A Note from the Author: Just a reminder that Eve belongs to the awesome Wings of Wax, from her 'Survival' saga.
Chapter 11: Two Swords
Eve switched her resting weight from one leg to the other, propping her laced hands on her raised knee. The chill from the roof tile was seeping into the soles of her boots and a soft breeze brushed at her face, still warm from the earlier heated conversation.
How can they just move on like that? No matter who Marco was, it doesn't change who he is now. Everything inside the Walls is burning because of him…who knows how many people have died in the last few days. She looked up at the midnight-blue of the sky, scanned it and the perimeter of the trees. Does Erwin really think we're coming back? And that we'd come back with a Titan that'd actually help? They thought Eren could help and all he did was get himself fucking kidnapped – maybe even eaten by now.
She could hear faint voices – judging by the timber, Oliver's, and one other – but then they fell quiet and the back door, behind her, opened and closed. There were faint murmurs but it was hard to tell if they were voices inside or other, outside noises playing tricks on her. But it was better to be up here than inside, pretending to agree with everyone's sentiments.
She had to admire the Carello ranch, in all honesty; even though it was still a settlement outside the Walls, the family hadn't let that deter them from picking a good siting. She wondered how long all of this had taken them, including clearing what she estimated to be around fifty acres. The house itself was situated in the front third of the cleared land on one of three main rises, with the other two being one slightly to the right of the middle third and the other at the far end, while the rest of the land sloped gracefully like the backs of the many horses that apparently roamed here once. Now that she looked, from her position above the front door she could see how the remains of the cobbled front yard trailed straight ahead into a lane bordered with soft embankments, soft now but likely much steeper when this place was occupied. She wondered if it had been to channel Titans should they ever make it this far in.
Thinking of Titans made her think of Marco again. What if Marco was lying, and he wasn't on their side? What if this Two Swords person hadn't pulled the wool over his eyes and he'd known what he was doing all along? And what if, when he came back, Two Swords brought reinforcements? What if Marco was just waiting for that eventuality?
Eve's eyes were drawn to the sudden spark of a fire in the distance, close to where they'd emerged when they arrived. She frowned, drawing her blades, but did not rise and thus present herself as a target. To her further surprise and worry the fire soon spread in a line and painted a long curve through the field, racing past the house until it coiled like a golden snake in the slopes of the pasture behind the ranch, finally stopping. She could make out the faint, dark forms of several figures just beyond the line of fire. Eve cursed.
As she turned on the ball of her foot to carefully climb down, she heard the terrified whinny of horses. One was suddenly cut short, followed by another.
Someone's in the stables, she realized. That shifter bastard's killing the horses! He wants to strand us here so he can kill us too. Then he'll have 'Cee all to himself…
Eve jumped off the lowest part of the roof at the back of the house, crouched low and hastily crept between the house and the overgrown shrubbery toward the stable. Just before she made the dash across the gap between house and stable she paused, detecting movement to her right – Marco came into view, also running for the stables. Just as she was thinking of taking the opportunity to cut him down herself, he suddenly stumbled and his hand shot to his neck. He trudged a few more steps before dropping to his knees, and then completely onto his stomach. He didn't move.
What the… Eve frowned, her mouth parting in worry. It wasn't him. Then who... She swallowed and pressed her back to the stucco of the house, glancing around the corner either direction.
Another frightened neigh spurned her across the gap – over the stable's low board walls she could see the horses' shadows rearing and dancing. Eve kept low against the wall and tried to pick out the location of the intruder amongst all the noise. She could hear the house stirring. As she was about to stand up and vault over the wall, suddenly one of the horses broke down the boards of its cell near to her and sped out into the yard – Eve glimpsed a hand losing its grip on the horse's rope. She took the opportunity to dash forward, her blades raised.
One other blade met hers as she turned the corner, but it wasn't a maneuvering gear blade – it was an actual sword. The slightly curved blade parried hers and the individual – she couldn't make out his or her face – leapt back into the shadows of the stable. She growled and charged in, but abruptly felt a sharp sting at her clavicle. Eve's hand shot up as Marco's had done and snatched out the small dart. She began to feel light-headed and her vision swam, twisting the shadows and barely-lighter highlights into one another. Her muscles grew weak and she dropped into the sweet-smelling hay, and her eyes closed.
"I'll check the stables; Ol', you check round the other side. Baena stay here," Fhalz said as they jogged out of the front door.
Baena was immediately looking to their right at the rope of fire leading into the field from the forest. She squinted, trying to make out if she saw figures behind the flames.
Fhalz cursed loudly. Baena looked over to see him plucking something from his neck, and soon after wobbling on his feet. He looked at whatever it was in his hand and then he was shouting, "Baena! Get back inside!"
"What –" she began.
"Go!" he slurred and fell to his knees.
She looked around for any signs of their attacker, and noticed Oliver running back in their direction. His head twitched once, twice, and he too raised a hand to his neck. Although he tried to run for a few more paces eventually he, too, dropped. Baena turned up the collar of her jacket and her search grew more frantic – where was this coming from? Dart trajectories weren't that far, and there were no close hiding places.
Except… Instead of going back in the house Baena took a few more steps out of the door and fired a line at the chimney, using it to get to the roof. Once on her feet she drew her blades. Her theory had been correct.
The man that stood up from his crouched position beside a window gable threw away a blowdart pipe. Rather calmly, he drew two swords from their scabbards at his hips and paced confidently up the roof tile until he stood evenly with her on the ridge. A rifle peered over his shoulder. As light fell on his face she could see how he smiled; dark, collar-length curly hair fell into his bright eyes.
Two Swords, she thought. "Who are you really?" she demanded, readying herself.
"I might ask you the same thing," he said.
He's stalling. Don't fall for it. Baena ran forward and hopped to the gable he'd used, jumping back at him. Their blades clashed. Although shorter than her, he had a considerable amount of strength behind his defense.
The two of them began a careful, balanced dance on the roof and it quickly became obvious to Baena that he was a better swordsman than she was. This wasn't a Titan; there wasn't much place for large slashes or any other moves that lacked delicacy. He seemed pretty confident on the terrain of the roof, as if he knew its angles by heart; maybe she'd stand a chance if his stamina wasn't as good as hers.
Two Swords' took a swipe at her belly and Baena batted it away, bobbing a little as she readjusted her footing on another gable ridge. He stabbed at her chest and she twisted to avoid it, but his other sword was sweeping low at her legs. Instinct told her to jump; when she landed she immediately kicked out at his ankle, knocking him off balance. He landed on his back with a grunt; a couple of roof tiles dislodged and clattered downward.
Baena stepped lightly after him as he rolled himself away from her, his leather coat slapping and his rifle rattling against the roof. He came up into a crouch and her blades were there, crossing under his chin as he raised his head. His eyes were a glittering blue, she realized, but otherwise, he looked awfully familiar somehow despite how certain she was she'd never seen him before in her life.
"Who are you?" she yelled again.
The corner of Two Swords' mouth was drawn up by an invisible hook into an even more frighteningly familiar smirk.
Where have I seen that before? Someone else has that exact same smirk, just about the same face…
Then the backs of his swords struck her ankles – hard. Baena flinched and readjusted, but a tile underneath her came loose and she lost her balance. Before she could recover she hit her head sharply on the way down and all went dark.
Jean was startled as a body fell past him on his way out of the window – he had enough time and light to determine it was Baena. The sight pushed him the rest of the way up to the roof. He had no idea what was going on other than suddenly there was fire outside and a cacophony of noise, and the others weren't responding to his shouts. He'd ordered Julia to stay with Mercedes.
He scrambled to his feet and saw a male figure about to jump down some distance away, beside the chimney. The man stopped when he saw him and turned. Jean saw two swords in scabbards at his hips and had at least half an answer.
"Another?" the man chuckled to himself. "I could have sworn I had my numbers correct. Should be another still inside, plus Mercedes, no?" His voice, undulating like the smoke and firelight behind him, was strangely pleasant and lilting, but Jean bristled at her name.
"What do you want with her? Where's Marco?" Jean commanded. Noticing the dislodged tiles, he tread carefully as he made his way up to the ridge of the roof. He drew his blades implicitly.
"You must be Jean," said Two Swords, also wandering closer with even, slow steps as sure as a cat's one in front of the other along the ridge. "6th of your class. The leader-in-waiting. The prize stallion in a show that will never be staged. It's almost as though they sent you to me." Two Swords laughed to himself and came to a stop a couple of meters away from Jean.
As much as he wanted to make demands of the stranger, Jean forced himself to keep quiet and wait. He stilled his body and focused. Something about the man told him that he wasn't dealing with a sane individual. His eyes were too bright, his smile too constant, his gait too cavalier. And that was dangerous.
"You'll make a fine addition to the team, I should think, as she will once we get her back to health," Two Swords rolled his head on his shoulders. When his head fell forward again he was grinning at Jean, "Why don't you give me a closer look?" He drew his swords and plunged forward.
Jean darted to one side, reversing his grip on his blade to strike backwards as Two Swords fell past him. Two Swords parried and surprisingly agilely twisted on the edge of the eave, sidestepping another swipe from Jean. He swiped back, and Jean recoiled backward and up a few steps. The two of them made their way back up to the ridge, hunkered low and staring each other down.
Jean took a running start and jumped, his blades bearing down on Two Swords' as he soared over him. Underneath him, the older man half-knelt and span, scything first one sword and then the other diagonally upward to defend. Jean flipped to absorb the blow and landed on the other side of Two Swords, immediately countering a pair of jabs. A tile underfoot came loose and he readjusted. Two Swords took the opportunity and struck blow after powerful blow, forcing Jean to defend and move backward. Jean was reminded of the early days, when he'd sparred with Mercedes and how she'd toyed with him before moving to the offensive with crushing and agile power, like the jaguar of her family crest.
Their blades locked in the air above their heads, Two Swords pounded a knee into Jean's stomach, buckling him over. He landed another strike into Jean's wounded left shoulder. Jean fired a line into the chimney scant feet away and let himself skid down the roof out of danger; he flew away from the hip of the roof and propelled himself around the chimney. He careened toward Two Swords from above, his blades poised like the talons of an eagle. Two Swords merely locked eyes with him and stood still, waiting. He was smiling.
Jean felt his anger move into his throat as a growl and it erupted into a yell. He bore down on him and slashed – Two Swords nonchalantly stepped to one side and leaned backward out of the way – Jean's blade passed directly over his face and barely disturbed his ebony hair. Jean smiled now, too, and contorted his body to throw himself back in Two Swords' direction. Two Swords latched a hand onto the roof ridge and deliberately slid down and out of the way of the two feet Jean had intended to plant on his chest. Jean changed direction yet again and came back to land, his blade stabbing down only to barely miss Two Swords' face but still slice through his ear. Two Swords swept one blade upward and though Jean dodged, the tip scratched through his left cheek and nearly into his eye. As Jean recoiled he stepped back too far and tottered on the eave of the roof.
Two Swords grabbed him by the head, momentarily stopping his fall; he heard the swords clatter on the tile. Jean re-gripped his own blades and brought them in for the kill but before they could strike, Two Swords' forehead slammed violently into his own, and he was dropped. He couldn't feel anything before he hit the ground.
A Note from the Author: Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's read and reviewed. It means a ton! Sorry for the slower updates this go round - I seem to have several irons in the fire right now. Hopefully it's worth it!
