While he didn't have as bad a fall as mine, he was still visibly hurt from it, wincing in pain as he pressed the hilt of his sword up to his shoulder. A few neighboring glicks turned, watching him desperately trying to get back on his feet and grab his sword simultaneously, and began to charge him.

Damn it. He can’t take them all on at once, I thought, and doing the only thing I could think of, I began running towards him with my sword in my right hand, flowing behind me in the air.

As I watched them begin their charge, I could feel a sense of dread creep in. Regardless of whether I’d tested it, I knew only one spell I could cast in time that would deal damage to the glicks around him.

My eyes turned into the obsidian ovals once more, as I reached into the Ethereal, drawing mana from the world without time. I felt the warmth flow from my fingertips, rolling over my whole body, and condensed the mana to my left hand as I ran. I held the sphere for a few seconds, anxiously waiting for the glicks to be in a closer bunch than they were at the moment.

They continued to charge towards him and, in doing so, unconsciously converged into a tight group. Ed, on the other hand, could only watch as his attackers approached, but the fire in his eyes told me he was calculating whether he could strike them all at once, even with his arm in the state it was.

Fear gripped me again; not for my sake, but for his.

I kept sprinting, my mud-caked boots getting heavier as I went, making it difficult to continue at the same pace I had been at only a few seconds prior. I saw the glicks approaching faster than I could get there, and knew I had no time left to get any closer. The jade sphere of mana had gotten so hot that my glove felt like it was catching fire.

Fuck it. I hope this works, I thought, drawing my left hand back over my shoulder like I was going to throw something.

“Duck!” I shouted, throwing my arm forward to release the spell a half-second later, the air vibrating and rippling around it.

The ball transformed into a whip-like tendril that moved incredibly fast towards my friend. Luckily, he both heard and saw I cast the spell out of the corner of his eye. Seeing the whip-like spell coming quickly, he ducked and rolled to his left as fast as he could to escape.

I flicked the whip, wrapping it around the oncoming glicks’ torsos and groins. I followed it up with the same motion I had used on the Pyrus spell, flicking my index finger from the base of my thumb to the tip, and ignited my spell. The mana-flame traveled along the tendril and reached the intended targets, melting flesh and bone wherever the spell wrapped around them.

Their limbs flew away from their bodies after having been viciously severed by the spell. All four glicks fell to the ground in chunks of molten flesh and bubbling blood. I could tell Roburn saw the spectacle out of my peripheral vision, though he was too occupied with slaying the remaining glicks.

Shit, I used too much mana, I thought, my vision growing blurred and dark as the dull ache in my core returned strongly.

Another glick came my way, its screeching, ravenous mouth dripping with poison and hate, forcing me to weakly ready myself for the incoming strikes. Thankfully, Garett, watching the battle from a distance, decided it was time for the bow-casters to finish off the stragglers.

“Infuse!” I heard him bark, each bow-caster around him immediately following his order. Like any other Synner, they drew from the Ethereal; however, instead of condensing it to their bodies, they condensed their mana to the bows themselves.

“Aim!” he shouted again.

The mana coated the bow's curves and string, becoming denser at the grip and anchor point. Having nocked their arrows, the mana flowed into the arrow itself. With an index finger above, and the middle and ring fingers below the arrow's shaft, they were ready.

“Fire at will!” he called out. The arrows, now enhanced with mana, rapidly soared through the air without being tampered with by the wind.

The remaining glicks were few and far between, but the bow-casters' arrows found their marks. They rained down from above, and struck the glicks' heads, piercing their scales, bones, and flesh. The arrowheads came out on the other side, just between the bottom of their jaws and necks. As soon as the arrows struck, each one fell limp as a boned fish, and dropped to the ground with a squelching thud.

Just as I was about to strike, my attacker crumbled onto the bloodied ground after the arrow had struck its scaly head. It skidded a short way on the slick ground, coming to a halt just before my feet.

That was close, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

I looked around, watching the remaining monsters fall like haunches from a butcher's rack and slamming into the ground. Their green blood soaked their limp bodies and seeped into the ground beneath them. The stench of sour meat began to overwhelm and surround us. Most of us had kept our composure, except for Batch.

Poor bastard was the first of us to vomit up his breakfast in projectile form, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come close once or twice myself.

The bow-casters on the hill's slope began to laugh at us poor bastards below, wallowing in our enemies' reek. At that point, I was barely phased by the smell now, since I’d already had it in my nostrils for the past few minutes, and I knew how to control my body well enough not to puke.

The taste of bile was enough for me to react by swallowing my morning oats back down from whence they came. I shook my head and immediately turned toward where Edryd lay motionless. “Edryd!” I shouted, desperate to find him unharmed after the spell had blown the creatures’ limbs off into all directions, but Irun had already reached him and was kneeling by his side.

“He’s wounded!” he shouted back, sending a chill down my spine as I rushed to their location. Ed was lying on the ground, unconscious, with a significant talon mark across his chest and shoulder that had been bleeding profusely.

“We need some help over here!” I called out while Irun was trying to make sure the wound wasn't as severe as it looked. Garett himself rode over and dismounted from his black stallion. He rushed over to us, kneeling at Edryd's side, and briefly looked between the flaps of the sliced jerkin.

“He'll live, but I need to close this wound if he's going to continue to have that option,” his eyes glowed with an intense, amber color as he began to pour an intense amount of mana into the wound. “Open the flaps of the jerkin for me, Thoma,” he ordered in a calm voice. I moved as quickly as I could to open them, coating my hands in my best friend's blood, thinking back on the severed limbs as they flew through the air.

Damn it, one of their claws must have gotten him, I thought, making sure I didn’t avert my gaze from what was happening in front of me.

Garett placed both of his hands over the open, bloodied gash that was the young boy's chest and shoulder. He alternated his index and middle fingers to release the spell slowly. The wound began to sew itself shut, using the raw mana tendrils to pull the separated skin together and seal it shut. The heat from the spell was enough to sear the skin, giving it an even tighter seal.

The smell of burning flesh and blood filled the air around us, and I almost couldn't bear to see or smell it.

“There,” Garett said with a sigh of relief. “The bleeding has stopped, but he'll have to be careful for the next few days. Wouldn't want that opening back up, now would we?” he looked at us, tilting his head slightly. “No, Master Garett. I'll see that he recovers properly,” I replied solemnly. “Good. Make sure he gets put in one of the wagons. He won't be riding on horseback for a few days by the looks of things,” Garett said. “Yes, Master Garett,” I bowed, then quickly returned my eyes to Ed.

The rest of the convoy came down the hill and met up with us and the rest of the bloodied synners. When the Master arrived, he gazed out over the small amount of havoc the young ones and the bow-casters had wreaked, and smiled. Garett whispered something to him, then nodded in my direction. I figured he must have told him what happened briefly, but I couldn’t hear it clearly enough to confirm that.

“A pity Edryd isn't awake at the moment,” the Master looked down in what I thought was worry. “I'd have loved to congratulate him for his bravado in combat. Holding his ground to face at least three of these bastards at a time is nothing to sneer at,” he said with pride.

“See to it he gets a comfortable spot on one of the wagons to recover,” he said, looking at one of the nearest synners, who responded with a slight nod. “However, that's not even mentioning the spell that was cast as they were advancing,” he said in a subtly praising tone while looking at me.

I looked down at my muddied and blood-soaked boots, humbled by the Master's second compliment in two days, but I knew this was no time to grin or smile. “Master,” Garett began, “We best be on our way. We've at least twelve leagues ahead of us, and I for one would like to be there before nightfall,” he said. “Very well,” the Master relented, motioning for the others to gather near his position.

“Wait,” someone cried out. It was an old farmer who crawled out from underneath a few sacks of potatoes. He had a long, unkempt beard with white hairs among black. He was mostly bald and had probably seen at least 60 winters, with a bright red nose and cheeks.

“Yer a' headin' out yonder-ways, ain't ye?" he pointed southeast. “Yes, my good sir,” the Master began, giving the elderly man a once-over glance. “Though I would imagine that you're not here only to be attacked by these foul creatures,” he continued.

“Aye, that be true,” the farmer shook his head. “I was on my way to me farmstead when me wheel got stuck in this puddle o' mud. When I was a leapin' from me wagon, I saw the bastards a' comin' from about a league off to the East,” he said, raising an index finger to point in the general direction of the morning sunlight.

“I see,” the Master nodded, gazing off into the East. “I hid meself from them foul beasts, to avoid gettin' in the way of progress, if ye get me meanin',” the farmer said with a rapid succession of head bobbing movements. “Yes, I get your meanin’,” he replied without mockery in his voice.

“What is your name?" he asked. “Jehn Boone, at yer service,” the old man replied. “Very well, Jehn Boone,” the Master began. “Safest of travels, and gods' speed to you and your oxen,” he nodded. “Oh, thank ye, master, and thank the young-uns for savin' me wagon 'n' oxen,” Jehn replied, smiling from ear to ear.

We gave a short, respectful bow and began to mount our horses, who were trained to return to us after a battle. Edryd was carried to the nearest wagon and placed on top of a sack of bedding materials by two bow-casters.

Bernar rode up next to me, grinning as he always did. “I told you never to use an untested spell in combat,” he said, adjusting his ass in the saddle. “Oh, and I imagine I was supposed to let my best friend die a death worse than I can imagine,” I replied with remorse seeping through my tone as I fought back the emotions of nearly having killed my best friend.

“No, not at all. But what’s important here is that you pulled it off. So, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to give you the apology I owe you for having doubted your capabilities,” he shrugged as my eyes widened.

I was puzzled to hear that, but nodded for lack of anything else to do.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said solemnly. “Bah, don't thank me till we're at the castle and Edryd's awake,” Bernar said. I nodded once again and mounted my horse.

The others reformed their original formation and waited for me to get into position. Once I was, the Master signaled to begin moving again, and we were off, heading southeast to Coltend Castle.

The place where everything I thought I knew about the world would begin to be tested.