They were gone.

  Just like that.

  Tiller hadn’t even moved to raise an earthen barricade for them.

  Fire erupted to blind him. Smoke belched from the impact, quickly whipped away on the breeze. What remained were chunks of meat and flaming carcasses. Lita, somehow, was still in one piece. Dazed and spinning in a slow, confused circle, but still intact.

  The Finality soldier spun towards Tiller’s unit. This time he reacted. The fireball that seared through the air collided with a surging pillar of earth. The explosion was still blinding, the earth scattered on the wings of flame.

  It all happened so fast.

  Lita mumbling, “Hey! Dude! I’m okay!”

  The dwarf’s arsenal, burning on his corpse, igniting, the flames bypassing fuses. A cacophonic series of booms, one on top of the other. Dirt spraying, smoke billowing, pieces of Lita flying in every direction.

  The Finality soldier twitched, glancing back at the explosions, then seeing the bomb by its feet too late. It moved, as if to kick it, but the world fractured as the device exploded. The ground shook, Tiller’s eardrums convulsed. The blast wave pulsed out. The Finality soldier was tossed in the air. Trees fell.

  The Finality soldier landed on his feet. He shuddered, nearly toppling over on one side. Tiller saw it then—one leg bone was partly gone, chewed away by something. That was the wound it carried.

  Cutter actually cackled as he reached the skeleton, glaive spinning. The blade crashed into the skull, bone chips flying, a score mark streaking down the dome of bone.

  The spiked ball of the mace flashed out, but Cutter spun back. Arrows pelted the figure as it lurched at Cutter. Tiller pushed with his hands and a pillar of earth punched up, uppercutting the skull. Then Thunk was there, his club smashing down.

  Tiller’s heart beat a victory beat. They could do this. They could actually do this.

  The skull turned towards Thunk, mace spinning on its chain, then more arrows, from behind it this time, smacking into its skull. It staggered. A throwing knife, green with poison, spun through the air towards it.

  A bony hand snapped out, faster than eyes could see, and plucked the dagger from the air. It squeezed and the dagger shattered. The needless display of raw power upset the triumph that had been playing in Tiller’s heart.

  The mace lashed out, hitting Thunk in the chest. He tumbled back, limbs flailing, blood trailing his form. Cutter danced in to strike again but the chain of the mace slapped through his feet, landing him on his back. A skeleton foot landed on his chest, pinning him there. The vicious little eyes in their shadowy recesses peered down at him with vengeance and scorn, the mace swung up.

  Arrows peppered it. Earthen punches smashed into it. Nothing seemed to steer it from its course. The mace head arched into the air, the chain snapping taut in the moment before the blow would fall on the defenseless human.

  It shot down, but came up short.

  Tiller started. Had it missed?

  Then he saw that the skeleton was floating. Its feet not touching the ground. The feet spun comically a few times as it scrabbled for purchase, lifting higher in the air. It swung again, but the chain couldn’t reach. It was five or six feet up, drifting like the world’s meanest balloon.

  As it rose up, the new figure appeared. The adept. Reader. His staff still glowed from the weave he had woven. The explosion must have set him free, burning his bindings or smashing his tree.

  Cutter was on his feet, swinging up with the glaive. The broad head smashed into the ruined leg, the monster howled in agony. Then it writhed, gold light flared, and it was falling.

  Cutter dodged back. Tiller braced, tensed. The skeleton landed on both feet, roaring in pain as the impact jarred the damaged leg. Tiller struck. A spear of earth, the last he could summon, punched up and hit the withered ruined bone. The onset howled, an immense and otherworldly howl.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Tiller pumped his fist. “YES!”

  The bone snapped and it crashed to the earth. Cutter slashed with his glaive, carving more chips of bone. Reader hopped from one foot to the other at the fringes, impotent. The arrows kept peppering the monster, but to no effect.

  River barked from behind him. “Blades are no good against bone.”

  Tiller cast his gaze around. Thunk was breathing, but otherwise motionless, his huge club lying by his side. “Thunk’s down! Everyone else has arrows and blades.”

  River arched an eyebrow and nodded towards the shovel in Tiller’s hand.

  “What? Oh, no. No way. Besides, a shovel is a blade, isn’t it? It’s got an edge…”

  River said, “So does an axe, but that would serve better here. It’s a blunt instrument.”

  Tiller just about managed not to tremble at the prospect.

  Cutter’s glaive smashed bone fingers and the mace fell to the ground. That was an improvement, but the other hand held fire. Cutter dove aside as the fire belched forth. He rolled and dodged as more streamed towards him. The skeleton writhed on the ground, twisting to cast more fire at the trees that sheltered Huntress and Norris. Another comet sailed just over Tiller’s head.

  River urged, “Do it, farmer. We might have the bastard, but he’ll take so long to kill with blades and arrows, more of us will die.”

  Tiller looked down at the shovel in his hands, then forlornly back to the elf. “But Cutter said… he said I wouldn’t have to…”

  Reader threw a stone. It was a big stone that he’d found lying on the ground. The problem was that Reader stood about six feet back from the writhing monster and the stone probably travelled two.

  Tiller glanced back at River. “They’ve got this…”

  More fireballs seared the air. There was a scream from the treeline where Norris and Huntress lurked.

  Tiller grimaced. He raced forward a dozen yards, and stopped as Cutter swung at the prone figure.

  “They’ve got this…”

  The bone hand snapped out and caught Cutter by the ankle, yanking him from his feet. The creature scrabbled to him, keeping him pinned. He flailed with the glaive, the blade sparking off armor and chipping off bone. The skeleton was wheezing as it propped itself over him, leaning on its shattered wrist. It was trembling, gasping. It was so close to finished.

  It wheezed into Cutter’s face, pinning him with its ruined arm, raising the good one. “Lord Eater would want you… but if I can’t take you to him… uhhhh… I’ll take you with me!”

  He raised his hand, flared, filling with flame.

  Then the skull imploded, the shovel blade spearing down. It shattered like so much china, splintering and crumbling. The monster went limp, sagging, the bones loosening from each other, becoming a jumble.

  Cutter blinked, looking up to where Tiller stood above him. Instead of panic or fear, there was just glee in Cutter’s voice. “Well, would you look at that, pal!”

  Tiller stood shaking. “That was… he could have torn me apart with a thought… you said I wouldn’t need to get up close and personal.”

  Cutter shrugged. “Meh. Worked out, didn’t it.”

  Tiller looked around the clearing. He could no longer discern the corpse of the dwarf. In the wake of the explosion there was nothing but a black, bloodied smear on the ground. The Bufo was still on fire, its hulking corpse missing terrible chunks. The goblin warmage lay in a broken heap, largely intact, probably dead, its robes smoldering. Lita was nearly back together, the last pieces slithering across the ground to the partly assembled whole.

  Tiller looked back over his shoulder. Huntress was limping from the trees, clutching a blackened arm. Norris was beside her, picking his way carefully. Thunk was sitting up, his chest a mess of blood and looking decidedly misshapen.

  He looked back to Cutter. “It sort of worked out… a lot of people died to save this one guy.”

  A nervous voice spoke. “Name’s Reader, by the way… and… thanks, I guess. I’m really sorry.”

  Cutter sat up. “You made it! Shit, I nearly forgot we were here for you when things got exciting towards the end! Sweet. Mission accomplished!”

  Tiller gestured. “But… they’re all dead…”

  Cutter shrugged. “The others won’t mind.”

  Even as he said it, River appeared at his side. “Hmmm… guess that’s the 600 coins and the loot gone. Let’s see, one, two… three ways? Does the assassin get a cut? I don’t think that was part of the deal…”

  Cutter said, “The warmage might still be alive.”

  OOOMF! The warmage’s robes ignited fully, clothing the body in flame. It didn’t so much as stir in protest.

  Cutter said, “Fine, fine. Three ways. I guess we better see what I gave up to save this geek. Bet it’s the rarest sigil on God’s green earth.”

  Cutter got to his feet and kicked at the pile of bones and empty armor. A glowing sigil rolled out.

  Cutter chuckled. “Well… could be better, could be worse, I guess.”

  River was a little deflated. “Don’t know why you’d care, you’d given it to us anyway.”

  Cutter shrugged. “Sour grapes. Schadenfreude or something. Just nice to know I didn’t miss out on ten grand to save old Reader here.”

  Reader said, “Gee. Um, thanks?”

  The sigil was . It showed the silhouette of a man, with a mirror behind it depicted in fading lines.

  Cutter said, “I guess that’s a teleportation sigil? Yeah? It’s still worth a cool G. I could use a cool G.”

  River scooped the sigil up. He said, “The weapon will be worth a fair price as well.”

  Cutter said, “Great. That’s great. Well, enjoy.”

  River moved off to check on Thunk. That left the three men standing alone. There was a silence between them. It might have been the calm after the storm of the battle, each man reflecting on the mortal finality that they had each needed to confront. It might have been the significance that there were three of them now, together. Three men from the same world, lost in the insanity that was Scape.

  Cutter smiled. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to pay these parasites. Get them back to Medley so they can get healed. Then we’ll scrape what gold we have left together and have a party. It’s about time we all had a proper chat.”