Arthurian Cultivation

"Charge."
"Have at them!"

The sight of nearly twenty knights on horseback thundering down the ravine—their combined mass filling the space between the high stone cliffs and falling upon the horde of monsters—was truly awe-inspiring.

The power difference meant the knights could keep their horses safe and use their strength and mobility to hammer home their might. They didn't use destructive techniques, afraid they might damage the road or ravine walls, destroying the very route they aimed to protect. Their wrath took on a more primal form, relying on the strength of steel and sword arm to hack apart the monsters.

I watched as Bors slammed into what had to have once been a bear. The creature's eyes were mad with bloodlust, its fur gone, and the exposed skin marked with bleeding whorls—like its very flesh had been twisted into spirals and then bound in place. The fearsome creature was no match for his Iron-level strength. He sliced it in twain with no more difficulty than a butcher removing a pig's trotter.

Beside him, Yolanda and the others of the Golden Keep were making a great showing of themselves. Their armour was heavier than most, and they moved with a sense of economy and power. Even their horses bore heavy barding, giving them the protection necessary to trample their foes. That side of the charge left me with the sense of a boulder rolling downhill—inexorable and deadly.

Our side was more flashy, especially given how Lance and Gawain kept swooping down, spearing the few beasts with enough sense to climb the walls.

"It's as if the heroes of legends have gone to war," I heard one of the caravan guards mutter beside me. I suspected he was still new to cultivation if this was legendary to him. I didn't say anything of that nature, though—the man had been more than helpful and deserved to see the terror nipping at his heels destroyed.

I stood on the cliffs looking down with him and another eighty or so mortals, along with a smattering of Wood and Bronze cultivators. We'd met the group on the fifth day since leaving the Keep—our last day before we expected to move into the mountain kingdoms. The massed group had all but collapsed before us, most of them exhausted from a day or more of fleeing.

The few remaining cultivator guards of what had once been a proud caravan explained that they'd got wind of the horde two days ago and been forced to abandon everything as they tried to escape it. They'd picked up a handful of other travellers and had been hoping to reach the ravine, in the hopes they could use the terrain to hold off the horde.

It was brave—and likely a doomed endeavour. But the guards had earned our respect for sticking with their mortal charges, rather than abandoning them to save their own skins. Perhaps they thought the horde was smaller, or overestimated what their ragged group could do with the handful of spears and knives they had between them.

All the guards were watching with me. They had been muttering all manner of curses when the horde actually appeared on the horizon. That first look made the horde seem endless—and the monsters vile.

These were no fae beasts. These monsters were known to most as the Unseelie's Hounds. Each one had once been a common animal, now affected and twisted by glamour—rather than true fae beasts who had their own core. Cursed by exposure to power they couldn't handle, they became like locusts—a mindless horde that hunted glamour.

They rarely built up in such numbers. Cultivators wouldn't let them. So to find a horde like this within no more than a few days' travel of the Golden Keep was a clear sign of just how bad things were getting in the mountains.

I heard a horn sound. The horde, while mindless, could be stymied. Their momentum stalled as the bodies of their dead clogged their route forward. The knights withdrew, giving themselves space to charge again.

"My lord, what is happening? They aren't retreating, are they?" the guard beside me asked. That got him a cuff on the back of the head from his captain—a man with a truly epic moustache, which I'm sure looked far more refined when properly waxed and not frayed from endless hours of retreat.

"Alexi, they are regrouping. You're a soldier—you should be able to understand basic tactics. Please excuse him, Bard Taliesin, and any implication his question might've had. Alexi has only recently ignited his hearth."

"My Lord, I didn't mean to say that they were co—" the younger guard began, panicked, realising how his words could be interpreted as calling the knights cowards.

"Alexi, was it? I have a word of advice for you. If you have a question about other cultivators' behaviour, relay it first to your captain." I smiled as I said it, but kept my tone firm. I might find it funny, but others could take it as a mortal insult.

Below, I heard a bellow of rage from Lance. A creature had jumped up to claw at Gring. Her moon glamour flared, and the monster bounced off his flank—right onto her blade.

"For cultivators, they are friendly and understanding. However, what you said could be considered problematic by some, and they might demand you answer for that insult to their honour. Also—I'm not 'My Lord.' I'm just a Bard."

"But I saw you shoot one of those fucked-up eagles…"

"Corporal, about face. Quick march." His captain snapped, and the man jerked into position. His form was perfect. I watched as he began to march away.

"Go tend to those fires the Bard told us to set."

I'd 'requested' the guards set up some smoky fires. The smoke carried well over the heads of the knights, allowing me to get a sense of the horde, to track their numbers and check for anomalies. It was possible for the monsters to reach a point where they became something akin to an Iron beast—an Aberration.

It was unlikely. From what the knights had told me, Aberrations normally led the herd. But a few had a base sort of intelligence and knew to hang back. So vigilance was a must.

"I'm sorry about him. I believe some fae bargain was formed where all his brains were moved to his muscles at the price of his mouth endlessly moving."

"I don't mind. They won't be too hard on him—they're kind people."

"They fight well for kind people," the captain observed as the column charged again. Monsters were trampled and slaughtered, blood splattering the ravine walls. The creatures, hampered by the bodies of their kin, were more spread out now. The charge carved them down like a scythe through corn.

"With that kind of power, they can be any kind of person they want to be. Is what you were saying true? Your order is aiming to clear out the passes—take over where the traitors left off?"

"That's the goal."

"A fine thing indeed. A necessary thing. It's getting far too dangerous, I should've listened to what others were saying, most won't consider caravans without double the number of guards that we'd normally carry. It is my failing," the captain grunted, and I clapped him on the back in solidarity.

"It's tough times, that's why we're here. The Order of the Round Table has come to ease the pressure."

"This lot should be rounded up before nightfall. I can't believe we'll get to sleep and not spend the night fending off the damned things."

"Hmm." I felt something moving through my smoke. Something that didn't fit. Something waited in the cover of the forest just beyond the ravine. I felt voids, unexplained gaps in my smoke, some power obscuring my senses, urging me to ignore it.

A burst of smoke concealed my lute shapeshifting, and I pulled out a simple horn, a nice thing of brass decorated in red and black tassels. I didn't feel like getting out the full bagpipes right now. I blew a preset series of notes.

Gaz imitated a horn blast in response, letting me know my warning had been received.

"What was that?"

"There's something in the woods, watching the fight."

"Not the Hounds' behaviour, some other beast?"

"In all probability. This might explain the Hounds. I've read that Hounds can sometimes be herded by fae beasts."

"I've heard of that as well, but if that's true at least one of the beasts has to be Iron. Should we take any action?" the captain asked, getting twitchy at the mention of an Iron-ranked threat. Even with all the knights down there, the deep fear an Iron rank could inspire in anyone below it drove into him.

"Gather everyone close, make sure they're near the fires so I can keep a close watch. I doubt anything slipped past them, but if these things are hiding there they might be elsewhere."

"That said, it's only a single Iron. You should get Alexi back, maybe this will make him think twice about his words." I smiled.

Percy hacked at the twisted wolf, cutting between the patches of bone growing over its skin like mange. With a gentle nudge her steed turned and headed back to where the other knights were regrouping. They'd all heard the bugle call warning them of something behind the horde. What was hopefully going to be the last charge was immediately halted as their more perceptive members sought out more information on the hidden threat.

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"I can hear shadow beasts, sounds like some kind of wolf or dog. An Iron Rank and Bronzes." That shout came from Gaz, but Percy knew the intel must've been relayed from Tristan. Gaz couldn't hear rank. She'd have to needle him later for the poor subterfuge. The Artoss spy was dedicated to keeping his shadow gift hidden, but that conviction was often tested in battle.

"Now this makes more sense as to why the horde's so big," Kay muttered. "The shadow beasts've probably been herding them towards any humans. They're not the most threatening on their own, better in ambush or as scavengers."

"Want me to blast them?!" Yolanda shouted, speaking as she yanked her long blade out of a twisted stag, untangling her weapon from the horns growing out of its spine. The blade was a huge Zweihander, and suited the larger-than-life woman like she'd been born to it.

"No! All of you, hold fire! Don't go blasting, we can't risk the road." That shout came from Kovax, the leader of the Golden Keep contingent. She wasn't Sephy's favourite person, not given her strange obsession with Taliesin. She wasn't a seductress here to charm him, but Sephy would admit to being a bit jealous that the pair had spent so much time discussing music, something she was woefully uninformed about.

It was irritating how good she was with the harp, and yet Sephy couldn't complain about how she was monopolising Taliesin's time. Not with the Chox nonsense going on.

Still, given that most of their discussions ended in Kovax storming off, Percy had nothing to worry about on that front.

Though it had been fun to point Maeve at her and explain that a minor display of jealousy would be appropriate. The 'sparring' that'd followed had put her in a far better mood.

All of that said, Percy couldn't fault Kovax on her leadership skills.

"Bors, you take the left side, keep that cliff from collapsing. Kovax, can one of you handle the other side?" Kay shouted, leaning on her role as Marshall.

"We can make sure we don't get buried. Who's handling the beasts from your side? If too many move up they'll just run and we'll have to hunt them down."

"Agreed. There's no kill like overkill. Percy, you're up. Arthur, you stick behind her as support. Gaz, relay to Gawain and Lance to keep an eye out. Don't want something slipping past us." Kay nodded to her and Percy smiled. It was rare she really got to let loose, especially not with such rich resources around her.

"Yolanda, you assist. Vlad, you're in reserve. The rest of you hold back, it's tight quarters," Kovax called.

Those chosen dismounted. Percy strode forward, her shield floating on her left, Yolanda on her right wielding her sword as if it weighed nothing despite the staggering length. Arthur and the other knight followed behind at a good distance.

"Switch to ranged support, thin out the horde. Nothing too flashy!" Kovax called. Behind them, the others switched to bow and javelin. Occasionally a blade of air or spear of ice would hiss past to take down a tight knot of the vermin.

The horde's strength was broken. Whatever fear and trickery had kept it together was falling apart. The beasts were all but mindless, but they sensed that ahead of them was only death. So they fell upon the corpses of the fallen, seeking to devour the fading ugly glamour infecting the flesh.

"Gaz, what are you hearing? Any advice?"

"I'd say seven or so creatures. They're moving steadily, probably hoping to catch one of you out," Gaz's voice called out. Fae beasts, just like these Unseelie monsters, grew from eating glamour, and there was little better than the body of an Iron Rank cultivator to feed them.

Still, the one redeeming feature was that these beasts were predators. Predators were used to preying on mortal humans, and often underestimated the true threat of a cultivator. It was the small herbivores, the ones who'd started out scared of everything, that you had to watch for.

"You good, flame hair?" Yolanda called, her blade blazing with bright light. The boisterous knight was gifted with Light and Fire glamour, a perfect match-up against any shadow-gifted.

"What do you think, giantess?" Percy smiled back as she strode beside her, the pools of blood around her swirling and gathering into spinning balls of crimson liquid.

"Now I know why my mother told me never to fight a blood-gifted on a battlefield. I'll handle the pups, you get the big'un. These fuckers have plenty to answer for." Percy nodded.

Percy breathed and tried to focus, seeking out the threat.

Shadow was not a mere absence of light, but the magic of hidden and obscured things. It made the user harder to perceive. Even having its presence pointed out, knowing there should be a form filled with blood ready for her gift to track, she could only get the faintest sense that something was out there.

In an empty forest she would've been hard pressed to track it, but here, on a battlefield, with the ground slick with crimson, she could feel it. The pools of blood that rippled with its passing, the prints left in the soaked ground that appeared where no beast should be.

"You ready? I'll mark them, then you rip that shadow off them?" Percy called. Yolanda nodded.

Her eyes snapped open, her marbles of blood out. Each hit something that shimmered and distorted, specks of blood picking out something. The beasts were hugging the walls, using the piled-up corpses to hide their advance.

Percy could feel their glamour working against her. Her mind picking out forms, crouching dog-like silhouettes, fur coated in blood, only to dismiss it, to view it as nothing but a trick of the light, an illusion brought as her mind tried to make sense of the unnatural corpses.

Then spears of light crashed down, and the glamour was blasted away. Whatever control the beasts had was lost, revealing a pack of ugly hunched beasts with slavering jaws and mottled hides. Each was easily as big as any wolf she'd met, but the one in the lead was huge. Bors or Yolanda could've ridden it into battle.

Percy sunk her mind into the bounty of blood around her. She wasn't the biggest fan of fighting monsters, and it was so rare that she had so many resources to work with. She wanted this done.

She sank her power into the blood around her. Barrels of blood had been spilt, and with that much to work with she could unleash a technique that rarely got much use despite it being her favourite. It was one she'd developed herself and really made the most of both her gifts.

Sadly, she wasn't going to be left alone to build it up in peace. The hulking Iron-ranked monster did not take being exposed well.

The muzzle was pulled into a snarl and then it launched itself at Yolanda, who was still recovering after throwing out so much glamour. Percy had to jump between them, her shield smashing into its jaws. The strike wasn't too powerful but it distracted the creature.

The foul thing let out a chilling snicker, a laugh that chilled her spine and set her on edge even more than the wave of fetid breath that crashed over her. A claw lashed out. It didn't have much power to it, and Percy casually parried it with her blade, only to find the beast's shadow glamour had deceived her. The blow was far heavier than it had any right to be and knocked her out of her stance.

She almost lost focus on her technique, and only held on as she was saved from having to strike back by Yolanda entering the fray. Her blade igniting with fire, she slashed at the beast, which darted back, one of its kin rushing forward to snap at her flanks.

"Cairn hyenas! They're nasty fuckers! Kill them all," Yolanda called, slashing her burning blade at the bronze hyena, cutting open its face, the fire from her blade sticking to it, burning into the flesh of its skull. The creature died cackling.

"Working on it," Percy shouted. Off-kilter and pushed back, she launched blades of blood at the leader's eyes. The monster, despite its size, was quick, managing to dodge the attack. She couldn't afford to be more accurate. She had to keep pulling on the blood around her, gathering it, refining it.

The creature glared at her, devious eyes lit with cruel intelligence regarding her carefully.

It yipped, and the whole pack started to retreat. They were already trying to gather shadow stuff, to disappear back into the forests.

"Scavenging cowards. They're running. Don't let them get away." Yolanda surged forward, a sweep of her blade sending out a wave of fire that rolled over the lot of them.

Behind them, Arthur and the other Golden Keep member surged forward. They'd been holding back to better draw in the beasts, but now with them fleeing, they moved in for the kill.

"Keep clear of the big one," Percy shouted. Her technique was finally ready. Behind her a swirling ball of blood had been forming, shifting from a translucent sphere of bright crimson to a deep burgundy that seemed to drink in the light.

Some days Percy envied water-gifted. They could just grab an entire pond and throw it at someone, relying on the weight to do most of the damage. There were rarely any big pools of blood to do the same, and storing blood was very difficult, as to work with her gift the blood needed to be 'living'.

It made things complicated—and yet so rewarding.

Percy had learned that blood contained an infinitesimally small amount of iron. Iron that her metal gift loved to work with. And adding this 'blood iron' to blood she controlled only increased her control of the liquid rather than destroying it, as was the case with most things that contaminated a medium. Water cultivators, for instance, could even be stymied by too much salt.

Through experiments—and a staggeringly large number of dead goats—she found she could condense the blood to hold more iron and still have it be 'living' blood.

She'd taken blood from over a hundred of the dead monsters and formed a pebble not much wider across than her thumb. The pebble was just below equal parts blood and 'blood iron' and weighed half as much as molten lead at this point.

Her blood and metal gifts loved it.

First she had to cripple the beast. With a flick of her fingers, manifesting a blood bolt technique, she fired a fingernail-sized blob at the beast.

The attack was adapted from the Water Bolt technique, which tended to be a somewhat underwhelming attack option that focused on quantity and knocking over the opponent with a melon-sized sphere of water.

Her attack was very different.

With the added weight of the iron, and her metal gift holding the bolt tightly together so it didn't splash, it punched straight through the Iron-ranked monster's leg, exploding out the other side of its haunch in a mist of fresh blood and viscera.

The monster staggered, its retreat denied.

Percy pulled back the ball. Her control over it was so strong that even passing through the creature's body hadn't been enough to rob her of her authority over it. She proceeded to fire the ball out at the fleeing Bronzes, slowing them so her comrades could slaughter them.

Overhead, arrows and javelins slammed into the creatures, their mounted comrades taking out the few members of the twisted horde who tried to interfere in their battle.

The lead hyena, wounded and snarling, turned and in a desperate push of a cornered beast, charged to attack her. Percy called back the blood pellet, spreading it on the inside of her shield and then slamming that in the creature's path.

It charged. Even with one of its legs crippled, it was an Iron Rank, and limping it got up to a respectable speed, throwing its full mass behind it. The mocking laughter rolling out of its mouth as it looked to slay the foe responsible for its defeat.

It angled one shoulder down, trying to bull through the kite-shaped defence.

Percy grinned, locking the shield in place with her glamour. Her grip over the blood iron was so strong that the creature may as well have charged the ravine walls.

A clang echoed off the ravine walls, the snickering barks silenced as the beast's charge was halted by her shield.

It had just enough time to look confused before Percy swept in, blade in hand, to carve its neck open.

She grinned as the blood flowed. This was the best part of gifts. Once you started, it only got easier.