Red dots.
Dozens of them.
Enemies.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't wait to confirm.
He bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip over the caravan.
"SLOW YOUR PACE! ENEMIES!"
The reaction was instant.
Violette, who had been walking quietly beside his horse, was transformed.
The confidence he had seen earlier was not a fluke.
She didn't scream. She didn't flinch.
She drew a small, crude dagger from her boot—one Anna must have given her.
She instantly positioned herself in front of Roland.
A bodyguard.
Not far away, Anna's reaction was just as fast.
She ripped a long dagger from a sheath hidden in her dress. Her face was pale, but her hands were steady.
Roland himself drew his longsword. The shing of the steel was sharp and clean.
He was not afraid.
His own personal strength was nothing to scoff at.
He had been trained in combat for many years.
He glanced at Violette.
"Keep your abilities hidden for now," he whispered, his voice urgent.
She nodded, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.
He had to be cautious.
For the past few days, he'd noticed Knight Rena acting suspiciously.
During rests, he would sneak off, riding into the woods alone.
He said he was "scouting."
Roland knew better.
Rena was his brother's man. Cassian's dog.
And Cassian wanted him dead.
He had to be on his guard.
...
"Enemies?"
Knight Rena's voice, muffled by his helmet.
He laughed. A short, ugly, disdainful sound.
"This is imperial territory, you fool! How could there be enemies?"
He spurred his warhorse to the front of the column, riding ahead onto a small rise.
He was ready to mock Roland again.
But the words died in his throat.
His expression, hidden behind steel, quickly turned to one of pure, abject horror.
Roland rode up beside him.
He saw them.
Dozens of them.
They were shambling out of the trees, drawn by the sound of the caravan.
They were... rotting.
Flesh dripped from bone in wet, grey strings.
Jaws hung open, broken and slack, moaning a low, hungry, guttural sound.
Their eyes were milky, empty, and fixed on one thing.
The living.
The smell hit them. A wave of rancid, coppery death.
"Rotting Corpses..." Rena whispered.
He and his dozen light cavalrymen drew their swords.
"Form up! Prepare to charge!"
...
Behind them, the caravan erupted.
Panic.
The seventy slaves, who had just been marching in numb silence, broke.
They screamed.
It was pure, undiluted terror.
Her face was as white as a sheet.
She had never seen a monster before.
...
"FOR THE EMPIRE! CHARGE!"
Rena and his men spurred their horses.
They hit the line of corpses like a hammer.
The cavalrymen's swords flashed, cleaving heads and limbs.
But the monsters... they didn't care.
They didn't feel pain.
They grabbed at the horses' legs. They pulled the riders from their saddles.
A man screamed.
He was unhorsed.
Before he could even stand, three corpses were on him.
He was torn to pieces.
His screams were wet, choked off by blood as they ripped his throat out.
Another man went down.
...
And a group of the corpses broke off.
They ignored the knights.
They had smelled the larger group of living, breathing food.
They shambled, then broke into a stumbling run.
Straight for the wagons.
Straight for the slaves.
Roland saw it instantly.
"FORM A DEFENSIVE CIRCLE!" he roared at the slaves. "USE THE WAGONS!"
But the slaves were useless.
They were paralyzed with fear, huddled together, crying and pushing.
A man at the edge tripped.
A rotting corpse was on him in a second.
It grabbed him by the shoulder, its broken fingernails digging into his flesh.
It bit down.
A spray of red.
The man shrieked, a sound of agony.
He was bitten to death.
The slaves saw it. They were about to break, to scatter into the woods.
They would be picked off one by one.
Roland knew he had seconds to stop the rout.
"ANYONE WHO RETREATS NOW..." he bellowed, his voice raw with command, "...WILL BE EXECUTED BY TORTURE LATER!"
The cold, cruel threat cut through the panic.
The slaves froze.
Torture was a fate worse than a quick death.
But he didn't just threaten.
He acted.
He leaped from his horse.
He met the first monster that had broken through.
It lunged at him, its jaw snapping.
Roland's sword was a blur.
A single, clean, horizontal strike.
The monster's head, separated from its neck in a spray of black ichor, flew through the air.
The body stood for a second, headless.
Then it collapsed.
Roland didn't even pause. He spun, his blade already moving to the next one.
He was fast. He was strong.
The slaves, frozen between fear of the monsters and fear of their new lord, stared.
Roland saw their hesitation.
He needed them to fight. Not just to cower.
He bellowed another order.
A smarter one.
"KILL ONE OF THESE MONSTERS..."
He plunged his sword through the eye socket of another corpse.
"...AND I'LL REWARD YOU WITH ONE COPPER COIN!"
He kicked the dead monster off his blade.
The slaves' eyes, once filled with blank terror, changed.
One copper coin.
That was... a fortune for a salve
The terror was still there.
But now, a new fire was burning beside it.
A hot, desperate, greedy fire.
Since there were so many of us, it won't hurt to try, right?