I sprinted after Robbie toward the sound of horns and shouting, Dekka at my heels. The village gates were chaos—horns were sounding, people were running in every direction, children being hustled into houses. A woman ran past carrying two small kids, one under each arm. An old man was hobbling toward a cottage, shouting for his wife to bring him his bow. I was no archer, but his scrawny arms didn’t seem strong enough to draw a bow.

  "How many?" Robbie shouted at a man perched on the wooden palisade.

  "Twenty! Maybe twenty-five!" he called back. "Armed and armored!"

  "Royal guard?"

  "Can't tell for sure. They are staying well back. But they look to be holding a formation, so I am thinking royal guard."

  Robbie turned to the people gathering around her, more arriving every second. Some were still pulling on boots; others were carrying whatever weapons they'd grabbed first. "Archers to the walls! Everyone else, positions! Remember, we need to hold them at the gate! Don't let them spread into the village!"

  People scattered to obey, moving with a practiced efficiency that suggested this wasn't the first time Oakfend had been attacked.

  I caught her arm. "I want my club back."

  She blinked at me, clearly not expecting to have a random barbarian available in this crisis. "Wha-"

  "My club. The one your people took when they kidnapped me. I want it back."

  As chaotic as things were, she paused and shrewdly assessed me.

  "I'm choosing a side," I said, meeting her eyes. "Like you told me to. But I'd really prefer to do it with my actual weapon instead of, I don't know, a cooking pot or something."

  Robbie stared at me for a heartbeat, and I saw something shift in her expression. She gave a short bark of a laugh and called out to her right-hand man, "Jack! The barbarian's club—where is it?"

  "Storage shed, I think!" Jack called back, already climbing the wall with a bow in his hands and a quiver on his back. "West side!"

  "Great," I muttered. "Very helpful. Super specific."

  The sound of a drum started a steady beating out in the forest. It was threatening, yet it stirred my heart. Our side was silent. All I could hear over the wind in the trees was the creak of leather armor as people shifted with anticipation.

  "No time," Robbie said over her shoulder, already moving toward the wall. "Use whatever you can find!"

  She was right, damn it. The storage shed was on the other side of the village, and those soldiers could attack at any second. I looked around frantically. Someone had dropped a shovel in their rush to get inside. Another person had left a rake leaning against a wall. There was a wooden club leaning against a house, but it looked like it had been carved by someone's grandfather and would probably snap if I gripped it too hard.

  My heart was pounding with excitement. Whilst I was back to thinking myself a barbarian, I didn’t have that class yet. Soon, my blood whispered in my veins.

  A young boy ran past, and I grabbed his shoulder, causing him to squeak in surprise. Dekka gave me a dirty look for scaring a child. I ignored her and asked the boy, "Weapons? Where do you keep weapons?"

  He pointed at a building across the square. "The hall! Over tha-" He was cut off by a shout of orders from the forest. There was no time.

  "Fuck it," I said, letting him go. "Fists it is."

  Dekka looked up at me and gave what I could only describe as a canine grin, her tongue lolling out one side of her mouth. She might not approve of frightening her favourite variety of human, but fighting she lived for.

  "Yeah," I told her. "Now would be a good time to get big."

  She wagged her short tail, but didn’t immediately shift. I had gotten the feeling she liked using her transformation to distract or even scare our opponents.

  The men marched on foot towards us. There were a few mounted officers. Had they marched the entire way here? Then I noticed a picket line of horses back in the trees. They had ridden but were attacking on foot.

  Wait, no, only some were marching. There was a line of archers readying themselves behind the line of approaching fighters.

  They came steadily, shields held before them, weapons drawn. Sunlight glinted off their well polished armour—proper armor, not the leather and simple mail that most of Robbie's people wore. Chain mail that caught the light, metal helms, shields with some kind of crest I couldn't make out. These were professional soldiers. Well-equipped. Well-trained. These weren’t the guards we had seen at the summer castle. These were real soldiers. Like the ones that had fought the weta.

  We were so screwed.

  "ARCHERS!" Robbie's voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

  The response was immediate. A volley of arrows launched from the walls, at least a couple dozen, maybe more. They arced through the bright sky, the metal heads shining with menace as they flew.

  A few of the soldiers dropped. And I felt bad. I know they were attacking us. But now that they were closer, I could see they were wearing the same uniform that I had seen the prince’s men wear. These were just cleaner and in better condition than those I had seen previously.

  Dekka didn’t feel bad. She stood at my shin, her anticipation palpable.

  Another volley was let loose, and more men dropped. Not stumbling. Not wounded. Dropping. One of the officers was struck down like someone had reached down from heaven and pushed them from their saddle. I watched in absolute awe. Despite their men dropping, the soldiers closed ranks and kept coming. Others darted in behind, protected by the line, and dragged out the bodies. Also, I had to admire Robbie’s archers. Clean shots. Kill shots.

  "Holy shit," I breathed.

  "AGAIN!" Robbie's voice rang out.

  But this time arrows rained down around us. The prince’s archers had returned fire. A horse screamed behind me—hit by a stray arrow—I hoped it wasn’t Shamoly.

  The organized charge was slowing. I am not sure the soldiers had expected Oakfend to mount such a formidable defense.

  And then I saw her.

  Robbie stood on the wall, shining in the sun, her bow in her hands like it was an extension of her body. She drew, held for barely a second … and released.

  An archer a hundred yards fell, his lifeless hands letting his bow fall.

  Before his body hit the dirt, she had nocked another arrow, the motion so smooth and fast it was like watching water flow. Drew. Released.

  Another archer fell.

  I was feeling conflicted. I wanted to fight. My blooding was singing with excitement. But I felt bad. But then I remembered — there were no other players around. These men would respawn when ever I died and came back.

  With that thought I looked for an opening. But for the moment it looked like I was hardly needed.

  It was absurd. It was impossible. It was absolutely ridiculous how good she was.

  She didn’t seem to be aiming. I mean I know she had to be, but she was so fast. It was so effortless for her She was just drawing and releasing, over and over, and every single arrow found a target. It was like watching a machine. A very deadly. I snorted suddenly with a flash of dark humour. Robbie was very efficient machine that redistributed your life from your body.

  "That's not even fair," I muttered.

  Beside her, Scarlock was doing his own work. He was slightly less impossible than Robbie—which was like saying a hurricane is slightly less destructive than a meteor strike. I watched him put three arrows in the air before the first one landed, each arrow tracking a different target.

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  All three hit.

  "Show-offs," I said. Though, honestly, I was impressed. Terrified of ever being on the wrong side of these people, but impressed.

  Around the wall, other archers were adding their own contributions. Not quite at Robbie and Scarlock's level of impossible accuracy, but still good enough to bring the line to a halt. The soldiers were routed, hiding behind their shields.

  The one officer, still mounted. His horse foaming and snorting with fear gave orders, and the soldiers seamlessly moved and formed a shield wall, shields up and overlapping; some had run from the back holding larger shields up over their backs. They were now like an armored turtle. Slow but impenetrable.

  A few of the arrows were still finding gaps. I watched Robbie put one through a gap in the shield wall that couldn't have been more than three inches wide—but the men were getting closer. Though many had fallen, there was still a large force that would reach the village walls.

  "BRACE THE GATES!" someone shouted from inside the village.

  Too late.

  The men hit the wooden gates like a battering ram. The impact was enormous: a crack of wood and the screech of metal on metal as the bar holding the gates started to give. The wood splintered, but held. Did they have a ram? I couldn’t see them now that they were right at the base of the wall.

  Barely.

  "They're coming through!" Jack yelled from the wall. I decided it was my time.

  People were running toward the gates, grabbing spears, clubs, anything they could use to defend the entrance. An older woman handed her son a pitchfork and took an axe for herself. A young man who couldn't have been more than seventeen was holding a short sword, his hands shaking but his face determined.

  I moved toward the gates, my empty hands curling into fists as the gates cracked.

  The soldiers and the denizens of Oakfend made eye contact, and that's when Dekka decided to get big.

  The transformation was horrifying and magnificent, and would absolutely give any surviving soldiers nightmares later. One moment she was a scrappy, adorable terrier at my feet, maybe thirteen pounds of attitude and fur. The next reality seemed to bend around her.

  Shadows ran like liquid and surrounded and lifted her small form. She grew and became menace incarnate. I might have lost my barbarian class on my last reset, but she was still the size of a pony. No bigger than a pony, she was the size of a small horse. She was almost as tall as Shamoly.

  A man near me screamed, and a woman shouted.

  Had I told them what my dog could do? I don’t think I had. "GOOD GIRL!" I shouted, trying to make it obvious this was an intended result.

  The gates exploded inward.

  The soldiers pushed through the gap, shields still up, weapons ready, moving in tight formation. Professional. Disciplined. Ready to slaughter a bunch of villagers.

  And then Dekka charged them.

  I would have put a couple of coppers on a couple of the men leading the charged soiling themselves. Their faces went from determined assault to absolute existential terror in the space of a heartbeat. One of them made a sound I've never heard a human make before, something between a scream and a wheeze, like his brain had momentarily forgotten how to operate his lungs.

  To their credit, they kept coming. Dekka launched herself at them, glee evident even in her shadow form. She hit the shield wall, her mouth open in a silent howl of delight. Shields went flying. Men went flying. Chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

  What even Robbie’s expertly bowmanship failed to do my dog did effortlessly. The soldiers broke.

  Dekka was a whirlwind of fire and teeth, and rage. She grabbed a soldier in her jaws and tossed him twenty feet backward into his companions. They all went down in a clanking heap. Not wanting her to have all the fun, I leaped in behind her.

  Another soldier tried to stab her with a spear. I grabbed him from behind and jerked him off his feet. Dekka snapped the spear like a toothpick. A man behind me slammed his shield into my lower back. The pain made my breath catch. But my rage rose.

  I spun used [HIT] with my bare hand. My punch landed square in the solider's chest. Right in centre of his metal breastplate.

  "FUCK!" I screamed, because that hurt. Punching people in armor hurts. My knuckles immediately started bleeding. I was pretty sure I'd broken at least one finger. Why did I think this was a good idea? Why didn't I insist on finding my club? Why was I such an idiot?

  Right. Fighter. I was supposed to hit things, not think things. At least when fighting. There was no time to think anyway because another soldier was coming at me with a sword, and I had to either fight or die, and dying sucked, so fighting it was.

  I grabbed another soldier and threw him into a third. They both went down in a tangle of limbs and cursing. Someone swung a sword at me—at MY FACE, rude! I caught their wrist, lifted them up and came face to face with the man. I gave him a wide grin as I used his own momentum to send him sprawling into the mud and then kicked him hard.

  15XP!

  Someone else tried to tackle me. Bad idea. I head-butted them. My vision went sparkly for a second and I saw stars, but they went down, so I called it a win. I'd have a headache later. Maybe a concussion. But later I could deal with that. Blood was running down my face, but I was smiling.

  A soldier with a spear thrust at my stomach. I knocked the spear aside and kicked him in the chest. He staggered back and into a hellhound who just happened to be waiting for him. His scream was brief.

  0.15XP!

  This was insane. This was absolutely insane. I was fighting trained soldiers with my bare hands and somehow not dying. I was insane. The fighter classes were either incredibly overpowered against other people, or I was running on pure adrenaline and stupidity. Probably both.

  "Elizabeth! DUCK!"

  I ducked before I had fully processed that I had been given an action. An arrow whistled over my head, close enough that I felt the wind of its passage, and hit someone behind me. I turned to see Robbie on the wall, already nocking another arrow, a grin on her face.

  “Careful!" I shouted.

  She gave me a look.

  “Thanks?” I tried. Thinking was hard.

  "DON'T MENTION IT!" She released another arrow that took down a soldier who'd been sneaking up on my left. "Having fun?" She gasped as she jumped down beside me.

  "Yes," I replied simply and punched a man in the head who was running at her with a spear.

  15XP!

  She strode off into a gap, already reaching for another arrow.

  “Your welcome!” I called to her retreating back. I noticed I wasn’t getting any XP for kills she or her people were making. That felt unfair and vaguely selfish.

  0.15XP!

  Dekka was living her best life. She'd cornered three soldiers against a building and was taking turns roaring at them. Every time one tried to run, she'd cut them off, herd them back, and roar again. She was playing with them. Like a cat with mice. It was terrifying and hilarious in equal measure.

  She didn’t seem to do this to the monsters. Or was this new for her?

  One of the soldiers dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, hands up in surrender. Dekka sniffed him and apparently decided he wasn't a threat anymore. With a look of disappointment she bounded off to find someone more interesting.

  I looked down at him. Were we supposed to take prisoners? Should I just kill him? He was looking up at me with an odd mixture of fear and awe. My blood cooled. The idea of killing a man on his knees felt very wrong.

  Jack showed up and hauled him off, solving my dilemma.

  I walked up behind two men who were fighting the young man with the pitchfork and grabbing their, necks I bashed their heads together.

  15XP!

  15XP!

  The fight was starting to turn. There were a full soldiers still fighting, but a few were retreating back toward their horses. A few were were surrendering or playing dead.

  Robbie and Scarlock were picking off stragglers with an efficiency that was honestly unfair. Robbie wasn't even looking half the time. She'd nock, draw, release in one smooth motion while looking at something else, and some soldier a hundred yards away would drop. It was like she had a targeting computer in her brain.

  Did she? I suppose she was programmed this way. She was Robin Hood after all.

  One soldier, braver or stupider than the rest, made it past Dekka and charged straight at me with his sword raised high. He was big, probably six and a half feet, heavily armored, and looked like he bench-pressed horses for fun.

  I watched him thunder toward me. He was grinning like a maniac.

  My kind of guy. I smiled back. At least he was having fun. His fun ended abruptly when an arrow sprouted out of one of his eyes.

  I sighed. No XP.

  “I could have handled him myself,” I called over to the two archers.

  The last of the soldiers were fleeing now, disappearing into the early evening Dekka chased them a few yards, silently snapping her massive jaws, before trotting back shrinking back to her normal terrier form as she approached and looking immensely pleased with herself, her tail wagging.

  I stood in the middle of the broken gates, breathing hard, my knuckles bleeding, my head pounding, pretty sure I was going to have a spectacular black eye from that headbutt. Around me, Robbie's people were checking the wounded, securing the few prisoners who'd been too injured or too smart to run.

  People were already moving to secure the gates, dragging the broken pieces aside and setting up a makeshift barrier in case the soldiers returned with reinforcements.. A woman was binding a man's arm where an arrow had grazed him. Someone else was helping a boy who'd twisted his ankle.

  We'd won. Against professional soldiers, against superior arms and armor, we'd won. It felt surreal. I was annoyed at the low XP. I was so close to levelling up and getting my barbarian class back.

  And to think I had dreaded and avoided that class, and now I was mad about not having it.

  "Is everyone alright?" Robbie called from the wall. "Sound off!"

  People started calling back. Most were fine. A few injuries, nothing serious. One man had taken a sword cut to his shoulder, but the village healer was already seeing to him.

  I flexed my hands and immediately regretted it. Yeah. Definitely broken. At least one finger, maybe two. My knuckles were a bloody mess. I wonder who I should report this to. They had to have healing potions here. I was just about to ask when Robbie yelled, a panic to her voice that the battle had failed to illicit.

  "MARY!" Robbie's voice cut through the settling chaos. "MARY!"

  The name sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the cooling night air.

  I turned. Robbie was running toward her cottage, her bow forgotten, dropped on the wall, her face white with panic.

  I ran toward the cottage. Others were running too. Jack was climbing down from the wall. Scarlock was sprinting across the square. By the time I got there, Robbie was standing in the doorway, a piece of paper in her hands, her face a mask of fury and grief.

  "They took her," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "While we were fighting. They took Mary."

  "What does the note say?" I pushed into the cottage, Dekka at my heels.

  The main room was a disaster. Furniture overturned, chairs smashed, the beautiful weavings torn from the walls. The loom in the corner was knocked over, thread spilling across the floor. There were scuff marks on the floor, signs of a struggle. A pottery jug lay shattered, water spreading across the wood.

  On the table was a scrap of paper, held down by a dagger. The dagger was expensive-looking, the kind of weapon a noble would carry. The kind meant for show as much as for use. The note in Robbies hand was missing a corner where she had ripped it off the table.

  Robbie wasn’t answering. Her face tight as she stared at the note, her knuckles white from holding it so tightly. The nice thing about being tall is it lets you read over other people’s shoulders.

  The handwriting was elegant, official, the letters perfectly formed. The kind of handwriting you learned if you'd had expensive tutors.

  "You have items that belong to the Crown. We have something of value to you. Make things right and bring what you've stolen to the crossroads at dawn. Surrender yourself to trial, and we will release your woman.”

  It wasn't signed. Your woman? Did they not know they had kidnapped the crown princess?