The evening came and went, bringing no change to the dark rainy surroundings. Zenrom walked around a small bandit camp they had just taken, the bodies of the bandits quickly turning cold in the rain. Since this morning, he and his men had found and destroyed three such camps, each one consisting of no more than five men.

  Wiping the rain from his face, Zenrom frowned; this last camp felt different from the rest. The fight had lasted longer than the opening ambush, the bandits being organized enough not to panic when their leader had been killed.

  Looking down at the weapons and clothing the bandits were using deepened Zenrom’s concerns. The weapons were clean and well taken care of, razor-sharp without any rust. As for the clothing, at first glance, they seemed normal—however, the more he studied them, the more he started to wonder.

  All the garments appeared to be made using similar cuts and stitches, almost as if they were all made by the same person. This was not surprising—most small towns only had one tailor. But what did catch his attention, was that the wear and tear seemed similar as well. It almost looks like someone deliberately made it look older than it looks, he thought as he kneeled near one of the dead bandits.

  Reaching out, he felt the wet cloak, trying to determine its age. It felt rough, still a little stiff, but it was newer than it looked. Kneeling in the mud, his ears perked up as he heard one of his men returning. During this skirmish, one of the bandits had run, forcing his men to give chase.

  “Is anyone injured?” he asked, still studying the dead bandit.

  “I got a small cut, but that's not important,” San answered. He was panting hard, his blond hair plastered to his head. Judging by how hard he was breathing, Zenrom knew he must have run back. “We might have a problem.”

  Hearing the urgency in San’s voice, Zenrom looked up. “What happened?”

  “We caught the running bandit, but we also saw a large group of bandits heading for the caravan. The caravan might be in trouble.”

  Hearing the news, Zenrom straightened up, all thoughts of the bandit’s clothing vanishing. “How large? Can the guards fend them off?”

  “I don’t think so. I couldn't see the full size of the army through the fog, but if I had to guess, around sixty or so.”

  “Sixty!” Zenrom repeated, the blood rushing from his face. “The guards won’t hold. We need to help Ashely now!”

  Rushing off in the direction that San had come from, Zenrom only slowed down long enough to allow the man to catch up and lead the way. “We need to reach them as fast as possible. You can draw Aether.”

  “Got it, Boss.”

  Drawing enough Aether to emit Arcane Light, the two dashed through the fog, their speed doubling as they rotated Aether to their legs. Despite the uneven ground, they ran over it as if it were flat, their footing stable. Like twin beacons, they zipped between trees, bushes, and boulders, their forms flickering in and out of sight as they moved in the fog.

  As Zenrom ran through the forest, his mind became a jumble of nerves and anxiety. Sixty men were not an unorganized group of bandits. Something did not make sense—unless multiple groups were attacking simultaneously. But he didn’t believe that. This was a well-planned assault, organized by someone with real influence. But who could it be? Shaking his head he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He could think of them later after the caravan was safe.

  “On the other side of that large rock, the one that looks like it’s been split in two, there’s a ledge overlooking the caravan,” San called over his shoulder. “You can go in between the slabs. Cam and Winks are there.”

  “Got it. Right before we get to the rock, stop drawing Aether.”

  “Understood.”

  Reaching the rock, Zenrom slowed down forcefully, cutting off the power he was using. As his power faded so did the light coming from his crest, the fog and rain once again bringing forth the hazy oppressiveness of the day.

  The split rock was as big as a house, its two sections cleanly separated by some force of nature, leaving a narrow passageway just wide enough for one man to pass through.

  Walking past San, Zenrom turned sideways and quickly squeezed between the two sections, using his hands and legs to steady himself. The rock face was wet and smooth with no good handholds, but by leaning against the right wall, he was able to pass through with ease.

  On the other side, he spotted Cam and Winks lying belly down on the ground, their heads were poking over the edge of the ledge that overlooked the valley below.

  “What’s going on?” he hissed as he dropped to his stomach and crawled to where the two men were.

  “The bandits are attacking the caravan. So far, the guards are holding them back, but from the looks of it, some of the bandits are not part of the main group,” Winks grunted his eyes locked onto what was happening below. “Cam thinks that around forty of them are from one large group while the other twenty or so are from different groups.”

  Hearing that the guards were still holding caused Zenrom to sigh with relief. Crawling over to the ledge he peered over to see what was going on.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The thick fog hid most of what was happening, but from what he could see, around forty men were throwing themselves at the guards, while smaller groups of three or four ran aimlessly through the chaos.

  With a roar, the caravan guards pushed the bandits back, forcing them to stumble back and regroup. Despite being outnumbered, they were holding their ground better than expected their formation steady.

  “What should we do, Boss?”

  “They are holding for now, but we need to help them,” Zenrom said, standing up and brushing the dirt and foliage from his chest and legs. “I want all of you to draw as much Aether as possible. We want Hagan to see our approach and know that reinforcements are here.”

  Looking at his men he saw delight and determination in their eyes. “Let’s show them that the Golden Caravan is not to be messed with!”

  There was a loud whoop from Winks as he raised his axe. “Finally! Let’s get to the killing!” There was a wicked grin on his face.

  “We need to go now!” San cut in—he had joined them while Zenrom was studying the caravan. “A group of bandits almost broke through the front lines. If I didn’t know better, I would say they were elite soldiers.”

  Glancing down, Zenrom saw a group of around ten men regrouping in an orderly fashion. Ordinary bandits can’t do that, Zenrom thought as his face tightened. They’ve been trained!

  “Let’s go!”

  The four descended the mountain, each drawing the surrounding Aether deeply into their bodies. The bright light emitting from each of them caused them to look like four comets streaking across the gray sky.

  Approaching the enemy's back line, Zenrom unleashed his full power. The bright blue light from his crest transformed into a transparent Blue Jay overlapping his body. Cries of shock and panic filled the surrounding area as the four of them crashed into the back of the bandits.

  Zenrom cut deeply into the bandits, his sword moving in savage precise cuts, his footwork allowing him to easily step out of the way of any weapon swinging his way. Crouching down to allow a club to narrowly miss his head, he sprung forward grabbing the bandit and pushing him in the direction of an enemy spear thrust. A cry of disbelief escaped the bandit as he crashed into his ally, bringing them both down—the spear sticking out of him. Before either of them could fully grasp what had happened, San stood over them, his long sword carving an arc above their heads before decapitating them.

  San and Zenrom shared similar characteristics when fighting, both relying heavily on proper positioning in battle, never allowing their opponents to fight comfortably. On the other hand, Winks and Cam fought with pure might, blasting through their opponents using overwhelming power and relentless momentum.

  Zenrom watched as Winks swung his axe from underneath his shield, cleaving into the exposed knee of a bandit. As the man fell, Winks stepped forward, using his large round shield he caught, and then threw the man back into a group of men.

  As the men came crashing down, Cam fell on them like a feral beast, striking out with his short wide blade and buckler. Every bandit that was hit with his sword had a limb cut off, while every bandit that was struck by his buckler had their bones crushed. The sounds of screaming and breaking bones filled the air.

  Parrying a sword thrust, Zenrom stepped past the man, and using the same momentum cut into the man's throat. “Keep pushing forward!” he yelled, front-kicking a man in the chest and knocking him down in front of Cam. Without changing pace, Cam kicked the drowned man in the head, his empowered kick snapping the poor man’s neck.

  “You got it, Boss.”

  As the four of them continued to fight, a bright light appeared where the Caravan Guards’ front lines were. Seeing the light Zenrom motioned his men towards it.

  “That's Hagan! We need to group up with him! Winks lead the way!”

  “Leave it to me!”

  Following Winks who was using his shield to bulldoze a path for them, Zenrom cut his way through the bandits, his sword leaving a bloody trail. Most of his strikes were not instantly lethal, but they always crippled or took the bandit out of the fight, leaving them bleeding on the ground.

  Following close by, Cam and San kept the bandits at bay, their fierce shouts frightening all but the bravest bandit.

  Lopping off a man’s hand and then using his sword pommel to bash the man’s teeth in, Zenrom found himself standing in front of Hagan.

  “Zenrom! What are you doing here?” Hagan yelled using his sword to stab a bandit in the chest.

  “I’m here to save you, old man! Did you actually think Maliri would let his daughter go without sending us? Where is she?”

  “I sent her to the nearest city before the attack. She should reach it by tomorrow morning.”

  Hearing Hagan’s words, Zenrom felt as if a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “Can the both of you help with the fighting?” San shouted angrily as he deflected an arrow shot at Hagan. “Talk later, fight now!”

  Laughing loudly the two Arcane Lords looked at each other.

  “Let’s clear this rabble then get some food,” Hagan said, putting his hand on Zenrom’s shoulder and squeezing slightly.

  “Sounds like a plan, but can you keep up with me, old man?” chuckled Zenrom.

  “I may be older, but I have double your experience. I’ll show you how experience outweighs youth.”

  “It’s a bet.”

  Looking over his shoulder Hagan commanded his guards. “Stay tight together and follow! Make sure to keep up with us!”

  The two Arcane Lords lead the counter-attack, scattering the bandit group like leaves on a windy day. One Arcane Lord was already frighteningly strong, but two were a different story. Working together Hagan and Zenrom were like a force of nature, unstoppable in its destruction, two miniature suns burning brightly in the middle of the enemy army.

  In the wake of the two, the caravan guards routed the bandits, chasing them down easily, venting the frustration and stress they had been holding on to for so many days.

  As the battle came to an end Zenrom stood in the middle of the battlefield, muscles throbbing with pain. He was covered in blood, the steady rain causing streaks of red to run down his face. Smiling at Hagan, he sighed heavily. “Do you think we can catch Ashely before she gets too far?”

  “If we send a fast rider, maybe.”

  As the two of them were talking, a panic-stricken man came running over, his face devoid of blood.

  “Commander! Lady Ashely has been taken!”

  “WHAT!”

  Zenrom felt as if he had fallen into ice-cold waters. “How did that happen?”

  “An unknown Arcane Lord appeared out of nowhere and took Lady Ashely while we were fending off the bandits. We couldn’t stop him. Currently, we sent five scouts to follow them,” the man blurted out, his words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush.

  “An Arcane Lord! How can this be?” Hagan gasped, his mouth hanging open in shock at the news.

  “SAN, CAM, WINKS!” Zenrom’s empowered voice echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide in fear. This is not happening!

  Turning to Hagan, he spoke, barely hearing his own voice—his mind was elsewhere. “I will go after them now. When my men get here, tell them what happened and to follow me!”

  Locking eyes with the man who had brought them the news, he demanded. “Which way did they go?”

  “That way!” the man pointed. “The scouts are leaving a trail as they follow her!”

  Glancing in the direction the man was pointing, Zenrom took off running, his mind flashing images of Ashely.