The chaotic evening gave way to a frosty morning as cold and lifeless as a forgotten heath. It was one of those dead fall days, cold and inert as a dead hearth. The night before almost felt like a stale dream, one I hoped would disappear if I blinked my eyes long enough. A small part of me wondered if I had overreacted. Maybe I should not follow through with the promise I made to myself last evening in my fit of anger. Maybe I should channel more of my inner Ludwick and avoid conflict. Yet, I had my pride and a pernicious streak the size of a river. I wouldn’t be the first to broker a peace.

  Long before dawn, I awoke, my mind steeled to join the Redcloaks in their assault as I began getting ready.

  I snuck into the shed, intending to steal a pitchfork for protection, but nearly bumped into my father in the darkness. He sat on a sack of feed, staring off into the black shadows of the shed, tapping his leg with his right index finger every moment or so. The sight, of him so alone, quiet and adrift, made my conviction falter. He looked Without thinking, I grabbed his hand in concern.

  “Dad, are you okay?”

  His face twitched, but his eyes continued to vacantly stare at nothing. “Did you know I killed a Broodmother once? It emerged from its web, tearing into us with an otherworldly speed. I stumbled and fell in the confusion. By the time I got to my feet…” he stared at me then, his voice hollow and distant. “They were gone. I was standing in a field of blood and scattered corpses. The fury came over me then. I jumped on its back and stabbed it. Again and again and again, until it shrieked and writhed and died.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’ve never even killed a fly. What’s gotten into you?”

  Part of me had expected to see my father this morning. I had been prepared to make my case and journey into town even without his permission. But this was so far out of character, I was at a loss on how to handle it.

  “The last surge was forty years ago. The mass of monsters overwhelmed one of the Claws and poured across the western edge of the Empire. We did what we had to. We killed and burned all across the west before it was too late.” His eyes drilled into mine. “Do you know how many people survived those raids? How many children lost their parents that day?

  He leaned forward, holding my hands, his voice a raw whisper. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m telling you now... please, don’t go.”

  The desperation in my father’s eyes crashed into my will like a warhorse. He looked defeated. He wasn’t the stubborn father from yesterday morning or the gentle one from last night. He wanted the world for me, and he’d go to any length, even beg, to make it happen. He was broken. His wounds and his love entwined like a toxic couple.

  My resolve wavered. I could go back to bed, let my pride and the argument dissipate away like morning dew. Father would forgive me. Regante would eventually forget about me. But then my pride struck, having waited in ambush until the right moment.

  This was my chance to see the world beyond the farm. It could be my ticket out, stamped and ready to go. And, though I hated to admit it, a small, vain part of me clung to the hope that Zara might hear of what I’d done and see me as something more than a friend. she would say playfully shoving me.

  I broke eye contact with him, unable to face his cloying emotion, and withdrew my hands. My mind was set, even if my heart hesitated.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I truly am.”

  Rising from his makeshift seat, he slowly wandered over to the wall where all of our tools hung. He took up the pitchfork, his hands gently caressing the wooden shaft. He held it out to me as I took it. It was yesterday morning in reverse.

  “Take it. As a last resort, use it to keep them at bay. Let the soldiers do their work and watch from a distance. If you do that, when you get back I will teach you everything you need to know. The right way.”

  His voice cracked and his eyes glistened as his hand landed on my head. “You know I love you. I always will.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to respond, afraid my own voice would display the maelstrom inside, as I desperately swiped away tears. He gave me one last bittersweet smile and then left, each step mechanical and forced. At the threshold of the shed, he paused, then exited.

  – – –

  After seeing the copious amounts of alcohol some of the Redcloaks had drank last night, I was confident that if Regante had tried to march his squad out at first light, they would have rebelled. That being said, I began to get nervous when the day started brightening up. Other villagers were already out and about, beginning their morning routines. I settled down, made myself comfortable and resigned myself for a long wait.

  I didn’t need to worry. It didn’t take too long before Regante, Saduwell, and the rest of the Redcloaks arrived, many of their faces haggard and sleep deprived. I stood up as they approached, tapping my foot excitedly against the ground.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  All were dressed in a similar attire the night before. Regante’s boots shined as brightly as his brooch and there was not a fold in his clothing. Many of the other Redcloaks’ uniforms, however, were creased and stained as if they had been worn for days on end.

  When Regante’s gaze landed on me, I hoped he could see the sincerity in my face. I stepped forward, pitchfork grasped firmly in my hand. “I’ve always dreamed about making a difference. Today, I can help do my part to protect my village. And I’ve always wanted to see the emperor’s soldiers in action.”

  He frowned. “Who are you again?”

  I stopped tapping my foot as I tilted my head to the side, unsure if he was being serious or not. “We spoke last night. You wanted me to join you…”

  Regante laughed as he waved over the bald headed soldier from the night before. “Ah yes. The young patriot has arrived! I’m glad you decided you could make it. You’re in for quite the show. Saduwell! Keep an eye on this boy in the back.”

  “Regante…” he started.

  Regante cut him off with a wave of his hand. “No ifs or buts. He’s your responsibility today.”

  Saduwell circled me, spitting the ground in disgust. “But look at him! You could blow him over with one solid puff.” He grabbed my arm and squeezed my muscle before I wrestled it away from him. “Like a stick. He’ll get me killed!”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself once more. You are in the back Saduwell. Minimal fighting.”

  Saduwell smiled at that. “Your wish, my command! You should have said no fighting in the first place.”

  Regante motioned me to his side as he addressed the gathered troops. “Today is the day of glory. Little pipsqueak here is going to take us to the corpse first where we will investigate and confirm the cause of death. Assuming the story matches, we will track the spawn to their nest, burn it out, and save this forgotten backwater from their untimely demise.”

  Saduwell took over, emphatically pointing towards the front row of men and screaming for all to hear. “If, for the first time in your sorry lives, you manage to grow a backbone and successfully exterminate these roaches, I heard a little bird tell me there might be some letter of recommendations to come of it.” He paused and continued in a whisper, a mad, calculating tint adding strength to his words. “The type of letter that might get you transferred to the Capital.”

  The soldiers suddenly became animated, whispering amidst themselves before Saduwell called them to order. I found everyone looking at me.

  “Well?” Regante asked. “Are you going to lead the way?”

  The speech had been stirring, but as I looked out at the mass of troops in front of me, I couldn’t help but be uneasy. They may have been fully armed, but I couldn’t help but call into question their competence. They barely followed orders, were hungover, and frankly, looked a little weak.

  Deciding to at least try to water the seed the mayor planted last night, I answered, “It may be prudent before we head out to gather a few of the townsfolk with pitchforks to assist you in cleaning up the corpses and maybe keep the black widowers from coming in close.”

  Regante didn’t even blink as a vein bulged in his forehead, marring the beauty of his face. “You think I’m a fool. You doubt the capabilities of my unit, the qualities of my commands, and the general effectiveness of our placement. Don’t think I have noticed your mayor try and influence us time and time again.”

  Practically shouting now, he continued, “You know nothing. You’re a boy who thinks he is a man. We can see ourselves to the corpse if we have to.”

  I grimaced, regretting speaking out already.

  “I can show you the corpse, Captain Regante.” He nodded his head, and we took off. The back of my head burned as I felt his glare burrow into it. I was powerless here.

  When we reached the corpse, its decay had progressed to a puddle of blackened ichor. White large pale bones stuck out like mini scarecrows drowning in a pond. The stench had intensified, a thick pungent rot that caused a few of the Redcloaks to go green in the face and gag.

  I had not even noticed the Redcloaks bring dogs but they were here now. Large beasts with sharp beady eyes and floppy ears. Seemingly immune to the debilitating stench, they quickly sniffed the corpse and then darted into the woods, a few men running closely behind.

  The rising sun cast the woods in serene clarity. It looked less otherworldly and dangerous, the shadows not as long, the ancient trees not as dense. But as I stared at them, something deep and primal stirred inside of me. My foreboding grew.

  I nearly jumped as Saduwell put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry boy, for all their drinking and lawlessness these men have mettle. You’ll get through this.”

  He spat, some of the saliva splashing onto my boot. “I remember when I first was placed on the southern front I nearly pissed my pants when we were set upon by direwolves. Four men and it’s still a coin toss against a single one. My best friend, he was torn limb by limb.”

  Saduwell cackled. “Different times back then. Dangerous times. This’ll be stomping on an anthill.”

  I shook my head in bewilderment, “Are you trying to encourage me?” He considered it for a moment.

  “Well, the difference between then and now is I’m here. I’m watching out for you. And we’re killing a handful of creepy spiders that don’t even move during the day. Completely different.”

  He took something from his waist and gestured for me to put out my hands. He laid down a simple dagger with a leather scabbard.

  “Keep this,” he requested. “Just in case. You’re the person I’d least want watching my back today so please don’t get me killed.”

  I grunted in acquiescence. This was not a conversation I wanted to continue.

  We were deeper in the trees now. The sun struggled to pierce through the dense foliage, casting shadows that twisted into confusing angles and spun into suspicious shapes. The soldiers spoke softly as they trekked through the woods, sensing some indescribable power at work. A tree branch suddenly snapped, causing me to jump and my heart to race. Something deep in the woods dashed away, vanishing before I could make sense of it.

  I grabbed Saduwell’s shoulder. “Do you see that?” I demanded. “Something is out there.”

  He looked to where I was pointing good naturedly, incredibly relaxed despite the alarm in my voice. “New recruits always say the same thing. Nothing is there. You saw a fox or marmot. The dead gods know there’s plenty of those around.”

  Panic crept into my voice even more. “There’s nothing anywhere. I haven’t even heard a bird. Something is wrong with these woods.”

  He started nodding in agreement. “There is something unnatural for sure.” A sudden yip of pain rang through the air. Two of the three dogs came dashing back whimpering with tucked tails. The handler urgently calmed them down, his voice low and soothing.