Chapter 10 : THE ROTFIEND HUNT
The torches guttered in the pre-dawn wind, throwing shadows across the faces of the six men who would walk into the forest with him.
Aldric stood at the head of the briefing circle, his breath misting in the cold air, and ran through the plan one final time. Three months since the failed reconnaissance—three months of Edvard's brutal conditioning, of dawn training that had left him vomiting behind the barracks more than once, of learning to process combat stress until his body stopped betraying his mind.
Today they would find out if it had been enough.
"Approach from three angles." He traced the route on the dirt-scratched map between them, the territory sense providing details the actual drawing couldn't capture. "Dunn's team from the northwest, Toma and Vek from the southeast, Edvard and myself from the direct approach. The nest is in the collapsed farmstead—same location as before. Eight specimens confirmed, but assume more."
Toma—stocky, scarred across one cheek from a training accident three years before Aldric's arrival—shifted his weight. "The big one. The core-carrier. Still there?"
"Still there." Aldric could feel the rotfiend nest through the territory sense even from this distance: a wrongness in the forest's pattern, a corruption in the land that registered like a splinter under skin. "Edvard takes the primary kill. I'm on containment—northwest flank, preventing breakout toward the creek. Nobody engages the dominant specimen except Edvard. Questions?"
Harren—young, barely twenty, the newest addition to the household guard—raised his hand. "My lord, if containment fails—"
"It won't."
The certainty in his own voice surprised him. Three months ago, he wouldn't have been able to say those words without the Combat Module screaming qualifications at him. Now, standing in the torch-circle with silver-edged weapons distributed and the Architect's Knowledge humming at the back of his mind, he meant them.
Or at least, some honest part of him whispered, you're willing to act as though you mean them.
The distinction would have to be enough.
---
[Northeast Forest — Dawn, Day 158]
The forest floor was soft with autumn leaves, muffling their approach.
Aldric moved through the predawn grey with Edvard three paces behind, their breathing controlled, their footfalls deliberate. The territory sense expanded around him with each step—tree positions, ground slope, the underground water table that ran beneath this section of forest. The rotfiend nest was five hundred meters ahead, its corruption-signature growing stronger as they closed.
This is different from the reconnaissance, he reminded himself. Better equipment. Better coordination. Three months of conditioning.
And the body might still freeze.
He pushed the thought aside. Edvard's training philosophy didn't allow for second-guessing during execution. You prepared as thoroughly as possible, you committed to the plan, and you adapted when reality diverged from expectation. Hesitation cost lives.
The collapsed farmstead came into view through the trees: moss-covered stonework, a chimney that had survived the structure's decay, movement in the shadows between the ruins. Aldric raised his fist—the signal to hold—and counted the shapes.
Five rotfiends visible. Three more probably inside the remaining structure. The dominant specimen stood near the chimney, its chest cavity glowing faintly with the amber-red luminescence of the fire elemental core.
There you are.
He gave the signal to advance.
---
The plan worked until it partially didn't.
Dunn's team emerged from the northwest on schedule, their appearance triggering the rotfiends' territorial response. Three of the creatures turned toward the disturbance, shambling forward with the jerky coordination of things that had forgotten how living bodies were supposed to move.
Toma and Vek broke from the southeast, closing the containment angle, their silver-edged weapons catching the first grey light of dawn.
Aldric held his position on the northwest flank, watching the dominant specimen—waiting for Edvard to make his move.
The secondary rotfiend came from the collapsed structure's interior, faster than the reconnaissance data had predicted.
It burst through the rotted wall with a shriek that scattered birds from the canopy, its trajectory carrying it directly toward Sul—the youngest of the soldiers, positioned on Aldric's left flank, his stance already compromised by the sudden shift in threat direction.
Three seconds. That was how long the freeze had lasted during the reconnaissance. Three seconds of paralysis while his body refused the commands his mind was screaming.
This time, there was no freeze.
Aldric moved.
His sword came up in the guard position Dunn had drilled into him a thousand times, the silver edge catching the creature's swipe and turning it aside. The impact jarred through his arms—still wrong, still weaker than his tactical awareness demanded—but the parry held. He stepped into the opening, driving the point toward the rotfiend's throat, and felt the blade bite into corrupted flesh.
Not deep enough. The creature lurched back, shrieking, ichor dripping from the wound. Sul had recovered, his own weapon coming up, and together they pressed the secondary rotfiend toward the containment line.
Behind them, Edvard was moving.
The veteran crossed the clearing in three strides, his sword a blur of silver in the dawn light. The dominant rotfiend turned to meet him—too slow, far too slow—and Edvard's blade opened its chest with a precision that made combat look like surgery.
The amber-red glow guttered. The creature fell.
Aldric held his position while the containment collapsed around the remaining rotfiends. Six soldiers against six monsters, with coordination and silver against instinct and corruption. The engagement lasted perhaps three minutes.
When it was over, Sul was bleeding from a thigh slash that had gotten through his guard in the final exchange, but he was still standing.
They all were.
---
[Forest Clearing — After]
The fire elemental core sat in Aldric's palm, wrapped in oiled cloth, radiating warmth that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
The soldiers had gathered around the dominant specimen's corpse, their expressions mixing exhaustion with the particular satisfaction of men who had faced something inhuman and survived. Harren was cleaning his blade with hands that still trembled slightly. Toma was checking Sul's wound—deep but clean, nothing that wouldn't heal with proper care.
"The freeze," Edvard said quietly, appearing at Aldric's shoulder. "Gone."
"Gone." Aldric didn't look up from the core. Its weight in his hand was heavier than the mineral deposit should have been—denser, somehow, as if the fire it had consumed was still present in concentrated form. "The body still isn't fast enough. The parry on the secondary was late by half a second."
"The parry held. Sul is alive because of it."
"Sul is wounded because I was too slow."
"Sul is wounded because rotfiends are dangerous and combat is chaos." Edvard's voice carried no judgment, no reassurance—just the flat assessment of a professional evaluating performance. "You held your position. You adapted to the secondary threat. You didn't freeze. That's progress."
Aldric finally looked up. The morning light showed every line on Edvard's face, every scar from decades of other people's wars. The veteran had killed the dominant specimen with the kind of casual excellence that made Aldric feel like a child playing at something real men did for a living.
Which is exactly what I am, he reminded himself. A child playing at lordship. A stranger wearing borrowed flesh.
"How long?" he asked. "Until the body matches what the mind can do?"
"Another year. Maybe eighteen months, if you push." Edvard glanced at the soldiers behind them. "Why are you in such a hurry, my lord?"
The dread sense pulsed behind Aldric's sternum. South. Always south.
Nine hundred and thirty-seven days.
"Because something is coming," he said. "And I won't be ready in time."
Edvard studied him for a long moment. Whatever he saw in Aldric's face—urgency, fear, the impossible weight of knowledge that couldn't be shared—he filed without comment.
"Then we train harder," he said simply. "Come. Sul needs a healer, and your construction project is waiting."
---
[Varnhagen's Keep — Afternoon, Day 158]
Vek carried Sul on his back for the entire return journey, his stride steady despite the burden.
Harren walked beside them with his hand on Vek's shoulder—support, solidarity, the silent language of soldiers who had bled together. Aldric followed behind them all, the core secured in his satchel, and counted the men still walking.
Six out. Six back. One wounded, none dead.
The ratio was acceptable. Better than acceptable, given the nest's population and the secondary rotfiend's unexpected speed. But the dread sense didn't calculate success ratios. It only counted days.
The keep's walls came into view, and with them the construction site where the Sovereign Forge was rising from foundation stone. Gavric's workers had made progress during the hunt—the first structural elements were visible above the ground now, the geometry exactly as the Architect's Knowledge had specified.
Aldric walked past the infirmary entrance—where Sul was being transferred to the healer's care, Vek still hovering nearby—and continued directly to the construction site.
The foundation bed was prepared. The geometry was correct. The fire elemental core would complete the first tier of materials.
He unwrapped the cloth and placed the core in the prepared socket, feeling the warmth sink into the stone around it.
Something shifted in the site's ambient quality—not visible, not audible, but present. Like a room whose acoustics had changed, or a well that had found its water table.
First material secured, the Architect's Knowledge confirmed. One remains.
Gavric's blood. The craftsman's willing gift, binding hands to work.
Aldric straightened, brushed the dirt from his knees, and went to find the smith.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them. No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more. Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1