The tavern erupted into chaos. I swung my mandolin behind me and shoved my way through the crowd to get outside. Even the drunkest member of the assembly sobered up and headed outside. Smoke and ash filtered through the open door. On the horizon, I could see an orange glow emanating from the forge. My heart dropped.

It was happening again. A blazing fire burning in the distance, destroying everything in its path. I could have been there, could have stopped it before it happened. Nia, Greenspring, and Tamara were supposed to be strong. They were supposed to be stronger than Henry. Throwing those thoughts to the wind, I ran towards the forge.

The tavern was too far away from the forge. I knew of magic that could make a person faster, but the drawbacks were too great. The song of strength made you stronger, faster, and more agile, but you would feel exhausted as the effect ended. When I was on the farm, I used that spell to help make my work go by faster. Only giving myself small enough of a boost to reduce the later exhaustion. 

If I used it now, I wouldn’t be able to help when I got there. And I would lose the chance to use it on the others. I decided that getting there first was most important. Any number of things could have happened, and I wanted to be there to check on Nia, Tamara, and Greenspring.

A small boost, only enough to make it there in time. That was my goal. Pulling my mandolin in front of me, I played while I ran. The song was complicated to play, even when standing, but I managed. My fingers danced across the strings, picking up speed as I did. My pace quickened as I ran faster than I ever had to the source of the fire. 

Dirt clouds were kicked up behind me as I ran. My legs ached from the new strain put upon them. Already as I got closer, the heat of the fire battled the cold of the night to attack my body. I squinted my eyes to see through the night at the distant shadows illuminated by the fire.

A large figure stood in front of the fire, surrounded by several much smaller shadows. Light flashed off metal as the figure waved around a shadowy axe. I guessed that the figure was Nia. The other figures dodged out of the way of her attacks. The wind carried her cries of rage as she defended herself from the assault. There was another flash of light as a dagger flew through the air into her shoulder. Her rage was cut short by pain. She fell onto one knee as the figures surrounded her.

Closer now, I saw more figures battle around the flame engulfing Tamara’s hut. More of the shadowy assailants battling something that looked like a wolf. It was larger than any wolf I had seen. The wolf threw its head back and howled. As it charged into the surrounding attackers, I could hear cries of fear as the wolf tore into their flesh. This close to the fire, I now saw the cat-like features of the attackers.

They were harska, just as I feared. Some were black like the night, only visible by the light reflecting off their eyes. Others were grey, the ashes falling from the sky complementing their fur. Orange, white with black spots, black with white spots, grey with white spots, fat, skinny, tall, and short. All of them wielded stone or wooden weaponry. They outnumbered the defenders of the fire like ants surrounding a piece of food.

Finally, as I was one hundred yards away, I was close enough to make an impact on the battle. With my mandolin, I played my song of strength once again. This time, I focused on Nia and the wolf, who I assumed to be defending the forge. The faster you played the song, the more of a boost you would get. But the exhaustion you would feel would grow exponentially. I played the song at a normal speed, enough to help them and give them a chance to turn the tide of the battle.

The effect took a moment to hit, but already I could see the impact. The large wolf ripped through the flesh of the harska like it was nothing. Nia rose and tore the dagger from her shoulder, tossing it to the ground. Blood leaked steadily from the wound. Her axe deflected a second projectile as she waved it around her body.

The wolf seemed to notice my arrival and ran over. Its fur was grey, with the muzzle stained red from the harska. As it got closer I heard a familiar voice in my head. “They took Tamara,” it said, sounding like Greenspring. “Is help coming?”

I looked back towards the town, a crowd of torches gathered at the edge. At this distance, I couldn’t see more than that. The wolf was at my side now and looked towards the town as well. This close to me, its head came up to my shoulder. Several daggers were stuck into its side. It growled, then looked at me.

“Norman, we could not save her,” the voice said sadly. “They were too fast, in too great of numbers. But we can avenge her! By the forge are some weapons, take up a sword and battle at my side. I will cover you.”

The wolf’s head gestured towards the forge. Through the gruesome display, I could make out what looked like a rack of swords. Some curved, others straight. Satisfied that I understood, the wolf ran back into the fray.

I ran after it, dodging out of the way of Nia’s axe as she swung it around her. One harska ran towards me with a hammer, but Nia cleaved his head off with one swing. The heat from the fire was next to unbearable as I got close. Smoke filled my lungs and obscured my vision. Only through guessing was I able to make it to the rack.

Without much time, I pulled what looked to be a longsword off the rack. The weight caught me off guard, and I almost dropped it to the ground. The leather-covered handle was hot to the touch. I tore off a piece of my sleeve and wrapped it around my hand. The added protection helped, but only a little.

This was not how I expected my adventure to go. I wasn’t a fighter, I didn’t know how to fight. Piopus had taught me how to use a dagger, but that was it. He wasn’t the type of bard that charged into battle, leading armies onto the battlefield. Still, I had to try. Pushing down my fear, I turned away from the fire.

The speed gained from my spell as I left the tavern still lingered. With its help, I ran through the battlefield. I haphazardly slashed through the harska, barely avoiding their counterattacks. Having never received proper training, I swung the sword clumsily. As such, my attacks did little to hurt the harska forces.

A wooden arrow scraped my arm, barely breaking the flesh. I couldn’t see where it had come from. Another flew above my head. Three harska charged me, only to be torn apart by the wolf. Smoke and blood were all I could make sense of.

Caught up in the excitement of the fight, I didn’t immediately notice when Nia fell for the last time. A harska had snuck behind her and leaped onto her back. It plunged two daggers into the unprotected flesh of the neck. Blood filled her throat as she grabbed the harska with one hand. She threw him onto the ground and broke his ribs with her foot. I saw the result and rushed to give aid.

“Nia,” I yelled, my voice sounding more like a whisper.

Nia fell onto her knees, clutching her throat. Several harska tried to charge at her, but with her axe still in hand, she drove them off. The wolf pulled any remaining harska off of her. As I got close I threw my sword to the side, placing my hands on her throat. Blood drenched my fingers. Her eyes were unfocused, staring somewhere beyond me.

I hummed a healing tune, a much stronger spell than the one cast on Damian, and worked the magic out of the song to heal Nia. I could feel my energy leave me as I drove it all into the warrior. My song of strength was ending. Color returned to Nia’s face as the magic did its work. The blood dripping from her neck slowed until the wound closed and became a scar. The heat from the fire began to feel cold to me. Everything felt cold. Nia took my hands off of her and laid me down on the ground.

“You did good, Norman. Now rest,” she whispered.

Nia yelled to the wolf nearby to watch me as she charged back into battle. From my spot on the ground, I could make out her figure as it vanished into the smoke. I turned my head towards the town, hoping that the townsfolk would arrive soon.

I didn’t have to hope for much longer. The sound of their march arrived before they did. Their torches shone through the smoke, creating beautiful rays of light. Outnumbered and outmatched, the remaining harska ran. They tripped over their fallen companions to escape the horde of angry villagers. Some of the villagers gave chase, but I couldn’t see if they were successful.

I turned onto my back and closed my eyes. The ground was warm, but I felt cold. Hands tried to shake me, tried to keep me awake. They were soft. I thought of Beth. All the sounds of the battle fell away as I drifted off to sleep.