Chapter Eleven

Before I knew it I was running after her, leaving the others behind shouting her name and then mine. She disappeared behind the shell of a barn, but I could still hear her frantic, whimpering breaths above everything else even as she tore through the village. Her village. Having never had much of a home, I could hardly empathise much, but I could certainly understand. I thought of all the people I'd grown up with, the faces I'd known for almost my entire life, and imagined for a moment what I'd feel if, suddenly, they were all gone, dead in front of me. Years of battle and seeing to the dead had hardened my resolve when it came to matters like this, but the thought of it still left me a little breathless. How, then, must she be feeling? She'd had friends here, a strange sort of family, memories, and she'd loved each of them dearly. No one would miss the smile in her eyes as she spoke of her home. The home she left behind. She'd left to save them, not leave them to be killed.

If I knew her at all, she'd blame herself.

The stench of burning flesh and charcoal assaulted my nostrils, but I tried not to notice. She was more important. I had to find her before anything happened, as Hell's knew she wouldn't be thinking very straight. For all her experience, all her strength, there was only so much that could make up for her age.

When I saw her, she wasn't running, she was barely moving. Her back was pressed against a battered brick wall like she was trying to meld into it, her fingers grasping along its surface at whatever she could. Half crouched, and with a pained, utterly disbelieving look on her face, she stared widely at the sight before her. Of course I didn't recognise them, but anyone could have seen that she must have known the battered bodies that were as still as stone on the grass. A woman with greying brown hair, loosened from a struggle, lay lifeless at her feet, her eyes still open but glazed over with a shadowy hue. Her long dress was ripped and muddied, with a dark, black patch at her side that was starting to cake together. Barely a few feet away was a man, older but by no means elderly, still gripping a long, sharpened blade in a gloved hand. He'd died fighting. The ground next to the woman's hands were scorched brown. So had she. They all had. And now their deaths were staring her in the face, the very people she'd given up everything to protect.

"D...D...Daeghun...wasn't there...I...I looked...must've...got away...somehow..." She said as if her lungs weren't obeying her, swallowing heavily on the constriction building in her throat. Her eyes remained fixed on the two pairs looking back at her.

"I..." I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say to take this all away from her, have it never happen so that she still had a home to go back to. I took a step forward and gave her my hand, which she took and hauled herself to her feet with, all the while looking at the corpses by her feet. Her mouth opened to speak but only a quiet, almost inaudible whimper came from her throat. Without warning, she turned and fell forward into me with a violent exhalation, her smaller hands gripping the shoulders of my plate mail like a lifeline.

She was shaking violently, and her breaths came in short, heavy rasps as she leaned into me, her forehead pressed against my breastplate as if it wasn't unyielding, cold metal at all. Not knowing what else to do, I followed suit, wrapping my arms around her and trying to hold her as comfortably as possible with my armour fully on. Any doubts I'd had about following her were brushed away. She was always there for everybody else, and so I was glad to be there for her however I could. I knew all too well how fallible leaders always were, how human even the most frosty, aloof species could become in a matter of moments when faced with something a fraction as devastating as this. But she wasn't crying, I didn't think, though if that was the case it was a remarkable display of self-control. A long, painful moment passed. I wished there was something I could have done to take it away entirely. From what she had told me this was all she had ever known, and now she would never know it again. I was no good in situations like this. My heart lurched at the unfairness of it all. Not just the situation, but the fact that it was all happening to her. I knew I'd do anything to take it away if I could.

"My lady...we must keep moving..." I said, feeling heartless but knowing it was the truth. She said she counted on me to be the reasonable one, and however much I was beginning to hate the side of me that could be entirely detached, I had to do what was right. Even now I could feel the dark magic surrounding the mere creeping forwards, drinking away at the life force of everything around.

"I...I know." She said breathlessly in a voice that was still wavering. Her shuddering had subsided, and now she stepped back and wiped a hand over her face before letting go a long, ragged sigh. Her eyes trailed sorrowfully back to the bodies behind her, and though I saw her flinch, she was more in control. "It's not fair...none of it..." She mumbled, walking around them with her jaw tight and her fists clenched. "Sure, nothing's fair, someone always has to get hurt in things like this...but not them...why them...never did a single thing...to deserve it...I hate this..." I was about to say something suitably comforting – once I thought of the words that would erase the horrific reality of the situation – like any Paladin should, but she put up a hand to stop me, her head whipping around and staring intently into the distance as she whispered something I couldn't make out.

"What...?" She hushed me instantly, and after a short, deathly silent pause, she was off again. But this time, thankfully, it was only to a house a small distance away. Without pausing she kicked down the splintered front door and shouted the same word again. Or was it a name? Her speech was still wavering, bitten out through a jaw clenched in pain. She ran inside, hopping over the fallen beams and toppled furniture and remnants of what was once a home, and I followed. "My la..." I started before I saw her, stopping at a small set of flat doors that must have led into a basement or storage area. She creaked one open slowly, and now I heard it. A faint, muffled sobbing. So someone had survived after all. She went through quickly, and I grabbed a still-burning torch before following. There, sure enough, was a tiny silhouette, crouching in a corner and flinching away from the light.

"Lisbeth?" Her voice was more tender than I'd thought possible of the Captain, as she spoke the same name she'd frantically whispered before. She hurried closer and knelt next to the cowering child. I saw as I drew nearer the pair of bare legs ravaged with cuts and scrapes, as well as the speckles of blood on the floor nearby.

"E...Evie?" Came the high pitched, disbelieving whisper as the older woman's hands found the girl's face, bruised and with large, swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Suddenly the girl launched herself forward into her arms with a ragged cry that grew in intensity as she moved. "Ow! It...it hurts!" She began to howl in pain and the captain opened her mouth uncertainly. Her head turned slightly to the side, and she spoke in a strained, lost voice.

"Casavir...Casavir I need you..." I closed the distance quickly and joined her next to the sobbing girl who's head whipped up to face me as if she'd only just noticed I was there.

"Who...who's he?" She broke out in between sobs. I could see even without feeling that her leg was broken. The bone was twisted and stuck out unnaturally from under the skin.

"It's ok, Lissie..." She started, holding Lisbeth's head closer and stroking her hair in an almost maternal fashion as she gripped one hand in hers determinedly. "This is my friend, Casavir. He'll...he'll make you better, okay?" The girl nodded after a while, the acute distress still clearly written on her face but lessening somewhat as I hovered my hands over the injury and thanked my God again as the magic still flowed through me like water and the bone mended itself.

"Tyr." Came the single syllable from Lisbeth as she sighed in relief once the pain was gone. I was confused for the moment before I realised her free hand was pointing at my chest, where, sure enough, there was the symbol of Tyr etched onto the top right corner. The child must have been not only incredibly discerning but also very intelligent. Judging by the woman she clung onto now, it was hardly surprising.

"Aye, I serve Tyr." I replied with a small smile that she returned, my voice too-loud and resounding in the silence surrounding us. She stared at me with large, brown eyes set in a round, freckled face and framed by chestnut hair tangled around her head. The two of them could have been distantly related, but I doubted it. Strange, then, that they should be so close, though perhaps that idea was just from my growing up in a city as unforgiving as Neverwinter.

"Is...is he a real knight?" She whispered conspiratorially as if I couldn't hear. "Like in those books?" The Captain glanced up to me, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a sad sort of smile.

"Yeah, that's right." She mumbled to Lisbeth. "A real one. Now what says we get out of..."

"I thought you said people like that didn't exist really." The girl replied with the innocent impudence and penchant for details that only children could get away with. And she didn't look to be more than six or seven years of age at the most. The pain of a few moments ago seemed entirely forgotten. The Captain's expression was the single humorous aspect of a markedly unfunny situation.

"Well, I guess I was wrong." Her face hardened and she looked at the child seriously. "Now listen, no more questions. We have to leave." The girl nodded resolutely and climbed into the captain's arms, tiny hands clasped together behind the long sheathe on her back. I stood wordlessly and cleared a path for the two of them through the house. Again, there was nothing I could say. She paused suddenly and her eyes found mine as one hand pressed Lisbeth's head closer to her armoured shoulder. I remembered the bodies that lay strewn outside, the sight that would haunt the child forever. "Lisbeth...I need you to close your eyes, alright?" Lisbeth's mouth pursed together, no doubt to ask why, but she was cut off. "No more questions. I need you to trust me. Now do you?" The small, dark head nodded quickly. "Good...now close your eyes tight, and don't open them til I say so...alright?" Another nod, and Lisbeth's eyes screwed shut. "Good. This'll all be over soon...I promise..."

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"Elanee? I need a favour." She said suddenly, as the others came into view, their faces each lighting up in surprise as they saw the girl still clinging onto her, her eyes obediently closed.

That child was the responsibility thrust upon her shoulders, the reminder of all that could be lost and all that could be salvaged. She wasn't crying, not for the fallen or for the loss of her old life. She didn't even look sad anymore, just grimly determined. Instead, she gripped Lisbeth as if she was the only thing she had left. In a way, I supposed she was. I wouldn't fool myself by thinking that she liked any of us enough to go through this rather than have the whole thing never happen, and our paths never crossing, and her village not in ruins. Now, she was hard as steel, and there was no trace of the barely-of-age girl I'd held and comforted before aside from the almost vulnerable, pleading look she'd given me just before we reached the others, reminding me that her tiny breakdown never actually happened.

"There…there are survivors? I…" Elanee cut herself off immediately after a hard look from the woman in front of her. Of course, the child didn't know the scale of the attack, but would have been smart enough to guess from that comment alone. Luckily, I didn't think she had heard.

"Take her back to the Keep, and take care of her 'til I get back, alright?" She said quickly, lowering Lisbeth to her feet and telling her in a quiet voice to keep her eyes straight ahead and to stay with Elanee.

"What about you?" Lisbeth asked suddenly. The others were deathly quiet, even those that normally took any opportunity to make themselves heard.

"I'm needed here. But…I'll be back. Soon. You'll be alright, I promise. Now, go with Elanee." She straightened and watched as the Elf, strangely protective all of a sudden, took the child's hand and led her back towards the portal. She turned to the others and there was a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "We still need that shard. There's no threat left in the village, but the marshland isn't a friendly place, so stay sharp." I didn't want to ask if she was all right, it would be suicide judging by the set of her jaw and the way she clutched her sword. Her eyes flicked to one side, where an unidentifiable woman lay, scorched by fire and covered in long, raking wounds. I could smell the violent odour of burnt hair even from where I was.

"Then you know of our true destination." Zhjeave asked carefully. She pulled her eyes from the body, nodded and jerked a thumb to her left.

"There's some Illefarn ruins nearby in the swamp. That's where we found the first shard. Though...Bevil was with me last time..." Another wave of sadness passed over her face but she clenched her jaw and willed it away. I didn't know whether to be impressed or worried that she hadn't shed a tear yet. Even though however hard I tried I couldn't imagine her crying.

"Then you should lead, as you have the knowing of this place more than I. And as you say, we should be on our guard. Only something of great power could have turned away our arrival from the ruins, and they may still be around..." Neeshka muttered something under her breath, while Shandra next to her was looking at our leader with a pained sort of sympathy, as if she wanted to say something but knew there was nothing to be said that would provide any comfort. I knew that feeling all too well.

"Alright, let's move." She replied curtly, immediately stalking off in front of the others and avoiding eye contact. I wished I could have told her to just go back to the Keep with the child, that we would take care of the shard and she could grieve without having to be a leader at the same time, but at least I knew her well enough to guess the response I'd get. She gripped her sword as if it was the only thing keeping her upright, and the grim determination in her eyes as she turned for the briefest moment reminded me that battle was the easiest way to forget your losses, your faults, your mistakes. Life was simplified into the enemy and yourself, and nothing else seemed to matter very much. One day I'd tell her exactly why I'd left my Order, but now wasn't the right time. It was never the right time.

I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to say something, like we all did, that would make it all go away. But there was nothing to be said. All I could do was follow her again.

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I heard them shouting, a scream of my name above the chaos of battle. My arms felt limp, my throat burned, and I felt weak as a child, but surely it didn't matter, because I'd just taken down the enemy. I'd seen him fall just as a final plunge of my blade killed the points of light where his eyes should have been. I'd avenged the deaths of everyone I'd ever known. I turned my head to see what was going on, but before I saw anything at all I felt the two simultaneous strokes burning on my face. I cried out and took a step back, gritting my teeth and tasting copper on my lips as I slashed in front of me and felt a strike connect even as one hand flew to the fresh, deep cuts. I opened my eyes and saw through a haze of red the shadowy figure responsible slumping to the ground as no more than dust. My face felt like it was on fire. Maybe if I cried now no one would notice. There was too much blood.

"Ye gads, lass!" I heard Khelgar's unmistakeable accent hurrying closer, and the shuffle of feet telling me he wasn't the only one.

Another cry, this time from behind me, telling me to watch out. I couldn't watch out. I couldn't watch anything. I could barely see. I couldn't do this anymore. The memories floated in my mind of the scattered corpses in my home, and how I would probably join them any time now because, again, I wasn't fast enough or good enough. Would it really be so bad?

I heard the squelch of a wide, thin, red-hot blade piercing flesh before I felt it entering my back, sliding right through to my stomach until I was sure it was going to burst out the other side. A long, painful, croaking noise emerged from my lips, and that was all I could do. I was paralysed with the agony as he wrenched it out, but the spattering of hot liquid on the back of my neck told me he had been dealt with. I'd been cut up enough in my time, but I'd never lost complete control of my actions because of pain before. I wanted to scream out from my very soul but found I couldn't even get my throat to work. Someone caught me as I tumbled backwards, and once I'd found my tongue I shouted a guttural curse at the pain the jar caused. It started to spread through my abdomen like wildfire, and I felt my armour being removed even as I bucked and cried out underneath. It must have been him, I realised, for the hand that slid over my bare stomach, writhing with wetness like a gutted fish, was strangely comforting, and not at all like the gith's. But of course…she'd been knocked unconscious almost immediately. So it was him that had kept me alive through the ordeal and fought for my life even now as his strong voice rang out in a spell that was taking far too long.

Elanee was at the Keep, Zhjaeve wasn't in a position to help anyone, and now Casavir was my only hope, once again. More hands, this time shifting my position so that I lay on my front on the muddied stone floor, the biting pain that raked along my back fired up and I gritted my teeth together as I forced my head to one side so I could see what was going on. Just his palms, now, pressing around the wound and his voice muttering faster and faster and getting louder and louder in desperation.

The warmth was a comfort, but the healing magic just wasn't coming. He wouldn't let me die, though. Not him. He'd find a way somehow...

"Well?" I heard Bishop demand exasperatedly, the first word I'd had from him since we arrived this side of the portal.

"What's happening?" I bit out through the pain, screwing my face up as a fresh wave of piercing agony hit me, each one leaving me shuddering uncontrollably and limp as a scrap of pondweed, my whole world moving around me like I was caught in the centre of a whirlpool. Nausea was beginning to well up in my stomach as well, I noticed vaguely over the pain screaming along my nerves so intensely that I wondered if they would still work if I survived. I tried to open my eyes to ground myself in the present but saw nothing, only blood. Blood that filled my lungs and gushed out of my stomach and made every fresh wave of dizziness even more intense. I choked on whatever it was I was coughing up and felt myself start to shake violently, as if every little movement shook away a little more of my consciousness.

"I...I cannot." I heard Casavir's frustrated, helpless voice. "The magic...I must pray."

"No time." Bishop grunted with an angry sigh. I felt myself getting weaker, but somehow persevered and opened my eyes a crack and saw through the haze him reaching to his belt and pull out a flask of maroon-coloured liquid. He uncorked it with his teeth as he brushed away Casavir's hands and knelt down, stretching the wound a little wider. I couldn't stop myself from whimpering from the unexpected blast of pain, and just hoped I didn't shed a tear as he splashed the potion directly inside. The searing heat shot through me and I could hear the steam rising as my flesh knitted itself together. It hurt like hell, but even if with nothing else I trusted everyone in that room with my life. The flask clattering to the floor was the last thing I heard, as the warm haze swimming up from my stomach, where my own blood had matted itself into my clothing, took me over. Staying awake was too painful, and all too real. It would be so much easier if I just closed my eyes for good, and let myself float away into the sweet, inviting embrace of sleep…