text: We fell into file behind Weylin, who led the way to where he believed the elf tribe lived. We kept quiet as we traveled, and to our surprise the woods stayed quiet with us.
  
  <Something's spooking the wildlife,> I asked privately through the mindlink. <Is it us?>
  
  <I don't think so,> Weylin answered. <I think there has been battle in these woods, and the creatures have all learned to hide from it.>
  
  <Really started to worry about getting greeted by an arrow here,> I mentioned. <You sure we shouldn't announce our presence or something?>
  
  <Since no one else is making noise, I am beyond certain that we shouldn't be making noise either,> the elven songcaster replied. <Or at least any more than our large group is already making. But they should not attack with me in the lead.>
  
  <Should not?> I asked. <Or will not?>
  
  Weylin didn't immediately answer, and I realized I needed to let it go. No point in making everyone else worried about something we can't really change.
  
  More time passed, and we began to see signs of passage. Branches and shrubbery snapped until they resembled crude paths. More claw-marks, these much smaller than what Weylin had found earlier, started lining the trees, as if something had tried to climb up them in a hurry. Then we began to find antler horns that were the wrong shape to fit any type of Woadlands deer, and then we found small bodies with arrows sticking out of them.
  
  Horde bodies.
  
  I looked down at the Horde Wretch that was probably missing the antler we found earlier, and swore.
  
  "I'm getting real tired of seeing these guys," I muttered.
  
  "Guess you shouldn't have let them form a fan club after you," Eadric grunted unhelpfully.
  
  "It's not a fan club, it's a hate group," I retorted, then looked back down. "These bodies haven't disintegrated yet, which means they've been killed recently. Do these arrows look like they could have been used by the same elves we're looking for?"
  
  "Arrows tend to just look like arrows," Weylin said dryly. "But yes. It's likely the village has engaged the Horde."
  
  Which meant there were Horde Pits in the Woadlands again. Fantastic.
  
  We now had the potential for a third Tumult on our hands. And unlike the Hoarfolk, Horde didn't need a whole lot of time and resources to pull it off.
  
  I gave myself a moment to feel frustrated and overworked, then pulled myself back together.
  
  "New plan," I announced. "Weylin, I think speed is more important than etiquette right now." He nodded in agreement. "Let's try and see if we can get there quicker. Everyone use what magic you can to make us run faster. Breena, Val, I want you two to use your magic to look ahead whenever you can. We may already be walking into a fight."
  
  The Horde was a lot like cockroaches in a person's apartment. For every one seen, there were dozens more back in their lair. The best scenario would be for this to just be a scouting party, but it was likely that the elves were dealing with a full attack.
  
  I was right.
  
  Breena had risked flying upward for a higher vantage point, dimming her light as much as possible. She reported that about a hundred misshapen humanoids were trying to set certain trees on fire. That was all the confirmation I needed. Weylin began his speed song, Karim wrote his veiling script into the air, and the tattoos covering the Gaelguard flared. For my part, I drew Carnwennan and tried using the dagger itself to scribe veiling runes as well, activating its shroud function at the same time. It seemed to work, because I was able to extend the veil out to cover over a dozen people easily, hiding and silencing them.
  
  We took advantage of that to run like hell.
  
  Foliage scattered and cracked under us as we dashed forward, trusting in our magic to keep us hidden and hale enough to dash through the forest at full speed. With Breena scouting, Weylin was able to pick a path reasonably free of dangerous ground, so no one took a dirt-nap despite running at a full jog through an old-growth forest.
  
  We saw the terrain change about a hundred meters ahead. The space increased between trees. All of the foliage became more organized, their placements more practical. A few more meters and we saw the trees ahead of us suddenly tighten close together, forming a wall in front of us with only a thin pathway leading through the middle of it.
  
  The ground in front of that opening was riddled with Horde bodies.
  
  They had trampled a small wooden gate before they died, and then more had apparently died trampling those bodies. Most of the dead were the child-sized Ilklings and the slightly bigger Wretches, but I saw two dead Mongrels as well as a scattering of another type of Hordebeast I didn't recognize.
  
  My mindscreen didn't trigger any messages when I saw them, so I figured that I'd need to see a live one to learn something.
  
  Judging by the sounds of combat further in, I knew I'd get that chance.
  
  We ran past the wall of trees, noting that they were in fact, somehow grown together to form a wall. I didn't have time to figure out how that worked, but I did note that no Horde had been able to climb up them. At any rate, the violence inside the tree wall took back my focus.
  
  At first all I saw was a flurry of shapes and flames. That was enough for my instincts to kick in, because I had summoned and thrown Toirneach before I even realized I was saving a small child's life. The enchanted axe had blasted through one antlered Wretch and two of the oily Ilklings that were chasing a small, sobbing, pointy-eared girl. My eyes caught focus on her own tear-filled orbs, and she pointed a trembling finger to the violence behind her, still crying too much to talk.
  
  A body from behind me nearly bumped into me, and I cursed myself for getting distracted. I kept running forward so that I wouldn't get in the way of the rest of my team, but the Gaelguard were already reacting like the elite warriors they had always been. Alum barked a few commands as they ran past me, giving me the barest of nods to make sure he had permission, but I'm not sure he saw me nod back. Two of the guard split to deal with stragglers but the remaining eight lined up in a row and charged toward the largest nearby knot of Hordebeasts, hurling hatchets and javelins before they slammed into the monsters and tore them to shreds. When they were done a few seconds later, Alum turned to me again.
  
  "My lord, I suggest you take Breyn and Ama with you to secure the stragglers, and leave the rest of us to deal with the main melee. I know time has passed, but the villagers should trust our tattoos."
  
  That made sense, so I nodded back. I would have sent Weylin with them but the truth was I needed his help in saving all of the isolated groups even more.
  
  "Go," I commanded in agreement. "We'll reinforce you when we can. Breena, be on the lookout for wounded. Val, you still have Ball-ee, right?" A squeak came from her bag. "Good. Listen to see if Breena needs your help for saving lives."
  
  She gave me a firm nod, and then both of my groups were off.
  
  While I had been talking, Weylin had rushed forward and scooped up the elf-child in his arms. He had managed to calm her enough to get slightly more information on what was happening, and then he placed the child in one of the trees inside the village. I saw the little girl scamper even higher up, and then I was running, slamming into the next rampaging Hordebeast and bursting the Wretch to pieces with my dragon strength. Teeth roared alongside my pumping adrenaline, as we attacked silently, slaying rampaging monsters and scooping up running children, parents, and grandparents. Since Breyn and his friend couldn't use the mindlink with us yet, I had them gather and protect the rescued villagers while the remaining six of us went back to hunting. We tore our way through several more packs of weaker Hordebeasts until we came upon the first real challenge, a dozen or so haphazardly armored Mongrels wielding giant machetes and axes, facing off against a smaller group of elven warriors wearing fluted leather armor and wielding light blades. The elves were holding their own despite being outnumbered, darting between the larger apebeasts and slicing their unarmored legs and arms. But that changed the next moment when over a score of Hordebeasts, the same type as the bodies outside the gates, came charging at their backs.
  
  They were between five and six feet tall, still smaller than the Mongrels but much larger than the Wretches. Their bodies were covered in coarse fur except for their hands, which still dripped the disgusting Horde oil. They wore padded armor, carried small shields and short spears, and Horde oil adorned their shields and spears much like the Woadsap had been used to enhance our own weapons and armor. Their heads were a weird cross between cat and dog, whiskered like a cat's but with a longer, canine snout.
  
  <Warning>, my mindscreen suddenly chirped. <Foreign contaminant detected. Contaminant is new species of Hordemonster, designated as species Miscreant. Species appears to excel at group combat. Recommend that the Challenger engages and destroy before contaminant overwhelms current world.>
  
  The mindscreen's description was accurate, as the Miscreants were charging in the most tightly held formation I had seen a Hordebeast use yet. They began to rush at the unprotected rear of the elven warriors, which would take the pressure off the Mongrels and allow them to properly surround each individual elf.
  
  We didn't let that happen.
  
  As we charged, I opened both palms for a moment to fire off all ten of my finger bolts, striking ten Miscreants straight in the face. They spasmed and went down, bodies jerking and smoking. Bolts flew from Breena, Weylin, and Karim, knocking down six more, and then we were within the melee, slamming into the back of the Mongrel pack.
  
  I had put away Carnwennan at this point to fight with Toirneach and my new woad shield. I slammed into a Mongrel that had caught an elf warrior by the throat and freed the elf by slicing off the Mongrel's arm a split-second later. The freed elf looked at me suspiciously, but then he heard Weylin call out something in their language, so he merely nodded at me and sprang back to his feet.
  
  <Dick,> Teeth muttered, apparently offended by the elf's suspicion, but I didn't have time to soothe his ego. I slammed my axe down into the wounded Mongrel's head, cleaving right through armor and skull until my lightning-enhanced weapon overpowered the creature's vital guard and fried his brain. I ripped my weapon free just in time to take a giant machete on my shield. I winced from the impact, then braced and pushed, matching strength with the next ape monster snarling in my face. He growled at me, confident in his larger size, then shouted in outrage as I slammed him away and into another Mongrel fighting Karim behind him. Karim's spear burst through the unarmored stomachs of both monsters, and I followed up with two decapitating swings from my giant, crackling tomahawk.
  
  By now the rest of the combatants had spread out. I saw Eadric shrug a machete off of his shield, smash his hammer into the Mongrel's knee, then flip his weapon around to slam the hook end into the Mongrel's belly as the Hordebeast stumbled to its knees. Further away another elf went down to another Mongrel's blow, clutching his chest as he fell. The wounded warrior futilely tried to crawl away to give his vital guard time to arrest the wound, but the Hordebeast looming over him stepped down on the elf's knee with a loud crunch. The Mongrel bellowed as he raised his axe over his head, but a shape faced next to him and sliced through the back of both of his knees. The monster fell to his own knees with a howl, and the black-haired shape kicked off of his chest to slash one blade across his throat and thrust the longer one up into the Hordebeast's open mouth.
  
  By then the combat was over. I looked around and saw at least four elven bodies on the ground, with three of the remaining elves talking to Weylin in hushed, urgent tones while pointing to me and keeping their weapons drawn. The mindscreen hadn't translated their words yet, so I ran with Val and Breena to try and save the four elves still bleeding out.
  
  That was kind of the miracle with vital guards. Provided a person (elf, human, whatever) had Risen at least once, they had a good chance to avoid dying from infection or blood loss, at least to a single wound. Half of the Mongrels still on the ground were slowly bleeding out, and could have been saved if there were any nearby Horde willing and able to heal them. But the vital guard of the four elves before me had been exhausted completely. They would die without medical attention.
  
  I knelt next to one body, that of a blonde-haired woman whose partner was desperately trying to halt the flow spraying from her leg. I quickly cast my signature water spell, giving her enough vital guard to arrest the bleeding on its own, then I rushed to the next dying elf to repeat the process. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Breena do the same with her Wood and Water magic, and to my relief we managed to reach all four wounded in time.
  
  "You should not let him fool you," an elf arguing with Weylin said as my mindscreen finally finished translating. "Earthborn have come to our aid in the past, only to stab us in the back when we least expected. There are no more Challengers."
  
  "The hell?" I shouted angrily, briefly remembering what the other Woadfolk on Avalon had told me, about Malus Members posing as Challengers, with captured fairies forced to pretend they were Breena. "Forget it. We don't have time for this. Breena!" I shouted. "They think we're fakes! Fix it!"
  
  The elves arguing with Weylin suddenly stopped. Apparently my imposters weren't as bad-tempered and abrasive as the real me. But then Breena fluttered into view and glowed brightly, showing that she was clearly more powerful, and a different breed than any sprite-folk captured by the Malus Members.
  
  "Now let's get back to work," I growled. "I have a team of Gaelguard trying to engage the main body of Horde. Is there anyone else we need to save first, or can we help them and wrap this up right now?"
  
  "Gaelguard?" The senior-looking elf blinked, but when Weylin whispered urgently to him he snapped back into focus. "If you came from the same place they attacked," he began, looking behind us and nodding, "then you likely saved everyone you could. We need to hit their main force now, before they steal any more of our young or sprite folk."
  
  "Sprite folk?" Breena blinked. "They have been stealing fairies again? Why are the sprite folk here in the village?"
  
  "The remaining fairies are now either guarded directly by Lady Titania herself or by any local village able to take them in," the slender warrior told Breena grimly. "Every unprotected fairy has been rounded up and taken by the new Earthborn—" he gave me another dark glance—"and their Horde allies. Your people have been hunted almost to complete extinction, Holy Fairy. Along with the children of many races."
  
  <Update on new factions complete,> my mindscreen informed me.
  
  ─ The local elven population views you with distrust, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ The local Woadfolk population views you with distrust, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ The Stag Lord views you with distrust, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ Mother Glade views you with distrust, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ Lady Titania views you with resentment, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ Great Pan views you with sadness, based on rumors regarding your death as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers.
  
  ─ The Woad Princess views you with resentment and anger, based on previous racial conflict as well as the actions of individuals posing to be Challengers, and finally your failure to appear until now.
  
  "Fuck that," I growled, hearing Teeth speak out loud with me. "Lead the way so we can finish this."
  
  The elves blinked again at my tone, but the next moment they were darting toward the loudest sounds of combat. We followed them, until we reached the site of the main battle.
  
  By now, I had been able to take in most of the details of the village around me. The town was a strange mix of single-story buildings with arched roofs, large trees hollowed out at the base to become homes, and fortified-looking structures built directly into the tops of the largest trees.
  
  The elves seemed to be doing their best to herd as many of their people into the last and safest type of building. Women that looked to be mothers were clutching sobbing infants and screaming children, doing their best to drag their families into the safety of the higher elevation, while leather-armored elven men and women hung from nearby tree limbs, firing arrows into the mass of monsters below. At the base of the tree were more warriors wielding long spears and light blades, fighting a loose formation that still kept a path free for a handful of noncombatants still rushing for the safety of the tree forts. Closest to the base of the tree was the corpse of a young red-haired man in shiny but poorly constructed armor, completely covered with arrows. My best guess was that he was one of my imposters, and that he had tried to bluff his way past the soldiers and to where the children were kept. The fact that the elves had killed him on the spot meant that previous false Challengers had done the same in the past, which meant that in the last fifty years I had grown infamous from other people enslaving women, children, and sprite-folk in my name.
  
  I raged. The dragon in me grasped for control, and I let him.
  
  "YOU WRETCHED FUCKS!" I bellowed, my teeth growing and itching. "YOU DARE USE MY NAME FOR THIS?"
  
  Fire and Air magic surged through my legs, and I leaped high into the air.
  
  Below me were a mass of Wretches, Miscreants, and Mongrels that were beginning to overwhelm the elves guarding the base of one of the tree forts. I saw two Mongrels rear their hands back to toss torches they were holding, and decided they'd never get the chance. I hurled out the Fireball I had been storing right behind them, scorching their hands and catching the center mass of the Horde throng at the same time. The blast was powerful enough to kill over a score of Wretches and Miscreants outright, and as I hurtled through the air I followed the attack up with several Friction Slices. The Air spell wasn't as devastating, but I could cast it faster, and now the spinning blades of air crackled with lightning and fire at their edges. The discs cut through Horde like saw blades, and then I landed in their midst.
  
  <Battleform attempting to engage,> my mindscreen informed me. <Engagement failed. The ability has been overtaxed.>
  
  <Fuck it,> Teeth and I mentally snapped at once. I slammed my shield into a Miscreant's skull and began hacking and cleaving my way through the remains of the hundred-strong warband.
  
  From behind me, I heard shouts of surprise from the elves, shouts of frustration from my own band, and battle cries from Alum's Gaelguard who arrived in time to smash into the Horde from the rear. Something about all the shouting triggered another one of my synapses. I yelled again, altering the pitch of my tone to create a song-spell.
  
  "TREMBLE AND MOURN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!"
  
  I felt my Will sweep into the spell, and over half the Horde suddenly flinched away from me and dropped their weapons, looking bewildered as they did so.
  
  But they weren't surrendering, and I was too angry to care even if they had. And even if I wasn't angry, I remembered the first time one of these sick freaks had tried to 'surrender,' and just how disgusting that experience had been. So I cleaved my way through their shocked faces with a clean conscience, not stopping until one of the Mongrels recovered enough to parry my attack. A sword blade burst from his mouth as I tore the cleaver out of his hands, and as he sank to the ground I saw Alum's people had hewn their way to meet me in the middle of the fight.
  
  "Is that the last of them?" I said, panting from anger and spent energy.
  
  "Aye," the tattooed warrior said slowly, giving me one of those 'hey Wes, you're covered in blood' looks I had begun to recognize. "There was another mass of them attacking another part of the village that we cleared first. That's why we were late." He was almost apologetic, unlike his wife.
  
  "They were a good bit bigger than this group," she said smugly. "But good job on keeping these wee ones busy for us. My lord," she added at the last minute, smiling challengingly at me.
  
  <Are all of the Woadwomen like this?> Teeth spoke up, mostly recovered from our combined rage. <Because if they are, we should probably look into getting one as a mate.>
  
  <Shut up and I hate you,> I sent back, then turned to the elves, remembering that the Horde were raiding for slaves, at least before they realized they were in enough number to overwhelm the village without our help.
  
  But my eyes were drawn to the mass of wounded elves on the ground. At least a score of soldiers and noncombatants were mewling and bleeding out on the ground, as a small group of green-robed elves worked frantically to save as many as they could. Breena immediately flew forward, and Val bounded over while opening her pack. Then a mournful cry caught my attention from the very back, where a woman lying on the ground was clutching her spilling stomach with one hand and reaching out to the forest with another.
  
  "Amma!" she cried out in an anguished, gurgling voice, her reaching hand straining futilely. "My Amma!"
  
  "Mommy!" a little elf-girl's voice called out, and I saw a black shape dragging a smaller, long-haired shape behind it as it passed through a hole in the wrecked tree wall. "I'm sorry, Mommy!" the long-haired shape wailed in a desperate, pitiful tone. "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it! I love you!"
  
  I dismissed my axe, bounded over to the disemboweled mother, stuck my hand into her wound, and cast Vein to Vein. I felt my own insides quiver as I poured as much of my life as I dared into her ruined torso, but the woman had little to no vital guard of her own. It wasn't enough. And I knew my Water magic would be even less help.
  
  "Wes!" Val shouted behind me. I saw my adopted sister hurl a small blue blob in my direction. As the blob landed, it bounced up and latched onto the dying woman's stomach.
  
  "Di-rec-tive!" the little jelly chirped urgently. "Heal! Save! Di-rec-tive!"
  
  "We've got this!" my little sister shouted. She began casting another spell of her own, some kind of healing Shadow magic I hadn't learned about yet that calmed the thrashing woman. "Hurry up and go!" she said in a desperate tone. "Don't let them take any more kids!"
  
  That was more than enough encouragement for me to act.
  
  I recast all of my enhancement spells and began rushing forward, chanting the speed song Weylin had taught me. Many of the others were running after me, but the truth was that I was probably the fastest runner over long distances.
  
  At least I was right now. Because I'd eat my own tongue before I'd let the bastards take from me again.
  
  The little girl's sobs continued to guide and spur me onward as I chased after the Wretch dragging her beyond the wall.
  
  "Drop her!" I shouted out. "Drop her or I will eat you!"
  
  In my defense, my teeth were still itching terribly.
  
  The stupid Hordebeast shot a frightened look over its shoulder and began running faster. When I realized it heard me and disobeyed, my vision turned red, and I began running faster as well. The little girl kept crying out apologies to her mother as I closed the distance between myself and her inhuman captor.
  
  Another enhanced leap brought me right behind them.
  
  "I WARNED YOU!" I shouted, dismissing my shield to grab hold of the short Hordebeast. With my other arm I tore off the limb grasping the child, letting her fall into a bed of leaves as I yanked the terrified Wretch in front of me. "I WARNED YOU!" I roared again, my jaw itching and suddenly stretching forward. "AND YOU DID NOT LISTEN! SO DIE!"
  
  I dimly realized that Teeth had seized control again as my enlarged, scaled jaw closed over the shrieking monster's throat and tore it right out. I spat the flesh out of the mouth, threw the dying thing into a nearby sturdy tree and turned to check on the child, a dusky-skinned girl with long black hair probably no older than seven, or whatever the equivalent for that age was in elven bodies. She was badly scraped all over, but not fatally.
  
  "Stay away," she sobbed, scooting away from me with wide eyes. "Momma says red-haired men are all bad. Don't touch me."
  
  I clenched my eyes shut, knowing the last thing I needed to be was angry right now. I began casting my signature water spell, Corrective Flow. Since it was now at the Journeyman level, I could use it to heal at a distance. The little girl gasped as her wounds began to disappear.
  
  "The elves are coming to bring you back to your momma," I said softly, and I could hear Weylin call out a song chant that grew closer and closer. "But I need to know where they are taking the other children so I can save them. Do you know which way?"
  
  The little girl hesitated as she stared at me, but when she heard the nearby elves call out, she made up her mind and pointed.
  
  "That way," she said firmly. "They got my brother, and a lot of my friends. Momma says the Woad Princess is coming, though. You better not do anything bad to my friends, or she's gonna beat you up when she gets here."
  
  <She's right here,> I sent to Weylin as he trailed behind. <I'm going for the rest of the kids. Catch up when you can.>
  
  My legs coiled, and I bounded off toward the direction Amma had pointed.
  
  The Hordebeast were fast for an average person, and some could even outrun a human or elf that had undergone several Rises. But for someone with Ideal-blessed agility and dragon-enhanced muscles, they were laughably slow in a foot race. I caught up with a series of Wretches and Miscreants, bounding up to them one at a time, freeing their victim, killing the Hordebeast outright, and then moving on to the next, since their trail was easy to find and their victims were (barely) more scared of losing their friends and loved ones than they were of being tricked by another red-haired man. At any rate, a point was all I needed to find the next one, and I could trust my trailing team to take care of the children I had just rescued.
  
  Finally, though, I had caught up to what seemed like the last of the Horde raiders. There was a whole pack of them, over a dozen Miscreants herding children with their spears or clutching small cages with tiny glowing people trapped inside them. Leading them was the largest Mongrel I had ever seen, over seven feet tall, wrapped in form-fitting chain armor with a few pieces of spiked, form-fitting plate armor covering his upper torso. In one hand he clutched a massive, single-edged blade, one even bigger than the Horde cleaver I possessed and covered with red flaming rune script. In the other he was lifting a struggling elven woman with brown hair and a ragged dress. His head was adorned with an open-faced spiked helmet that still allowed for his massive tusks and ram-like horns to jut out. He was arguing with one of the better-armored Miscreants cowing before him.
  
  "We are not waiting for the others any longer!" he bellowed, and this time I knew he was speaking in Earthborn English, the language the Horde had somehow chosen as their own. "We do not have time!"
  
  "But they'll punish us!" the leather-clad Miscreant whined. "We left behind prey!"
  
  "Fool!" the massive Mongrel bellowed, brandishing his giant sword at the smaller Hordebeast. "The Woad bitch is coming! She'll be here any minute! Then we will have no prey!" He turned his awful face back to the elven woman in his grasp. "Make your little ones go faster," he snarled, speaking in Elvish this time. "Or I kill one right now, in front of you."
  
  The young-looking woman in his hands had a sad, but defiant, look in her eyes. "You wouldn't dare," she spat. "Because then you wouldn't get to do all sorts of other horrible things to them. If I could, I'd kill them myself," she added in an angry, hollow voice, "just to save them from what you're going to do to them."
  
  "Maybe." The giant Mongrel grinned, leaning closer to her. "Maybe I won't kill one. Maybe I'll make you my bride-meal instead, in front of them right now. I can make time for that, I promise, and then they will go faster for sure, won't they? Can't you tell I want to?" He tried to leer, but suddenly stopped, wincing in pain and dropping the woman at his feet. "What is happening?" he asked, backing away from the woman while clutching his face and sounding frightened. "Why do I no longer want to? Why does it feel… wrong?"
  
  The other Hordebeasts all hissed in horror, backing away from their leader as if he had suddenly become contagious. The move put them farther away from their own captives and gave me the best chance I was going to get.
  
  "Because it is wrong," I answered, leaping toward a large tree and kicking off of it to put me in a better position. Now that most of the Miscreants were in a line below me, I fired off my stored lightning bolt into one near the back. The electric blast arced downward just enough to catch the muzzled heads of the monsters in front of him before it slammed into his chest, burning clean through flesh and armor, and then arcing one final time to slam into the remaining row of horrified Miscreants.
  
  "Traitor-prince!" screamed the Miscreant cowering in front of the Mongrel. "The traitor-prince is here!"
  
  "I hate that stupid name," I growled, hurling my axe into the last Miscreant's face. It crunched firmly into his skull, so I summoned my spear and shield as I charged the giant Mongrel. "But I hate the freaky shit you want to do to women even more."
  
  "You!" the monster shouted with wide, outraged eyes. "You ruined bride-meals for us! You changed us!"
  
  His giant machete burst into red flame, and he swept the weapon down at me.
  
  "You're welcome!" I snarled as I dodged to the side and slammed my spear into his torso. My blow struck a spot just below the half-breastplate he was wearing and dented the mail, and I heard the giant gasp in pain from my blow. But the next moment he lifted the spear, twisting it to catch under my armpit and lift me up into the air as well.
  
  "Traitor-prince!" the beast bellowed, swinging his flaming blade at me. "Kill the traitor-prince!"
  
  I caught the blow on my shield at the last second, shuddering from the impact and hearing the wood crunch and start to burn. I let go of my spear and twisted in mid-air as I fell, drawing my enchanted, flaming spatha and wishing that the frightened woman would recover enough to run away, so that I could fight this stupid monster at range instead of up close and personal. As my shield came free I darted forward to stab the monster in his mailed leg. The fire-covered point got through enough for blood to sizzle off when I pulled the weapon back. I brought my shield up in time to deflect the Mongrel's next attack at an angle instead of head on, but the blow still rattled me.
  
  "Bad seed, bad tongue," the Mongrel chanted. "Made us, our hungers shun! End his words and end his taint and kill the traitor-prince!"
  
  <I wish I knew why they chanted like this,> I thought bitterly and I stepped to the side and scored another blow along the monster's arm.
  
  <It's a mantra,> Teeth said grimly. <They're using it to resist your influence. But worry about that after the fight.>
  
  I grunted in response and then ducked again, not willing to test my vital guard on a hunk of blazing metal roughly my own size. This time, though, the Mongrel struck with his free hand, reaching forward and grabbing the front of my mail. He pulled forward, head-butting me with his horned, tusked head, and then slammed me to the ground before I could reflect on just how stupid I had been not to wear a real helmet.
  
  My vital guard arrested the concussion and puncture wounds just soon enough for me to see the monster loom over me, machete cocked back for a downward stab into my face.
  
  "Kill the traitor-prince!" he screamed again, thrusting the burning weapon downward.
  
  But I was already acting. My shield arm struck his grasping hand from one angle, getting in the way of his potential death blow, while my other hand smashed into his elbow with my spatha's pommel. Then I discharged my Outer Current spell, letting my Lightning magic arc into him from all three locations, resenting the fact that it hadn't already triggered earlier when he grabbed me.
  
  The monster roared in pain as his own strike missed, and I spun out from under him, my leg into the back of both of his knees, further electrocuting him and tripping the Hordebeast at the same time. As he fell he twisted to land on me, counting on the fact that he weighed hundreds and hundreds of pounds to beat me in a grapple. It would have worked, if my Strength wasn't currently high enough to let me lift over a ton.
  
  I took advantage of the fact that I was also faster than him to arrest my spin, drop my sword, and throw both of my fists upward in a rising uppercut straight into his mailed stomach. To his surprise, my blow knocked the wind out of him and flipped the Mongrel over to land on his back. By the time he landed, I had snatched up my spatha, leaped on top of him, braced his weapon hand with my left boot all while slamming my spatha downward in a two-handed thrust into his mouth.
  
  He gurgled and clutched at my right boot with his free hand, but before he could yank me off my feet I twisted my blade, and he went completely limp, raised arm suddenly dropping downward. I twisted my weapon into his throat one final time to make sure he was dead, then yanked the weapon out of his mouth and hopped down from his body, sighing at myself.
  
  "I need to work on being more consistently competent when I fight," I sighed to myself. Then turned to make sure the hostages were all alright. "Everyone okay?" I asked, trusting my mindscreen to translate my words.
  
  By my count no one, fairy or elf, had gotten hurt in that brief fight, but the woman had moved to shield the children and caged sprites with her body.
  
  "Do what you want with me," she said, shuddering and closing her eyes. "Just… let the little ones go."
  
  "Seriously?" I asked, losing my temper for a minute. "I slay your captors, get bashed in the face and nearly stabbed to death in the process, and this is your reaction? Of course I'm going to let you all go! And if you were listening in on the conversation," I growled, belatedly realizing that the Mongrel was probably speaking English a moment ago, "you'd know that they all want to kill me because I did something that inhibits the monsters from hurting you all more in the first place!"
  
  "What do you mean?" the woman asked, blinking and clearly confused. But then she stubbornly shook her head. "Nevermind. I mean it. I'll do anything. Just… let the little ones go. Please. They don't deserve this."
  
  "Fine," I snapped. "We'll play your game." She shuddered and closed her eyes again, and I felt Teeth grow concerned with me. "Tell me if there are any other hostages. So I can rescue them." She opened her eyes again, cocking her head at me in confusion. "I mean it," I snarled. "You said you'd do anything! So tell me where the other captives are, so I can do my job and rescue them!"
  
  <Thank God,> Teeth sighed in relief. <You scared me for a moment.>
  
  "Then after you tell me," I continued, trying to get through to the frightened woman, "I want you to lead the children and sprite-folk back to the village. There's a team of elves and some friends of mine already on the way to escort all of you back. Can you please hurry up and do that for me?" I asked, trying to bring my temper under control.
  
  God help me, she still hesitated.
  
  "I…" she hedged. "I don't know…"
  
  I sighed again, realizing the poor woman was likely frightened out of her mind and that my temper wasn't helping.
  
  "Look," I began again, but then another voice interrupted me.
  
  "Everyone else is safe," a lilted, feminine, Gaelic-sounding voice said from the trees above me. "I already made sure."
  
  The voice sounded familiar, but I was more concerned with the news.
  
  "If that's true, then thank God, and the rest of you can head back," I said in relief. "But can you identify yourself, Miss? Or Mrs., or—shit!"
  
  I raised my shield and leaped back as a cluster of arrows fired close to where I was standing. I couldn't tell if those were meant to be fatal shots or warning shots.
  
  "It's Miss, I suppose," the lilting voice continued as a figure leaped from the trees in a flurry of brown hair and hunting leathers. She landed in a neat crouch in front of the rescued captives, rising slowly and gracefully.
  
  She was tall, close to six feet, even, with long legs and a lean, athletic build her hunting leathers did little to hide. Light brown hair fell from her head in a practical braid, kept out of her face by a leather band, just above a pair of chestnut-dark brown eyes. One half of her face was colored by an intricate woad tattoo, as detailed as the ones I saw on Alum and the rest of the Gaelguard. Strapped to her back were arrows and an unstrung bow—how she managed to unstring it while leaping down I had no idea, and she was pointing a familiar, red-tipped spear at me.
  
  It was the same spear she had threatened me with when I first came to the Woadlands so long ago. I tried to think positively about the fact that she was at least consistent. It didn't work. But the dumbass dragon in me was absolutely thrilled with her.
  
  <See? Exactly what I was talking about earlier—>
  
  <She just tried to kill us, you moron!> I cut him off while addressing Stell's youngest Satellite.
  
  "Merada, what the hell is your problem?" I said angrily. "Are you going to try and kill me every time you see me?"
  
  "Aye." She nodded calmly. "At least until it finally sticks. Be a dear and move yer shield out of the way, will ye?"
  
  "No!" I snapped, turning my head just enough to shout over my shoulder. "Breena! Merada's trying to kill me again! Hurry the hell up!"
  
  I sent the exact same message to her through the mindlink, but it seemed to have absolutely no impact on the Woad Princess.
  
  "Och," she snorted. "Ye must be one of the new fakes, if ye don't think I'll recognize me sister Satellite."
  
  It felt weird to hear the word 'Satellite' come from a voice having such a strong, pseudo-Irish accent, but then again, she was trying to kill me straight out of the blue, so all bets were off for my sanity right now anyway.
  
  "Saved my life the first time," I replied, trying to keep my temper under control, because this woman was technically part of my boss. "I get I've had a lot of imposters, Merada, but can we just stand our ground until Breena and the others come verify my identity?"
  
  She seemed to actually consider that idea, until her eyes suddenly widened.
  
  "Others," she muttered, turning her head back to the rescued captives. "Get out of here! Before his friends come!" She turned back to glare at me. "I'll hold him off."
  
  Before I could find an appropriate expletive, she darted forward, spear snaking downward to strike past my shield.
  
  If Virtus hadn't taken our training sessions so seriously, her first strike probably would have ended me right then and there, or at least crippled me. As it was, I managed to knock her blow aside and step inward, in an attempt to get too close for her spear to work at all. It would have worked better if I knew what to do next, though, because there was no way I would get in a death match with one of Stell's Satellites.
  
  <Breena,> I sent. <Tell me you got my message earlier.>
  
  <Yes, Wes! We're on our way! Just hold out for a bit!>
  
  <This is not okay!> I shot back, but then I had to raise my shield high enough to stop a booted foot from denting my head.
  
  <Those are great legs though,> the Freaking New Guy pointed out. I didn't even have time to snap at him, because the next moment Merada leaped forward, planted both of her feet on my shield, and rebounded backwards, gaining enough to distance to use her spear and launch a thrust that nicked one of my legs.
  
  I swore as I made another leap of my own, trying to put more distance between myself and the woman I wasn't allowed to fight.
  
  "Bit of a mouth on ye, aye?" the wild brunette said calmly. "The other imposters didn't curse near so much."
  
  "Yeah, well I blame work-related stress," I answered sarcastically. "Can we talk about how I'm not an imposter, and that if you just wait two minutes, like you did way back when we first met, Breena will prove it for me?"
  
  "Sorry," the beautiful amazon said grimly, readying her spear for another stab. "But another one of ye already tried that same trick. Surprised ye got that memory out of 'em before you killed him though," she added harshly, and I saw raw hate in her eyes. "Tell me: how bad did ye have to torture the real Wes Malcolm before he finally talked?"
  
  Memory flooded me. My jaw clenched.
  
  "They didn't get it out of me," I spat, a lot more darkly than I had meant to. "And it wouldn't have made a difference. They were going to torture me to death every single time no matter what I said. That was obvious after the first handful of deaths."
  
  She flinched at that, but kept glaring me.
  
  "I'll credit ye for yer acting then. This is for the real Malcolm," she growled, charging forward to launch another series of strikes that I barely batted away with my shield.
  
  Her anger surprised me. I hadn't expected to leave such a strong impression on Merada in the small amount of time I had spent with her. But then again, I suspected that a bit of Stell's feelings ran through each of her Satellites. Apparently Merada got most of her bloodlust. That was a side of Stell I hadn't really seen much of.
  
  "I'm alive, Merada!" I shouted, still trying to work this out verbally. "Stell should have told you! I just talked to her a month ago!"
  
  "Haven't seen the rest of me in a long time," the Woad Princess answered calmly, "Reckon I have yer people to thank for that. That and enslaving me people, plunging me world into a frozen hellscape, and generally making arses of yerselves. Now hold still for a wee bit, will ye, darling?"
  
  <Hey, just saying,> Teeth spoke up, <but I'm really digging the legs, accent, and sass on this one. Hurry up and offer her one of our kills. Maybe try using the big one you let head-butt us?>
  
  I did my best to tune the hormonal idiot out while Merada's next spear thrust narrowly missed my cheek. I turned my dodge into a full roll to get more distance away from the murderously unhappy amazon.
  
  "Ye all there, darlin?" the Woad Princess asked with cool amusement. "Most of the others kept their heads out of the clouds while I fought them. Bad time for distractions and all."
  
  "Here's some news," I said as I glared at her. "Only the real me has to deal with an annoying jackass dragon in my head offering all kinds of dumb ideas."
  
  "Head, now, is it?" she asked, still amused. "Are ye sure?"
  
  "What do you mean?" I asked, confused but still keeping my shield up.
  
  "I mean most boys keep their dragon under their trousers," she said as she began to flank me. "Sounds like yers has gotten out of control if it's all the way up there now. Ye should probably get it checked."
  
  I began to sputter, and she took advantage of it, stabbing at me again with her spear. This time she shimmered as she moved, and I could tell she had done something to increase her speed. I darted back as fast as I could, but my shield began to shudder under her suddenly stronger blows.
  
  "Are you always this aggravating when you kill people?" I snapped, pulling on my own enhancement spells to finally shrug off her blows and dart back from her again.
  
  "Aye," she answered, grinning. "But yer a dear for noticing. Hold still and I'll stab yer dragon for ye."
  
  She seemed to be having so much fun right now that I honestly couldn't tell what part of this fight was or wasn't a game.
  
  "Do you really not recognize me?" I asked, taking advantage of her willingness to talk. Every moment she didn't attack gave Breena and company another moment to get here and set the story straight. "You met me after the very first Horde Pit was destroyed, several months ago my time, fifty years ago yours? I pulled a fairy out of the Pit and you didn't believe me? Breena snitched on me blowing it up afterwards? You and Breena said a bunch of weird stuff about me afterwards, that broke my brain?"
  
  She had been circling me again, and paused mid-stride during my explanation.
  
  "Aye," she said slowly. "That does all check out. Would still come out after enough torture, though. And since every new one of ye knows more than the last," she said, suddenly narrowing her eyes, "that might mean that the real Wes Malcolm is still alive. Tell ye what, if ye be a good lad and tell me where he is, I'll spare yer little dragon when I finally kill ye."
  
  I sighed in discouragement.
  
  "Do I really look that different?" I asked tiredly.
  
  "A good bit," she confessed, not attacking yet. "A closer match than the others though. Most of them were jumped-up pretty boys, all soft and shiny at first, but rotten and weak when ye finally trust 'em. However, they must have decided to go a different route when they dressed ye up." She smirked. "Much, much closer to the real thing, I'll grant that. But they gave ye too much muscle, and the real one was a tad less ruggedly good-looking." She smirked as she said the last part. "Can't fault them for figuring out me taste in men, though," she added with a shrug.
  
  "Wait," I said, suddenly having trouble keeping up with this conversation. "What?"
  
  <Yeah, what?> FNG added unhelpfully.
  
  "Shame they forgot the best part of a man," Merada added darkly, locking eyes with me. "Every lass hates heart-breaking arseholes."
  
  Her long legs flexed, and then she launched into me, piercing deep into my shield with her spear and slamming me against a large tree. She strained as she kept pressing on her weapon, pinning me against the tree with strength too great for even her athletic frame. I could hear her spear blade begin to slowly grind its way through my shield.
  
  "If I can just show you some of my equipment," I grunted, feeling the wood on my shield continue to splinter under her spear thrust. "Heck, I'm wearing Gaelguard armor, Merada."
  
  "Could've looted it," Merada said simply, not letting up on her thrust.
  
  "I have woadsap!" I said next. "From a Monarch!"
  
  "Don't believe ye," Merada said tensely, exerting more force. "And wanting to show me yer equipment is just making me want to kill ye more."
  
  I gave up, gritted my teeth, and began pushing back, slowly moving my shield out of the way and moving off of the tree. I saw her eyes widen in surprise, but then she growled and strained even harder. I pushed harder in turn, putting the strength of my Ideals, Rises, Dragon bonds, and constant training to work. It proved to be just enough, and I finally yanked free of the tree, pulled her stuck spear out of her grip, and threw my shield and the weapon it was stuck to out of the way.
  
  "Breena!" I shouted, "why aren't you here yet!"
  
  Merada growled again, crouching low and pulling a knife from her belt.
  
  "Can't believe I have to waste this," she muttered angrily, and the tattoo on her cheek began to glow. I suddenly remembered that she was a Gaelguard, and supposedly on a stronger level than Alum's people.
  
  Alum's people could do all kinds of incredible things with their tattoos. If Merada was even close to their level I'd have to resort to fighting lethally, which would end in us both losing in the long run no matter how the fight ended.
  
  I swore and launched into her, driving my shoulder into her stomach. I saw her eyes widen in surprise at my speed, then as my shoulder impacted I heard the air rush out of her mouth. The force of my slam lifted her off the ground and blasted the knife out of her hand. But she was already trying to twist out of the way. I wrapped my hands around her torso, pinning her arms as we both crashed to the ground.
  
  "Dirtbag!" she spat as we both thrashed. She wasn't much weaker than me, and I winced as she kneed me in the side. "Finally letting yer dragon do the thinking now, are ye? Makes ye the boldest one of 'em yet!"
  
  I gave up on talking to her and just tried to hold her prone until someone else could try to talk to her. My own issues, upbringing, and knowledge of harassment lawsuits made sure I kept my waist off of her, though.
  
  "Not even doin' it right," I heard her complain under her breath.
  
  "What?" I asked, completely confused. What exactly was she complaining about?
  
  "Got ye," she said with a smile, flexing her legs and somehow flipping the both of us. She landed on top, still smiling, and snaked her legs around my torso, and begun to squeeze my stomach in a scissor hold. I gasped as the air knocked out of me, and I saw her tattoo begin to glow again. I gritted my teeth and squeezed back with my own hold, causing her to gasp in return and disrupting whatever she was about to do with her Woad tattoo.
  
  "Hmph," the woadwoman grunted in pain, still tightening her own hold. "Strongest… one of ye… bastards… yet." She closed her eyes as her whole face went tense. "Also… the most… brazen…"
  
  I closed my own eyes, wondering which of us would pass out first. I was stronger but it sure felt like she had the better hold.
  
  "Wes!" Breena's voice cut through the blood pounding in my skull.
  
  "Breena?" the woman strangling my stomach asked in amazement, and I felt her legs loosen slightly. I let go of her in a sigh of relief, sucking in giant gulps of air as I heard Merada do the same.
  
  "What in the holy herb are you and Wes doing?" my bonded companion demanded. I was far too tired to defend myself, so I just lay there panting and wondering if the bloodthirsty war maiden would ever stop straddling me.
  
  <Shh!> Teeth whispered. <Don't jinx it!> I sent him a mental projection of my middle finger and tried opening my eyes.
  
  "He's real?" the woman asked as her chest heaved and her long braid bounced in my face. She looked uncertain, hopeful, and slightly embarrassed all at once. "He's our Challenger? Ye both are finally here?"
  
  "Of course we're here! And what do you mean he's real? He doesn't look that different from before!"
  
  "There've been fakes," the Woad Princess replied, sounding self-conscious and defensive. "Dozens of 'em, in fact. I…" She swallowed. "I didn't really hurt him."
  
  "Not that badly," I groaned, closing my eyes and patiently not mentioning that I had spent the whole day running, fighting through a village, running some more, getting hit in the head by a giant ape-orc, then finally stabbed a couple times and nearly squeezed to death by a bloodthirsty Celtic beauty queen.
  
  <In fairness, the last one on that list really isn't ba—>
  
  <Shut up, Teeth.>
  
  "What do you mean 'didn't really'?" Breena asked Merada angrily. "And why are you still on top of him?"
  
  Teeth whined as the weight left my chest. I heard Breena buzz over to me and begin checking my injuries.
  
  "He looks sore, a few stab wounds, but nothing his vital guard won't fix… that's a giant bruise just above his hips though, Merada. What were you thinking?"
  
  "He started it," the woman pouted. "I was just squeezing back."
  
  "Explain, Wes," Breena said carefully.
  
  I opened my eyes to see her hovering near my face, looking concerned and suspicious. Merada stood over me, arms crossed and tossing her brown braid indignantly.
  
  "She was about to activate her tattoo," I sighed, rising painfully to my feet. "I didn't want the fight to get serious, so I tried to lock her down."
  
  "Ohhhh," Breena said slowly, eyes widening in comprehension. "That makes total sense, then. Good call, Wes. She would probably have hurt you enough at least to make you angry, and then you might've let your dragon out and torn her in half with it."
  
  "Breena," I groaned as I covered my face. "Don't…"
  
  "Dragon?" Merada asked, suddenly amused and unrepentant. "You've finally seen it, then?"
  
  "Only a couple of times, but yeah!" the fairy said enthusiastically. "Saw it on the way to the Woadlands, in fact! Haven't had a chance to talk about it, though!"
  
  To my horror, I looked and saw the rest of the company approaching. Val, the Testifiers, the Gaelguard, and even a few of the elf warriors all slowly began to filter close by. My horrified look did nothing to shoo them away.
  
  "Congratulations," Merada continued in her amused tone. "I guess ye've finally gotten bigger then?"
  
  "Finally reached my full height!" Breena squeaked happily and obliviously. "Five feet tall!" She sounded proud. But then her eyes widened, and she held her arms out wide. "And Wes' dragon was still! So! Massive!"
  
  "Stop," I begged. "Please, stop." I looked around at the audience snickering behind the two Satellites. "Merada, now that you trust me, can you at least confirm that everyone is safe?"
  
  "Aye," she said slowly, and smiling again. "From this raid at least. You were saving the last group of me people when I found ye. I thought it was another trick. I reckon I owe ye quite an apology, Challenger."
  
  "Thank you," I replied, choosing not to read into that at the moment because I wasn't sure we had time. "You suggested there were other raids. Is the Horde's Pit close by?"
  
  "Aye." The wild brunette nodded grimly. "Been trying to deal with it for good, but I've had too many fires to put out at once, what with that Trial and that Tumult going on at the same time. I have a force on the way to deal with them, though. Care to come with us?" She winked at me, apparently completely over the fact that she tried to murder me earlier, and expecting me to be the same. We'd have to talk about that later, but I knew enough about Horde Pits to know that every day they were ignored equaled a day the Pit spent growing another Horde army that would turn around and reinforce the Pit. I didn't know how advanced the Pit was but if it was currently spitting out advanced Mongrels and new types of Horde, then it was a Pit I needed to deal with today.
  
  "Absolutely," I answered her. "Let's wipe out that threat while we can."
  
  "I've missed that confidence," Merada said with another smirk. Then she grimaced. "It'll be tough, though. All we have are meself, me guard of sprite-folk and elves, Breena, and yer…" She blinked as she looked at my tattooed honor guard and the rest of my warband. "Gaelguard?" She kept blinking. "There are this many Gaelguard left? Where did ye even find them?"
  
  "Long story," I answered tiredly. "Breena or I will tell you later."
  
  "… and Testifiers?" Merada asked next, her eyes scrolling down to Eadric, Karim, and Weylin. They were kneeling in the presence of one of Stell's Satellites, making a sign with their hands that they had never bothered to make around me. Probably because I never would have recognized it, but still…
  
  "We are Karim of the White Tower," my scribe mage began, "Weylin Fellas, and Eadric."
  
  "The Fellas child?" Merada blinked again. "I've heard of yer parents." Weylin nodded at her with a neutral expression.
  
  "We are at the Lord Challenger's service, and between the three of us we represent all three academies. We have assisted the Challenger in destroying other Pits."
  
  "Well, that's lovely," Merada crooned, brightening. Her eyes kept darting over to me, as if she were impressed with me somehow. It was a nice change of pace from getting stabbed and threatened. Her eyes traveled to Val, the last person in line, taking in her young age, her blades and light leather armor. "And this is…" She trailed off, confused as to why there was a young girl-child traveling with us."
  
  "My sister," I answered, and the woadwoman's head cocked sideways as she processed our different ethnicities.
  
  "She's adopted," Breena explained, as Val began to look uncomfortable. "And a nascent Challenger."
  
  "Wait, she is?" I asked, surprised.
  
  "Wait, I am?" Val said at the same time.
  
  "Guineve and I confirmed it," Breena answered with a nod. "She's advancing at close to Wes' rate. Faster, in some ways."
  
  "Icons," Merada breathed. "I just spent five minutes trying to kill off me own lucky day. Come on then, all of ye. Let's go a-hunting."