Pain lanced through Val''s side, dragging him from a sleep back to his own body with jarring suddenness. He gasped, eyes flying open to find Elara leaning over him, her fingers probing at his wound.
"Sorry," she murmured, not looking particularly apologetic, "but I need to clean this."
Val blinked, disoriented by the abrupt transition. The guard house room came into focus around him. Stone walls, low ceiling, the soft glow of candles replacing the harsh sunlight of his dream. Other rangers lay on nearby cots, some sleeping, others sitting up and tending to their own injuries.
"How long?" Val managed, his voice a dry rasp.
"You''ve been out about six hours," Elara replied, wiping sweat from his forehead with a damp cloth. The coolness against his fevered skin was momentarily blissful. "Fever''s gotten worse."
Val tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Weakness washed through him like a physical wave, leaving him light-headed and nauseous. The wound in his side burned with renewed intensity, shooting tendrils of fire through his abdomen with each shallow breath.
"Don''t," Elara said sharply, placing a restraining hand on his chest. "The infection''s spreading. Moving makes it worse."
Val subsided, lacking the strength to argue. He watched silently as Elara removed the old bandage, revealing the wound beneath. Even through his fever-hazed vision, he could tell it had deteriorated significantly. The edges were an angry red, the center seeping thick yellowish fluid. The skin around the wound was swollen and hot to the touch.
Elara cleaned the area with practiced efficiency, her touch clinical despite the obvious concern in her eyes. She applied fresh healing paste from their supply now visibly dwindling and wrapped the wound with a clean bandage torn from what looked like a villager''s donated shirt.
"That won''t be enough," came a gruff voice from the doorway.
Val turned his head to see Captain Jorin standing there, his expression grim as he surveyed Val''s condition. Beside him stood Rolf, the Willow Creek guard captain, looking equally concerned.
"The paste can''t keep up with the infection," Elara confirmed without looking up from her work. "He needs something stronger."
Rolf and Jorin exchanged a meaningful look. After a moment, Rolf nodded and stepped forward.
"We''ve been saving this," he said, producing a small glass vial filled with amber liquid. "Last healing potion in the village. Was keeping it in reserve but..."
"No," Val protested weakly, recognizing the value of such an item in these isolated areas. Healing potions were rare and precious, requiring both skilled herbalists and mages to create. That the village had even one was remarkable. "Save it. I''ll manage."
Jorin stepped closer, his voice brooking no argument. "You''re one of only two aether-capable rangers I have, Val. We can''t afford to have you down."
Val felt a flicker of annoyance at the terminology. Aether-capable. As if his ability to channel aether through his body made him fundamentally different from his fellow rangers. It was a distinction he had always resisted, preferring to be judged on his skills as a ranger rather than an accident of birth.
Before he could voice his objection, Elara had taken the vial from Rolf, uncorked it, and was lifting Val''s head with her free hand.
"Drink," she ordered, pressing the vial to his lips.
Val tried to turn his head away, but in his weakened state, he was no match for Elara''s determination. She tipped the vial, and the potion flowed into his mouth. It was thick, viscous, and tasted like a combination of rotten eggs and bitter herbs. He sputtered, nearly gagging on the foul concoction, but Elara was relentless.
"All of it," she insisted, not releasing him until the vial was empty.
Val swallowed the last of the potion with a grimace, fighting the urge to retch. Almost immediately, a warm sensation spread outward from his stomach, flowing through his veins like liquid sunlight. The effect reached his wound, transforming the burning pain into a strange tingling pressure.
Elara pulled back the fresh bandage to reveal the wound already beginning to close, the angry red inflammation visibly receding. The yellowish discharge had stopped, replaced by the clear serum of healthy healing. Even as they watched, new pink skin began forming at the edges of the gash.
More dramatic than the physical healing was the effect on Val''s mind. The fog of fever lifted as if blown away by a cool mountain breeze. His thoughts, previously sluggish and disjointed, snapped back into focus with almost painful clarity. Strength returned to his limbs in a rush that left him momentarily dizzy.
"Better?" Elara asked, her professional mask slipping to reveal genuine relief.
Val nodded, taking an experimental deep breath. The pain was still there but diminished to a manageable ache. "Much. Thank you." He directed the last part to Rolf, acknowledging the significant sacrifice the potion represented.
The guard captain shrugged uncomfortably. "Captain Jorin made a case for your value."
"I apologize for the forceful approach," Jorin said, though his expression suggested he wasn''t particularly sorry. "But we don''t have the luxury of allowing personal pride to interfere with tactical necessity."
Val pushed himself to a sitting position, pleased to find his body responding normally again and nodded to the captain.
"The village needs defenders more than it needs medicine right now," Jorin replied bluntly. He turned to Rolf. "Tell him what you told me."
Rolf''s weathered face grew more serious. "Lysa and Lian returned from patrol about an hour ago. They spotted a large force of undead moving toward the village from the north. They''ll be here by midday."
"How large?" Val asked, already calculating the defensive requirements for the village''s modest palisade.
"At least five hundred," Rolf answered, his voice steady despite the enormity of the threat. "Ghouls mostly with beasts mixed in. Lysa said there is at least one Ogre with them."
Five hundred. The number hung in the air like a death sentence. Willow Creek had repelled small groups of undead with relative ease, but nothing approaching this scale. The palisade wall, while sturdy enough against a dozen ghouls, would not withstand a concentrated assault by hundreds.
"What''s our defensive strength?" Val asked, automatically shifting into tactical assessment.
"Two hundred combat-capable villagers," Rolf replied. "But only fifty with actual guard training. The rest are farmers, craftsfolk, anyone who can hold a weapon. Many of them have never seen real combat."
Val absorbed this information with growing concern. Untrained civilians against a horde of ghouls were little more than fodder. They would need organization, leadership, and a plan that maximized their limited advantages.
"I should check the defenses," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot.
Jorin nodded, apparently satisfied that Val was sufficiently recovered to be useful. "I''ve been discussing options with Rolf. We''re going to concentrate our forces at the north gate, where the attack is most likely to come. The south side is protected by the river, which the undead are reluctant to cross."
"And the east and west walls?" Val asked, standing carefully. His legs felt solid beneath him, the weakness of fever replaced by the more familiar ache of exertion and healing.
"Minimal coverage," Rolf answered. "A few guards to sound the alarm if the attack shifts. We can''t spread ourselves too thin."
It was a reasonable approach given their limited numbers. Concentrate force where the enemy was most likely to attack, maintain enough vigilance elsewhere to avoid surprises.
"I''ve divided our rangers to bolster key positions," Jorin continued. "Kaelen will command the wall directly above the gate with three rangers and twenty guardsmen. Lysa will lead a mobile reserve of rangers and the more capable villagers, ready to reinforce any section that comes under heavy pressure."
Val nodded, seeing the logic in placing their most experienced fighters where they could have the greatest impact. "And the rest of us?"
"You, Aric, and Lian will take the eastern section of wall with a guard sergeant and forty villagers," Jorin replied. "It''s less likely to see direct assault, but we can''t leave it undefended. If the attack shifts east, hold as long as possible and send for reinforcements."
Val gave a stiff nod, accepting the assignment. The eastern wall was indeed the least likely approach for an enemy coming from the north, but it was sound strategy not to leave any section undefended.
"Elara will remain here," Jorin added, "converting this building into a field hospital. Any wounded will be brought to her."
"And you?" Val asked.
"I''ll be with Rolf and Kaelen at the north gate," Jorin replied. "Coordinating the overall defense."
Rolf cleared his throat. "I should go. Need to call the village to arms and get everyone to their positions." With a nod to Jorin and Val, he strode from the room, his footsteps echoing with purpose.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Once the guard captain had left, Jorin turned his full attention to Val. "How are you really feeling?"
"Functional," Val replied honestly. "The potion worked well. I won''t be running races today, but I can fight."
Jorin studied him for a moment longer, then seemed satisfied. "Good. We''ll need every sword before this is done." He glanced toward the door. "Find Aric and Lian, then head to the east wall. Get to know the villagers you''ll be commanding. Most of them have never faced anything like this."
Val nodded, understanding the unspoken instruction. These weren''t hardened warriors but ordinary people thrust into extraordinary circumstances. They would need more than tactical direction. They would need reassurance, a steady presence to follow when their courage wavered.
"We''ll be ready," he promised.
Jorin clasped his shoulder briefly, then turned to leave. "One hour," he said over his shoulder. "That''s how long you have to prepare them."
After the captain departed, Val took a moment to center himself. The healing potion had worked wonders on his physical condition, but he could feel its limitations. The wound was closed but still tender, the infection neutralized but not without cost to his overall stamina. He would need to be mindful of his limitations during the coming battle.
Elara approached, carrying his sword belt and tunic. Worry was evidence on her slender face. "Here," she said, handing them over. "I cleaned and mended what I could."
Val accepted the items with a nod of thanks. The tunic showed signs of hasty repair, the tear where the ghoul had clawed him now held together with neat stitches. The leather of his sword belt had been wiped clean of blood and grime.
"How long will the potion''s effects last?" he asked as he pulled the tunic over his head.
Elara considered the question. "The wound won''t reopen if that''s what you''re asking. But the energy boost is temporary. By nightfall, you''ll feel the fatigue catching up."
"That''s assuming we''re still here by nightfall," Val remarked dryly, buckling his sword belt.
Elara didn''t smile. "Be careful out there. That potion was the last of our serious healing supplies. If you take another wound like the last one..."
She didn''t need to finish the thought. Val understood the precariousness of their situation all too well. No reinforcements, limited supplies, facing an enemy that outnumbered them more than two to one.
"I''ll send the serious cases to you," he said, deflecting her concern with practicality. "Keep a space for Aric if needed. The boy tries hard, but he''s still green."
"I''ll keep a cot with both your names on it," Elara replied with gallows humor.
Val found Aric and Lian waiting in the guard house''s main room, both looking rested if not fully recovered from their journey. Aric brightened visibly when he saw Val up and moving.
"You''re better!" the young ranger exclaimed with undisguised relief.
"Apparently I''m too valuable to let die," Val replied dryly. "We''ve got our orders. East wall with forty villagers of questionable training. Let''s go."
Outside, Willow Creek had transformed from a sleepy village into an armed camp. People hurried in all directions, carrying weapons, boards, anything that might serve in the coming battle. The central square had become a muster point, with Rolf standing on a wagon bed, organizing villagers into groups according to some system known only to him.
Val led his rangers through the controlled chaos toward the eastern wall. Unlike Oakspire''s imposing stone fortifications, Willow Creek''s palisade was a simple affair of fifteen feet of sharpened logs bound together with rope and tar, with a walkway running along the inside to allow defenders to see and fight over the top. Crude but effective against small groups of undead or bandits, it would be sorely tested by the coming assault.
The eastern section of wall stretched for roughly two hundred yards, from the river bend in the south to a watchtower marking the northeast corner. A small gate, barely wide enough for a cart to pass through, interrupted the palisade at its midpoint. Unlike the main gate to the north, this one was secured by a simple bar rather than the more elaborate mechanisms reserved for the primary entrance.
A guard sergeant awaited them, a stocky woman with close-cropped gray hair and the weathered complexion of someone who had spent decades in the open air. She straightened as they approached, offering a crisp salute that spoke of professional training beyond the typical village militia.
"Sergeant Mara," she introduced herself. "Captain Rolf said you''d be taking command here."
Val returned her salute with the more casual acknowledgment used among rangers. "Valtha Hearne. These are Rangers Aric and Lian. What''s our current status?"
"Wall is secured," Mara reported efficiently. "Gate barred and reinforced with additional timber. I''ve got ten guardsmen on duty now, with another forty villagers on their way from the muster."
Val nodded, pleased. "What can you tell me about the villagers we''re getting?"
Mara''s expression became less certain. "Mixed bag. Some hunters who know their way around a bow. A few farmers with experience defending against bandits. The rest are shop keeps, craftsfolk, anyone healthy enough to hold a weapon."
"And what weapons do they have?" Lian asked, speaking for the first time.
"Whatever they own," Mara replied with a shrug. "Bows, spears, woodcutting axes. A few proper swords among the guard. Captain Rolf distributed what spare weapons we had, but it wasn''t much. This village hasn''t been tested since a rampaging knoll pack half a dozen years ago. Life is peaceful at the northern tip of the valley, at least it was…"
It was about what Val had expected. Village militias were typically armed with repurposed tools rather than weapons designed for war. Against ordinary human opponents, such improvisation might be sufficient. Against ghouls, with their unnatural strength and indifference to pain, it would be a significant disadvantage.
"Show me the wall," Val requested, needing to assess their defensive position firsthand.
Mara led them to a ladder that provided access to the walkway atop the palisade. The wooden platform was narrow, barely three feet wide, with a chest-high railing on the inner side to prevent defenders from falling back into the village. The outer side featured periodic gaps between the vertical logs, allowing for bows or spears to be used against attackers below.
From this elevated position, Val had a clear view of the terrain beyond the wall. Unlike the northern approach, which had been cleared of vegetation to create an open killing field, the eastern side retained much of its natural forest. Trees grew to within thirty yards of the palisade, providing potential cover for attackers. It was a defensive weakness, but also explained why Rolf expected the main assault to come from the north rather than the east.
"Why hasn''t this been cleared?" Val asked, gesturing to the nearby forest.
"Started to," Mara explained, "but priority was given to the northern approach since that''s where most trouble comes from. East side gets less attention because the ground is lower here and tends to get muddy after rain."
Val nodded, filing away this information. Muddy ground could slow attackers, potentially offsetting the disadvantage of the nearby tree cover. If the undead did shift their assault to this section, they would have cover for their approach but might be hindered by the terrain.
He continued his inspection, noting the positions of the guard posts, the quality of the palisade itself, and potential weak points that would need reinforcement. The gate was the obvious vulnerability, but Mara had already taken steps to strengthen it with additional timber bracing.
By the time they completed their circuit of the wall, villagers had begun to arrive. It was a motley assortment of men and women carrying an equally diverse array of weapons. They gathered at the base of the wall, looking up expectantly as Val, Aric, and Lian descended to meet them.
Val surveyed the group, mentally categorizing them by apparent capability. Some showed the quiet confidence of those who had seen combat before, holding their weapons with practiced ease. Others clutched makeshift spears or axes with white-knuckled grips, fear evident in their rigid postures and wide eyes.
"I''m Ranger Val," he introduced himself simply. "These are Rangers Aric and Lian. Sergeant Mara you already know. We''ve been assigned to defend this section of wall."
He paused, allowing them to absorb this information. A few nodded; most simply stared, waiting for direction.
"For those who haven''t faced the undead before, there are things you need to know," Val continued. "Ghouls are strong, often as strong as they were in life, and they feel no pain. They won''t stop attacking when injured. The only way to stop them is to destroy the brain, which releases the necrotic aethers hold on them. Destroying their physical bodies is enough to stop them, but beware they will not die."
He demonstrated the key strike zones on an imaginary opponent, showing the most effective angles for headshots and neck strikes. Some of the villagers mimicked his movements, practicing the unfamiliar techniques with their weapons.
"They''re clumsy but relentless," Val went on. "They can''t climb well, which is why we have the advantage of the wall. But if enough of them press against a section, they can bring it down through sheer weight. So we need to thin their numbers before they reach us."
He turned to Mara. "Sergeant, identify anyone with archery experience and position them along the wall at ten foot intervals. Everyone else forms into three groups, one here at the gate, the others at each end of our section. If the wall is breached, those groups become our defensive line."
Mara nodded and began organizing the villagers according to his instructions. Val was pleased to see about a dozen step forward as archers, more than he had expected. A village like Willow Creek would naturally have a fair number of hunters, their skills now repurposed for war.
Over the next hour, Val drilled his impromptu force in the basics of undead combat. Aric demonstrated the most effective techniques for killing ghouls with minimal risk, while Lian arranged the archers and instructed them on prioritizing targets. Mara worked with the melee fighters, organizing them into a formation that would maximize their limited numbers if the wall was breached.
Despite their lack of formal training, the villagers proved quick learners. Fear provided powerful motivation, and by the end of the hour, they had formed into a reasonably cohesive unit. Not professional soldiers by any measure, but perhaps effective enough to hold their section of wall against a secondary assault.
As they completed their preparations, a horn sounded from the northern wall. Three short blasts signaling an enemy sighted. Val climbed to the walkway alongside Aric, Lian, and Mara, gazing northward over the village rooftops. From their position, they couldn''t see beyond the northern wall, but the sudden increase in activity there told its own story.
"It begins," Mara murmured, her hand tightening on her sword hilt.
Val nodded grimly. "Get everyone into position. Archers on the wall, melee fighters ready below. Nobody fires without direct order."
As Mara relayed his commands, Val continued watching the northern section of village. Civilians were being hurried toward the central buildings, children and the elderly ushered into the guard house where Elara had established her field hospital. Rangers and guardsmen ran along the walkway of the northern wall, taking up positions at regular intervals.
A second horn sounded, this time two long blasts, the signal that enemy forces were deploying. Val strained his eyes, trying to gauge the situation from the limited information available. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the village, the day more than half gone already. If they could hold until nightfall, perhaps the undead would lose cohesion, their controlling intelligence unable to maintain command in darkness.
It was a slim hope, but in their current situation, slim hopes were all they had.
"Val," Aric called from further along the wall, his voice tight with tension. "Movement in the trees."
Val hurried to join him, Lian following close behind. Aric pointed toward the forest line east of the village, where shadows shifted in ways that couldn''t be attributed to the wind. Val narrowed his eyes, focusing on the indicated area.
There. A figure detached itself from the deeper shadows, shambling forward with the distinctive gait of a ghoul. Behind it came another, then two more, emerging from the tree line with ponderous inevitability.
"How many?" Lian asked, his keen eyes already counting.
"Impossible to tell yet," Val replied, scanning the forest edge. "But if this is a coordinated attack, we can expect significant numbers."
He turned to Mara, who had joined them on the walkway. "Signal the north wall. They need to know we have contact."
Mara nodded and hurried to the nearest signal horn, sounding a pattern that indicated enemy sighted at the east wall. The response came immediately, a single long blast acknowledging the information.
Val returned his attention to the emerging threat. More ghouls had appeared from the forest, forming an uneven line that continued to grow as others joined them. These were no freshly turned undead but long-dead corpses in advanced states of decay, their flesh hanging in rotted strips from yellowed bones, empty eye sockets somehow still fixing on the village wall with malevolent purpose.
Behind this first wave came larger shapes of undead bears, wolves, and what might once have been elk, their antlers now grotesque protrusions festooned with rotting flesh.