Chapter Ten: Blood, Steel, and Darkness

It was uncharacteristically cold for a midsummer night, but Matilde hardly felt it under her armor and sweat. Her head thudded dully, her vision blurred, and her breath came in short, ragged bursts. But, the knightess had it far better than her companion. They had stopped just long enough to wrap Pharis's ankle and put a makeshift splint on it, but otherwise they had trudged ever onward, vaguely following the tracks and sign the huntsman could make out. It was difficult tracking at night, but Pharis was too angry to care. That damnable Sigmund had broken his ankle and made him waste his last two black firebombs, he was going to make sure that masked fool got what was coming to him.

It was strange though, they seemed to be going towards the swamp rather than the Church, but the huntsman was to exhausted to comment on it. Sigmund and his friends seemed to have grown more careless, leaving broken twigs and footprints all over the forest floor. It all seemed a little too easy, and Matilde didn't fail to notice that. But, no matter how suspicious she was, she could barely keep her axe from dragging on the ground beside her, if it came to another fight, she knew she and Pharis were both as good as dead. She bit her lip and hoped nothing else would accost them.

After hours and hours of their enervating march, Matilde collapsed, dragging the startled Pharis with her. His hat bouncing from his head and his bow tumbling from his grasp, Pharis let out an exasperated curse and disentangled himself from the brass covered arm. "Oy, m'lady, you still in the world of the living, or have you departed to Nito's realm?" was his sardonic question as he plopped his hat back onto his head. There was no reply.

Frowning sympathetically, the huntsman crawled on hands and knees over to the prostated knightess. Softly, he rolled her onto her back and removed her helm. He peered with mounting curiosity at her face, his green eyes wide and inquisitive. Despite the dirt splotches here and there and the crooked scar making a hook under her right eye, Matilde wasn't as formidable appearing as he thought. Her face was round, as if she had been plump as a child, her nose was pert and delicate, her lips full, she was olive-skinned with thick brown hair cut short, barely falling to her collar. She wasn't beautiful, not in the embellished sense, but she was plainly attractive.

Pharis leaned close, listening for breath. She smelled of leather and sweat, but then again, he probably did too. Hearing her steady inhale and exhale, Pharis was suddenly overtaken by the urge to do something mischievous. Removing his hat and smirking like a fox in a chicken coop, the huntsman pressed his lips against the sleeping girl's. Matilde didn't awaken, to Pharis's relief, and the huntsman reclined beside her, gritting his teeth as he moved his ankle. Keeping his dagger in hand, Pharis closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

Matilde dreamed of the day she was knighted. The Four Knights stood before her, Bishop Havel looking at her proudly from the seats overlooking the court, and the other clerics of the Way of White smiled down at her. Captain Ornstein stepped forth, his spear in hand. She remembered how impressive he seemed, his leonine helm fierce and regal, his step sure and proud, she could feel the dangerous virtuosity exuding from the fabled knight. His deep voice boomed throughout the courtroom.

"Matilde of Thorolund, leal cleric of the Way of White, dost thou swear to uphold the laws placed down by Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight?"

"Yes," was her timorous answer.

"Dost thou swear to protect Lordran from all threats, even if it should cost thee thine life?"

"Yes."

"Dost thou swear to perform thine duty, through blood, steel, and darkness?"

"Yes!"

"Then, arise a Knight of Anor Londo, a shield against shadow, a sword against evil, an adherent of the Sun!" Was the Captain's proclamation as he tapped Matilde on the shoulders with his lugged spear, the razor sharp edges cutting through her white tunic and slightly slitting the flesh below. It was a good sort of pain. Her friends applauded, as well as Sir Artorias and Sir Gough, and Matilde knew that no day would replace that one.

But, something was strange. Things seemed intensely hot within the hall, as if the marble floors were just above some blazing inferno. Her friends and the Four Knights disappeared into smoke, leaving Matilde alone in the furnace. The flames were crackling and raging all around her, it was becoming hard to breath. Things were growing dark, and though she struggled, she couldn't keep the mounting oblivion at bay. She screamed for succor, but she was all alone. Alone but for the gluttonous fire.

Matilde's eyes shot open and she was greeted by the sight of burning trees and towering flames all about her and Pharis. "Damn!" she yelled and jammed her helm back onto her head. She shook her dozing companion roughly.

"Wh-what is it?" Pharis mumbled as he sat up. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open as her realized their plight.

"We must away!" Matilde yelled over the roar of the inferno. She hefted her axe and began helping her crippled comrade to his feet. She whirled her head about, searching for an escape, but there was none. How couldst I hath forgotten about the fire? she thought reproachfully. But, her thoughts didn't matter, if the flames didn't consume them, than the smoke would undoubtedly suffocate them. This time, there really was no way to fight through, it truly was hopeless.

Noxus bounded through the forest as spryly as if he had been born for it. Without his armor he was much faster and his stamina didn't disappear near as quickly. He was racing back towards his tower, hoping that Manus was alright. His student was brave to be sure, but he had the troublesome habit of taking on more than he could handle. He was exceedingly powerful, more powerful than he knew, but he hadn't found a way to channel that power yet, making the boy somewhat of a volatile substance.

Noxus would check upon him first, then he would carry on to Anor Londo to… What? Clear his name? The Sun King and his subordinates would judge him guilty no matter the evidence. But, if he went to the great city, perhaps he could find out what was going on. Velka and Kaathe were attempting something devious, he knew, and he had to stop them. The Age of Dark was something they couldn't achieve, only a human could bring it upon the world. The only thing the Avenging Princess and the Serpent would create was war, and Noxus knew if it came to that, his people would be the ones to suffer.

The smell of smoke made the wielder of the Dark Soul stop in his tracks. Dawn was near, but the dull orange light wasn't coming from the rising sun. It was a forest fire. From what he could tell, the blaze completely impeded the path to his tower. Growling, Noxus pulled his catalyst from the sling across his back. He was still drained from the spell he had used upon Solaire, but at that point he didn't care. Making his way to the fire, Noxus held the staff aloft and gritted his teeth and concentrated.

The power of the Dark Soul resonated in his chest and his amber eyes burned with frigid flames. Black tendrils encircled the arch tree catalyst like a thousand serpentine arms and time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then, like a waking hurricane, a pulse of jet black magic erupted from the ground at the man's feet. The wave shot over the flames, extinguishing them with the force of a mighty gale, even the trees bent under the onslaught. Noxus shuddered and nearly fell from the exertion, he hadn't used this much of his power since the Dragon War. Smiling ruefully, the man regained his composure and charged onward.

The dark wave threw Matilde and Pharis down with such force the air was pushed from their lungs. Pharis gave a yelp as his ankle twisted painfully. Matilde had thought all was hopeless, and the darkness had saved them. Through blood, steel, and darkness… darkness… darkness… The Captain's words echoed through her mind like a prayer that had lost its power. The knightess remembered the Furtive Pygmy, his power enveloping the hall like an astral force eclipsing the sun. She couldn't fend off the darkness then, yet, the darkness had extinguished the flames with a seeming sweep of its hand. Through blood, steel, and darkness. How could she continue when her arms and legs ached so? How could she march through the blood, steel, and above all, the darkness with the same resolution as the Four Knights? She was only a human, weak, frail, stupid. Perhaps she should just give up, just lay there in the charred forest, just let the darkness overtake her….

"I knew I should've heeded my mum and been a muleskinner, damn it!" Pharis cursed as he pushed himself up. "Suicidal crows, skeleton pillars, and freakish black winds! I swear by Gwyn's beard after I kill Sigmund I'm going to marry some homely farmer's daughter, sire a passel of ugly ragamuffins, and count myself lucky!"

Matilde looked up at her soot covered companion and waited for his tirade to end. "And how shalt thou slay Sigmund? Thou art crippled, tired, and nearly out of arrows." The knightess stated dejectedly.

Pharis gave her a venomous scowl. "Shut up and get to your feet, damn it." he snarled. Clenching his jaw until Matilde thought his teeth would shatter, Pharis began standing up. His leg shook violently underneath him, but the huntsman neither fell nor uttered a cry of pain. "Your girly prince awaits you, does he not?" he asked pointedly, leaning on his bow for support. He offered her his hand.

"Through blood, steel, and darkness," the knightess murmured as she took the huntsman's hand. She may not be able to defeat the darkness, but she was still going to stay true to both her oaths and the prince. She would not give up.