Chapter 9
The next few days passed blissfully fast with few encounters of Ashe—nothing to match that shaving incident—and no accidents that came to the severity of Balthier's snake bite, thanks in part to Larsa's endless supply of potions. And as they continued south to Mount Bur-Omisace they slowly began to mesh. The three with weapons seamlessly attacked the fiends they encountered with rarely a word spoken to one another. They each knew the extent of their abilities and there was hardly a lapse in their wall.
Still they experienced some snags along the way, particularly when it came to their rations. Balthier and Vaan butted heads more than once, with Vaan acting on his ever-present hunger and Balthier following his sense.
"Balthier, I am hungry! We haven't had a decent meal since the Garif!"
The pirate, usually cool and calm was slightly red in the face and his grasp on his temper seemed to be slipping. "I know you are! You have complained of nothing else since we started out! Vaan, you're getting the largest portion of our food every day! Does it look like I'm doing well?" Indeed he did not, and he imagined the others could testify that he was looking thinner by the day.
The Garif were kind enough to feed them before they left, and Balthier had practically gorged himself on the meals they allowed him. However, he had been so light to begin with that it did little put extra weight on him, and now that they were back to something akin to snacks, he was not holding as well. Fran may not have shown it, but she likely worried for his health, but none worried more about his wellbeing than Ashe herself.
This is ridiculous. He's a pirate! He cares for naught else but treasure, so why do I care for him? She was constantly asking herself that question for her thoughts always seemed to turn to him. Whenever he was among the attackers and Ashe was carrying a pack, she could never keep her eyes off his back, and she wondered if he knew, but he never turned.
After a few days Balthier started retiring to his tent immediately upon setting it up, and would nap until dinner was ready. He ate the food slowly, as though hoping to savor whatever nutrients it could give him, and then returned back to his tent and continued sleeping as if he had never been interrupted. Balthier's behavior was raising so many eyebrows—even from Basch and Larsa—that they exempted him from watch and let him be. He continued this behavior clear through the Ozmone Plains until they reached the hidden and forbidden Wood of the Vieras.
Balthier sighed and glanced over at Fran with a strange guiltiness, as though it was his fault she was driven to call the way to Eruyt and open old wounds. As usual her eyes were unreadable and her emotions hidden, but she acknowledged his empathy by standing close to him, and then helping to slide the pack off his shoulders. He rubbed his neck and shoulders of the knots forming beneath, wincing as they seared his brain with a deep pain. The group had taken two steps into the Vieras' refuge before they turned, and Vaan said, "Balthier, are you coming?"
"No, go on without me." The would be sky pirate shrugged his shoulders and continued forward, leading the way for the rest, but there was one who deigned to be left behind. The Princess Ashelia was giving him an inscrutable look, and then she turned back entirely and walked so that she stood exactly in front of him, towering over him with her hands on her hips.
"What is wrong with you? You are not the same Balthier I remember starting this journey with."
He smirked at her and replied, "I am no different than I was when we first set foot on the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea, I just need some more sustenance to live by than you; and I am hoping these merchants have some." The sky pirate gestured with his head at the Moogles they had found on the Leviathan. With that he got up from where he had been sitting and said, "I do not suppose you kind gentleman might have a bite to eat."
"Ah, kupo, that we do!"
"Aha, so that's why you passed up that trip. Normally you would loathe to be out of the circle."
"I must set my priorities straight." Abruptly he asked, "Would you like a sandwich, Ashe?" The moogles may have been nice, but he certainly was not keen on uttering the word 'princess' around them, so he gritted his teeth and skirted his pet name for her.
"If you would be willing. We should probably stock up while we're at it anyway."
"Later. Four roast beef sandwiches."
"Four? Do you think Fran will want one?"
"No, she never does. Three of those sandwiches are for me."
"Three?! Balthier…!"
He gave her a partly pitiful look and said, "I'm too hungry to fill you in on my eating exploits, so I will let Fran do that if you so care to know how hungry I can get."
"You are more like Vaan than you care to admit."
"At least I don't complain all the time," he said with a teasing wink, but then once he got his sandwiches he simply began to wolf them down. She shook her head at him in amazement. In the time it took her to finish her first sandwich he'd gobbled down one and was working on his second. Balthier was finishing up his final one by the time the group came back, and both Larsa and Vaan were gaping at the food he held in his hand.
"So, what's the run down?" Balthier said.
"We must find M—"
"Where did you get that? I want some!"
"Please, Balthier, it would be most kind of you if you tell us where we can get sandwiches."
The sky pirate only kept looking at Fran, who stood nonchalantly and only finished her sentence when Larsa and Vaan had quieted, "We must find Mjrn. She has ventured forth from the confine of the Woods, but not far and certainly not for good."
"Excellent, then we should get going. Did they actually offer up any clues?"
Penelo sighed and said, "It makes no sense to me. She said something about being around men in iron. Soldiers. And she mentioned something about all of them in a warren."
The young heir to the throne suddenly woke from his brooding and replied, "The Henne Magicite Mines—maybe that's what she meant. They lie in Bancour Down at the Ozmone Plain. The entire region is a colony of the Archadian Empire. There would be soldiers."
Balthier suddenly groaned, rubbing his eyes. "We have to trek all the way back to the Ozmone Plains to find her? Well, let's buy some more provisions and get going. Wait…you said a 'mine,' didn't you? Good gods, who knows how long we'll be fumbling about in that place?"
"It's not especially big. We should not be in there for more than a day," Larsa said.
The sky pirate quirked an eyebrow at him and gave him a strangely skeptical look. "How can you be so sure?"
"I have read up on many things concerning the Magicite and the Nethicite. I am positive we'll be out of there in a day."
Ashe had felt a chill run down her spine when Balthier had mentioned fumbling about and she could see the crestfallen faces of the children as they too seem to imagine a fate worse than death—endless wandering. How could he? Balthier is one to jest, not scare. She looked at him more closely and could see a certain glint in his eye. It usually only appeared when he had something in mind he usually was never willing to share. Ashe continued scrutinizing him, but she listened carefully to what Larsa said.
The pirate dropped his eyes and rubbed the bottom of his chin as he thought of something, and then he glanced up again and nodded. "Right, we will need five and one half days of rations."
It hit her like a jolt of lightning. He had been wheedling information out of Larsa without appearing so, and she was commenting on this before she even realized it. "Five and one half days, Balthier? You typically tack on a whole days worth of rations more than we need. Any particular reason why not this time?"
"Of course, Princess," he replied with his usual smirk, if a tad bit more genuine, "I don't want to carry the excess baggage. A days less worth of rations should make us move faster, if not from the burden we won't suffer than from the terrible pang of hunger that we will."
They found the Henne Mines with surprising ease thanks in part to the informative Larsa, who appeared to have spent the majority of his childhood buried in political books as opposed to buried in toys. Balthier took one look inside the mines before he made a disgusted face. Ashe walked up behind him and asked, "Your expressions do little to soothe me."
"Then I would regard them as little as possible. I am simply not looking forward to spending a whole day in here without the light of the sun. I never realized how much I could miss it until I ventured into Raithwall's tomb," he replied, glancing back at her with his characteristic smirk. The pirate was the first to step into the mines, and disappeared into the impenetrable dark.
When the rest of the group followed they were relieved to see the dark only extended for twenty feet or so before they came across the first torch bracket. Penelo sighed and began skipping along to catch up with Balthier, who had apparently decided there would be no dawdling, and he began making his way through the cave. "Whew, I was afraid we would have to travel in the dark for long."
Balthier laughed and said, "My dear, I don't believe even the soldiers would be brave enough to travel through this in the dark."
"Hah! Would you?"
"I have been spelunking before. It was quite exciting; you might try it some day."
"Hmmm…I'm afraid I lack the courage that you have."
"Doubtful. It is the fear of the unknown that quails many stout-hearted fellows. I have simply worked to banish that fear from me."
"Really? I may do that too."
"I would not recommend it." He turned to her and peered into her eyes very solemnly and said, "Fear can be a powerful ally. It can descend you into panic, but the strong person can control fear for their own self-preservation. I would have to say I might be lacking in that department." She blinked in confusion at his response, but he just shrugged and continued onward.
Ashe was grateful to see that the greatest threat to them took the form of those terrible bats that swooped down from the ceiling screeching at their intrusion. I hope this does not take up too much of our time. Perhaps this will be an easy excursion and we can find Mjrn as soon as possible. She had to stop at that moment as their problem became perplexing. They had entered a tiny room with four doors on all of its walls.
"Hmm…I read back there that pressing a button would close two doors and open two others," Balthier muttered, standing in front of the button. For some reason he was hesitant.
"What are you waiting for? Were you not the one hoping to get through this cave in less than a day?"
He turned to frown rather severely at her, but then he sighed and said, "All right, here we go." Why was I hesitating? It is just a button, but he had developed this overwhelming feeling that it would not be a good idea. Maybe I have not completely exercised my instinct for self-preservation, he thought, but then there was no room for discussion when he pressed it. The doors unlocked, just as the sign said it would. See? No reason for worry.
He stepped back and turned around at his comrades smirking, but then movement from the ceiling above caught his eye. Balthier only had time to catch a glimpse of a sort of gelatinous blue before he crumpled under its weight, his face pressed painfully into the ground. He struggled to get out from beneath it, but already felt to be sucking the life from his form; he could barely move! Shocked cries and screams forced him to look up and see about half a dozen of the blue jellies dropping from the ceiling, attacking everyone without mercy.
Ashe struggled to destroy the creature looking up at her with its characteristic evil snarl, but even as she dispensed with it, three more dropped from the ceiling to replace it. Everyone in the group was becoming overwhelmed with the creatures as they piled on. When one came into direct contact of its skin she could feel it stick and numb her hand. Ashe cried out and tried to shake her hand of the numbing sensation, but two of them were slowly working her down with magick spells and their skin. She shuddered when he saw her legs disappear beneath one of them, and her vision began to slowly fade. No, it can't be. It's all over. We're all going to die here, she thought suddenly, feeling the panic overwhelm her. Oh, if there are gods above, please send down a miracle!
If there were gods, they did not immediately react to her plea to halt their deliverances. But then, quite suddenly the jelly shrieked and shrank back from her legs, crying out in pain. In another instant it was melting. She blinked her eyes in surprise at what she was seeing then, when she could focus her vision again, she could see it was happening all over the room. Her friends had long disappeared from view, likely lying on the floor from the onslaught of the dozen or so blue gelatins that had ambushed them. In a matter of moments they were all alone, just the seven of them lying in various positions on the floor still stunned numb by the creatures.
Basch was the first up and walked over to her, staggering slightly even as he still recovered. "Your Highness, are you hurt?"
"No, Basch, I am fine. Thank you." Normally the one who would help herself up, she felt a little too weak to be denying help at the moment. Her fears felt proven correct when she stumbled and swayed dizzily for a moment, before she gripped her head and the sensation faded. "What happened? Why did they all disappear?"
"Balthier," Basch said, quirking his mouth ever so slightly in admiration.
"What? Balthier? How? What did he do?" This does not make sense! What could Balthier have possibly done? When she fastened her eyes on him, he was lying on the ground unconscious, but something clutched in his hand held her attention.
"A warp mode. He simply threw warp modes until all the creatures melted away," Basch said, almost laughing at the thought. "I doubt we would be alive without him, your Highness."
Ashe also shook her head in amazement. Before they had stepped into the cave, Balthier had insisted on leaving the packs, but he quickly pulled out all of their battle and medical supplies and lumped them into one pack which he had possessively carried. The princess quickly brought her attention back to the present as Fran slapped Balthier awake and he slowly came too. He got up slowly and when he took a step he weaved drunkenly; he was having even more trouble regaining his senses than she!
"Balthier, it seems that all of us owe you a life debt."
She was surprised when he simply waved that notion off and said in slightly slurred speech, "Think nothing of it. What is a sky pirate captain without a crew? Euggh, why do I feel I have a hangover?"
"Perhaps the slime creature falling on your head would contribute to that problem," Fran said in a neutral tone, but there was a hint of a smile flitting about her lips.
"Ah, likely so. Well, let's get moving," Balthier mumbled and turned around only to apparently suffer a dizzy spell, in which Fran had to grab his pack to keep him supported.
They continued down the passages and their spirits were surprisingly high, even after that ambush, for it seemed the mine was not as big as Larsa had said and Balthier had feared. Balthier had taken to hugging the back of the group as opposed to being in the middle of it and he was perturbed by the ambushing and what had happened. There you go, Penelo, a fine example of losing your sense from lack of fear. I almost got everyone killed. The slime ball had almost suffocated him with its weight and he had trouble shifting out from beneath it, as it crushed him to the floor using the pack he had on his back. It had been complete luck that a warp mode had fallen out of one of the side pockets and he simply decided to bust it then and there. Two more slime creatures had dropped from the ceiling in his vicinity and it was not long before he feared he might actually die. He could not breathe a single particle of air and his vision had already started to fade to black by the time he had used the warp mode. The encounter with death had been a little too close for comfort. And to think, the world might very well be riding on our shoulders. I better not mention that to the Princess. He tore his eyes from the floor to the back of her head, hoping she might not have figured that out for herself, but she was certainly no airhead. Her pride and arrogance could occasionally get in the way— this brought him back to her encounter with Larsa at Jahara—but she was no fool.
Suddenly he was shaken from his thoughts when they entered another room like that of the one where they got ambushed by slimes. They were prepared this time. He gave everyone each a warp mode, and when he ran out of those varyious others. This wave was even worse than the last one, but they easily dispatched a majority of the slimes with their modes, and when those ran out they happily resorted to their weapons.
When they got through to the next room they found a dead Imperial surrounded by walls of what looked like veins of shiny Magicite. Larsa stepped over to one and gingerly touched it, then he said, "Look at the Magicite. These mines much resemble the ones at Lhusu. Of course, Draklor must be searching for new sources of ore should the Resistance forces move. The Magicite in Bhujerba will be forever beyond their grasp."
Fran suddenly twitched her nose and cried out, "Is it her? What is this Mist? Mjrn!"
A viera suddenly walked within their sight, moving slowly and dazedly, as though she did not seem to know where she was. Fran took a few paces forward, but Mjrn suddenly cried out in a harsh voice, "The stench of humes. The stench of power."
"What is wrong with her?" Ashe whispered, feeling her back crawl as she watched the viera. Something about this seemed to strike on an unnamed fear of hers, and he could see she was puzzled as well as scared by what they were witnessing in the viera.
Suddenly, it pointed at her and said, "Stay away! Power-heedy humes!"
She darted off into a room like a startled animal, leaving them standing in bewilderment. "I don't like this, Fran. She looks like she's being controlled," Balthier said.
"We must save her," Fran had turned to her partner, expecting to see him behind her and the look he gave her certainly implied he would never be called a coward. He pulled out his Aldebaran and cocked it. "Let's go."
A few minutes later Balthier was shaking his head as they struggled to stay alive in the fiercest battle they had yet encountered. They had dashed into the room only to encounter a creature of epic proportions with a strange ring around its head. Too bad we couldn't come up with a plan. As it was, he was throwing potions, casting healing spells, taking aim, and firing at the damn thing as it whirled around attempting to take bites out of the people spread around the room.
Its attention seemed primarily focused on Vaan and Basch and Larsa, as they were the ones with the swords and hammer trying to land fatal blows on its head or legs. Balthier stood off almost with his back to the wall studying the creature's movements. The other three men were giving it little leeway, and so it chose to focus on them in an attempt to get rid of these pests. Carefully, the pirate inched his way along the wall until he had a good view of the hind quarters. He dropped the pack, pulled his gun out and made sure it had sufficient ammo, and then he pulled out the Lohengrin sword he had bought in Jahara and he waited. He followed its movements, and when the tail had swung away from him he dashed forward as silently as he could and brought his sword down right at the joint in its hind leg.
"ROORAARRGH!" The Tiamat's scream appeared to shake the walls around them. Balthier pulled the sword out and sheathed it, bringing out his gun instead to aim and fire at it. He smirked when he could see it struggling to turn around and meet his attack with one of its own. Ah, going just as planned. But then it all changed. Instead of trying to bite him, the Tiamat dragged itself around to swing its tail. He ducked the first and barely dodged the second. Just when he thought he might make it out unscathed, he stumbled getting up and the tail landed a blow square on his ribs. He fell back, his head violently striking the earth and his arms outstretched.
"Balthier!" Ashe felt her voice rip away from her as the creature stumbled around again on its lame leg. Dear gods, he's not moving! He could be trampled.
Larsa, Basch, and Vaan renewed their attack up front even as Larsa shouted his voice away giving the women instructions, "Be sure to get Balthier out of there. We will keep its attention."
"Ashe," Penelo called to her, "You have to get Balthier. I must keep my attention on the others. We cannot afford to have their health dwindle. Do what you can with him and I'll tend to him later."
Ashe sheathed her sword and began making her way around the room. The progress was agonizingly slow, as the Tiamat kept trying to turn and follow her and the others would continually jump to distract it. It finally diverted its attention, and she was able to make her way over to Balthier, crouching low to the ground to avoid the massive tail swinging over her head. Oh, good he's breathing, she thought almost hysterically when she finally reached him.
The princess shuddered at the blood seeping out from the back of his head, but was relieved when he fluttered his eyes at her touch. His mouth moved as it formed words, but she had never been good at reading lips and his voice was only passing his lips in a whisper. She bent down with her ear close to his mouth and managed to make out fragments of what he was saying, "Stupid…stayed back…fire..." Ashe sighed and then bent down and took her arms under his to drag him back to the safety of the wall, leaving his gun to lie on the floor.
They watched the rest of the fight against the wall, with Balthier resting in her arms. She chanted a healing spell to close the wound on the back of his head and to take care of the bruise around his ribs. He simply lay there, but even though her back was to him, she could see his eyes were slightly open still watching the progress of the fight. Just as the monster was thrashing in its throes of death he slowly began moving and inching his way onto his feet. The others immediately diverted their attention to him and they made their over to him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked as he inched away.
Balthier groaned in response and twisted his head around. The fall had done a number on his back, and he rubbed at his neck and shoulders with a hand trying to work the painful kinks out of them. Finally he said, "I'll be fine, thanks."
Penelo blinked at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing. Just a little sore."
"And he's suffering from a wounded dignity," Fran said as he stared into the floor. Ashe suddenly understood the look on his face.
He was ashamed. Why? "You're ashamed of what you did?" Ashe suddenly ventured and she could tell she hit the spot for he turned away with a slight blush on his cheeks. It was difficult to make him blush. "Why?"
"It was a risky stunt. I thought I could pull it off but I only compounded our problems."
Even Larsa was surprised at what he was saying. Basch spoke up and said, "You took a risk, and it benefited us in the long run. We would have worn out long before we had killed that thing if you had not crippled it. I ask only one favor in the case of a next time." Balthier raised an eyebrow at Basch and he said, "Just tell us before you do it."
"I will see what I can do in that regard, but it really depends on the inconvenience of the situation," he replied with a knowing smirk stretched across his face.
This is a nightmare, it has to be, Balthier mused even as he watched the monster from the Henne Mines recreate itself from the organic surroundings of the Golmore Jungle. They had finally fought their way back and returned Mjrn to Eruyt village where Fran clearly hoped she would stay. He had been there that time when Jote actually yielded Lente's Tear and he had to wonder if she was sick in the head to do so. It did not seem very like her from what Fran had told him about her(which was very little) and his one or two brief encounters with her. And now it seemed the Wood had manifested itself back into this creature and was determined to either test them or refuse them passage, but they were ready this time.
With the exception of the oil this monster flung about, they knew its attacks and its habits and were able to deliver a swift barrage of deadly blows. Balthier kept his distance this time, simply choosing to fire his weapon at it than try another stupid stunt like in the Henne Mines. He hadn't said anything about the incident since, but the shame that Ashe had mentioned had largely been fear. When he fell and hit his back he had been briefly paralyzed, entirely unable to move, and it was not until the animal had been dying that he actually felt capable of moving. It had scared him more than he was willing to admit aloud, and so he had disguised that fear as shame. He did feel like an imbecile for even landing himself in that situation to begin with, but what was youth except to do stupid things and gain the wisdom to not do them later?
This creature, the Wood he supposed, died much more quickly than the one in the Henne Mines, and now it seemed their path was completely unbarred to Mount Bur-Omisace. He was not looking forward to that journey up the mountain. He had been to Bur-Omisace before, on a hunt for treasure in the cliffs of course, and it had truly tested his willpower to continue searching for it. His perseverance won in the end and he was able to cash in his prize—a rare Darubian mask carved from wood and dusted in gold—but despite the riches he had gained he did not care to repeat another trip in the blistering cold.
Balthier had felt a remarkable vulnerability and weakness while he was up there and Fran had seen he was hurting badly, gripping his right arm every so often to grimace in pain. He gripped it now as looked through the foliage of the treetops toward the white-capped mountain above and he shuddered.
No, it cannot be! Anything but this! I would rather sit through one of Ghis' lectures about strategy than have a sparring session with him. Ffamran dearly wanted to sink through the floor and out of this existence as he read the schedule. He was due to the training room at 0-800 hours the very next morning, for a duel with Bergan. I thought Drace was to make sure we would be kept apart!
Calm down, Ffamran. You're going to be working with him for the rest of your life, so you might as well get over your fear of him and just do the exercise. But there was no denying the coincidence to something dire happening to him while in the company of Bergan: the shaking awake, the dehydration, the one hundred laps, the midnight shifts, the rough training sessions. All of them done by Bergan. The man seemed to consider it his maniacal duty to torture his poor soul until he either perished or dropped out of his apprenticeship. Death seemed more likely so far.
As scheduled, Ffamran showed up the next day a few minutes earlier as was his habit in part because he had been raised to be punctual. Still, even as he stepped into the locker room, he battled with himself whether he should skip this exercise or go through with it. To run away would be cowardice. I need to stand up to my fears one day. Keeping his face blank as per usual he stepped out into the training area with the sword they had given him. He did not have the usual armor he was forced to walk around in because he had yet to be told he needed to wear it while training, and simply wore a long sleeve shirt and training pants. He practiced the forms he had been taught by Zargabaath and tried as well as he could to stick to them.
"Good, you're here. Now let's get this over with, boy, I have pressing matters to attend to, and you are certainly not one of them," a voice with a metallic edge said to him from the far corner. Ffamran turned abruptly and his blood froze cold when he saw Bergan had not bothered stripping to anything less than his armor. His anxiety immediately spiked, but he attempted to put a positive spin on it: He's in armor. He should be slower than I. Perhaps I can best him.
Ffamran did not say anything to him, but merely bowed his head in respect—respect he was loathe to give!—and then positioned himself in a battle stance. Bergan came out onto the mats and took one of his wicked swords out from its sheath at his side and also adjusted his feet into a classic battle stance. They stood there for a moment, merely staring into one another's eyes, and then Bergan took several running steps forward and brought his sword up, homing to land a blow to the boy's face. Ffamran saw the trap coming and leapt back out of range. Bergan was far stronger than him, and would overpower him and win the duel in five minutes. He'd done it before.
When the predictable blow had missed, the Judge flicked his sword up and attempted to jab Ffamran in the side. At that odd angle it was difficult to block, and Ffamran almost lost his grip on his sword trying to do it. Thankfully it threw the Judge off balance and Ffamran dove for an opening, hoping to catch a kill spot but Bergan swatted his sword aside with an armored hand and was back up on his feet in seconds. They circled each other for a moment, but Ffamran waited for him to move, knowing that his superior strength and experience could disarm him in a second if he attempted to attack. He had to wait!
Ffamran, if you continue waiting then you will never learn how to fight properly. You have been training for a year and a half; it's time to beat him at his own game! It was undisputed among the other Judges that Bergan was the best swordsman among them, but Ffamran's skills had developed rapidly due large in part to his intense study of Bergan's form and moves. He was the one to beat.
As they continued circling Ffamran knew that Bergan was going to wait to see if he had the reserves of courage to pursue a career as a Judge. Ffamran suddenly stepped into a form, jabbing his sword here and there at various points, which Bergan managed to parry, but as he continued flowing into the forms, moving his sword faster and faster Bergan was forced nearly to his knees from the vicious onslaught, and the younger man knocked the sword out of his hand. Ffamran stepped back to view the scene from a distance as he struggled to understand the implications of this: He had disarmed Bergan!
Impossible. He's never that easily defeated, he thought to himself, his long inherited and impressed cynicism refused to believe he had gotten the best of Bergan in anything, let alone a small scuffle. Aside from that he was wearing armor. Even if he was legitimately defeated, it will not account for much because you weren't wearing your armor. Deep in his thoughts, he did not see Bergan rise to his feet.
By the time he noticed the movement it was too late. If there had not been a helmet concealing his eyes, Ffamran was sure he would have seem them misted red with his terrible rage, and he stampeded forward to slam directly into Ffamran's chest with the impact of a freight train. Ffamran careened back, lying several feet away on his back side, with his arms outstretched on either side of him and his sword lying several feet away.
A powerful wave of pain radiated from his chest, confirming that he likely had several broken ribs, and then liquid slid into the back of his throat and he was force to cough several mouthfuls of blood. He turned his head to the side to allow the liquid to drain in fear that it might choke him to death otherwise, as his vision began to fade in and out. His ear caught the subtle vibrations of Bergan walking over to him, and he attempted to focus on the man through the haze of pain that had enveloped him. All of his processes took longer to register as time seemed to stretch itself to slow motion, and he was so far out of his mind all this pain felt like it was happening to someone else.
"You still have a long way to go, boy," the raspy voice of the despised man could barely be heard coming from the strangely shaped helmet. The Judge raised his foot and slammed it down on the joint of Ffamran's right arm. The splinters of pain brought Ffamran back from where he had taken shelter, and his mind felt like it had exploded from the overload of the pain. He screamed and screamed and screamed as the Judge continued to dig his sharp, metal boot into his skin until Ffamran could catch blood spurting out from beneath it. Even as he knew it was real, it felt otherworldly to see his fingers twitch at the end of his arm not of his own volition. Bergan continued destroying the arm beneath his foot until splinters of the bone were clearly seen by both, and then he let up.
"Let that be a lesson to you. Never underestimate your enemy." The Judge walked out of sight, stopping only to pick up his own sword, before he trudged off through the door. Ffamran had continued to scream until his lungs could take no more, and as he struggled to regain his breath, everything began fading once more, but he still felt his body shudder and lie still as though Death had come to claim his soul from his still warm body.
