The Drake

*As usual*, Zoe thought to herself as she scanned the horizon, *the biggest advantage we have over the isfet is that they’re always just so damn noticeable.*

She could see them as they were coming in, slowly blotting out the stars one by one. They started as one big blob in the sky, but as they came closer, she could make out individual specks. It helped that the swarm stood out against the night sky – their forms shimmered like black gold, and, even from a distance, their weird twitchy movements were unmistakable. They were kinda like a swarm of bats, except several levels of fucked up. Also, much larger.

Reaching for the spear on her back, reassuring herself that she still had her weapon, she spared the night sky one last glance before turning around and bolting for the alarm. Luckily, there were only a few steps between her and it in the pokey little guard tower, so it was barely more than a moment before she was punching the button, then wincing and regretting punching it at full strength because it had hurt, then pressing it twice more to be safe. The alarm – a painfully loud wailing sound – began to echo through the village. From her position atop the tower, Zoe could see lights being flicked on and figures starting to stir.

A lot of other lot of other people would have probably considered their job done at that point. Zoe, however, pulled the spear off of her back and levelled it at the sky. As far as she was concerned, this was where the fun part started.

The isfet were closing in fast. She stood stock-still, anticipating. Waiting. Running through everything in her head to disperse those heat-of-the-moment doubts.

They were getting closer. She could see them as individual forms now, with twisted wings supporting them as they fell more than flew through the air.

Closer. She could hear the siren-like moans and rumbles of communication that characterised any large group of isfet.

Closer. She could see blazing magenta and smell the tang of blood and viscera.

Closer.

Closer-

Close enough!

Planting herself atop the tower, she raised her spear. As one of the creatures split from the rest of the swarm to target her, she lunged forward and impaled it, driving her spear through its body and into the crux she’d seen in its amorphous mass. It jerked back, stopped in its tracks, and she gritted her teeth as the impact ran through her tensed muscles. Wasting no time, she swung her spear around and let the now-limp creature slide off her weapon and off of the tower.

She’d have liked to have stayed up on top of the tower, letting any isfet that wanted approach her piecemeal, but the rest of the swarm had descended upon the village behind her like a bunch of really, *really* angry mosquitos. Her work was far from over. Quickly glancing around, she saw another isfet drone scuttering up the tower, and – without wasting a second – jumped off her high ground to plant her boots onto its- well, it didn’t really have a face, but there was a part of it that looked a little like a face, and that was what she hit. It shrieked as it lost its grip, twisting to try and shake her off, but she rolled with the fall and let her spear plunge through it, grappling it and spinning it around so that when they hit the ground, it took the brunt of the impact.

Rolling away from the body, she stood up, shaking out her probably-bruised limbs, and pulled the spear out of the creature. Before it could rise again, she spotted its crux – almost protruding from its top, kept safe from the fall it had just endured – and speared it before it could shift back down into the body and become harder to hit. The creature gave a final shriek, then lay still.

Shaking her head to clear it, Zoe clutched her spear and surveyed her surroundings. First, to ensure that she wasn’t about to be attacked by any more isfet; second, to see where she might be needed. As it was, a small flock of isfet had descended upon the blacksmith’s hut, so that was where she decided to go. First, a brisk walk, to make sure that she was able after the fall. Then, a run to get there quicker. Finally, when she was in range, she stopped, poised herself, and hurled her spear with all her strength. It slammed into one of the three creatures that was trying to batter down the building’s door, forcing a cry out from it as it fell. The other two wheeled around and immediately began to scramble towards her. One buffeted the air with wings that crackled with lightning and dripped with pond scum, while the other bounded forwards on six legs; five hooves and a stumpy foot.

Diving down to the ground and rolling under the creatures as they leapt for her, she popped up behind them, by the side of the building, and fumbled behind her for one of the tools holstered up the wall. Grabbing the handle of something, she yanked it from its hook and hurled it at one of the creatures. The hammer caught it in its equivalent of a forehead, and it reeled back – however, she knew that since she hadn’t hit its crux, it would only be inconvenienced by the blow. Not destroyed.

She sighed. “Wish it was that easy.”

Fortunately, she’d ended up close to where she’d thrown her spear. Pulling it out of the still-writhing isfet creature she’d impaled with it, she darted forward and jabbed it into the back of one of the other creatures, grimacing in satisfaction as she watched her spear-tip cleave its crux in two. Not wasting a moment, she stepped back, retrieving her weapon, before turning to face the last isfet drone standing. It howled at her, and tried to slash her with an appendage that looked like a cross between a wing and a claw, but she evaded the blow and responded with a slash in kind, carving a wound into its chest. It howled again, stumbling back, and she saw its crux shift up one of its limbs. Not giving it time to heal or change shape, she speared the limb and twisted, severing most of it from the body, before using her spear to impale the crux where it lay on the ground. The creature fell still.

There was a stabbing noise from behind her, and she wheeled around, remember the creature she hadn’t yet killed. But instead she saw a stout woman with dirty blonde hair lifting a sword out of the body of the last creature, scowling at it as though it had personally offended her in some way.

“Thanks for saving one for me,” the woman – Jane Adalwin – said to Zoe as she hefted the sword over her shoulder with a grin, and wiped her free hand on the sooty brown apron she was wearing.

Zoe felt her face break out into a grin of its own. “I like that *that’s* what you’re thanking me for,” she remarked. “Nothing is said of a saving of your life and livelihood.”

“Eh.” Jane Adalwin did not sound bothered. “I could have taken ‘em. Worst-case scenario, I’d have had to sacrifice Wilder as a distraction.”

“That’s not funny, Miss Adalwin,” came another voice from the doorway. A second later, another person – Jane’s assistant – appeared. His name was Virgil Wilder. He had a reedy physique and a nervous disposition, but what had always stuck out the most to Zoe was his missing left hand and forearm; the limb ended just below the elbow. She hadn’t stayed in this village long enough to pry about the story as to why it was missing (whether there even *was* a story, she didn’t really know), but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Oh!” Virgil gave a start as he realised she was there. “Hello, Zoe.”

“Hey, hot stuff.” She winked at him, and even in the dim light, she could see him flushing crimson. She did her best to stifle a laugh. He was too easy to tease. “You doing alright so far?”

He nodded. “…So far.”

“Hey, hey!” Jane snapped her fingers, cutting into the conversation, knowing smirk on her face. “Don’t start chinwagging with my assistant, *Drake*. Shouldn’t you get back into the thick of the fighting?”

“It’s *The* Drake.” Zoe huffed. She hadn’t come up with the title – it had sprung up shortly after she’d begun travelling – but if people were going to stick to it, she thought that the least they could do was stick to it properly.

Jane waved her off, still smirking. “Whatever.”

As much as Zoe wanted to hang around and trade barbs with the blacksmith, she knew that Jane wasn’t wrong. Howls echoed through the night – the fight wasn’t done. Tightly gripping her spear, she turned on her heel and began to make her way down the street.

“Wait!”

She turned back around. Virgil had stepped after her, holding something in his hand. Surprised, she turned back and took it. It was, she realised upon examination, a small dagger – just as long as her hand, including the hilt. A perfect little stowaway weapon! She looked up at Virgil, surprised by him. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

He blushed again, but held her gaze. “Don’t die out there.” There was an earnestness in his tone that she hadn’t been expecting.

“Trust me.” She gave him a two-fingered salute. “That ain’t the plan.”

Another noise of isfet echoed through the night air – this time a screech. Zoe stuffed the dagger into her belt before turning around and beginning to sprint back into the action.

“I’ll see you in the morning!”