Squad Games [Squad Building LitRPG] [Book One Complete]

Vixen was part of Eyota's vanguard that passed through the empty fields of the farm. "It looks deserted," said the princess.

"These fields were full with cattle yesterday," Clamor noted.

"Meaning?"

"Might be this is the first settlement alerted to our approach," said the scout.

Eyota shrugged. "It was going to happen eventually."

It was a large site. The fenced fields took up most space, but Chinara could see several buildings dotted about the place.

Eyota ordered a company of her warriors, two score strong, to investigate the three closest barns. As soon as they pulled open the doors, there was action. They were attacked by farmhands waiting in the barns, then from more who funnelled down the side of the structures.

The Silent Warriors had the numbers, two to one, but they had been taken by surprise, half a dozen falling under the initial onslaught.

Clamor took his bow from his shoulder and strung it.

But Eyota put a hand to his forearm. It was an intimate gesture; Vixen couldn't imagine ever touching the scout like that. She glanced at him, to see if his masklike expression would crack.

"No, Clamor." The princess looked pensive. The farmers were retreating now, refusing to get embroiled in a melee. Something about the attack had caused Eyota, normally so bullish, to show caution. "Go and tell Amotken we have our first serious resistance."

Clamor left, and Eyota drew her sword with a grin. She held Chinara in her gaze. "Ready, Chinara?"

"Yes, Eyota."

"Let's show these farmers how to fight."

She led her second company of Silent Warriors towards the action. The first group had been broken up by the farmers attack and retreat, following them between, through, and around barns. Throaty cries signalled a fresh attack, out of sight of Eyota's reinforcements.

A thrill coursed down Chinara's body.

"Move it!" the princess demanded. She ran ahead, desperate to intervene in the skirmish, and her two score Silent Warriors followed.

Chinara slowed, heart thumping. She had recognised more than one voice amongst those cries. This was her chance.

She broke and ran.

She went for the far barn, aiming to circle around and join the defenders.

Running feet thumped behind her, as she knew they would. Stricken was chasing her, and he was faster.

How can a dead man move so swiftly?

She was committed now. All she could do was run, and hope she got far enough before he caught her. At the very least, give it your all, she demanded of herself. Don't stop and give up.

She made it to the third barn, turning to run down its length.

It was like an avalanche crashed into her. She went flying, then rolled along the ground until she came to a stop. The breath had been knocked from her, and she couldn't move—just lay gasping as Stricken came into view.

His face was alive with emotions as he looked down at her. Perhaps there was some regret there. But his hunger outweighed that; his mouth open, ready to take its first bite.

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He stopped by her feet, then knelt on the ground. He loomed over her. "I knew you'd run in the end," he said, his eyes switching from looking at hers to her neck.

Chinara tried to speak, in the hope that words might dissuade him. But her voice wouldn't come.

A sudden burst of movement.

A vicious sword slash and Stricken was tumbling aside.

A hand grasped the top of her leather vest and yanked her to her feet. Alfie had seen her, just in time.

"Watch out for him," she warned.

Stricken was back on his feet, hatred in his eyes as he bared his teeth at The Guvnah. The wound he had taken already looked less red than it should.

"It's alright," The Guvnah said. He held his blade out before him and began to back away, guiding her along with him with his other hand.

Stricken leapt for him, and The Guvnah's longsword slid in deep.

Stricken bit his forearm.

The Guvnah screamed, instinct making him pull his arm away.

Stricken tore the other way, and ripped flesh from bone.

The Guvnah screamed again, blood pumping from the wound.

Then someone else was there. Mental. Her battle-axe crashed into Stricken, sending him to the ground.

"Get him to the centre of the farmstead," Mary shouted at her. "Find Tree."

"Watch out for him," Chinara warned her. "He's dead. He can't be killed."

Mental gave her a grim look. "I've got this. Just get out of here."

***

"The sorcerer has arrived," Bletcher said, gripping the Staff of Warning with his one hand.

Seven of them waited in a byre for the fate of Gal'azu to be decided.

Bletcher's eyes were wide, making him look more boy than man. "He's powerful."

"More powerful than me?" Seregin demanded.

"Yes."

The elf lord gave a thin smile. "When I decided to cross the sea, I thought I had good odds of being the most powerful wizard in Gal'azu."

"Bit of bad luck for you, I suppose," Lothar murmured, not averse to some dark humour himself. "But lucky for the rest of us that you arrived when you did."

"You may think it elven arrogance. But I don't think you'd have stood a chance."

"I'm not sure my Mask of Warding will be able to quell his magic." Bletcher sounded worried.

"It won't," Seregin said. "But it will help us get within range and should protect you, if not the rest of us. Put it on and remember Oripione is here to help you."

Seregin had insisted that each wizard had a companion to aid them. Valnor would defend Seregin; and Lothar would make sure that whatever happened, Rosalind wasn't harmed. Fortune was there to kill the necromancer with Blueblade. It was a plan that made sense to Lothar, but at its heart was magic, of which he was ignorant. He felt like a bit part player in what was to come, and he didn't like that feeling.

Bletcher led them from the byre, past buildings towards the northern end of the farm. Next to him was the tiefling, whose sword cast a golden light around them.

They walked towards the sound of fighting.

"Wait here," Seregin said, ushering them to the side of a barn. The elf concentrated on a spell.

"What's he doing?" Lothar whispered.

"Hiding us," Rosalind replied.

Ahead, one of Harris's farmhands appeared in the evening light. He was running towards them, but then slipped behind the corner of a byre, with his club raised.

A Silent Warrior followed not far behind, walking into the ambush. The farmer was a big unit but his blows were unrefined, only hitting his opponent once. The warrior was armed with spear and had decent armour, counter attacking effectively.

The fight looked even. Then a second warrior appeared, and the farmer's chances looked done. He gamely got in another hit, but it wasn't going to be enough.

Lothar grabbed Slayer, but Rosalind put a restraining hand on his arm. "We're here for the sorcerer," she hissed.

An arrow took the first warrior in the chest. It was an instant kill. The second warrior held up his spear in a protective stance, but it didn't stop a second arrow taking him in the same place, with the same result.

Lothar turned to Valnor and gave him a nod of thanks.

The farmhand peered in their direction.

We're right here, and he can't see us, Lothar wondered.

The labourer gave up, perhaps content that he wasn't going to suffer the same fate as his two opponents and ran off until he was out of sight.

As he did so, more Silent Warriors streamed from the same direction. About a score appeared. They stopped to examine their two fallen comrades, but no words were spoken. Some of them were dark skinned like Alinkos; others were beige skinned, while there were a few as pale as Lothar. But they all behaved the same, acting as if they were in a trance.

They continued, walking past Lothar's position towards the centre of the farm. They should have seen Lothar's party, but they didn't. They gave them a wide berth, as if Seregin's spell commanded them to avoid their position. Perhaps, already ensorcelled, they were more susceptible to the enchantment. But the display of Seregin's power gave Lothar pause. He could manipulate me in a hundred ways, and I wouldn't know.

An eerie quietness returned.

"Is the sorcerer still up ahead?" Seregin asked.

"Yes," said Bletcher.

"Then let's go."

They moved on. Lothar noticed an eager look on Fortune's face, bathed in blue light.

At last, Blueblade had begun to glow.