Mud streaked down the winding path as the caravan slowly ground to a halt. Four soldiers clambered forward, green cloaks drenched in the sluggish rain. They grimaced at the distant sight of Kag’s lavish walls.

  The carts were made of gilded wood, thin embroidered flowers of gold pasted against the red markings of a merchant’s crest. Resting calmly in the main coach was a single nobleman, thin grey attire marked with a contrasting purple robe. A crossbow rested at his feet, a drastic option in the event they were overrun. Trade routes had become more dangerous with the brigands nearby, and with the wilds growing every year, it was a worthy countermeasure.

  He muttered to himself as the cart sank into the mud. Yet another delay on their course.

  A guard came back to inform of more delays, a thick accent marred with anger. The man coughed as he cast a shrill eye to the coat of arms resting upon the carriage’s furthest wall—twin swords bent over a blazing sun. At least their house provided some resolve. Near forgotten merits had fast-tracked the party through a series of imperial customs. Everything seemed darker of late. There were more coins lost with every stop, and more blood spilt beneath the darkened sky.

  Two nights earlier, the guards had to shield themselves from rocks thrown by passing villagers. Starving peasants suffered at the hands of the monsoons, yet they were despicable in the merchant’s eyes. One field had bark stripped from their trees with some instances of creatures like wrotworm being eaten. Starvation had always plagued those who lived in the wilds, yet it seemed more prevalent in recent times. The nobleman gazed upon the dirt below. Dry, chaffing particles swept through the hot wind. Conditions had not been favourable around the city, with strange leeching swirls of colour infecting nearby streams. Spontaneous fires had rendered entire pastures to ash while leaving not a trace of their source. Crops alone seemed to dwindle without reason, fluctuating in some areas, leaving entire kingdoms bare.

  His hands centred around a thin wooden chest, steel bolts ground into its cedar planks. The parchment inside held great value, more than one could imagine in these times. It called to him, strangled words echoing from the sweeping swirls. Pasty fingers trembled toward the keys at his hilt. He wished to hold it and stare upon the device in awe one last time. Its gleam flickered in his eyes, a shine worthy of a mound of gold. Irwain’s orders still burned into his mind, with urgency and composure. It wouldn’t be long before the artifact rested safely within Kag’s golden halls to rot among its kin.

  Suddenly a knock echoed across the carriage door.

  The nobleman turned, cursing as he responded. “Is it clear?”

  “Just travellers, Laundre. The road gets choppy up ahead, so were laying down planks.” A soldier stood before him, thin crimson robes cascaded with a mixture of bronze steel. He had brown hair, and was young, yet he carried a gruffness that came from experience. His armour was well-polished and clean, yet his hands and fingers were scuffed in mud. It was clear they had been on the road for some time.

  “We can wait,” Anuk responded.

  Sun glinted over windswept trees as the merchant stepped outside the damp carriage. What little rain remained had begun to dissipate over the horizon. Two more guards approached, swords dangling at loose sheaths. Laundre pulled some salted jerky from the caravan, chewing on the food as he walked.

  “Captain?” he inquired.

  “We’ll be in Kag within six hours. Usually this path is busier.”

  “Good,” Laundre replied.

  “Laiu?” The captain reached toward a flask at his hip.

  Laundre shook his head.

  “You know, I don’t drink. Sorry.”

  He had always had a distance for the liquid, boiled ground sprout root, catalyzed with magic to give off a potent odor. It was a popular relaxant and soother.

  “Where are you going?” Anuk asked.

  “We aren’t moving. Thought I’d go for a walk,” Laundre replied.

  It wasn't long before the nobleman begun to stretch his legs. The weather had begun to improve, and he could make out the travellers on the road. They were a group of farmers, most likely returning from a fresh shipment to the outlying cities. Their clothing was sewn and not too worn, indicating at least some element of prosperity. For a moment he squinted his eyes, taking in the sight of four groplings, a group of fish-like birds that had faces that looked like an axolotl.

  “I’ll have our sentry guard the cargo.”

  The young captain motioned behind him for a soldier to come forward and take a position inside. It wasn’t long before Laundre could feel his joints loosen. The fresh air seemed warm, comforting almost as he inspected the caravan. Grass swayed on the murky ground, tiny green sprouts reaching toward the horizon as water droplets swept through their patchy leaves. Laundre kicked a pebble with his foot, his leather shoe causing the tiny rock to soar into the bushy undergrowth. It rolled through the murky dirt, banging into a rotten log. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks.

  Two trees lay on their sides, claw marks etched deep into the bark. Colossal footprints were embedded into the muddy forest floor. In some cases, entire boulders pressed into the earth under the creature's weight. It was almost as if a tornado had spun through. Vegetation had been cast aside, and plants uprooted as a small trail of carnage lay behind the creature's path. Laudre looked up to see trees bent and branches snapped overhead. There were even some claw marks pressed against the bark over ten feet high. He let out a thin breath, as the captain walked to his side.

  Leaning over, Laundre put his hand against the first scratch, trying to guess the size of the creature which had made its mark. On the ground he found a drop of the monster's blood, an oily splotch which distorted the grass below. The captain did the same, resting his palm on his sword as he placed his other hand at the center of the reptilian footprint. Its claw marks bent forward, almost like hooks seeping into the ground.

  “Why wasn’t I told about this?” Laundre questioned.

  The captain continued to examine the trail, narrowing his eyes to see if he could spot where the carnage ended.

  “Scouts labelled it as old. Besides, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Nothing? Don’t you realize how important this is?” Laundre asked.

  “I’ve seen you deliver crates like that to Irwain every month,” the captain replied.

  Laundre seemed to shrink. This at least was true, but there was no doubt the creature was a dalious. At least twelve feet tall, the reptilian creature had fangs as sharp as swords and a hide thick enough to shatter most pikes.

  He had fought one before, a great hulking beast that could claw through rock in a single swipe. It had been a long time ago when he was younger and still eager to prove his worth. The Imperial Commission had bought him a position guarding the eastern border. A village quite far from Kag had been under assault, with sixteen peasants eaten, crops trampled, and livestock in disarray. The mayor had called on imperial aid and Laundre had been dispatched with a team of fifty soldiers to bring back the dalious’s head. The lizard was bipedal, using hulking claw-like arms to wield tree-trunk like clubs or throw rocks.

  It had only taken them a few days to reach the village, and to find fifty or so mud-clad houses and stone buildings covered in scratch marks as its populace huddled together in fear. Luckily the creatures weren’t too smart. Following a trail of bones and scattered vegetation led them two miles north to a cave. It must have been drawn to the cold, building a nest out of scattered bones and sleeping on leaves.

  Laundre could still remember the sight of its beady black eyes. and its scaly hands over six feet long smashing into their column as soldiers threw spear after spear to no avail. Despite this, they had been prepared. Imperial training had allowed them to kill the dalious through a mixture of magic and brute force without a single death. Throughout history there had been talk of dalious being domesticated, plated with armour or paraded on ignorant streets, but they were always volatile, turning on their masters as would all wild creatures.

  Laundre picked up some of the mud from the lizard's footprint, pressing it between his palms to measure its consistency.

  “This is no more than two days old—three at most,” he responded.

  “See?” the captain uttered.

  “It’s not good for a creature like this to be walking so close to Kag. Rangers should have culled their young at the start of spring.”

  “Out here in the wilds the only thing the empire cares about is protecting its cities and convoys. A dalious so far from life, no matter how dangerous, can only hurt plants and trees.”

  “What about those farmers?”

  The captain smiled. “Farmers? Those are poachers, undoubtedly hunting game on imperial land. The people have had a rough season. We should let them have what they can scrounge.”

  Laundre nodded, seeming to understand this. At the very least arresting them or dragging their carriage back to Kag would take needless time.

  “If we were to avoid this place, merely because of the dalious, it would add three extra days. Besides. we’re only a few hours ride away from Kag.”

  The merchant nodded, motioning to the captain as he returned to help the troops. Despite the dalious’s tracks, the forest seemed serene, completely undisturbed by the outside world. Birds chirped overhead and a bat hung from a nearby tree branch. Laundre could even spot tracks where the road had been freshly repaired. Cut corners and pushed dirt signifying the work of a lesser mage.

  Eyes caught in the glinting sun, Laundre averted his gaze. The trail beyond seemed scrawny, patches of dirt and corroded cobbles making up the winding backroad. Yet for a moment, silence seized all. Laundre watched as the road seemed to churn, sway almost as though leaves in a tepid breeze.

  Wait a minute. Sway?

  A scream pierced the air as arrows pattered the crusted ground. Laundre scrambled, hand reaching for his blade as the mirage began to distort. The ground opened, dust and grime spewing into the air as over thirty manil jumped at unkempt guards.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Small human-like rodents scurried into the fray to charge the caravan’s ranks. The soldiers held their ground with the captain screaming for them to retreat. Blades drawn, they hacked through, rat after rat. They worked to deflect wooden spikes and shafts as more and more arrows stuck through their bronze armour to yield a fatal blow. Four rats leaped onto a guard and the legionary struggled with his dagger, piercing through two manil before the others made their mark. They seemed everywhere, dozens of the creatures streaming through the swaying trees.

  Swords ready, two guards ran to the captain’s aid. They were protecting the farmer, who had retreated to hide inside the carriage’s meagre coverings. A rat jumped forward, spear in hand, only to be countered at the first strike, its head cleaved as the guard scrambled for dear life. Another retaliated. Seeing the plight of its comrade’s fall, it leaped upon a nearby scout, dagger splitting through to their heart. The captain struggled to regain control. Killing four of the creatures with a single swipe, he yelled for his men to reach formation, shields raised to protect the group as more and more arrows spewed. The two archers on horseback held their ground, letting loose arrow after arrow into the sunken trees, yet soon were pattered by the relentless barrage. Bandits leaped from their rocky alcoves, humans turned thieves aiding the ambush as a fireball spewed into the soldiers' midst.

  The captain shuddered at the projectile’s arcing sight. There was a channeler among the travellers.

  What had once been fourteen guards was reduced to ten in mere seconds, yet what few remained held their ground, pounding back their enemy's advance. Blood splattered on moldy cobbles as Laundre scrambled. Instinct coursing over fear, he tried to make out the direction of the fireball and trace the location of the mage.

  A rat leaped at him, its fangs bared. He struck it dead, and rage coursed through the merchant’s eyes. His hand sparked as lightning spewed from Laundre’s fingers, churning two bandits to ash. For a moment his enemies froze, growing cautious as their eyes chalked with fear. Still, they soon rushed forward.

  An arrow swung past Laundre’s shoulder, scraping off a layer of skin. The nobleman was quick to retaliate in full. Streaking light swept through the horde, melting bone and causing bandits to streak toward the forest. Two guards took position behind Laundre, protecting their master's flank as he scoured the swirling trees. Blood pounded the splintered ground as more and more bodies fell to the trio’s feet. He could feel them and almost taste the stench of magic in the air.

  This was no ordinary ambush—this was something more.

  The merchant turned to gaze at the battlefield in front. The captain had fallen, bandits pilfering his still-warm corpse as the farmers sprinted down the open road. Another fireball pierced the air, scorching ash slamming against the carriage to burn it into oblivion. But enchantments protected the wooden structure. It would take more than simple magic to break it. Rats battered legionary shields as four bandits rushed the soldiers in formation. They retaliated swiftly, cleaving their enemies with ease as the sound of metal clanged across the horizon.

  Laundre took cover behind a dead horse, adrenaline dissipating what little strength remained. Another bolt jutted from the forest's thick canopy. Lightning pierced the shield wall and crushed four guards in a single blow. An archer fired in the enemy’s direction only for the shaft to snap mid-air when another streak of lightning burned it to ash. The group panicked. This was the work of a trained mage. Leaves brushed against Laundre’s face as he sprinted into a nearby bush, pressing his entire body against the ground. His eyes remained firm in the mage’s direction. Another firebolt cracked forward with its flames engulfing the road, only to dissipate once the magic wore off.

  Tracing its origin, Laundre retaliated, unleashing a flurry of attacks to burn the forest to ash. Wind roared overhead as blinding light sliced into the burning sky. Fire glinted in his bloodied features as the very ground cracked and splintered at Laundre’s power. Ten seconds later, trees blistered into embers as the rats lay dead and spears splintered into chalky dust. Screams echoed through the battlefield with agonizing pleas cascading over Laundre’s laughter.

  A flapping cloak caught his eye, red flames trickling over the mage’s skin. He had hit his mark. He rushed forward and fear shivered down the Laundre’s spine as he gazed at the steaming corpse. It was human with metallic armour bearing that of a mercenary and a channeler driven by greed. For a moment his adversary jumped as he frantically attempted to rid himself of the burning clothing.

  Laundre watched.

  Only the wind spoke as the three hid. It was after the screams perished in which Laundre reached forward to stamp out the fire to loot the corpse. His bloodied fingers pressed against its cloak as he searched for some token of allegiance.

  Then it dawned on him.

  The silence.

  It was just him and the two guards left. What little remained of their attackers now concentrated on breaking the carriage door as bent knives chiseled away at spindly planks. The structure held firm with hidden reinforcements spouting a solidified approach.

  Laundre stared at his companions. They awaited his orders, itching to flee yet bound to duty. Slowly, the nobleman stuck his hand into the dirt, sifting the mulch through his open palm. Outnumbered, the three rushed toward the carriage frame with their knives drawn as blood splattered the mud. They had only one option left.

  The first bandit fell with ease as fire sprouted from Laundre’s fingers. Six rats leapt in his direction and Laundre flicked them away, tossing them into the forest with a resounding crack. The guards at his sides slashed through bandit after bandit with renewed faith coming from the presence of their leader. At least twenty more bandits slammed against the carriage’s warped frame. What little magic remained struggled to hold back against the relentless onslaught. Scraps of wood flung to splinter the chalky ground. A bandit leader screamed with their sword raised to glint in the piercing sun as they flung themselves at the group. Laundre jumped back, parrying with his own weapon, yet there were too many. Four bandits jumped on the first soldier and tore him apart as the second rushed to his aid. For a moment he held them back, shortsword slicing into the horde, only to be overwhelmed.

  Something is wrong. they should have fled.

  Countless bodies draped the ashen ground, as Laundre readied his stance.

  No mercenaries are this loyal, this violent to an empty cause.

  They seemed to work as one, devoted, ignorant to their own mortality as they leapt toward their foe. Their shrieks echoed through the merchant mage’s haunted mind. It was certain now. This was no sloppy group for coin. These were people with a cause, and they knew what lay within the carriage’s depths.

  A mace-wielding bandit swung at Laundre with the weapon tearing the man's arm and sending him flailing backward. Dust clung in his bloodshot eyes, but Laundre smiled, slowly using what little energy remained to heal his broken limb. It would not be long before they tasted the same. Muddied cloaks swept in the wind as the mercenaries approached with their faces warped, emotionless, and devoid of any thought. Their actions and movements scrambled into one.

  The fire raged as two more trees crumbled to the forest floor. Laundre coughed, sweat trickling down his bloodstained face. Fatigue caught his shoulders. He could feel it now.

  Then it happened.

  Projectiles flung from the forest, a small barrage of weaponry pattering the malformed army. Fifteen fell in seconds, armour pierced like butter by explosive fire. Laundre’s eyes turned wide as he ran for cover. He banged on the carriage door for the guards inside to swing it open and clambered inside.

  A bandit leader stood in awe, sword clattering onto the ground below as his comrades perished. It was beautifully executed, timed, and driven into every waking beat of flesh. An uncontrollable slaughter, in moments a battlefield of hundreds was reduced to ash.

  What the hell, what in—

  Hands clasped around the oaken chest. Laundre scanned with all his might, hoping, to catch a glimpse at the magic behind their saviour, to taste the burden of their plight. Yet he found nothing, not a single scent but blood and tar.

  Silence danced among the smoking clouds as over twenty soldiers emerged. Rifles glinted in the blistering sun as smoke rose from heated barrels. They wore imperial armour, and red-bronze robes sprouting miraculous colours. Their breastplates were caked in ash, yet these were no ordinary recruits.

  Strikes, what is it that they hold? What could have killed so many? Laundre’s mind raced as he watched from the carriage’s wooden cracks. What did those sticks fire? how could they fire? Laundre tensed. Something was in the air, he could feel it. It's pulsating presence felt like slashes against the wind. His skin tensed as his sense attuned. It was moving fast, so fast. So much power yet Laundre couldn't even feel it's magical presence.

  How could something be in the air short of a dragon?

  They cast a glance toward their Commander, awaiting orders as scouts began to drag the bodies into a neatly formed pile. With exactly the same numbers as the guard force, the newfound militia eased forward. They were careful and almost diligent to not leave a single corpse behind. Fatigue haunted their stern eyes as each task, movement, and gaze was executed to perfection. The Commander walked forward, hand placed upon his side as he surveyed the battle infront. A Lieutenant stood beside him, brown hair cascading against her mud-cacked skin. The two seemed ignorant to the carnage below as their feet quenched on blistered remains. Their uniforms bore that of mediocre rank. Yet upon closer inspection, the bronze bore scars that not even the most valiant could survive. To Laundre it was clear they had taken this armour off the dead.

  “Routine ambush?” She asked.

  “Unlikely”

  “I’d take it these things were after the artifact”

  The group took out horses, primitive tools, and supplies and began to repair the wagons as soldiers took position further up the road. They scoured the guard’s bodies, peeling away their bloodied swords to store in their own sheaths. They had to do their best to hide their technology and blend in with the medieval planet.

  “Leaves the bodies for retrieval, we can have them dissected, check for growths”

  He motioned towards the Lieutenant, a stern gaze coursing through blue eyes.

  For a moment, the soldier released his bootstrap, keeping a careful eye on the pistol inside. It pulsed with power, faint blue energy, swirling at its tip. The gun had a week's charge left, maybe more. They had been careless in their shots, every scrap, every bullet was a life, a splinter in their haunted goal. In the distance, a faint roar swayed the endless trees. The pulse was faint yet indistinguishable as the roar of an engine. Glinting silver shrouded the oval craft as it swirled towards the heavens ready to dock with command above. The only ship worthy of space-flight on this entire backwater planet. Granted that was good, the jannic's were medieval, primitive. They were undoubtedly bolstered by their magic. But to think what they could do if they had both? Steel and flame, electricity and the weave of some unseen force? If someone from Kag so much as saw a glint of that ship it would shatter their worldview. Millions exposed to progress that wouldn't be seen here for at least a few thousand years. Still it was terrifying. That these Jannic's could possess some form of "magic" and defy almost all scientific fact on their cursed world terrified him. Those above wondered in disbelief, but Hardric believed command would find an explanation, describe what it had done to them. It had to

  He shuddered for a moment, he still couldn't forget his first encounter with a mage. Plumes of fire shooting out of it's hands like some primordial god. It was a monster, an abomination that flew among the clouds. He could still smell the ash, the feeling of terror as the ground itself tore apart and soared through the open air. Sixteen dead in a matter of seconds. They weren't as good at killing mages back then. Now there was no hesitation, now there were plans. He used to take a trophy, keep a book with images of all the mages he had killed. It was a way to stick it to the Master, spit in the eyes of a god that had cursed this world. Now he had given up count and few had survived a sniper's scope.

  “HVAC’s left were on our own Hardric”

  “Report” he barked.

  “26 Jannic guards died in comparison to 41 bandits and 32 non-humanoids. Poorly trained yet far more diligent than your average group” the Luitenent replied.

  “Two mages were present so I want their blood sampled and we can radio a pick-up immediately” Hardric questioned.

  “The second ones alive were trying to get through the carriage enchantments now”

  More soldiers came from the trees, deactivated stealth packs slowly dragged from hiding to be thrown into the nearest storage. Some cast a glance into the road behind and a few of them would stay to ensure proper dissection.

  “Have drones scout the road ahead, I wouldn’t be surprised if it sent more creatures down the road to attack these Jannics” He remarked.

  “Good thinking sir”

  "And Lieutenant! make sure those drones are cloaked, the last thing we need is some jannic seeing technology 2000 years ahead of their time" Commander Hardric spat.

  She nodded. Almost annoyed that he would suggest such a thing.

  Wind whistled through the trees as he gazed at the horizon's blue tinge. He could never shake it, the knotted feeling which clenched in his gut. He swallowed, they had been stationed here for so many years he should have forgotten now. He should have shifted or changed but he still missed it. He missed them. The idea of countless stars stretching between their home-world and this backwater planet. Hardric shook his head. They were close. Just a few more months and they would be able to leave this medieval squalor and return.

  The Commander walked towards the nearest bandit, a young man, no more than 20 whose face had been ruptured by a pulisic charge. It seemed to be silent, peaceful yet cold. A tremor of regret shivered down his spine to dissipate at the flick of his mind. Reacting almost on instinct, Hardric dipped his fingers in the man’s blood to test its consistency. The liquid gritted in his hand with an unusually sticky texture. He hated this, dissecting things without a lab but sometimes things had to get gritty.

  “Flamer, over here,” Hardric remarked.

  A soldier stood overhead waiting for the Commander’s orders. Flaking skin cacked the dusty ground as he reached for a knife to cut the corpse's skull open. A few soldiers winced, unsure of their leader's actions yet it was only about halfway through the bone when pus began to ooze. Green mulching paste sticking to his blade as spindle-like tendrils flailed in the open breeze. Sun glinted in the soldier's eyes as his mind raced. It seemed to move and feel the wind within its patchy liquid skin. Lean towards the flesh of his hand. It was alive.

  Liquid began to pool from the open wound and for a moment the creature seemed to boil, stretching. It screeched as it danced in the scarlet light. Until it reached out to strike.

  “Hardric, watch out!”

  In one swift motion, the Commander leaped back, crying for aid as a flamethrower torched the frayed corpse. Embers caught the entire pile as more of the ooze-like shrieks echoed through the forest’s trees.

  “All infected?” The Lieutenant screamed.

  “I doubt it but catalogue the bodies so we can be certain” He inquired.

  For a moment silence parted through their hearts. Hatred twisted with pitiful regret.

  “How long until we reach the city? Hardric asked.

  “Three hours maybe four if we want to be careful” She replied.

  “Good, tell the soldiers to keep their weapons in stasis for now, I want them using primitives unless necessary. If we blow our cover we may have to wipe the whole area”

  “Do you think we’ll find it here?”

  “I think it already is here…”

  Countless crates were unloaded from the forest, thick green plastic standing out against the firm wooden carriages. A mesh of carpets and woolly linens were thrown against them, concealing the cargo in a novice undergrowth of commonry. A flamethrower began to torch what bodies remained as rifles were meticulously lined up in sealed compartments. Explosives, intricate devices, seemingly unknown slabs of technology, flares, rations, barbed wire, steel, radios, transmitters, plasguns, energy-swords, consoles even plasma generators lined the caravan’s thin walls. They were careful, disguising everything under stacks of hay and matted blankets, even custom stealth shields that warped automatically upon sight. They had hid among jannic's before and were no stranger to blending in with the ancient society.

  An officer grunted as they loaded a makeshift encampment into the hidden underbelly. The multi-layered machine gun capable of discharging over 500 Watts a second had been a favourite of past wars. He paused for a moment with his eyes taunted by the past horror and mouth seething as he remembered the scent of its breath.

  Suddenly, a noise shot out from the ground below.

  “Traitors!”

  “TRAITORS”

  A body had crawled from the pile, blood gushing from the guard’s open wounds as they screamed towards the disguised legionaries. Rotting flesh clung to the young man’s corpse as a dagger sat in its palm. In seconds the former legionary made it to one of the attacker's legs, almost stabbing the synthetic boot for a rifle but to ram against the guard's face. Laundre’s eyes screamed in horror as he watched.

  “Why…..why!!” it shrieked.

  For a moment everyone stopped as their bodies stood like statues. The Commander barked and screamed for them to get back to work as a pistol felt his palm. A frown danced upon the officer's cheek as his finger pressed the trigger. The survivor didn't even flinch. He didn't even know what a gun was. Hardric shrugged. It would only be a moment before the end.

  Hey edited this chapter to point out that the technologically advanced soldiers ARE NOT JANNIC's they are from a different planet and this is them being dropped off outside Kag. This is a reminder that Jan's society is in "medieval times" with magic (NOT EARTH).

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