Chapter 35: Book 1-13.3: Cut Off

Jacqueline Sayer Yoran loped down the game trails easily despite the canopy blocking most of the moonlight. To her eyes, the trail was exceedingly clear and was even highlighted in blue. She could see past the leaves, branches, and even see around the trail when it turned or twisted. Her normally dark eyes were glimmering with a silver light, her Animus at work.

 

It had taken her quite a long time to find that Wanderer and lead it back to the first team, and now she was tired, grumpy, and hungry. At least the second team’s target had been close by and she didn’t need to intervene. That team had finished their target just after midday and should have been back at the outpost by now. 

 

“Stupid scouts,” she muttered. The only reason a week-old report had been given as one of the hunting targets was that it was the third latest sighting they had. The dearth of Wyldlings the past few weeks had been troubling and normally, trainees were tasked to hunt groups of swarmlings instead of a lone Wanderer. 

 

The second group was lucky to have encountered a Lurker instead of an Antid. Cadet Keryn had quickly sniffed it out and with Cadet Reyn’s Facet, quite similar to Jacqueline’s own, they had easily lured it out and ganged up on it. 

 

The first team’s fight had been nothing less than spectacular and she had been tempted to intervene several times before the cadets managed to pull through. Both team’s efforts had been met with success and with the lack of real danger in the forest, she had decided to return to the outpost. Surviving in the wilderness was also part of the curriculum after all, and no, the lure of a hot bath and a filling meal was not what made her rush back to civilisation. Not that there was much of it in the outpost in the first place. 

 

Yawning, she kept her Boost technique up, increasing her running speed so she wouldn’t have to spend the entire night in the forest. Half an hour later, she was finally back on the plains and approaching the outpost’s walls. She ghosted through the gate with the sentry barely able to see her, waltzed into the guest officers’ quarters and straight to her room. 

 

The bathing chambers were unoccupied, a small wonder since it was well past midnight. She injected Animus into the water heater, shed her sweaty clothes, washed the dirt off her body, then sank into the steaming bathtub with a luxuriant smile. 

 

She felt her muscles relax and she would have fallen asleep except that the outpost suddenly erupted in a loud commotion that she was jolted out of her reverie.

 

“Swarm fodder, what now?” she muttered. She heard Armsmaster Byrne’s voice shouting, though it was distorted enough that she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Still, there was a serious tone to his voice, so despite her exhaustion, she got out of the tub, water sluicing down her naked skin in rivulets and grabbed at the robe she had left hanging by the door. She gathered her loose, dark blue hair into a bun and got out. 

 

“Yoran! Where’s the first team?” Byrne yelled from just outside of her room. 

 

Jacqueline opened the door a smidgen, enough for her to get a decent look outside. Groggy militiamen were staggering around, some forming into teams, and others who were more awake ran to the walls. 

 

“They’re still in Shillogu. They succeeded in their task,” she answered shortly.

 

“Ancestors, why did you leave them there?”

 

Jacqueline blinked, consternation written on her face, “They’ll be back by midday tomorrow at the latest, why should I have brought them back?”

 

“Nevermind. Burning Moon,” he muttered. He looked at her, eyeing her in her bathrobe before he pursed his lips. “Get dressed Company Leader, we’re going to see action. Go!”

 

Instead of asking the questions burning in her mind, she, instead, closed the door. She put on a fresh set of underclothing but had to make do with her slightly dirty…fine, filthy uniform as it was the only set she brought with her. She had a dress uniform, of course, but being ceremonial attire, it was hardly suitable for combat. She strapped on to her belt a side-blade--a special make customised for her--and holstered her Plasma Lancet on the opposite side. Jacqueline grabbed her cap before running outside. 

 

Armsmaster Byrne was gesticulating fiercely in front of the outpost commander, a small man with clean-cut hair, beady eyes, and a nose shaped like a hook. Leader Iarnan nodded to the Armsmaster, before shooting out a few orders to an aide beside him. He glanced at Jacqueline when she came up to them, nodding in greeting.

 

“What’s going on? she asked quickly.

 

Byrne handed her a paper crane but just as she was about to read the missive, Byrne blurted out the contents anyway. “Wyldling Wave. Swarmlings escaped the Gemheart’s lure and scattered. Some are headed here. We need to destroy them before they can reach Northwold or other villages.”

“How many?” The paper crane’s timestamp was only a couple of hours ago. 

 

“Unspecified. I’m forming a task force to deal with them. The cadets should remain here to contribute to the defence. You’ll take charge of them.”

 

“Understood.” Jacqueline saluted with a fist to her heart, trying to remain stoic but a worm of fear wriggled in her guts. “What of the first team?”

 

“Are they within range of a messenger crane? Send one to them. We can’t spare the manpower right now to fetch the first team. Anyway, they should be safer in Shillogu Woods than right here. You can act at your discretion.” He turned to Leader Iarnan and continued, “Give me two teams, I'll head straight over to Northwold.”

 

“Twenty people is too much,” Iarnan protested, his nasal voice grating on Jacqueline’s ears. “My combat-ready troops are only a platoon. You’ll cut my manpower in half!”

 

“One team then!” Byrne growled. “But give me a full complement. I don’t want the dregs who don’t fit in otherwise.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Jacqueline frowned. From the glint in his eyes, she figured there was a bigger chance that Byrne would get pencil pushers instead of combatants.

 

She ran off to get the cadets. This would actually be a prime time to have them practice militia manoeuvres, something they would have touched on in a week according to the course curriculum. They were all asleep when she entered their barracks, snoring fitfully in their exhaustion. 

 

“Wake up!” she screamed and the boys fell out of bed, a couple of them literally. “Combat gear, form up outside!”

 

She then did the same thing to the girls, though Millie Keryn was already up and shaking the others awake when she entered the dorm room.

 

Ten minutes later, the ten cadets were waiting outside, yawning and glancing about in confusion. They were carrying their weapons at least.

 

“Leader Yoran, what’s going on?” Braden Foster asked with a worried tone while he looked around. “Uhm…”

 

“First team isn’t back yet. Don’t worry, it just took them longer to find their target,” Jacqueline preempted. “Now, we just received word that the Wyldling Wave has started and some of the swarmlings have escaped past the Gemheart’s radius. Some of them are headed here. Ready yourselves, you will be fighting them toe to toe this time.”

 

Based on how fast the swarmlings could run, Jacqueline thought that they could arrive at the outpost anytime now. Northwold was east of the outpost and across the River Caradec, so it was more likely that the swarmlings would reach here first.

 

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She led the cadets to the southern gate and found nearly ten people with spears standing in front of the open gate. 

 

“Why don’t they close the gate?” Zeyn Strider asked in confusion.

 

“The walls are too low,” Jacqueline answered. “If we don’t provide an opening for the swarmlings, they’d overrun the walls in short order.”

 

“Why build them that way in the first place?” Keir Rowan, one of the two cadets from Northwold village asked sarcastically.

 

Gilda Piala, the other cadet from that village nodded nervously.

 

“Swarmlings rarely make it past the Watchtower,” Jacqueline answered flatly.

 

“That’s not an answer,” Keir muttered almost under his breath. Jacqueline ignored him though, in her heart, she wondered the same thing. It wasn’t as if it would be expensive to build up the walls. Still, better minds than hers were in charge of the country’s defences and she need not dwell on what might have been. Instead, her focus must be on the now even though she wondered a lot of times why things were as they were. Her own hometown, Holtet Village, was on the opposite side of the Zarek Mountains and far less likely to encounter Wyldling attacks.  

 

The cadets separated into their teams, each holding a spear they picked up in the armoury as well as their personal weaponry. The militia were already in a double line, grimly waiting. Jacqueline conferred with their commanding officer and then positioned her cadets on the militia’s left, taking her own position beside them. 

 

The silvery moonlight was barely enough to boost her Facet. Thankfully, it was close to the Full Moon. Her side-blade had a mirror finish and she brandished it while channeling her silver Animus around the weapon. A halo of darkness started to expand around her.

 

One second the road was clear and the next, it wasn’t. Armsmaster and his team hadn’t even left the outpost and already, the critters had arrived. A dozen came into view, blue eyes shining in the false dawn.

 

She heard a grunt, a cough, and a low curse from the cadets. She grinned fiercely and said, “Steady! Kids, you’ve faced something stronger already.”

 

The swarmlings charged as soon as they caught sight of then. The gates, though open, had been partially closed to limit how many of the small Wyldlings could get at them at a time. 

 

The militiamen stood ready, with spears pointed forward, and just as the swarmlings came within reach, the militiamen shouted, stepped forward, and thrust their spears glimmering with the varied colours of their Animus. 

 

It took only one strike to skewer each of the swarmlings, each spearhead penetrating their feeble Protective Fields and stabbing straight through their heads. Their carapace looked paper-thin from how easy it was for the spearheads to penetrate. Each of the critters went down with barely a quiver, motes of green light floating off their carapace.

 

Now that they were still, their features were much more discernible. Each swarmling looked different from each other but they had some common features. Most of them were quadrupedal; the others had six or more legs. Their heads were a cross between an ant and a monkey. Most had a long, flexible tail that was either barbed or had a venomous stinger and a brown carapace protected their bodies and heads, except for one that was covered in fur and looked more like a wolf except for the scorpion stinger at the tip of its tail.

 

“Was that it?” Braden asked worriedly. 

 

But before anyone could answer, another bunch of swarmlings appeared over the hill. Then another bunch, and another, and another. It wasn’t long before the hilltop was covered with swarmlings and the clicking sounds they made from their mandibles thundered across the intervening space. 

 

They started charging down the hilltop a few moments later, clawed feet churning the ground enough that there was a veil of dust over them. The sun had just risen over the mountains, painting them in golden sunlight. 

 

Around Jacqueline was a glowing halo of darkness yet her side-blade’s mirror finish gleamed. As the creatures drew closer, she swung her blade, seemingly at nothing. A coruscating beam of light flashed from the tip of her blade, slicing through the first couple of rows of the critters.

 

A mist of blue blood, a ripple of pseudo movement and their swarmlings were cut in half. But her strike took out a mere fraction of the monsters and they continued unabated. 

 

“Fight for your lives!” she heard one of the militiamen scream, and the swarmlings were upon them.

 

Her side-blade struck, slashed, pierced, and decapitated many of the fiends that went her way. Her weapon looked longer than it should have been, longer than a spear, yet she waved it about like a toy. 

 

The militia were like clockwork: advance, strike, retreat as the second line levered their spears to fend off the horde. Cones of fire, lightning, and even shards of rock, flew out from the destroyers in the line, doing far more to keep the swarmlings at bay than anything else. 

 

Hsst! Hsst!

 

Plasma bolts flew from the corner towers, manned by a couple of strikers each but they were barely effective. It was like trying to cut a river in two with a sword. 

 

But the line held. Every now and then someone screamed and was pulled down. Red blood mixed with the swarmlings’ blue. Jacqueline saw one of the cadets fall, Gilda Piala from Northwold, from a swarmling that managed to push under the spears. She cut the creature before it could finish the girl. Gilda was pulled out of the line by one of the other cadets while the remaining pressed closer together, faces pale, but teeth gritted in anger. 

 

Then, just before they would be overwhelmed, Armsmaster Byrne leapt over their heads and landed in the middle of the horde, body aglow with fiery green flames. He had a greatsword in one hand and a halberd in the other. As she gaped, he spun like a whirlwind, he trampled, he struck. 

 

Ever moving, he mowed down the swarmlings, reaping their lives as though they were ripened wheat before a scythe. A mist of blue blood covered him as he continued pressing forward and towards the heart of the swarm. 

 

Jacqueline rushed to the fallen girl and heaved a relieved sigh to see her chest still rising and falling. Her forceweave clothing had taken the brunt of the swarmling’s attacks though it looked like the girl had hit her head when she fell. 

 

By the time she looked up, there were only corpses on the battlefield and an angry yet triumphant Byrne in their midst. He looked like a blue boulder, covered in Wyldling blood as he was.

 

Byrne cursed out loud a few seconds after as he ran back into the outpost. 

 

“Some of them didn’t attack. They went past,” he growled as he came near Jacqueline. 

 

Braden Foster gasped and he trembled in terror. “Orrin... “ he muttered, “Yuriko…”

 

The first team was still in the woods and the swarmlings were headed there.

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