Chapter IX
Oathkeeper
He never thought he'd be able to empathise with prisoners.
Ropes chafed at his wrists. The cage stunk of urine and faeces. His only companions to were criminals and mildew, and neither were particularly good conversationalists. Metal bars pressing persistently into his back where he sat against the cage's wall, he observed all this with a dry wit he hadn't known he possessed. No matter how hard he tried, after hours of ranting and threatening and cursing he could no longer summon the strength for putting on a show he wasn't getting paid for. He'd screamed until his voice turned hoarse, had clutched at the bars with such vigour his hands had started cramping. Forget protesting -- he didn't even have the energy to think.
Or maybe, he reflected, he just didn't want to. In Lindblum, he'd decided against questioning Queen Brahne's motives. His imprisonment was the key that now permitted these poisonous thoughts to return -- the inkwell had been knocked over and a dark stain was spreading across his once-unblemished parchment. The uncertainty he'd believed he'd rid himself of was starting to seep back, only this time he didn't feel ashamed.
He felt justified and it terrified him.
Another soldier walked by. Steiner had long since discovered it was useless trying to attract their attention. Maybe one of his Pluto Knights would be willing to lend him an ear but whoever was in charge had obviously made a point to keep them away. The Captain wondered if they even knew he was trapped down here.
Opposite him, Marcus was leaning against the wall, for all appearances completely relaxed. His head turned slightly to follow their guard's path. Once she was out of earshot, he spoke out of the corner of his mouth, "Feel up for a breakout?"
Steiner's head snapped up from its inspection of the dirty floor. He gave the thief a wary look.
"Look, I know you're a by-the-books man but you need to get to the Princess, right?"
"I know," Steiner admitted, "I was just wondering how you planned on achieving the impossible."
Marcus grinned crookedly. "I'm a man of many talents," he replied and went about explaining.
Five minutes later, Steiner had an Alexandrian soldier's hand in his grasp, pressure points firmly pressed between his thumb and forefinger. The soldier hissed and dropped her sword, giving Steiner the chance to knock her out of commission. He stared at her crumpled form, realised in a rush that he'd struck a comrade. 'Not now, not now,' he repeated to himself, mouthing the words silently in time with the thundering of his heart. Claiming her weapon for the meantime, he stepped over the body and climbed the ladder leading out of the dungeon. The bloody thing seemed to go on forever but after that cage, Steiner's muscles were enjoying the workout.
"Where's the armoury?" Marcus panted behind him.
"Not far," Steiner answered, pulling himself over the final rung. He turned to give Marcus a hand up. The thief gave him an incredulous look but accepted his help, leaving Steiner wondering what had provoked such a strange expression.
"Lead the way, Captain," Marcus said.
Knowing their escape would be noticed within minutes gave Steiner courage to move quickly, without stealth. He slipped around a few corners, the castle's layout recalled as easily as he would Garnet's face, and followed a corridor to the weaponry. The guard outside jumped when he saw them but Marcus was quicker. Before long he'd disarmed the man and forced him to fish a ring of keys from his sword-belt and unlock the door.
"Watch him," Marcus grunted, entering the room.
The confusion in Weimar's eyes was unbearable. When he opened his mouth to speak, Steiner took the flat of his borrowed blade to his soldier's head, not daring to spare a backward look. He stepped over the unconscious boy and went to the sword rack, switching the shortsword for a heavier blade. Shimmering dully on the end of the rack, the Blood Sword drew his attention. After a moment's hesitation, he slid it into the scabbard at his side.
Marcus took a few practice swings with his own broadsword. The hilt was chipped and wrapped with worn leather but the blade was in good enough condition to pass for newly synthesised. When he saw Steiner appraising the weapon he said, "Seen me through some tough times, she has. Glad to have her back."
Footsteps sounded from the hall. The pair exchanged glances and, as one, stepped from the room.
"Geez!" A blur of yellow and blue came to a screeching stop inches from Steiner's chest. Bright eyes peered up through a tangled curtain of sweaty hair.
"Zidane!" The name fell out of Steiner's mouth. Freya and Vivi were standing behind him, the one with ears flicking impatiently, the other throwing worried glances everywhere.
"Tell me, is this Alexandria?"
Typical. "I haven't time to explain. I must escape this wretched dungeon of Alexandria!"
Zidane nodded, "Enough said. Which way's the Queen's chamber?"
Briefly, the knight described the route Zidane should follow, ending with, "But why?"
"Queen Brahne's gonna execute Dagger. We've gotta find her before the Red Rose arrives."
Steiner might have said, "What!" or "Don't be foolish!" or "The Queen would never do such a thing!" As it was, there were far too many possibilities racing through his head in that one instant for him to pick any one so instead he found himself wordlessly chasing after Zidane, blindly following as he was so accustomed to doing, clinging to the need to reach Garnet. Everything would be fine if he could just get to her and receive an order.
He barely noticed when Marcus dropped off from their party, saying something about Evil Forest and "Bro". Together, the newly formed foursome sneaked past soldiers and made their way into the Queen's private chamber where Zidane's perceptiveness found a secret passageway behind the empty fireplace. As soon as Steiner stuck his head through the hole, that same earthy smell assailed his senses (Vivi's nose crinkled, unimpressed). Analysing the interior, he realised this was a continuation of Gargan Roo. The existence of a direct path to the Royal Chamber and the possibilities for assassination that went with it made him feel sick and inadequate. All those times he'd stood at the bottom of staircase, looking up enviously at the two women of Squad Beatrix who would inevitably be standing guard, oblivious to the fact that an attack could come from within at any moment.
He didn't question whether Zidane was on the right track or not, just followed him down. At the bottom they forced their way by Zorn and Thorn, pitiful creatures hardly worth the effort.
Garnet was there, dead.
Something in him snapped then. Everything up until that point was suddenly brought into focus, a terrible portrait of desperation and disgrace and futility. Even as he howled, his emotions expanding deep in his stomach and spilling out in a fit of despair, he felt something else shrinking, becoming an impossibly small speck that would turn to dust at the next careless brush of fingertips.
"She's still alive," someone told him and the world's foundations stopped crumbling.
"Princess?" he ventured between sobs.
Freya waved him over, "Look, she's still breathing."
In a daze, Zidane bent to scoop her up, an expression of immeasurable pain on his face. They made the long, silent ascent back to the Queen's chamber unchallenged. After laying the Princess on the divan with the care one would spare an extremely fragile child, Zidane stepped back, his face a blank canvas. Steiner shot him a quizzical glance, surprised by his reluctance to impose himself when normally he'd use any excuse to touch her. The blonde tried a smile, failed. Fake happiness should not be seen on that face, Steiner decided. It gave him the shivers.
"Zidane…" came Vivi's small voice, "Do you think she'll ever wake up?"
The thief's entire face twitched. Vivi flinched at the reaction; the poor child knew no better. Zidane scrubbed a hand over his face then said, "Of course. She's asleep because she's tired. That's all." He swallowed.
Never had Steiner heard such false hope. Zidane was always upbeat, always prepared to utter an optimistic comment, always ready with gentle encouragement. He didn't make a remark unless his heart was completely invested in it. It was an honest quality that he'd appreciated, Steiner realised with a start. That genuine spirit was truly a rare one.
He ran his gaze over Zidane's back, wondering what he was thinking. "What happened to you? You are not your usual self."
The blonde spun to face him, tail lashing like a windmill's blades caught in a thunderstorm, anger in his eyes. Steiner braced himself. "Go on… Blame my incompetence! Tell me it is my f--"
"No!" Zidane yelled, making Steiner shrink from the untamed fury. A breath, then his entire body slumped like a deflated balloon as a wave of utter despair flooded his features. "I can't…" he whispered, "I…don't know what I feel right now… I can't even shed a tear…"
Steiner's gaze drifted to Garnet. She looked so peaceful, so content… 'You've never lost something important. Is that it, Zidane?'
Vivi hung his head, shuffling uncertainly. Stoic Freya stood by, face a mystery beneath the wide brim of her hat and the fall of her hair. Steiner was about to step forward and place a hand on the boy's shoulder when a scraping behind him demanded his attention. He looked over his shoulder and froze.
She was standing in the doorway.
Steiner was there. He was there and no one had warned her. Thankfully, his back was turned -- he couldn't have seen the streak of surprise that must have crossed her face. When he heard her approach, lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, his eyes widened and his hand instinctively dropped to his sword. She wondered if the reaction was borne from their rivalry or if he fully intended to run her down. If he was in cohorts with this lot...
"Welcome back, Steiner." She was glad her voice didn't fail.
His hand twitched but did not stray. Beatrix quirked an eyebrow. What game were they playing this time?
She'd show him. This was no time for tests.
In a heartbeat her long sword was out of its scabbard. Thunder Slash took care of Vivi, Stock Break for Freya. Zidane and Steiner were harder, the one agile enough to dance around her strikes, the other well-versed in her fighting style.
Steiner caught her sword with his. "Stand aside, Zidane," he commanded, keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent.
Behind him, Beatrix saw Zidane flush with anger. "Like hell!" He shot towards them, a streak of gold, tail flashing in his wake like his personal war banner.
Never moving her gaze from Steiner's, the General slipped one hand from Save the Queen's hilt and called Holy to her fingertips. Steiner threw himself to the ground as the room exploded in a dazzle of white-blue light, an impossibly bright burst. Beatrix had almost forgotten what it looked like and immediately regretted keeping her eyes open. She blinked to clear her vision, found the dark splotch that was Steiner. He was on his knees, staring disbelievingly, perhaps amazed that for once he hadn't been her target.
Zidane coughed. Touched fingers to lips, pulled them away sticky and warm. His body appeared unbroken apart from dark splotches that were forming beneath the surface where the spell had penetrated the flimsy barrier his skin presented. His face was a mess of emotions. "You…" he choked, utmost loathing contained in that single word, "Any time you… wanted…"
She felt a flicker of guilt. "I warned you." She wished it didn't sound like she was trying to justify herself.
The boy retched, blood and vomit spewing from his mouth, and collapsed.
Steiner lurched off the floor, fury plain in the set of his jaw, the thin line of his mouth. Their swords clashed, the dull noise ringing throughout the confined chamber, echoing a memory. "You picked the wrong person to take out first," he bit.
"Don't be jealous. You'll be joining him shortly." She twisted away, struck again. He parried like it was second nature and returned the favour. Whatever he'd been doing these past months, he certainly had garnered some skill. With her magic power depleted and Steiner knowing her techniques inside out, it was time to be inventive.
The next time he locked his blade with hers, Beatrix let him press close, using her body to hold her weapon steady. His elbow slammed into her side, making her gasp, but before he had time to blink she darted for her mythril shortsword and buried it in a chink in his armour. Surprise skittered across his face. His sword fell noisily to the ground.
Breath quickening, he stared contemptuously at the thing as if to say, "I didn't give you permission to appear there." She stepped away. He didn't make a sound, just yanked it out and tossed it to the ground beside his lost broadsword. Eyebrows climbing, Beatrix regarded the weapon he'd discarded like it was a child's toy.
Panting, "A lucky blow."
Sneering, "There's no such thing."
White rings rimmed his too-small pupils as blood continued to pour from his wound. Beatrix's sword hummed as it cleaved the air. A jolt ran up her arm when Save the Queen's path was impeded.
He caught her blade.
Steiner tried to smirk but the strain of staying the strike twisted it into a fearsome grimace. Anger mounting as her attack could not swart his one solid fist, Beatrix slid her right hand to the end of her blade, flattened her palm against steel that seemed to thrum, pushed. Beads of sweat gleamed on Steiner's brow as his glaive-clad hand grasped the Holy Knight's weapon, trembling with effort. Red leaked down his wrist. His other hand fumbled for the tarnished sword at his side.
He drew the Blood Sword. "Yield."
She was surprised he could still use that arm. "Or?" she gritted, teeth bared to show the gums.
"Or I'll be forced to go back on my promise."
She shook her head once deliberately and threw all her weight into the attack. Steiner's sword began pulsing with dark energy, particles of darkness sinking into it until the metal gleamed black. Faces inches apart, she could see the violent clouds churning in his dark -- brown, not black -- eyes.
"Don't," it was a command and a plea.
'I owe you.'
"I'll send you to your grave," he said, voice failing on the last word. The sound of that passionate baritone cracking was enough to give Beatrix pause. She stopped pressing the attack and Steiner, mouth a pained grimace, let loose with Darkside. Thrumming flooded her ears. Black waves, moving incomparably fast, lanced forwards like striking snakes. Caught, the General could only tense her muscles, anticipating the impact.
A finger's breadth from her body, the black tendrils suddenly quivered, distorting violently. As if pulled by a magnet, they gradually bent backward and away from her. A thunderous clap roared and dark energy darted forward to collide with a shocked Steiner. A cry tore from his mouth as he collapsed on the floor, black speckles crackling around his silhouette.
Beatrix put up her sword, at a loss. Looking down at his shuddering form, she felt compassion stir in her heart. 'Even now, he can't bring himself to hate me.'
Steiner coughed, red spattering the Queen's fur rug. Livid, he wiped the blood off a mouth contorted with rage. "Dammit," he cursed. Then, to Beatrix, "Well? Gloat to your heart's content. I'll not ask for a traitor's mercy."
"Traitor?"
His arms trembled as he tried to push himself off the dirtied ground, sweat running down his face in long smears. It looked like his entire face had been crying. "You…" he forced through gritted teeth, "Striking an Alexandrian soldier is akin to striking Princess Garnet herself."
"It's a sin punishable by death," she agreed, "yet you forwent that privilege upon disobeying Her Majesty. You think declaring your acting at the Princess' behest gives you license to do as you please? You think you can use her name to disobey your Queen, to slay your own countrymen? What makes you so holy, Steiner?" Suddenly angry, Beatrix slammed her sword away. The cross-guard clattered noisily against the scabbard.
Steiner made no reply except to look her in the eye. She turned away from what she saw there. "You saved my life," she said, drained. The next words were hard, "For that, I'll not be the one to kill you, not now." She gave each of the defeated warriors a hard look. "Never step into this land again."
He laughed brokenly. "You'd even deny me a knight's death?" Somehow he got to his knees. Not daring to try the Blood Sword again, his hand found his broadsword, slipping on the hilt. "At least let me die serving my princess!"
Beatrix whirled on him, temper flaring, half afraid she would change her mind. Why couldn't he understand? "That's what I'm doing! Go! Go now, and leave here!"
Steiner stared at her for a long time, searching for a response. He hefted his sword, whether to sheath it or attack, she couldn't say.
"Wait."
She blinked. Zidane stirred. "You're the general of this kingdom. Have you forgotten your sworn duty, your duty to protect Dagger -- Princess Garnet?" He flung out a hand, gesturing behind him, "I'm sure you know who's sitting over there."
Beatrix felt cold. There was a stone in the pit of her stomach, a stone that was pulling her downwards as she forced her feet to lift, to carry her to the truth. Soundless, she stared at the figure stretched on the divan, nestled carefully between two cushions. There was no mistaking those delicate features, the soft waves of midnight hair, the face too sombre even in sleep. Heedless of attack, the knight stepped forward and knelt to place a hand over the girl's forehead. Beneath her sword-roughened fingertips Garnet's skin was too cool, too clammy. "So it was true," she murmured, brushing sweat-streaked hair from the girl's face, "The Queen really did mean to kill her."
"What! No! The Queen would never…" Steiner trailed off.
Beatrix looked at him, understanding the words had come by rote. "It is time for you to accept the truth," she quietly encouraged. Then, raising her voice along with her eyes to meet the gazes of the others, "Citizens of Burmecia, please forgive me."
Freya's voice had a bitter edge as she uttered, "It is too late to seek forgiveness!"
Steiner looked back and forth between the two women, uncertain who he should attend. Beatrix said nothing. There was no way to expound. It was true her debt could never be erased but surely leaving an apology unspoken was worse than attempting to make amends.
Freya turned away. "But you can still save Dagger. I tell you this because I acknowledge your powers. Help your princess."
Beatrix regarded the other's back for a moment, still suspicious of attack. There was no inkling of forgiveness in that rigid stance yet… she had shown honour. However grudgingly, she had shown honour. "I don't know if I can," she heard herself admit and the Burmecian seemed to stiffen in offence. Zidane, Vivi, Steiner, all of them were now looking at the Holy Knight, three wordless pleas on their faces.
"…but I will give it a try," she affirmed. White Magic had never been her strong point but the alternative was to let Garnet die and Beatrix was by no means one for sitting by idly while death claimed people she cared about. Calming her mind to the blank state needed to cast such spells was more difficult than it should have been yet she managed to stem off the tide of emotion for a moment longer.
The first attempt and the light petered out around Garnet's limp form. The bright swirls faded to dark and eventually drifted away like blood being carried away by the rain. The jesters laughed but Zidane's face carried such a hopelessly hopeful look that she could never have stopped then, not even if she'd so desired.
The second attempt. This time was slightly better, enough to make Vivi overcome his caution and take a beseeching step forward but "better" would not do. Her magic was nearly depleted but stalwart, Beatrix ignored Zorn and Thorn, who sounded more certain of victory now and sent a silent prayer to Alexander, loosening her grip on her sword's hilt, relaxing her body into acceptance.
When, on the third, the magic fluttered to life and enveloped Garnet in its warm embrace, a tired Beatrix moved aside and allowed her a reunion with her friends. Steiner seemed too awestruck to approach the Princess himself; the tear tracks tracing unabashedly down his cheeks seemed enough permission for Beatrix to smile, relieved. She couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled simply because she'd wanted to. It was a strange sensation though not entirely unwelcome.
Still, part of her wanted to restrain it
She told herself to stop acting the villain when there was no need for a cold façade. Besides, Steiner was too busy sobbing himself silly to notice anything amiss.
Eventually, the all-encompassing happiness he'd hoped would remain with him for all his days was eclipsed by the blinding agony in his hand. When he looked down it was like his nerves finally decided to wake up and do their job: the deep cut was enough to give any man pause. The Princess was far too delicate for the healing task. With his good hand, he fished around in his pouch for a potion, sucking in a breath to ward off the effects such movement had and once he'd found one he fumbled a bit with the cap. Freya came to help him, tsking all the time like a nurse whose professional expertise had been brought into question, doing her best with the diluted liquid, which was inadequate for such a serious wound.
Garnet cast her gaze around, alertness slowly returning. "You're all here…" she sounded as if she'd expected it.
"What is all this ruckus!"
The smile on Zidane's face froze. He spun to face this newest threat, positioning himself in front of Garnet, deft hands plucking his weapons from their sheaths even as Freya and Steiner moved to flank him. Vivi stayed at Garnet's side, patting the back of her hand soothingly with his small, gloved one.
Queen Brahne, swollen to inhuman proportions by her avarice, didn't see the group spread before her. Briskly, she questioned the twins about an eidolon extraction process, something Steiner did not try to make sense of. The only important words were, "Take Garnet and throw her in prison," the words that sealed his concerns, that forced him to confront what he had known for some time but had refused to acknowledge for the sake of fealty. Where did this leave him? At this unavoidable junction, was he to take up arms against the crown, to demolish the structure of his dedication, leaving a skeletal frame where once an unshakeable tower had stood?
"I won't allow that," Beatrix said.
Just like that. Steiner stared at her. 'It takes you a moment to make your decision when I wrestle against myself for years,' he thought without venom, wishing he possessed that kind of fortitude, that clarity of vision. Thinking had never been his strong suit.
Now, however, it did occur to him to scrub the tears off his face.
Freya's hat tilted towards the Holy Knight in silent appraisal. Steiner imagined he could see a flicker of respect in the look as she changed her hold on her lance and took a step forward, making Zidane lift his eyebrows in question.
Brahne laughed, the ugliest sound he had ever heard, "Oh? Are you defying me as well?" Her amusement made his temper flare.
Beatrix spread her arms. "Your Majesty, it is my duty to protect the Princess. I beg you, reconsider." It was evident from her tone that she did not expect her request to be granted. Still, she did not move for her sword. "All of you," she snapped and it was the General speaking again, "leave here at once!"
"I'm staying!" Freya declared, moving to stand beside her former enemy, "Zidane, go. Now!"
With a snort, Brahne gave a curt command to the jesters and left the room, barely pausing when Garnet called after her. Steiner clenched his teeth when he saw Garnet's vacant eyes, that same dead look Vivi had been wracked by upon discovering his origins and he wished any amount of physical strength on his part could wrench that awful expression away. She was only a child, an abandoned little girl. He coughed, the memory of that other girl pushing to the forefront of his mind and he fancied he could taste the smoke all over again. Vivi was whispering quiet words of comfort that should have sounded ridiculous coming from someone that young but instead, from the way Garnet slowly shook her head clear, served to invigorate her.
"Be careful," Zidane told his friend. Always looking out for others. Steiner's heart lurched. "Come on," the blonde prompted and offered his hand to Garnet. She spared one glance for the two knights, the briefest moment of indecision before determination etched on her features and she accepted his help, letting him pull her to her feet.
The thief smiled, some of his old cheekiness returning, "Let's go!"
Steiner's gaze was heavier, more difficult to remove from Beatrix and Freya, but remove it he did, all the while wondering if he was doing the right thing. He followed Zidane back underground, followed him along the twisted corridors and down cracked steps, followed. He followed and eventually had to stop when he realised he was doing what he'd been doing his entire life, even if this time it was for a good cause.
To turn back…
Here was the danger, within these walls, here. Anything beyond these stones, beyond this castle, he could not see yet he trusted Zidane to see Garnet through. Zidane had proven his bravery, often when it wasn't even called for and he was becoming more of a man every day. Vivi's powers were growing under the encouragement and well-wishes of his friends. Even Garnet herself had come a long way since stepping outside her ordinary life and embracing the challenges the world presented. Alone, her devotion hadn't been enough to carry her through but the three of them… The three of them together…
They would be fine. He was only hired help, after all.
"Rusty, what're you doing!" Zidane called, his voice bouncing around the enclosed space until it seemed like a thousand people were demanding an answer of him.
If he followed now, he would be doing a good deed. If he went to help the others, he would be doing a good deed also. The only difference was…
"Zidane, I have a request. I want you to escort the Princess out of Alexandria. Please take her to Doctor Tot. He will know what to do."
The difference was…
"Piece of cake. I'm an escape artist."
The difference was…
'If I go back, I will be doing something good for myself.'
"Zidane, Master Vivi, I'm counting on you," he said, locking eyes with the pair, willing strength into them. Whatever burden he had carried alone up until a moment ago, he was now sharing with at least two other people and the knowledge made his heart swell in his chest, the feeling of camaraderie inspiring. He offered a salute, about-faced and ran back the way he'd come, throwing over his shoulder a perfunctory, "Princess, I bid you farewell!"
The wind being sucked along the tunnel he turned into seemed to urge him on. It pressed against his body, carrying him to those he'd left to fend for themselves, lightening the bulk of his armour, the weight of his swords. He turned a corner, running flush into Freya's back.
"Oof!" the air departed her lungs in a rush. She whirled, a flurry of fur and dragon's wings and hardly stopped her retaliatory strike. "You! You're lucky I didn't skewer you!" she said.
"Forgive me," he said dryly but she was already onto the next Bandersnatch.
A way down the passage, Beatrix was besting another monster. She didn't need to look at him for Steiner to feel her withering glare. "Steiner! What are you doing here!"
For perhaps the last time, he withdrew his trusty broadsword, inhaling a terse breath at the still-open wound in his hand. How he was going to be of any service like this, he did not know. The important thing was, for better or worse, he was there. "I never knew when to yield either," he told her.
A Bandersnatch slammed into Save the Queen, driving Beatrix backward. "Cute," she snarled at him, somewhat preoccupied.
Grinning despite the situation -- knowing she could look after her skin -- he puffed himself up, trying to sound like the Steiner of old, "I am Captain Adelbert Steiner of Alexandria. Grant me the honour of assisting you brave knights."
"Enough with you babble!" Freya hustled him back along the corridor out into an open chamber -- he was getting a definite sense of déjà vu by this stage -- and leaped onto a stony outcrop, ready to play assassin to whatever followed them. "Fight!"
He turned to await the onslaught. Beatrix was sprinting after them, pausing every so often to slash at a monster. "Your hand!" she called.
Steiner looked down. "Oh! Yes, that. A minor inconvenience."
The General rolled her remaining eye. With a casual backhand slice she disposed of another monster and cast Cura on him. The relief was instant; amongst all the battles, both internal and external, he hadn't realised how much trouble it had been giving him. She flipped her hair out of her face while he tested the mended ligaments then ran the remaining distance to stand beside him, joining the pair in the open chamber.
"Good as new," he complimented.
"Better than new, I'll wager," she returned.
"Didn't think you were the wagering type."
"Do you mind!" Freya yelled, tossing a spear towards the first Bandersnatch to escape the tunnel.
He could've sworn Beatrix was smiling as she went to work again. She did not throw herself into the fray. The fray seemed to evolve around her like a pebble would create ripples when thrown in a lake. He'd always known her prowess with the long sword but hadn't had the chance to appreciate it, not when he'd been on the receiving end much of the time. Now, even as he equalled her effort, he found her lifting the bar higher and higher until the both of them were fighting to capacity and, impossibly, then some.
Steiner checked each attack. The next time he turned to face a passageway full of slavering beasts it suddenly struck him that no matter how simple these creatures were, the mind-numbing amount of them was overwhelming.
After that realisation, it didn't take long before they were forced to fall back.
Freya leapt from purchase to purchase, picking off enemies that looked about to breach the other two's defences. He and Beatrix fought together, first one leading then the other, weaving around each other's strikes, making room for one another. He lost count of how many near misses they suffered, how many times he saved her and was saved in return. He wondered who would owe who by the time the night was over or whether Death would claim everything they owned.
They were holding their own for a time against the bloodthirsty brood but then Alexandrian soldiers entered the scene. One woman was approaching Freya from behind and, unthinking, Steiner drove his blade into her flesh. The moment seared into his memory, a fiery brand. He knew, knew then that he'd taken that final, horrible step over the precipice. This was not just some gallant show -- he hadn't pretended otherwise but this solidified the point. A metallic clang sounded at his ear and Beatrix was yelling, "What are you doing? Move!"
Grateful for the order, he yanked his sword from the dying woman. An alarming number of Alexandrians was racing up the spiralling staircase to meet their tiny party. He retreated a step, felt Beatrix's back against his, felt her hair tickling his neck, felt her head turn slightly towards him. She didn't ask why he'd returned, what he was thinking, didn't question his sudden change of heart. Everything was forgotten -- he was there and she knew it, could feel someone with her. He could give her that, at least. All she said was, "I won't die a traitor."
"And I promised."
Beatrix seemed to understand. Wordlessly, she plunged into battle.
The old wound in his shoulder was throbbing again, thrumming in counterpoint to the new one in his other shoulder, the one that had remained untended. He wanted nothing more than to set aside his sword and collapse but he'd promised, dammit, and Beatrix was there, and if he was better than her he couldn't give up first. If he hadn't cried so much earlier, he might have then. Instead, he grinned a feral grin and laughed when his opponent backed up, afraid.
Freya's face was a grim mask of determination as she took the soldier from behind. Blood sprayed over Steiner's breastplate. The Burmecian screamed, "Take hold of your wits!"
'I can't,' he wanted to say, 'I can't be sane for this.'
"Killing is easy," Beatrix said beside him, jerking him back.
'—It's the moment before…'
He locked swords with another, felt his tenuous grip on reality solidify for every moment they struggled and finally, he pushed her over the edge of the staircase. Another was already on him by then, sword finding some breach in his armour, piercing the skin. He heard a scream, realised it was his own. The ground flew up to meet him. He thought he bit his tongue when his knees jarred against the stone. To his left, Freya was squaring off with four -- eight, ten, his vision blurred -- Alexandrians. It was okay. Beatrix was, was, was. Beatrix was.
There were no heroics. She was dead too.