A foxkin guard sprinted up the slope, a pair of manacles swinging from his belt, and a truncheon in his hand. The guard lunged with his truncheon raised. Jack reached for his breast pocket with his right hand, grunting at the shoulder injury. “[Frost Breath],” he called, pointing his left hand at the beastkin’s chest.

  A cone of ice and wind exploded from his palm, engulfing the guard’s chest and face. The foxkin shrieked as his skin cracked, and his fur stiffened to frost. Jack lunged forward with his dagger in hand and drove it into the man’s freezing gut. The blade caught, stuck, but he pushed, splitting through the icy tissue. The beastkin twitched, then collapsed in a heap of blood and frost.

  Jack felt the power surge, and his fatigue reduced. A new pseudo skill formed as he staggered back while using Heal to stop the bleeding in his shoulder. It scabbed around the broken arrow shaft; he moved the arm with a groan, but the range was pitiful.

  Two more arrows flew past. One went a few inches wide of Jack’s left leg. The archers were being more careful now.

  The second arrow zipped past Cain’s ducking head. Ever watchful, he deflected another arrow with the flat of his sword. “We need cover,” he shouted. He moved uphill, dragging Jack with him. Cain grunted as another arrow skimmed his arm, but he didn’t break his stride.

  They scrambled twenty metres up to a bend. The rock turned sharp, protecting them from the archers below, but the path widened. Now, three guards could attack at a time.

  The first trio came hard. A lionkin, a snakekin, and a pale human with hooked sabres.

  Cain met them head-on; his sword clashed with the lionkin’s axe. Sparks flew before the lionkin snarled and bit at Cain’s face. He headbutted the lionkin, then ducked beneath a hooked sabre. His sword slashed across the lionkin’s gut. The beastkin roared and grabbed the wound as Cain shoved him off the cliff. No scream… just wind and the roar of the unforgiving waters below.

  The snakekin darted in with a pair of daggers drawn. The beastkin was fast… too fast. Cain took a dagger blade to the left thigh. Blood burst from the wound, soaking his leg. He dropped to one knee as the snakekin pulled away.

  Jack threw a smoke bomb at the retreating snakekin, hitting him in the face. He then lunged at the man with the hooked sabres. The man slashed, but Jack blocked the blade with his untested Shield; it shattered in a flash of blue light.

  Jack stabbed at the surprised guard and caught soft abdominal flesh before slipping on the bloody shale. His thin shoes were not designed for this sort of terrain. He fell on his face with an ‘oomph’. Fuck! This is it. He gritted his teeth, expecting agonising pain as a sabre blade cut into him.

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  The guard raised his sabre, but paused mid-strike. Orders. Jack was meant to scream, not die.

  Jack turned just in time to see Cain rise behind the guard and impale him through the back with his sword. The blade burst through his stomach, and the guard coughed up blood and died gurgling. Jack gave Cain a thankful nod.

  The snakeskin engaged Cain, again slashing his left thigh. He grunted and parried the second strike and gutted the snakekin with a warrior skill. His sword opened the guard from hip to ribs in a vicious upwards arc of steel. The beastkin’s insides spilt like cooked meat onto the shale.

  Jack stabbed the snakekin in the knee as the guard fell beside him. The Pseudo Goblin skill, Quick Stab, made his blade move at twice the normal speed as the blade sank into the knee joint. The beastkin hissed in pain and died.

  He felt the wave of power, relief from fatigue, and a new skill form. Jack wasted no time; he used Heal twice on Cain’s left thigh as he felt his mana drop low. The wounds scabbed over, but wouldn’t hold for long, not with more fighting on the horizon.

  “I’m running low on mana,” Jack whispered to Cain.

  Cain nodded and prepared himself for the next attackers.

  Jack and Cain had managed to kill eight of the eighteen guards.

  Then everything changed.

  Baron Argil roared in anger, his face flushed red with deep rage. “You killed my son!” he yelled. “My legacy.” Argil growled like an out-of-control animal. “For Kendrel!” the noble roared as he shoved one of his own guards aside and over the cliff. The badgerkin screamed as he fell to his death.

  The other nobles didn’t flinch at the unnecessary death of one of their guards.

  Favouring his right leg, Cain rose to meet the enraged Baron. They clashed. Argil’s sword moved with impossible speed. Cain blocked and parried, just staying ahead of the noble’s frenzied attack. Steel clashed in a flurry of sparks and blood. Both men were taking small injuries. Argil fought like a demon. Rage gave him speed and power. Cain countered with decades of experience and skill.

  “That has to be an enrage skill,” Jack muttered as he thought of his untested goblin Enrage pseudo skill. “He’s not using other pseudo skills. Why?” He watched the fight in confusion. Argil had decades to amass dozens of pseudo skills. Yet, the Baron was fighting like a warrior or knight with a sword.

  The remaining guards had pulled back, wary of the rampaging Baron Argil.

  Jack saw plenty of opportunities for Argil to finish Cain with an Apprentice Mage spell. He could’ve used a [Fireball] or [Frost Breath] then. He must have them. But the Baron only used his sword. Each clash showed his rage.

  Jack watched, stunned. Is he a Journeyman Knight? Has he lost reason due to being enraged?

  Argil’s fury made him faster and stronger. He fought like a man possessed, but still with skill. However, if Jack’s observations were correct, he’d left his most powerful skills unused.

  Cain grunted, “Fuck!” as Argil cut deep across his ribs. He retaliated with a skill, slashing the Baron’s right thigh; the blood mage didn’t even flinch at the new wound.

  Both men were covered in blood from small wounds and a few deeper gashes. They fought in a storm of clashing blades and grunts, each strike shaking the air. Rock shattered beneath their boots. Cain drove Argil back with a brutal series of blows.

  Argil now had his back to Jack. Sensing an opportunity, he grabbed a hooked sabre that had been dropped on the ground and held it in both hands. Taking a deep breath, he activated a [Chronos Sphere] scroll and pointed the blade towards Argil.