Frost covered his helm, and he wiped it clean, only for it to reform after a minute.
For the last week, possibly more, they'd gone nowhere.
Not since circling back to the ditch full of soldiers had they made a successful backtrack, and it seemed more and more they would need a miracle to find their way.
On the frigid morning the horses wandered, no further than a few paces, disappearing into the fog. For over an hour they searched, almost losing one another, and Allison cursed looking at the sky before giving up.
The others shivered, Allison doing her best to hide it, though she may have been feeling it the worst.
"Allison," Arthur said, touching her shoulder. "Allison!"
She collapsed, shivering with wide eyes.
While Arthur and Dany wrapped their cloaks round her, he started a fire. Horns bellowed, and arrows loosed several hundred meters away. Soldiers screamed, swords rang, and the ambush started a skirmish growing louder by the minute.
"We have to keep moving," he suggested, stomping out the flame.
"She'll die, and return all the way to the village!" Arthur said, lips chipped and dark purple. "She won't make it back this far on her own."
He towered over him, then pointed to his spear.
"If she doesn't make it, you can skewer me."
Arthur, dazed with drool freezing on his lips, replied, "What kind of madness are you on? You can't be so reckless! Besides, Dany and I won't last much longer with both of you gone."
"Then skewer each other," he said, turning away from him. "Lest you want to wander here for another hundred years."
"No one's, dying!" Allison wheezed, turning up to him.
She nothing else, and horns bellowed again, less than a hundred meters.
Arthur glared at him, tucking Allison back under the cloaks. "She's right. There's a reason you are the way you are."
He turned back, hand on his flail. "Fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"Your cold, bordering on psychosis, and have little interest other than bloodshed," Arthur said, becoming whiter. "Ye' who are Soulless, are destined to suffer and lose more than just…"
Collapsed on top of Allison, Arthur's body twitched, snot running from his nose.
Dany did her best to wrap them, though he snatched the cloaks away.
Allison took short wispy breaths. They were going to die, and there was nothing to be done about it. Were a fire to be started again, soldiers would run them down, then they'd be slain while being cold, so freezing to death alone seemed to be the better option.
Dany wiped tears from her eyes.
He unslung his flail, and were he to say it was unfortunate he'd be lying. At least he could fulfill one desire sooner than expected, though he vowed to return to the village one way or another.
"Wait!" Dany shouted, drawing her sword. "I'll do it."
His mouth hung open, and he was at a loss for words.
Torches waved, dozens of meters away, and gorses galloped nearby. Arrows flew overhead, and the skirmish was amongst them, though no one could see anything beyond one step.
Dany knelt beside Arthur, sword raised for a thrust. At least one minute of shaking, and nothing more.
He snatched her sword out her hand, then cut Allison's throat. Dany gasped, mouth open with wide eyes, but didn't stop him from driving her sword through Arthur's neck. She stood, hands over her mouth, and he retrieved bloody cloaks to cover her with.
"Move! Now!" He whispered, shoving her sword back to her.
She took up Allison's bloody cloak, and retrieved Arthur's spear.
He led them downhill, horses galloping behind them, and a pair of riders howled charging their way.
Dark skin, blood red hair, with stripes of a similar color along their chests, they were from across the sea. It was sport to them unlike many within the frozen lost wood. Yet they wore no armor, their horses were clueless as they were, and a swat of his flail tore them apart.
While he bashed one of them to red paste, Dany thrusted Arthur's spear through the other. She twisted hard, the rider smiling as blood spurt between his teeth.
Shield up, he paced himself along the hill.
Every soldier within a hundred meter radius was either fleeing down or heaving spears and arrows down. Men screamed, arrows hissed and horns blew.
Dany stayed crept behind him, spear forward. She turned at every snap, mere bristles from leaves, and splashes.
Blood curls rang, and the hills fell silent.
"Gargoyles!" A soldier shouted, hurrying downhill. "Gargoyles!"
Livarza's growls shook the hillside, vibrating his chest. Winds span up leaves and dust as she soared along the hilltops. Thuds against rotted trees lasted for several minutes, and a few leather armored soldiers landed alongside them.
Screams and horns echoed farther away.
White beams shined above, and Livarza heaved down her axe.
He countered her, slamming his shield against her, but his arm throbbed so much he shouted.
"So you're Razelael's Bane?" Livarza growled, driving him back, Dany a few steps behind him. "The gods' champions have grown weak!"
"Fuck your gods!" He shouted, widening his base.
He shoved her off, she swung down, and he swung up. Flail clashed against axe head. Were he to take another blow against his shield his arm would shatter. Flail overhead, he kept it spinning, wriggling his left arm free of his shields straps.
Leaned against him, his shield stayed upright, and Dany took hold of it, pressing her tiny frame against it best she could.
She nodded, and he returned one as well.
Livarza crashed down on his shield, and he along with Dany beneath it kept it up. Dany darted from the side, then drove her spear into Livarza's achilles. The she demon wailed, cursing, soaring up with a blood leaking lower left ankle.
"Crafty little bitch!" Livarza roared, lashing Dany with her tail.
Dany fell back, blood running from her face.
Livarza was well into the sky, and she cried out.
Other cries, hells curls from all the night demons with a hatred for sunlight, rang, and he switched his flail arm with shield arm.
Dany recovered, taking up Arthur's spear behind him, back against him, eyes wide. It was the most alive she must've been, and though she was exhausted, he could hear battle fury in her.
"Stay close," he said, stretching his new flail arm, "but when I say, run."
"I'm not afraid," she said, raising her voice.
"Unless you want to be on the bad end of my flail, get the fuck back when I say!"
She looked up, gave a slow nod, then turned towards glowing lights.
White and red, hovering dozens of meters above, gargoyle glares appeared like rapid swaying stars. Livarza was pissed, damning Razelael's Bane, threatening to mutilate him and the bitch who cut her tendons.
"Your bitch gets flayed first! Then the beasts can have what's left of you!" Livarza roared.
A pair of dark blue gargoyles dove first.
A swing of his flail throbbed his left forearm, and he could only swing so fast. Yet it was plenty enough, cracking a gargoyles skull as it got within range. The other hissed, heaving a spear at Dany, though he blocked it with his shield.
Several more dove, some flying in circles above, others landing to surround him, and he spun his flail overhead.
One, riskier than the others with a massive mace, charged between his swing. The hundred-kilogram steel spiked head bashed its chest in so hard bones spat out along with fleshy scales.
Another charged him from behind, and Dany ducked, thrusting forward.
He couldn't see what happened next, as three more gargoyles charged his flank.
Though as he cracked one in the face, and bashed another with a short charge, he heard tight wails. The last remaining gargoyles took to the sky, and a spear heaved from behind him, missing by inches. He looked back to see the gargoyle, its belly skewered open with a mouth full of blood.
Yet Dany's left arm was missing, and she was losing blood fast.
"Run!" He shouted.
"I-I can't," she gasped, holding her bloody stump.
Livarza laughed, diving with the remaining gargoyles.
Flail down, dropping it entirely, he snatched out his flask, and took a long chug.
Dany tried running to take cover behind a tree, though Livarza and the gargoyles were closing in. He dove over her, shield up, forearm snapping as he used both arms. Thunder erupted, what the gargoyles strikes sounded to be, Livarza crashing down her axe.
All his muscles swelled. A heightened sense tingled his hair, and he shoved every gargoyle back into the air.
He threw his shield, knocking a gargoyle through a tree. While running to retrieve his flail, he snatched another, then drove it through another tree, splintering oak like wet paper.
Livarza soared towards Dany, who limped behind a wide tree, drawing her short sword.
Flail in hand, both his forearms snapped, his left bending in the middle, he swatted the she demon. She slammed into the dirt, and he swung down. She rolled, swinging her axe, though a swing of his flail shattered the head in pieces.
Wings spread she took to the air, though he swung down severing her left leg off. She cried out, falling to the ground again, and he didn't stop bashing her until a cluster of bones, flesh, and guts remained.
Fog was still thick, possibly growing more, he was cold, there was no ale, the bitch led him out on a charge for nothing, and he was a weeks travel from the village without a horse.
Livarza was tough, but no prize, and he hammered down on what was left of her until he collapsed.
Mud soaked his eyes as he rolled down hill. Something stopped his descent, and he looked to see Dany, holding him up with all her strength.
"I told you to run," he muttered, breath shortening.
She said nothing, wiping her eyes, and released him.
For a few more paces he rolled, then his right hand landed in a wet puddle. A puddle, flowing with a gentle current, and he raised his head to see the river.
Dany covered him with his cloak, and he closed his eyes.
No more screams. No death. No Embers, the worthless lot they proved to be, though what did it make him?
White walls appeared on all sides, and he was in disbelief.
Livarza must've been something worth a damn after all, as he'd not seen the black square attached to the wall with lights. Pictures, people moving within it, real people, not paintings. He cheered them on, one group of people with dark purple clothes on, the others with black and yellow, and they were in a coliseum filled with thousands of people cheering like him.
"Fuck shit man, these games are always tight!" A man snorted on one side of him.
"We own them!" He slurred, rum in hand. "Swept 'em every year since 2025!"
"Fuckin' right man, but they still can't get past the wildcard," another man mumbled, and he cursed at him.
They kept looking at the moving pictures, a game being played between men wearing helmets and light armor.
The black and gold uniforms were called Steelers, and the others Ravens, and he must've enjoyed the Steelers, as he cheered at the end of the game. It made him happy, something he'd yet to feel in his memories aside from when he was drinking.
A good game, his Steelers advancing beyond the wildcard for the first time in years, then everything started fading.
"Good luck over there man," a man said, hugging him as they stood by a doorway. "Be safe out there, protect yourself and your dudes…"