(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

“Right flank!” one of Kel’s retainers screamed from behind, his voice drowned out by the thunderous churn of hooves.

Julian snapped his reins, his windsoul mount surging forwards. A twisted wall of bramble blocked their path, but that mattered little. A churning gust swallowed the charger. It kicked off, rocketing up and over. Stood low in the saddle, Julian barely noticed the jolt when they touched down thirty strides past the barrier of hooked thorns.

His warband landed around him. Kel was on his right, while Adrian and Edmund were on his left. Their eight retainers covered the flanks and rear.

“I see the bastard!” one of his men screamed.

Julian turned just in time to see the man fire his arbalest, the head of his bolt wreathed in a dull grey sheen. It ripped through the air, the crack cutting over the din of pounding hooves. Rocketing past a trunk by the thinnest of hair’s breadths, it slammed into something unseen.

An echoing call followed, so deep it rattled Julian’s chest. Moments later the beast swung into view, shining resplendent with Gold might. He already knew what it was called — the palace records had been quite clear that they were one of the more stubborn and ornery bastards that could be found in Vainblood. A warsloth.

Except this bastard was a dire variant, and half again as large as the diagrams he’d seen. Fucking hells, even hunched over it had to be at least twelve strides tall.

Built like some sort of ape, it loped after them on over-long forelimbs, each one as thick as his charger's legs. Grasping, halfmoon claws sprouted from its hands like honed scimitars. They were cumbersome — when it ran on the ground at least.

Swinging forward, the beast landed with two feet planted. The over-muscled limbs coiled, before it exploded upwards, leaf litter flying in every direction. One, long limb flashed up, it’s curved claws snagging a thick branch like a grapple. Flinging itself forward, it flew to the next tree, and hooked another.

Bolts studded its chest and belly, fleshy craters blown open by the volleys of his retainers. Yet they bled little. Tiny vines wormed their way through the beast’s blood sodden fur. Punching through hide and flesh, they stitched the wounds closed, staunching the bleeding while its health went to work.

Locked on their band with hateful malevolence, the warsloth gained ground, surging closer and closer. By the gods, nothing that large should be that fast — this couldn’t go on.

Julian snapped his reins again, urging his mount. It merely kept pace. Panting hard, and sodden with sweat, the horse-beast was already drawing deeply on its reserves. Even draining it’s resources like water to maintain a Skill-borne, hastening tail wind, they couldn’t pull away.

He cursed their rotten luck for running into the beast. Had Kaius and his team really had to snatch that reagent? It had stirred up the fervour of every beast for leagues. They knew he was following them! They should have taken a wide berth — saved their strength for the battles to come. But no, the prospect of bloody coin was too alluring for the pack of guildhounds. Of course it had been.

And now, to keep pace, they were forced to rush through a madhouse. They’d tried to wait it out — but without a prize to fight over, the creatures had lingered. Any longer, and there was a good chance the delvers would have pushed out of the range that Sir Violetguard could watch them from the skies with a bound bird.

Most creatures had steered well clear of a warband of twelve Silvers with similarly potent mounts, but there luck only stretched so far.

Riding hard, Julian constantly flicked between their route ahead and the beast that was quickly gaining on them. He could trust his charger to avoid obstacles all on its own — but he needed to find them a way out of danger.

Moments later, he looked back just in time to see the warsloth swipe at the air in front of it. Dozens of spike-shaped thorns ripped toward them in a wide cone. Julian grit his teeth, snatching up his shield from the side of his saddle. Gripping his mount tightly with his knees, he twisted to face the assault, hunkering down behind his guard.

A flicker of Will activated the enchantments, the air flaring bright with mana as his entire band did the same. Thorns hammered his shield in a single stream, the wild sprawl forced away from his mount to land on his defences. It slammed Julian back, rocking him in the saddle.

Glancing over the lip of his shield, he saw the warsloth winding up again. Swinging from a branch, a disk of wood hovered in the palm of one of its clawed hands, burning with foul energy. It was a potent thing — far more dangerous than the earlier needles.

The warsloth hurled the disk right at him. Julian sucked in a sharp breath, the humid forest air tainted by the tang of his sweatsoaked armour.

He guided his mount to the side, the charger lurching left. In that same moment, a retainer on his flank lurched behind him.

“Sir flowers!” the man yelled. His shield burned bright as he braced, a wall of shimmering energy covering both himself and his liege. The burning disc punched straight through the Skill, slamming into the man’s kiteshield. Metal screamed as the man was flung out of his saddle.

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He yelled, just barely snagging the horn of his saddle and hauling himself back into it.

This couldn’t go on.

“Sir Violetguard!” Julian roared, guiding their band around a patch of white nettles — the pain would slow their chargers down.

“Yes, my lord!”

“Find us a fucking clearing!”

The forest was the beast’s domain. Rough terrain was slowing their mounts down, and hemming them in. If they just had some open ground, they’d be able to run rings around the beast, whittling it down with their crossbows. Hell, he’d like to see it face down a proper cavalry charge.

“Sir!”

A vine ripped its way out of the trunk of the nearest tree. Thirty strides long, it was as thick as his arm, and studded with serrated rings. The vine snapped towards him with a crack.

Julian ripped his blade from its scabbard. Incise Dishonour surged into the steel, a wave of distortion rippling ahead of his upwards slice. He tightened his grip as his blade jolted in his hand. Leaning forward, the severed end of the vine slammed into his shield.

“And keep fucking shooting the thing!” he roared. Locking eyes with Adrian, Julian jutted his chin towards their pursuer. His teammate nodded, letting out a trilling whistle.

Adrian's mount pulled close to his own, following its movements exactly. Swinging one foot free, Adrian spun around, sitting reverse. Setting his shield onto its saddle-hook, the man summoned his oversized arbalest and drew the string in a single clean motion. It ratched into place.

Runes burned on the crossbow’s metal arms, and the oversized broadhead bolt crackled with unstable potency.

“Ready!” Adrian yelled as four more of their retainers drew their own crossbows. “Fire!”

Thunder rocked the forest, a sharp needle to Julian’s ears. Glancing back, he saw the volley tear into the beast, a haze of light trailing Adrian’s bolt.

The warsloth flung sideways, three shots going wide. Three more sank into its belly, ripping through its hide as blood exploded from the wounds.

Adrian’s bolt slammed into the creature's elbow. Ripping blades of force erupted from the point of impact, tearing bloody ravines through the creature's flesh. It roared, landing on the ground with a heavy thump. Power swirled through the creature as it pulled its wounded limb in tight to its chest. Three more vines sprouted from trunks close to their formation. Julian ducked low, one vine whistling overhead.

One of his retainers screamed, his charger whinnying in fright. A glance showed the man's leg had been crushed, blood fountaining through the gaps in his armour — he still rode hard, stopping was a death sentence.

They drew away, the warsloth unable to match their pace without swinging through the canopy.

It wouldn’t last. They’d managed that same trick three times now.

His men loosed again — this time the creature blocked, a summoned slab of wood intercepting their fire. Not even Adrian managed to penetrate it.

“I found one!” Sir Violetguard yelled from the centre of their formation — the man was vulnerable when focused on his bound beasts. “A half-league ahead, just a little to our front right!”

That was the best news he’d heard all year. They might make it before the beast healed and caught up again.

Julian nudged his beast, guiding it to circle around the right of a large tree that was looming close.

His archers gasped in shock. “It’s disappeared!" one of them screamed.

He barely heard them. The warsloth launched itself out of the tree trunk ahead of them with a bellowing cry, claws burning on its uninjured arm.

With bare moments to react, Julian yanked his mount to the side. The warsloth sailed past — so close that he could have reached out and run his fingers through its greasy fur. It surged past him, racing towards Edmund. The baron was looking away — the attack coming when he was still watching their rear.

“Lord!” the retainer on the Baron’s left flank yelled.

Yanking on his reins, the man forced his mount to slam into the side of Edmund’s own, knocking the baron aside.

The warsloth hit them a moment later, a clawed fist slamming into the man. The retainer screamed, both man and mount going down with a wet crunch.

“Henri!” Edmund screamed, reaching out to the retainer. That had been one of his men.

The warsloth ripped him away, punching its claws into the downed windsoul charger as it closed its maw around the man’s breastplate. His scream choked out as blood gushed free of the grating of his helm.

“Fuck!” Edmund roared, slamming his fist into his armoured thigh.

Julian only hoped the offering would slake the beast’s thirst. If it pursued them out of simple hunger, or even territorial rage, the life of a single knight might be enough. A worthy cost — the man had done his job well.

With the creature revealing it could portal between trees, it was even more vital that they reached the clearing as soon as possible. There, he was far more comfortable that they could ride rings around the beast, and bleed it dry with thousands of bolts if need be.

Beside him, Adrian raised his arbalest to his shoulder.

“I have a shot,”

Julian held out a hand. “Leave it. Better we gain as much ground as possible.”

“What?!” Edmund said, glaring at him.

“Calm, Adrian,” Kel replied. “We’ll bring the beast down, but it has the advantage in these trees. Just be patient.”

“It killed Henri!”

“After the good man sacrificed his life to save your own,” Julian replied, combing through the trees around them for even the slightest hint of a treeline. “Best not waste it.”

Urging his mount onwards, Julian listened closely to the fading crunch of metal and bone, and the wet tear of flesh. The second it stopped, the chase was back on.

Fucking Kaius, they could have avoided this mess.

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