.

Its strong leg and arm muscles underneath the scales made it a formidable enemy for any young Synner, I noted, and with those thoughts, I began feeling something I’d never truly felt before.

That feeling was fear.

It came over me like a blanket of ice being unrolled on my abdomen and flowed throughout my body. I could feel my hands shaking and heart beating faster, while my lungs were desperately trying to pump enough air to compensate for the thumping in my chest. As my palms began to sweat, I felt my leather gauntlet beginning to be soaked with sweat. Strands of my brown hair began to stick to my face under the force of the wind.

It was comforting to know that my swords were withstanding the sheer force of Celer’s gallop. He kept his pace without missing a beat, his hooves thundering and shaking me as I forced myself to focus, though I was still nearly two hundred meters away from the creatures.

“Draw your swords and get ready!” Garett barked, knocking me out of my head and back into reality.

With my right hand, I drew my riding sword from over my shoulder, and assisted with my left to help it clear the sheath, wrapping the reins around the horn of my saddle. The blade gleamed in the morning sunlight and was sharp enough to shave. I tightly gripped the blackwood, wire, and leather-wrapped hilt as tightly as I could, ensuring it wouldn’t slip out of my hand on the first strike.

Since the relatively short blade was primarily used on horseback, the well-designed hilt was a decent bit lighter than my longsword, making it easier to deal damage using only one arm. I shifted my grip slightly, realizing I hadn’t adequately spaced my hand beneath the gently upward twisting guard. The pommel, which had my initials inscribed into it, swung beneath my wrist as the weight shifted into the correct position.

One hundred meters, I gauged briefly.

I looked over at Edryd and saw he was already getting into a good striking position, leaning forward with his sword's hilt at the height of his chest with the point aimed forward, and decided to get into the same position.

“Alright, boys, remember their weak spots: shoulder blades, armpits, backs of their legs, groin and under their chins,” one of the older Synners said, as if he were sounding off items on a grocery list.

Roburn, I recognized the voice.

His charcoal black hair, shaved on the sides and with a long interwoven braid running down the unshaved part, had been his trademark for the past decade.

“Thanks for the advice,” I nodded. “Eh, no need to thank me. I’m sure you’d do the same if our places were swapped,” he grinned. I nodded sincerely and looked ahead towards my approaching foes.

Twenty meters, I felt my shoulders tighten as I began to search for my target, which proved more challenging given the others riding so close to me.

Remember to lean into the cut to prevent the bastard from getting back up, I heard the Master’s instructions in my head again.

Ten meters, I felt my grip tighten even more than it already was.

I followed the muscle tension in my lower back and briefly shifted my weight back in the saddle for extra momentum. The sword in my right hand was beginning to rise up behind me, my arm now slightly bent and flexed, preparing itself for the impact to come.

Five meters, I thought, taking a deep breath before beginning my swing.

My target had approached just as I’d calculated it would. I knew the added momentum from the Celer's speed would add much more force to the blow, in comparison to simply swinging on the ground, and I banked heavily on this fact given my lack of physical strength.

Time seemed to slow as I leaned my head forward, my chest almost pressed against Celer’s nape, and swung with all my might.

The sword cut through the air, finding its target. I grunted in exertion as the sword bit into the scales on the glick's forehead, splitting them wide open and releasing their sickly, green ichor. My sword, slicing through the scales, bone, and the underlying fleshy material that was the monster's brain, gave a sound akin to an egg being crushed, emerging on the other side lathered in thick, green blood.

I breathed heavily, feeling the copious amounts of adrenaline flowing through my veins. The glick had been my first kill as a Synner, and I knew, right then and there, that the fire born inside after that first kill hungered for more. I continued riding forward, and another two targets emerged, feeding the ravenous flames within.

I swung again at one target, then another, followed by a third, hearing the same egg-crushing sound from the strikes, while a fourth was crushed under Celer’s hooves. Batch, Edryd, and Irun were also feeding their swords, and in the first few seconds of battle, the three had already killed at least seven glicks between them.

Roburn, not wanting to miss out on the killing, quickly dismounted with a leap and began his sword song, charging at his first target. Just before he swung, an arrow struck his target squarely between the eyes. The glick let out a ghastly squeal like a slaughtered pig, and Roburn glanced backwards to the general direction the arrow had come from.

He couldn't find who'd fired the arrow, but he could guess who it was.

I kept riding forward, slaughtering at least two more glicks before I was taken by surprise. A glick jumped from my left side and knocked me off my horse, taking me to the ground as it clawed at my armor.

“Shit,” I grunted as my sword was knocked out of my hand, already feeling my shoulder beginning to throb with a dull pain. The glick scrambled to its feet after the fall and began to head towards me, regardless of whether I had fully recovered. It threw an overhead claw down to my right side, and I pirouetted out of the attack as gracefully as I could, given that I was still a little dazed from the fall.

I gathered my wits momentarily, and another strike came towards my gut. I jumped back on the balls of my feet and almost slipped due to the rain-soaked ground from the previous day. Even with the handicap, I barely managed to curve my body to avoid getting hit.

My riding sword had fallen out of my hand with the fall, and with the barrage of attacks, I could only focus on not getting struck while trying to find a small opening to draw my sword from my hip. The monster attacked again, this time trying to slam my head to the ground, which I was forced to side-step. With a bit of my momentum's help, I drew my longsword with a wire-wrapped handle and twisted guard.

I managed to distance myself a little from the monster. My guard was poised, with my sword held up at head height, my left hand gripping the pommel, and my right hand choked up on the hilt by the guard. My left leg was more extended than my right, which supported the bulk of my weight. I could feel my abdominal muscles tightening to keep myself steady through the pain from the fall, making me wince.

The monster stared intensely at my sword, then darted its slit-like pupils over to me, widening its already large eyes even further, getting a grin out of me. “Come at me,” I said as threateningly as I could. The creature seemingly understood my words.

As the chaotic battle raged around us, it began to flick its scales together as if to challenge me and let the others know not to interrupt our duel.

I furrowed my brow, and the glick showed its horrid teeth in response. It came forward, with the same squealing sound he'd heard before, only much more vicious and hateful this time. I stood my ground and awaited the perfect moment to strike. It came at me like a rabid dog to fresh meat, sprinting as quickly as its legs could carry it.

When it was just outside of a typical strike’s range, I pushed hard from my right leg, turning on the ball of my left foot, and jumped. The movement sent him into a spin, and the rest of my body followed suit. The sword, having lagged behind just a little, came down from my right side with the added force from the spin and struck the monster's collarbone, splitting its torso into two, uneven, bloodied chunks.

Green blood sprayed across my face and covered my jerkin in a light sheen of its filth. “Fuck, that stinks!” I exclaimed with a disgusted look on my face.

Garett, I noticed, had seen the attack happen, and I caught him grinning pridefully. From where I stood, I could see Roburn's sword singing a beautiful tune of slaughter and gore, while the archers kept back and provided cover fire for the lesser experienced Synners.

Their broad-head arrows and ash shafts with alternating goose wing-feathers performed flawlessly against the gaps in the glicks’ hard scales. The wind made it a little more challenging to be as precise as usual, but they'd been trained for that over the years. Their arrows, shot from recurve riding bows, soared through the air and struck their marks with incredible precision, even with the morning breeze.

Meanwhile, Edryd's sword and horse were covered in glick blood, as he swung to cut yet another one down.

Looks like he’s doing alright, but… Oh, shit! I thought, as I noticed a glick preparing to launch itself.

“Ed!” I tried to call out, but through the cacophony of battle, it fell on deaf ears. He was fighting voraciously when a glick knocked him off his horse in the same manner that I had been just a few minutes before. “Edryd!” I yelled again, much more desperately this time, and sprinted to help my best friend.