Loopbreaker

The rumors and stories that each of them hadn’t believed to be true were lying on the tables in the tent.

A wolf that looked like a man, with long legs, some weird leather armor, dark fur, and half a snout, lay on one wooden platform.

Next to it was a cat-like person, slender but with muscles prominent under the tight skin. Sharp claws remained on the one hand or paw it had, and there were darker spots all over its fur.

Three more tables were set up, each one with a creature from their nightmares or stories.

"Is that... a Minotaur?" Gregory asked.

"It's a bull,” Phillip said. “There isn't anything special other than that it can hold a weapon. It has no magic."

"How... how do we fight these things?" Malcomb asked, backing up and glancing toward the tent flap they had entered through.

Next to the entrance were a pair of guards in full chain armor shaking their heads.

"With that damn sword I taught you to use, you fool!” Phillip exclaimed. ”Stop crying like a baby who needs its mother's teat! Either go out there tomorrow and kill them or die to them. You'll only make it out of this army alive by pushing down your fears and defeating these animals."

Three others had joined Malcomb, all moving slowly toward the tent flap — the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards cut through the silence.

"You four get back in position, or you'll wish you could defend yourselves,” a guard near the entrance called out. “That's an order."

The guard on the left moved with grace and style, making it obvious that Malcomb would die in the man's hands if the teen didn’t obey.

"But—" Malcomb started to protest.

The guard stepped forward, moving the foursome toward the rest of the pack. "Don't be a pissant. I've killed more men than you could imagine. Cutting down another sheet stain won't bother me. Decide now, so I can either go back to my post or cut your head off and call for someone to toss you in the burn pile."

His tone felt about as rough as the smell that permeated the entire camp.

Only a second passed before the group of four rejoined the main pack.

When Francis looked back over to Phillip, he saw the man was frowning, shaking his head.

"You're making me look bad,” their leader growled. “Next time, I'll gut you myself. Now follow me to these last two."

After the Minotaur was a bird-like creature and a snake. The bird-like creature had dark black feathers that almost looked purple when the torchlight shifted. Both of its hands were missing, and it had a large hole in its chest. Blank, black eyes stared from its death gaze. Francis felt it could still see into his soul.

Is that a woman? Francis thought as he stared at the snake creature.

The snake beast had curves that added a feminine touch. Beyond the flared-out snake head, single red eyes, and sharp fangs, its upper body definitely had bumps hidden by the armor across its chest.

Its bottom half was just like a snake, hanging off the table and running about six feet or more.

"Yes, that's a woman, and no, you can't have sex with it," Phillip said, his smirk back as he spoke. "I can see where some of you are staring at it. These two are more dangerous than the other three. They can cast spells: fire, air, poison, and various other things. Even worse is that there are other casters we haven't managed to collect a corpse from. All we know is these are our real targets. If you can get through the tiger, wol,f and bull beasts and into their weaker ranks, kill as many of those two casters as possible. Each one will net you ten gold for your family. Show your fathers that you finally have worth."

No one said anything, trying to absorb all the truth of what they were being told.

Magic was a part of life for the elite. Francis and the other boys present would never get it because they were deemed unworthy of that power. The amount of money and training it took was only what the oldest usually received. Some, like Francis’s second brother and sister, were given that chance, both rising through the ranks of those able to harness it.

You can buy things with Father's money... maybe even love.

Movement from his brother caught his attention; Francis saw Michael reach out and touch one of the feathers. It crumbled against his skin.

"Don't touch them!" a guard shouted off to the side.

The guard drew his sword again as Michael shook his hands, black and purple dust filling the air with the action.

"Everyone out! NOW!" a voice called out.

Without missing a beat, the group clambered out of the tent flap, choking and coughing as the feather pieces began to burn in the air.

"What did you do?!" Phillip shouted.

"I... I just wanted to—"

A fist struck Michael, sending the trainee to the ground. His eyes looked watery from the blow.

Francis moved to help, but someone grabbed his shirt. He saw Michael on his back, the tip of a sword against his brother's neck.

"I should gut you right now!” the guard growled. "Do you have—" The guard shook his head and cut himself off. He grunted and pointed deeper into the camp, causing the other guard to take off running. "No... You don't, but now you all do. Never touch the black feathers with your hands. Even doing it with gloves in the midst of battle is dangerous. It takes magic to stabilize them so we can move them. If you touch them, they will turn to dust, and those who breathe it in will soon find themselves dead. Thankfully, this one has been dead for a while and appears not as potent, but if you attack it, only strike it with a weapon. Do you understand?!"

Everyone nodded, and Francis watched as the guard stepped back, sheathing his sword.

"Help him up and then get out of here," the guard stated, then turned to face Phillip. "Count yourself lucky. It appears someone failed to warn you, so you could warn your trainees. I don’t know why, but part of me wonders if it has something to do with the scar you wear."

Francis saw Phillip’s hand touch the spot on his cheek.

"I am thankful for that information," their trainer replied.

Francis gave his brother a small nudge as Michael came to stand by him, raising an eyebrow at how their leader was suddenly acting.

"Then go. I will deal with this,” the guard said.

"You heard him!” Phillip exclaimed. “Everyone to your tents! Prepare for tomorrow morning. When the horn sounds, I expect you all to be ready to fight."

Everyone started moving, though Francis held back, seeing Phillip frowning at Michael.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Why wouldn't—"Michael started.

A hand came up, and the older man shook his head, cutting off Francis’s brother. "Not here, not now. Survive tomorrow,w and we can talk. For now... thank you. That mistake told me something I need to know."

Without waiting for him to reply, their instructor moved off, hurrying to get somewhere.

Francis and Michael quickly made their way toward their tent.

***

“I’ll take his spot!” Francis shouted. “I’m good in the woods! He isn’t.”

The guard glared at him, but had stopped yanking Michael away from their tent.

“It’s his punishment for touching the feather in the tent. Don’t think that being in the woods is any safer than the battlefield.”

He could see the concern in Michael’s eyes. The woods weren’t his favorite place, and having heard about the beasts that were inside, he knew Michael didn’t want to go in there.

“I’m not afraid,” Francis replied, standing a little taller. “I’ve got the tracking and sneaking skills, and I’ve hunted many times. He hasn’t. I’ll take his place.”

Snorting, the guard shoved Michael away and frowned.

“It’s your funeral. Grab your gear and follow me. You’ll get instructions on where to go in the morning.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You don’t–” Michael said.

“I do,” Francis said as he bent down and started grabbing the little equipment he had. “We both know you’ll die tripping over a root before anything else gets you. Besides that,” he gave his brother a pat on the shoulder, “we’ll be fine. You and I always make it out together.”

Ten minutes later, Francis found himself with a hodgepodge group of other men, all standing near a small set of boxes set up like stairs. A wiry, thin man climbed atop the boxes, a bow on his back and a pair of short swords on his hips. His brown eyes studied them all before motioning for silence.

“You lot are on forest duty tomorrow with me. The horn will sound in the morning, and you'd better be here before the third one comes, or I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”

Everyone nodded.

“Good. Now, in those woods behind me, we’ll be moving quietly, set up in a line, each of you fifty or so yards away from each other. Your job is to call out if you see any of the beastkins.”

“Call out? Why would–” a trainee called out.

“Because if you try to fight them, you’ll die,” the man said, cutting off the man behind Francis. “Call out, make a whistle, do something to attract one of the elite scouts. We’ll come and take care of them for you.”

Francis blinked a few times, seeing half of the men around him nodding. Another small group looked as confused as he felt, frowning and glancing at each other.

Calling out would alert whatever we saw. Surely the elite scouts won’t be able to get to us in time to help.

“Now, no more questions. I have your names, and if you’re not here in the morning, I’ll gut you myself. Dismissed.”

Without waiting, Francis started to move back to his section, where the brown flags moved in the light breeze.

***

"TO ARMS! EVERYONE TO POSITIONS!"

The call came over and over as the horn sounded, and the noise of all the troops moving in that moment was almost deafening. Yet even over the shouts and cries, the horns pierced the steady shouts.

Francis rushed to the area the scout had directed them to meet.

The crowd of scouts formed up, most warriors wearing the leather armor as he did. A few gave his helmet a curious glance, but no one spoke as they waited for the man who had spoken to them yesterday.

A short horn sounded, and the wiry fighter came toward them.

“Look at those trees! In there is darkness. In there is the enemy! But we will not fall,” their leader called out. “Now, I shall lead you through the traps we have set. Watch your steps lest you find yourself dead before our moment has come!”

“Traps?” someone asked.

A frown formed on the dark-haired leader. “Yes, traps. Magical ones that you won’t see or detect. I know their location and will set each of you where you need to be. These warriors behind me are the elite scouts. They will manage five of you each. Fear not, for they can get to you quicker than you imagine, and their aim with a bow and skill with a sword is greater than yours.”

Francis turned to look at where their leader motioned, seeing the elite men wearing black and brown leather, patterns painted on them. Each carried a bow and had a sword on their hip. Any hint of metal was covered in paint or mud.

Glancing down at his own outfit, Francis knew he and the others with him were going to make more noise than they’d likely assumed.

“Now then, prepare yourselves!” the dark-haired man said. “Our brothers in arms will soon charge into battle, and we shall do what we can to ensure they are not attacked from the side.”

Francis stared at the trees before them. Large branches and canopies started at about twenty feet or higher. No light seemed to find its way through the foliage; the darkness beneath them felt like a tomb waiting for its newest arrivals.

This is bad… so bad.

***

Francis slinked along the forest, doing his best not to trip on roots or branches that lay along the forest floor. There was a damp smell, musty and wet. His eyes finally adjusted enough that he could see about fifty feet ahead.

Small streams of light offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Off to his left came a cry, followed by a scream that cut off.

Swallowing the spit in his throat, Francis took a deep breath, steadying himself.

A whistle sounded from his right. It was a bird call, not one from around here but one he couldn’t place.

Thirty seconds later came a bestial cry, ending almost as quickly as it had sounded.

This is not safe, this is–

Suddenly, a wall of pressure assaulted his mind. Like someone was forcing his head underwater, fear gripped his chest.

“Flee! Run away!” An eerie voice assaulted his mind.

His feet froze, and Francis found himself unable to move as every instinct in him tried to get him to run.

No!

He wrestled with the command that had come, fighting against a wall of water that tried to sweep him away into the darkness.

Cries came from around him in the woods, and the sound of men screaming echoed everywhere.

Closing his eyes, Francis tried to breathe and focus on something, anything to slow his racing heart.

An image of Michael appeared. His brother was smiling at him in the inn the other night, laughing and waving a fork filled with meat.

If I run… I’ll die. I… can’t give in.

[ Mental-Resist Check Partially Failed ]

[ Mental-Resist ( Uncommon ) Skill Learned - 1 Basic ]

His feet were still frozen, but the pressure that wanted him to turn and run lessened slightly. His breathing slowly returned to normal, second after second, and his heart rate stopped beating like a rabbit racing through a field.

“Flee! Run away!”

It came again, still there, urging him to find safety elsewhere, even though his mind knew that running would spell death.

Screams came again, so he closed his eyes, focusing on that image of his brother once more.

He could taste blood in his mouth as he clenched his jaw tightly. Every part of him wanted to scream. Yet Francis knew if he yelled, it would spell his death.

[ Mental-Resist Check Partially Failed ]

[ Mental-Resist Skill Increased - 3 Basic ]

Again, the pressure immediately subsided, and his mind found a focus point. There was movement off to his left, easily fifty yards or so away; the crunching of branches under something moving quickly made him huddle closer to the tree he was leaning against.

The scent of mud filled his nostrils, which made him glad he had taken a moment to roll around in the soil and do his best to cover the smell he knew he carried.

[ Mental Resist Check Partially Failed ]

[ Mental Resist Skill Increased - 5 Basic ]

The power came and went. Finally, his feet started to feel able to move.

Ahead of him and slightly off to the left was where he felt the pressure coming from.

Something is out there… whatever is causing this. Can I stop it? What could it be doing to the army and to Michael?

“Flee! Run away! Only death comes if you stay!” Another assault came again, flooding his head with a desire to run.

[ Mental Resist Check Partially Failed ]

[ Mental Resist Skill Increased - 7 Basic ]

The pressure came and went again, vanishing much quicker than previous times. It took a few seconds to get his mind under control, the image of Michael firmly locked in place as Francis’ eyes scanned the shadows that covered the forest.

No movement came, yet the sound of battle reached him through the trees.

It sounds so close…

Shouts and cries of all kinds drifted through the forest, making it difficult to pin down any other noises that might alert him to where an enemy might be.

Yet he could still sense in some ways the presence of whatever wanted him to run. He silently grunted and clenched his teeth, staying low and moving toward it.

Another wave of mental attack came and was rejected, his skill rising yet again.

[ Mental Resist Check Partially Failed ]

[ Mental Resist Skill Increased - 8 Basic ]

Two breaths later, he was back on track, adjusting his path to where it felt it was originating.

No creatures seemed to be near him, and that alone scared Francis even more. The forest trees began to change as he moved deeper into it. A few hardwood trees started to appear. They rose higher into the sky, casting beams of light through the break in the thick canopy above.

Francis found himself trembling when another wave of power washed over him.

“There is no hope! Only death if you do not run! Flee while you still can!”

[ Mental Resist Check Successful ]

[ Mental Resist Skill Increased - 11 Novice ]

Everything changed as his skill ranked up. It felt more like a suggestion now and less of a command or an order. Francis knew that he wasn’t going to run. His heart no longer pounded like it was going to escape from his chest. Breathing felt easier than it had in a while. Francis was here to find out what was causing this and to see if he could stop it. Somewhere out there was Michael, and Francis’ biggest concern was what this might be doing to the troops and how it might cause his brother to suffer.

Seventy yards later, a circle of hardwood trees appeared.

A death ring… Whatever tree had died to form this had to have been at least a hundred years old for them to grow so tall.

Francis knew that when some hardwood trees like these died, perhaps due to lightning or something else, a tightly packed ring of trees would grow up from the roots, and there before him stood one. From the roots of the tree, new life would spring up, creating a safe place to camp in the forest if they were tight enough and with only a single opening.

On the other side of them, he could sense something. Even this far away, there was a presence of some kind that emanated from it.

He glanced around, wondering where other beasts might be.

Surely there have to be guards or something else out here.

A full minute passed, yet nothing moved or made a sound that he could detect.

Fools! Staying here is death! Flee!

[ Mental Resist Check Successful ]

There was no doubt now that whatever was causing this was on the other side of those hardwoods. Their thick trunks had formed a tight wall of wood, hiding whatever was inside.

Francis took a deep breath and settled himself, pulling his sword out and quickly moving across the clearing.

Trying not to pant, Francis steadied himself as he ducked down near the closest tree. He slowly then moved around the edge of the tree he was pressed against, avoiding roots and bits of bark to avoid warning anyone of his presence.

[ Stealth Skill Increased - 7 Basic ]

The notification came as he rounded the circle and found a gap between the trees, a good six-foot-wide opening. Peering inside, he saw something that made his heart stop for a moment.

Dark as night stood a purple-skinned creature. It resembled a lizard, but it stood about six feet tall. Midnight-black robes made from some kind of skin moved as it moved, and in its clawed hands was a staff crafted from a material he had never seen before.

It was making quiet noises, chanting something. Francis was certain its eyes were closed.

The creature looked almost drunk from how it swayed, arms moving a little erratically. An aura of something slowly built up, and Francis realized what it had to be.

It takes time to cast or do whatever it is…

Creeping to the opening, he prepared himself, ready to charge the creature, which was about fifteen yards away.

The moment he took a step inside the ring, a shimmering cloud of something appeared before him. The creature slowly turned, eyelid opening to reveal a pair of yellow eyes that glowed in the darkness of the circle. Its head snapped in his direction, and its mouth opened.

Weird noises came as it started to point its staff at him — Francis didn’t wait to find out what it said before he charged.