Getting Javier Escuella back to camp was leagues easier than either Dutch or Arthur could have imagined. Once they'd reached the grounds below, both staring around at the dead men littering the dirt, Rane had already broken the lock on Javier's makeshift prison and rejuvenated him. He was standing of his own volition, still bloody and filthy but clearly no longer injured, staring at Rane with obvious shock. Rane herself was dragging the bodies of the three soldiers that had been guarding Javier off to the side of the platform and out of sight.
"You alright, son?" Dutch asked him, drawing near and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You hurt? We came as soon as we -"
"Did you see that? Did you see what she did ?" Javier gasped, gaping at Dutch and Arthur. His voice was a little wild. " Dios mio , all of 'em dead faster than slicked goddamned lightning, and then she asked them three there if they'd surrender to her and then killed two of em outright and I mean, Christ Dutch I ain't never seen -!"
"Take it easy," said Arthur, a little alarmed. "She told ya what she was. Answer Dutch, Javier, are ya hurt? Can ya walk?"
Javier took a shaky breath, passing a hand over his face. "Christ. Yeah, I'm fine, she fixed me up. I feel fine. What the fuck was that?"
Rane had approached again, brushing her hands off on her jeans, the last of the dead soldiers stashed out of sight. "I'm gonna Appar - er, I'm gonna, I dunno, magic us back to camp, if that's okay," she said, slightly winded, bending over her knees. Dutch noted the streak of drying blood on her shirt where she'd wiped off her sword. "Arthur can tell you it isn't very pleasant, and I'll have to go one at a time, but it'll be safer. I'm sure there are more of these guys around."
"Yeah, it's pretty goddamned awful," Arthur agreed grimly. "We could just go back through that cave instead -"
"No, no way." Rane shook her head. "I'd rather lick a cheese grater than walk on that cliff again. Trust me, this is better."
"What'd that last one say to you?" Dutch asked her, unable to help himself. "The one you ran through in the dirt?"
Rane sighed, straightening, rubbing the back of her neck ruefully. "He called me something unbecoming." She shrugged, looking a trifle guilty. "I gave them all a chance to let me tie them up and they all said no."
Dutch eyed her a moment, shaking his head. "Jesus. Alright, let's get outta here."
HERCULE met with Dutch and Micah alone later that day, as the sun began its inevitable descent in the West. Rane, Arthur, Javier and Bill were not invited, and though Rane wasn't surprised that she'd been left out of the meeting - Hercule hadn't trusted her from the moment he'd set eyes on her - she was surprised that Arthur had been eschewed as well. And she wasn't the only one. He'd sat next to the fire opposite her, glaring off into the distance, smoking cigarette after cigarette before flicking them away irritably, coughing roughly. Javier had spent most of the afternoon recounting to Bill his arrest and rescue, but Arthur continued to say nothing.
Eventually, Rane had gotten up and sat down beside him, touching his arm, nodding toward the cigarette between his fingers. Bill and Javier were still deep in conversation, heedless.
Maybe lay off those, huh?
Oh hell, it don't fuckin' much matter now.
Rane had looked at him for a moment, frowning.
Hey , she'd said gently. Don't worry about that. Seriously .
Micah over me , Arthur had muttered, shaking his head. He'd hesitated, then added, and that shit in the cave. I don't know what the hell to think about anything anymore.
Rane sighed, leaning forward over her knees and rubbing her forehead. She knew what he meant. Dutch had inspired some reticence in her since she'd met him, even some suspicion, but this was the first time she had been genuinely alarmed by his behavior. The way his mood had shifted so quickly - angry, happy, laughing, then homicidal - had alarmed her, too, as did the way he'd sent her in to save Javier by herself. He had done it to test her loyalty, sure, but she thought it had also been meant as a little fuck-you to Arthur, and why he would do that to his second in command was a mystery to her. She felt this was a conversation she should have with Arthur at some point. But with Bill and Javier sitting six feet away, she wasn't about to bring that up.
Just don't worry right now , she had said at last, squeezing his shoulder. He'll be back soon and we'll find out what's going on.
This turned out to be true. Dutch, Micah and Hercule came striding back into camp not an hour later. Rane watched them from over the fists clasped before her lips, her eyes on Dutch. He had a definite spring in his step. So did Micah.
"You know what I just realized, Roth?" he said cheerily, seeing her watching him. Rane sighed.
"Pray tell."
"That you got about the biggest dumbest eyebrows I ever saw in my life," said Micah, and laughed heartily. "You oughta take a scythe to them damn things, girl!"
Rane laughed merrily with him, straightening and slapping one knee. "Hey, so if we're doing suggestions, maybe close your fuckin' shirt, Lebowski, because nobody wants to see your gut."
Micah stopped laughing and glared at her, jerking his lapels a little closer together. "I got half a mind to shut you up myself, girl."
"Second time's the charm, baby."
"Good news, my friends," said Dutch expansively, ignoring them. "Mister Fontaine here was good enough to secure us a ship to the mainland."
Arthur and Bill got to their feet. "No shit?" Bill said sharply.
"None whatsoever."
"What's the catch?" asked Arthur warily.
Dutch sighed, glancing at Hercule, who was watching Rane with suspicion as usual.
"We gotta take out some of Fussar's boys to get there, is all. They're lined up on the beach guardin' the docks. We got weapons," he added as Javier sighed, looking exasperated. "We'll be okay. Hell, we got you out of damn prison today, didn't we?"
"Somebody did," Javier murmured, low. Rane heard it, but she wasn't sure Dutch did.
"Christ, more shootin', then." Bill was massaging his brow. "When?"
"Now," said Dutch. "If you all are ready. It'll be docking in the next hour and a half or so."
"Likely sooner," said Hercule. "You are aiding a good cause. I promise you."
"What kind of men are these?" Rane asked Hercule. "Artillery? Big caliber?"
"Yes," said Hercule, nodding. "Heavy weapons. He is funded very well."
Rane sighed, rubbing her temple. She didn't feel much like fighting anymore today. Dutch heard it and cast her a dire look.
"We're gonna do as I say."
"Yeah, well." Arthur dusted off his jeans and yanked his gun belt a little tighter around his waist. "I guess we don't have much choice, do we?"
Arthur wasn't looking at Dutch - he was looking down at his belt, pulling the prong closed, his brow furrowed - so he didn't see the expression of genuine antipathy that crossed Dutch's face at these words. Rane saw it, though. It was not the hearty look of a politician working to garner support amongst his subjects in that moment, but one of absolute mistrust and paranoia.
"That we don't," Dutch said, turning from them. "Come on."
"Want me to scout ahead, take 'em all out for you first?" Rane said before she could stop herself.
Dutch turned to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes hard and cold. "I might could do, yeah, if you don't watch yourself. Come on."
THEY travelled together down to the oceanside, Hercule's men in close tow, all taking care to keep their weapons against their chest and their dark eyes on Rane. She watched them as she went from the corner of her eye, the wind whipping about her face, one hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Quit eyeballing them," said Arthur from the corner of his mouth, frowning. "You're gonna piss one of 'em off, Rane."
Rane scoffed. "Well, I already pissed them off, so what does it matter?"
"Just mind your fuckin' manners til we can get outta here, that's all I'm sayin'."
Rane glanced at him, her brows knitted. "What's wrong with you?"
"The hell do you think?" he snapped.
Rane fell back out of step with him, chastened, watching his back. He hesitated, slowing, then looking back grasped her hand in his briefly, his eyes blue and chagrined in the low light.
"Sorry." He squeezed her hand. "I'm a little bit fucked up in the head, Rane, is all."
"Well, join the club."
She leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth in the growing dusk, then marched on after Dutch.
"There." Hercule had paused near a long bridge leading to a beach, pointing with one hand. "See that?"
They all peered into the distance. There was indeed a ship tethered offshore, and the beach was littered with men, many of them in the same garb that the ones who'd imprisoned Javier had been. Rane pulled her sword.
"How many do we need to kill?" she said, low.
"As many as we can," said Hercule.
Rane twirled her sword once around her wrist. "Then let's get this shit over with, I guess."
IT wasn't a difficult fight. Bill, Javier, Dutch and Micah were all sharpshooters to be reckoned with. Rane didn't need to do much except deflect the oncoming storm of bullets, which was more to her liking than striking men down. The day was waning over them, the sun red on the sea and the sand crunching beneath her boots, when a familiar voice called her name.
"Rane Roth! Turn! We have business to discuss!"
She started, her sword dropping to her side amidst the hail of bullets around them. She was far ahead of the rest of them, perhaps some twenty feet, and she turned her eyes toward the beach ahead, her hair whipping about her face. Limdur stood there, striding toward her, and as he came he shed his green cloak onto the sand with a shrug, watching her beneath his brows.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, completely taken aback.
"We sent ravens to Ylle Thalas," said Limdur, drawing near. "Undunai has no child. You told me a lie, girl."
Rane took a step back, suddenly afraid.
"Limdur, hang on, now, I can explain -"
"I asked that of you once before," said Limdur quietly. "And I received untruth."
"Rane?" Arthur called from the bridge behind. Rane chanced a glance backwards and saw Arthur starting forward, looking at Limdur with bewilderment. She waved her free hand wildly at him.
"STAY BACK, ARTHUR!" she shouted at him, her eyes forbidding. He halted, hesitant and alarmed.
"You are no Eldarin," Limdur was saying, approaching her. "You speak our tongue but you are not one of us -"
"I'm not from - from this - this time -" Rane struggled, feeling inept, watching him approach her fearfully. "Limdur, it's not so simple as that, it's not for years that -!"
"An easy lie for mortals to tell," said Limdur, and now he was feet from her, his lean form cast into dire countenance in the sunlight. "Easy indeed."
Dutch, crouched on the bridge and returning fire, grasped Arthur's shoulder. "Who the hell is that ?"
"One of them Elves, and he looks pissed."
"Should we shoot him?"
"I don't rightly know yet," said Arthur, but he aimed nonetheless.
"You gonna kill me for you being too stupid to understand?" Rane asked, but she was still backing away, her boots sliding in the sand, and Arthur felt his heart falter a little at the sight. He had never seen her back away from a fight before. If she was prepared to retreat, it was a dire threat indeed. Her words in Hostas recurred to him: These people are better than I'll ever be. They'll anticipate everything I could ever conjure up a second before I even thought of it. "I'm one of your own people , Limdur -!"
"You are nothing besides a liar," said Limdur calmly, "and as I told you when I gave you succor in my city, we do not suffer liars to pass."
His sword was drawn in an instant, hideously fast, and Rane's was drawn almost too slow. She blocked his blow, meant for her chest, and she was flung onto her back into the sand, crying out. She leapt to her feet, swinging and blocking him, and with an effort fought him back, twirling her sword around her wrist and striking at him, her breath coming hot and sweat gleaming at her hairline.
"You are slow because you are young," Limdur said, laughing, and pushed her back as she blocked him, her feet sliding in the sand and her teeth gritted. "Slow and weak."
Her sword flew, but his was faster, and in an instant he had parried her and smashed his blade into her shoulder lightly. She cried out, blood dashing to the sand, taking a step back. Arthur moved as if to go to her, but Dutch grasped him.
"Arthur, we got bigger problems, get these gunners down so we can get to that boat," he said, gesturing to the men on the beach aiming for them.
"DUTCH -!"
Dutch snatched at his shirt, his eyes dire. "Let that girl deal with her kin and do as I SAY, Arthur, goddammit!"
The bullets were flying toward them and Arthur ducked, returning fire, but his eyes flashed to the beach frequently, his mouth downturned, heart beating hard. They were clashing swords freely now, their movements fluid and practiced, the red sun reflecting off of them in bright glints and Rane's hair flying around her face. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was turned down into a sneer of effort, her face shining with sweat and the muscles in her arms flexing desperately.
"Girl, you cannot contend with me," Limdur was saying, laughing, easy and untroubled. He parried her again, swung her blade around in a clanging circle and then took another slap at her thigh. Rane screamed, falling to her knees, and now blood was falling freely from her leg, too, as well as her shoulder, littering the sand beneath her. She was losing, and badly. Limdur backhanded her, dashing blood from her mouth, and she glared up at him for a moment, breathing heavily.
"One bested so easily is no daughter of Rochon'baug," Limdur said coldly. A bullet whined past him and he deflected it without looking, sending it ricocheting away. "She is no daughter of the Eldar -"
Rane got up laboriously, crying out with effort, swinging her sword against Limdur's, and with her spare hand went for the wand in her boot.
"STUPEF -!"
"NO!" Limdur cried, and slashed at her hand. The blade took her on the knuckles, opening a long wound and spilling more blood onto the beach, and Rane's wand clattered to the sand as she screamed again, her voice harsh and rough against the sea. "YOU WILL NOT USE YOUR SORCERY ON ME, WOMAN!"
He kicked her in the center of her chest hard, and Rane flew back, fumbling her sword with her injured hand. Limdur leered over her, and she blocked a single more blow from his sword, her teeth gritted and her eyes hard against his, moaning with effort, the muscles in her shoulders trembling. But he allowed it only for a moment before flinging her blade away from her hands with a single smooth gesture. Then, taking his own sword, he plunged it into her chest, glaring down at her. Rane gasped roughly, her eyes widening. Arthur, on the bridge above, stood even among the gunfire and screamed her name.
"You are a fool to try and deceive me," said Limdur, and then ripped the blade from her body. A spray of blood followed it, and Rane gasped again hoarsely. "Even a -"
He stopped abruptly. A single hole had appeared in his forehead, and Arthur stood on the bridge, gun still extended. Limdur watched her a moment longer, clearly bewildered, and then fell down dead in the sand, his blade clattering at his side, still smattered with Rane's blood.
Arthur skidded to halt at her side, sand spraying. Rane was digging at her chest, boots scrabbling in the sand, her face pale, moaning low in her throat. Arthur placed both hands over the wound, pressing hard, feeling the rush of warm blood leaving her beneath his palms, staring at her desperately.
"Where's your wand?" he said roughly, looking down at her, his heart hammering. "Where is it? It's just like before, when you was shot -!"
Her eyes large on his, blood trickling from her mouth, gasping hoarsely. Arthur looked around, staring toward Dutch, panting.
"HELP!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "SOMEBODY HELP, GODDAMMIT!"
Dutch skidded up to aid, pressing his hands over Arthur's, covering the wound. "Keep pressure on it, Arthur, hold on tight -"
"Oh Jesus," Arthur moaned, looking down at Rane's chest. Blood was seeping through their piled hands even now, and Rane's face was pale, the blood on her lips shockingly vivid. He could feel her heart pounding beneath his hand, so hard he could see their hands moving with its cadence. "Oh Christ, oh Jesus fuckin' Christ, you gotta be shittin' me -!"
"Shut up with that shit a minute!" said Dutch, casting him a dire look. He aimed one bloody hand back toward Bill, who was running toward them. "There's a doctor on that boat, now go get him, dammit, and make it fast!"
Bill sprinted off at once, sand flying at his heels.
"Jesus Christ," said Arthur again.
"Quit that, she's not done yet," said Dutch. "I can feel her heart beating good and strong, so quit bein' so damn dramatic for a second. You're okay, girl, you just hang on in there -"
"Sorry," Rane gasped at Arthur, her voice harsh. "Sorry. Couldn't beat him. Too fucking good, I told you -"
"Shut up, Rane, quit talkin'," said Dutch.
"Girl, you gotta quit pickin' fights," Arthur said, looking down at her, his eyes overbright.
"Okay."
"Shut up, I said, quit tryin' to talk," said Dutch roughly. He peered toward the boat, his black hair flying around his face. "Where the hell is that goddamned Bill?"
Dutch and Arthur pressed on the wound in Rane's chest, and as she looked up at Arthur the last thing she knew was gray nothingness.