Chapter Eighty: The First Battle Ends

"Wha... Where the hell did he go?" Meg yelled, staring at the spot where just a second ago Tim had stood.

Thomas' face drained as he realised what happened. "They transported him away..."

He looked at Meg with fear, and she looked back at him.

"Well, there's still power left in the stores isn't there? We'll just do it again."

They quickly recharged the circle, and both of them together, activated it.

Meg shook as the power left her, it was far more than she was expecting, and she wasn't prepared for it. Thomas took it far worse, dropping to his knees, struggling just to remain conscious.

Tim stood in the middle of the circle, and immediately looked around to get his bearings.

"This is gonna get real fucking old." He muttered angrily.

"You need to find the one who's doing this." Meg said to him, after catching her breath.

"Oh I will..." Tim threw aside the sword he had been holding, and replaced it with two swords that were clearly meant to wielded with two hands. Each one was longer that Tim was tall, and together with thickness of them, it was clear that even if they went blunt, being hit with one would just crush a man's bones.

"And we will have words."

With that, Tim shot off. With a short run to build speed, he slammed into the ground, and launched himself skyward, high over the camp. Scanning the battlefield for a sign of anyone that could be sending a message to those who were summoning him, he found none, and knew they must be hiding in the shelter of the forest.

Coming down like a meteor, he smashed through the trees and crashed amongst the enemy archers. Swinging out his arms and wrenching his body round, he took stock of his surroundings, while cleaving through anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Looking down the treeline, he saw a man staring back at him with fear, a flash of light at his feet.

"Found you." Tim snarled, pointing a sword in the man's direction.

For a split second, Tim saw the tip of his sword embed itself into the chest of a man.

Unfortunately, it was one of the men who had summoned him.

Now stood once again out in the wastelands, Tim looked at where the man had been stood. The tip of his swords had been sheared away, as they were outside the purview of the transport circle, leaving one of them stuck in the summoner's chest.

Angry, lost, and down two quite expensive weapons, all Tim could do right now, was scream obscenities into the sky as he waited.

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Meg and Thomas sat in the tent, waiting for the end, as the battle continued to rage on. Meg felt exhausted, but was too tense to let down her guard, and there was a sick feeling in her stomach as she couldn't help but worry about the worst-case scenario.

And then the messenger came to prove her fears right.

Edgar burst into the tent again, worry mixed in with his anger.

"Meg!" He yelled. "Tim arrived, but he went into the forest and disappeared! What's going on?"

"Oh fuck." Meg said, her mind reeling as she thought about what to do.

"Well?!" Edgar asked.

"The enemy is transporting him away, even if we bring him back they'll just send him away again."

"If we could bring him back." Thomas muttered fearfully.

"What does he mean by that?" Edgar asked forcefully, pressuring Meg further.

"Wherever they're sending him, it's extremely far." Meg explained. "Even if we had infinite stored energy, the burden on us is great. I can handle more cause I've been doing this for centuries, but Thomas won't survive another one of those."

"Well you better think of something!" Edgar yelled. "They've replaced their troops again, none of our men will step forward out of fear, and this whole thing was your fault to begin with!"

"The hell it was!" Meg shouted back, her frustration bubbling into anger. "And what exactly do you expect me to do here?"

"I don't know, and I don't care! You're supposed to be some powerful witch, so DO SOMETHING!"

Meg felt her anger boil over at the unreasonable prince, but as it did, she felt a terrible calm wash over her, and she had an idea.

"Fine." She said quietly.

"Good." The prince spat out, and turned to leave.

"No." Meg grabbed the collar of his armor, and wrenched him back to face her. "You're not leaving just yet."

"What're you-"

"Shut it. Now listen here, you're gonna go out there, grab a few of your men, and shift that cart that's outside. You're gonna tear down the tent next door, and you're gonna make me some room. Then, I'm gonna bring hell to this Earth, and if I hear any lip from you, boy... You'll die screaming. Are we clear?"

Edgar looked into the eyes of the angry woman, and silently nodded.

"Good, now get to work." Meg let go of him, and Edgar left to complete the task he was given. Meg turned back to the other man in the room. "Thomas... Thomas get up!"

"What're you going to do?" He asked, stumbling to his feet.

"I'm going to summon some friends I made since the last attack on the library." She said, gathering supplies from the cupboard. "And you're going to draw storage circles on as many pieces of paper as you can, and pray that I'm right."

Meg thrust the papers onto the table, and stormed outside, muttering to herself.

"Don't you push me, I'll show them what happens I swear..."

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The man in the forest had collected himself since Tim had found him. Understanding that he had survived by the skin of his teeth, he relocated himself further along the treeline, and watched carefully for the demigod's return.

Then he saw something much more troubling.

The soldiers of Spara that had formed a barricade at the forest-facing side of the camp descended into a panic, though not from anything their enemies were doing.

Living corpses had pressed against their backs, and forced their way through their ranks, breaching out into the open battlefield. Lurching forward, they headed straight for the archers in the forest. Arrows pierced their chests, but they showed no signs of pain, or even slowing, as they moved with hunger towards their prey.

But even this wasn't what truly concerned the man watching, as any human, living or dead, can be hacked apart until they cease to function. What worried him, was the singular being that emerged along with them. A hulking beast masquerading as a human, standing well over two metres, and built like an ox, it moved with a purpose towards the forest.

One of the mounted soldiers that had been harassing the front line of soldiers had the misfortune of being too close to move away in time as the giant creature stepped out from the camp. He tried to pull to the side, but the giant leapt forward with arms outstretched, grabbing the horse by the neck with one hand and slamming its side with the other. The horse collapsed from the impact with a scream, slamming into the ground, and as the giant stood back up, the smaller zombies descended on the soldier.

Seeing this, the man in the forest didn't hesitate for a second. He didn't even take the time to collect his things, he simply ran.

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The battle was essentially over, the attackers had been driven back, and the camp was safe for now. This would have been the perfect time to charge forward and secure victory in a normal battle.

But the soldiers refused.

They didn't move from their spots defending the camp. Exhausted as they were, the adrenaline that had pumped through their veins long since depleted, they wouldn't even stand down.

All they did, was listen to the screaming that still came from the forest at regular intervals, and remember the sight of the creatures tearing the enemy soldiers apart, only for them to get up and join their killers.

Meg, for her part, was completely through caring. She sat in the command tent, arms folded, legs crossed, and stared stone-faced at the lords as they tried to talk to her. They had begun with joy, pleased by the turn of events, and already celebrating their victory over the enemy, expecting the undead forces to lead the charge on the other side of the forest.

But Meg said otherwise. She told the lords in no uncertain terms, and in full earshot of the soldiers, that if they advanced a step, she would turn on them. After that they pleaded with her to change her mind, to help them, or at least allow them to move on by themselves to follow through with the attack.

Meg didn't budge, and shortly after, a small number of the zombies, along with the big one, returned to the camp. They surrounded the command tent, and stood as guards. The lords, even though they were quite happy to use the creatures, couldn't stand to be around them, and relocated to another area of the camp.

They sent out a request for more supplies, and as the lords that had yet to arrive finally showed up, they reconstructed the camp to bulge at one side, away from where the witch had planted herself.

And like that they stayed, for two days.

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Having been running without pause for over 40 hours, Tim felt extremely reassured when he finally found himself in the desert. Even if it wasn't where he wanted to be, at least he now knew where he was.

Taking a sharp left, Tim began to run South, until eventually he could see mountains appear on the horizon. Eventually, he found himself in Spara, and he headed straight for the camp.

Upon reaching the camp, he began to slow down. The thoughts he had pushed to the back of his mind surfaced, and he began to feel sick with worry about what could have happened while he was gone.

Seeing that the camp was populated, some of his fear was lifted, but the main worry he had kept him from charging in. Then, as he walked into the camp, a roar shook the air. Startled, Tim looked to its source, and saw the monstrous undead watching him.

"Well, that answers that then." Tim said, finally allowing himself to feel relieved, and heading to the magic tent. Seeing the zombie guards at the command tent nearby, and noticing the distinct lack of people anywhere around him, he decided to look in there first.

"Hello..?" He said, poking his head through the door. There he found Meg, sat in the prince's chair, watching him.

"That took you a while." She said, expressionless and unwavering.

"...You're mad, aren't you?"

"Yes. Sit." Meg nodded her head at the seat opposite her, and Tim sheepishly took it.

"I, uh... I saw your handiwork outside." He said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, well, with you being indisposed, someone had to deal with the situation. Not by choice, you understand."

"Of course, of course. But it wasn't my fault that-"

Meg slammed her hand down on the table between them, and leant forward.

"There isn't a damn thing happening here that isn't entirely, your, fault."

Tim's mouth snapped shut, and he decided to keep quiet for now. Meg stood up, made her way around the table to stand behind him, and planted her hand on his shoulder.

"Now, you're going to go out there, and you're going to end this war, so I can go home. You're going to get it over with quick, and I'm not going to lift another finger to help. But before all that, I'm going to line up all the undead that have been made here, and you are going to put them all down. Because I don't need a small army, I've already made my point. Understood?"

"Yup."

"Good." Meg lifted her hand and stepped back. "Now get out."

Tim got up, and not wanting to anger Meg any more at the moment, decided to just go.

As he got to the door however, he couldn't help but ask. "Hey, why didn't you just summon me back once it was over?"

"Because I wanted you to realise just where you'd be if I decided not to help."

"...Okay."