Kalt was awakened by the sounds and smells of death.

Taking a moment to grab hold of the dagger she kept under her pillow, she slinked out of bed and went over to a window that overlooked the city. At her Forfeiter and Grippers insistence, she had taken a tenth-floor room at the inn. It provided her with protection from thieves and assassins, but it also provided her with the privilege of sleepily trudging up step after step before she could collapse in her bed. Her room was sparse but comfortable, populated by the bed, a writing table, a chair, a chest to hold her belongings, and a dangling rope that was attached to a bell at the inns front desk. The aging stone walls were covered with a simple, thick cloth to prevent chills in the winter. A fireplace sat cold in one corner of the room, while in another corner was a small wash basin that held fresh water. Now, however, her humble lodgings granted a heavier burden than climbing stairs: she had an unobstructed view of the chaos that had taken over the city. The beauty of the morning sunrise betrayed the horrors that lay below her. Many of the small wooden buildings that made up the bulk of the city were on fire, with people of all ages fleeing in every direction. She heard the front door of the inn burst open, and as she looked down, she saw the lifeless corpse of the innkeepers wife being dragged out of the building, her right arm held upwards and outstretched as if the air itself had its grip on her. The womans corpse was pulled across the ground until she was a few paces away from the inns entrance. As she slid to a stop, her hand dropped, and her chest was torn asunder by an unseen force. One by one, her organs rose into the air and disappeared. Tearing her eyes away from the carnage taking place outside her window, Kalt hastily started to dress, pulling her leather tunic onto her lean, battle-scarred body. While strapping her dagger to her right thigh, she pushed her feet into her boots, then started putting on her thin leather gloves. With the old wooden floor creaking under her feet and her chin-length red hair flying wildly, she darted around the room to gather the rest of her equipment. She had just finished strapping a small pack to her torso and had picked up her sword when her Forfeiter, Aila, burst through the door. Anyone else would have been startled by the door being slammed open without warning, but Kalt didnt even flinch. Over the years, shed gotten used to Ailas actions when unexpected danger occurred. Ailas muscular frame was almost as wide as the door, and she had to duck her head slightly to get into the room. Upon seeing her Master, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, then contorted her face into pained worry. She Forfeited the air around Kalt, forming a shimmering protective shield that covered her Master from head to toe. As always, Ailas disheveled, curly black hair rose slightly while she formed the shield. Satisfied that the shield was in place, Aila bellowed My Lady! We must get out of here NOW! Something has descended upon usthe city is being ripped apart! As Kalt worked the straps on her short swords scabbard, Aila continued yelling, her voice filled with concern and a hint of hysteria. Please hurry! If we get down to the stables soon enough, we may be able to grab some horses and ride off. My brother is already down there waiting for us! Staring into her Forfeiters emerald-green eyes, Kalt calmly replied, Lead the way. Aila surged out of the room, with Kalt following as she continued pulling straps and fastening buckles on her equipment. They reached the first-floor landing, pausing to survey the destroyed room. Tables and chairs were upended, the thick wooden front counter was smashed to bits, and there were spatters of blood everywhere. Kalt stared intently at a pool

of blood that had a large oval footprint in it, far too large to have been made by a person. There arent any toes in that footprint Aila put her massive right hand on Kalts left elbow, and gingerly pulled. Please, My Lady, she pleaded. We have to go! Kalt took one last look at the bloodied footprint, then turned and followed Aila as the huge warrior sprinted through the kitchen towards the back of the inn. Aila tried to open the rear door, finding that it was securely locked. Grunting in frustration, she decimated the door with a single kick, her huge boot causing the wood to pinwheel in every direction. The pair of warriors crossed through the doorframe, jumped the four steps leading to the ground, and started running parallel to the inn. The back wall of the inn was lined with large honeysuckle shrubs, while tangled vines wound their way up the stone building. A large, well-tended garden took up most of the fenced-in back yard. As she passed the aromatic plants, flashes of a memory from Kalts childhood appeared in her mind: It was a calm and quiet afternoon on her familys farm, where she was gleefully running around the fields. The comforting scent of fresh bread wafted out of her mothers kitchen, while her fathers smithing hammer pinged in the distance. Farmhands worked out in the fields, pulling and picking a variety of root vegetables and succulent berries, filling basket after basket with produce that would be sold in the small towns market. The farmhands were technically slaves, bought from one of the many wagons that traversed the countryside, but her family treated them well. Her father had taught her that a person deserved to be treated with respect, whether that person was her sibling, her slave, or her enemy. The farmhands were given comfortable clothing appropriate for the season, the best tools the family could afford to buy or make, were permitted to marry, and even allowed to have children. They were well fed, well educated, and for all intents and purposes, each one was considered a member of Kalts family. She longed for a return to those carefree days on the farm, when her only worry was how to pass the time The cries of terror and pain that rose up from of the citys populace grew louder, snapping Kalt out of her daydream. Passing the end of the inns garden and turning a corner, Kalts Gripper (and Ailas brother) Dalain came into view. He was hastily strapping a saddle to a massive gelding that shifted nervously back and forth, its stablemate clomping its hooves against the ground. The 18-hand geldings eyes barely reached Dalains striated shoulders, his wild black hair unbundled. He wore leather pants, leather boots, and leather cuisses on his thighs, but with the exception of a large sword that hung loosely between his shoulder blades, his lanky torso was uncovered. He must have been in a rush to get to the stables, Kalt thought. Hes only half dressed. I locked the door, just in case one of those things tried to get back here, Dalain said as the two warriors approached him. He looked at Aila. Then again, you didnt seem to have much trouble getting through. His sister sent him a warning shot with her eyes. Theres only two horses, but Ive saddled both of them in record time. We should be able to- He was cut off by a horrific noise that escaped from the gelding as its side was torn outward, showering the stable in gore. The other horse Dalain had saddled whinnied, shaking its head so violently that it broke its neck. Even though she knew it was a futile gesture, Aila tried to Forfeit the air next to the gelding in an attempt to keep what remained of the doomed creatures guts on its inside. She expected to feel the Forfeited air plug the

hole in the side of the gelding, but instead it caught purchase on something else something that felt very wrong, and not of this world. She called out Dalains name in surprise, as the shock of the otherworldly presence caused her to lose her concentration. Upon hearing Ailas call, Dalain instinctively Gripped the air next to the dead gelding. He too was shocked by the unnatural creature burdened by his Grip, but rather than let go, the shock caused him to squeeze even harder. A terrifying shriek pierced the stable, then a fountain of black liquid seemed to erupt out of the air next to the horse and splattered against the back wall of the stable. As the creature died, it slowly became visible to the stunned warriors. Black and wispy eye sockets sat in a wide, craggy head that had the appearance of a rock covered in leprosy. The creatures mouth covered the entire width of its face, filled with row after row of needle-thin teeth and a long, barbed tongue. A sweeping muscular neck connected the head to a torso that looked like it belonged on a large man, with arms to match. Instead of hands, there were large bones in the shape of sickles that grew out of the stumps at the end of the arms. Muscular, triple-jointed legs were attached high on the torso, and the creatures feet were oblong chunks of meat covered in small bony spines that protruded in every direction. As the creature slumped to the ground, the three warriors saw a gaping wound in its back; Dalain had ruptured the nightmarish being like a grape squeezed by a child. From the moment the gelding was attacked to the moment the creature slumped to the ground, Kalt had only enough time to draw her sword. In the distance, the sound of the dying city continued to swell. In the name of The One and The Many, Aila said with a wheeze. What was that? Im not sure, Kalt said quietly, as she slid her sword back into its scabbard and unsheathed the dagger she had strapped to her right thigh. She cautiously knelt down next to the dead creature, looking it over. With a neutral expression, she cut out its barbed tongue and one of the spines from its feet. She stood up, used one of the dead horses to wipe the black blood from her blade, and gingerly placed it back in its sheath. Aila, I want you to create a protective shield around these, Kalt said, holding up the trophies she had taken from their dead enemy. Gulping, Aila Forfeited the air around the trophies, coating them with her arcane secrets. Satisfied with the seal, Kalt turned to Dalain. Dalain, she said. I want you to take some skin from one of the horses, wrap up these trophies, and hold on to them. Do not wipe the blood off them, and be sure to wrap extra skin around the sharp ends. She handed the bloodied objects to Dalain who, frowning, pulled a large knife from his left boot and did as instructed. So where do we go now, Master? Aila asked, her composure mostly regained. Kalt listened intently to the sound that enveloped the city, which seemed to grow ever louder with confusion and death. Men, women, children, livestock, buildings, carts everyone and everything in the city added to the cacophony. Kalt put a calloused hand on one of Ailas massive shoulders, and with a grim smile, said Wherever we can, my dear. Wherever we can. Dalain finished wrapping the trophies in the horse skin, secured them in a large bag hed pulled off the dead gelding, and stood up. Wiping his bloodied hands on his leather cuisses, Dalain said I will lead, Master. Follow me. He cautiously started walking back towards the inns garden, his mind primed to Grip anything in their way. Kalt fell in behind him, her sword drawn and ready. Aila brought up the rear, reinforcing the shimmering

shield she had put on Kalt when shed burst into her room. It wouldnt stop an unrelenting assault, but it should be enough to keep her Master alive should one of the hellish creatures attack them without warning. She had protected her Master from countless dangers in the past, but shed never faced an enemy she couldnt actually see until it was dead. The thought chilled her to the bone. Kalt smiled inwardly as she looked at Dalains slender back, his huge sword now properly secured next to the bag hed removed from the gelding. Everyone should have such devoted followers, Kalt thought. She turned her head around and looked up at Ailas flustered face, sweat dripping off the intense womans clenched jaw. Even if theyre so tall, they could make The One and The Many self-conscious. My Lady, is something wrong? Aila asked. No, Kalt said, turning her head forward again. Be ready for anything, Forfeiter. Kalt felt the shield that covered her being reinforced once again. You can count on me, Master.