“What is it?” she asks, tugging my shirt from behind. “What did you see?”

  We edge back up the hallway, away from the T-junction.

  “I see another satyr, lighting his way with that flaming fists trick. And what might be a wolf or something on a leash.”

  “War boar,” she says. “We train boars for defense.”

  “Okay, so there’s a war boar and some other satyr around that corner. Could it be a cousin or something?”

  “Yes, Dom, we’re all related.” The sarcasm in her voice drips more than the walls.

  “Might it be a friendly?”

  “Satyrs and humans don’t mix all that great to begin with. Add to that the fact that we’re in decidedly hostile territory. I would say there’s a very small chance that’s a friend.”

  I make a face—she’s a satyr too, after all—but she lifts a finger. "Dom, we’re not going to be able to talk this out. Trust me," she says grimly.

  We can’t go back to the minotaur, and it would be a tactical blunder to turn our backs to the new satyr and go up the other passage. There has to be an encounter. A violent encounter.

  I tighten my grip on the makeshift spear. It’s familiar, but I’ve never held a spear. Like Summon Satyr, this is a skill I didn’t have before I got here. I’m not sure I want the first time I try it to be against an actual opponent.

  “I need to practice or something.”

  “You know how to use it.”

  I examine the spear. Pointy end into foe. “I’ve never fought anything. Well, there was that one time—”

  “Fighting Stance,” she says, punching me in the chest.

  I immediately shift one leg back, lower my head and hold my spear diagonally across my body to block. It feels like I was taught fighting stance a long time ago and it’s the obvious way to stand. What the hell?

  “Hit that mushroom,” she says, pointing to a fungi on the wall the size of my fist.

  I adjust my stance and aim. I shift. I re-aim.

  She kicks me in the shin.

  “What the hell?” I hiss, keeping my voice down. “You have hooves. That really hurt.”

  “It will hurt us both more if he runs a steel blade through your gut. Now, hit that mushroom. Stop thinking. You know how to do this. Don’t think how. Just do.”

  I take a deep breath, pivot and point the spear, left hand forward. Then, with the motions of a pro pool player, I thrust my right hand forward with a snap, aiming with my left.

  Direct hit, shattering the mushroom off the wall.

  “There,” Sadie says proudly. “Now, do that into a bad guy.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  In a soft spot. I need a clear, easy target. Right below the ribs on his side. I have never considered where the weak spot on a satyr is, and yet I’m sure that’s where it is.

  “I’m ready,” I say. “You distract him, get him to turn away from me at an angle.”

  Before I say ‘and for the giant war boar’, she’s gone into the hallway on impressively quiet hooves. I wonder if Control Satyr is a later skill.

  “Ya sou,” she calls. She stops around the corner and continues with, “Eimai khamenos.”

  The other satyr growls what could be a question but sounds more like a challenge. Her guess that he isn’t friendly seems accurate. Sadie moves to the far wall, angling his attention away from me and the intersecting hallway I’m in. I sneak in two quiet steps, closing the gap. Fighting stance. I instinctually know he’s just out of range if I lunge forward. He’s slightly larger than she is with broader and more muscular shoulders.

  I grip the spear and slide into the hallway, out of his peripheral vision as he approaches Sadie. The war boar, a face of twisted muscle and curled tusks coming out from where tusks shouldn’t be, scratches the ground and squeals a sound that reminds me of tearing metal, staring right at me in the shadows.

  Apparently, Level 1 stealth isn’t very good.

  “Pin him to the wall!” I yell.

  Sadie punches the satyr in the throat, grabs his neck and slams his back to the tunnel wall. The fire around his hand extinguishes, dropping the leash from his other hand. The bleat he lets out is way more goat-like than I expected. Not bad at all for a little goat girl.

  Unleashed, the boar lunges towards me. Without planning, I spin out of the way on one foot and smack the boar in the rump with the back of my spear as he scurries past. I’m executing moves on automatic somehow. The bristle covered boar loses balance and becomes a pile of scrambling feet for a moment, trying to right himself.

  Sadie squeals. The male Satyr is trying to grab her smaller horns and push her away.

  “I’ve got him,” Sadie yells. “Look out!”

  The boar rushes me.

  I have never in my life tried pole vaulting. At some point, I decide to jam my spear to the ground, take a step, take another step off the wall, and end up propelling myself over and behind the beast.

  Holy shit I say to myself, impressed.

  The other satyr’s hands ignite. Sadie ignites hers and she struggles to keep him pressed to the wall, both of their hands flaming as they wrestle.

  The boar is headed back, aiming for Sadie’s legs. She’ll be smashed if he makes contact. I lunge, targeting the back haunch. The spear makes a light cut and the monster screams.

  The boar turns slowly to face me, looking like the patron saint of pissed off.

  “You good?” I ask, lowering my spear to skewer an incoming charge.

  She nods, landing a hoof into her opponent’s gut, which is exactly what I would have done. He lets out a breathy screech of pain. Then he yells some panicked words. I don’t think it’s Greek.

  I thrust my spear to threaten the pig back.

  It charges. I thrust and the beast uses one of those long, deformed tusks to deflect my spear over his head. He misses stepping on me as I dodge, slamming my back into the tunnel wall. I pivot. The boar turns to face me. Sadie and the satyr are behind me.

  It’s not a language or even words coming from the satyr. It’s a noise I can only compare to a room of angry children crying. I glance over my shoulder. His eyes glow unholy purple.

  “Stop his spell!” Sadie shouts, keeping him pinned to the wall. “Dom!”

  I turn and aim for the soft spot right below the satyr’s ribs. Fast thrust, and bingo, the weapon stops when it passes through and I’ve struck the wall behind him.

  Ding.

  You have gained the Impale skill (Emerging, Level 1).

  I killed a...monster? I glanced guiltily at Sadie. Even though she said it was necessary, it still made me feel a certain kind of way.

  A metallic chime sounds and my spear shimmers as I yank it out. The wooden haft smooths and glints, suddenly polished, and a leaf shaped metal tip grows from the point.

  Ding.

  Metal Tipped Spear.

  “Boar,” Sadie coughs, letting the body of the enemy satyr slide down the wall. “Boar, boar, boar.”

  I turn my attention back to the boar with my freshly upgraded spear. It paws at the ground, his eyes emitting the same purple glow as the satyr’s before I ran him through.

  I had not interrupted that spell.

  “Figures,” I say, dropping back into fighting stance.