Chapter 6 – Lethal Weapons
Part 1
"I still think this is a bad idea," Soren grumbled as he looked behind him from his seat atop Titania's charger. Along the rigidly straight trail the Crimean and mercenary bands had merged into a single, fluid line of riders, each sharing their steed with what was normally a foot unit. Brom, who had been one of those chosen to stay behind, was helping his friend Nephenee settle in behind the bow knight Astrid.
"We all know your opinion by now Soren," Titania sighed out as she studied the path before her, narrowly making out where the thinning trees finally yielded to the stretching plains that wrapped around the imperial city. "But I agree with Renning, this is the best way to get all of us to Sienne as soon as possible."
Soren sniffed with disdain. "But doubling up all our mounted units like this is going to slow us down considerably, not to mention tire out the horses. We need to get to Sienne as soon as possible with enough strength to engage the enemy."
"Are you volunteering to stay?" Lucia shot out from behind her brother, "because I don't think anyone would object if you wanted to stay here and keep Brom and the others company."
Soren stared at her, his features not betraying any visible sign that he was the least bit offended by her words. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid you may have misunderstood me. I was referring to those who will contribute little to the battle ahead, except perhaps for an overinflated sense of their own importance."
Her eyes narrowed beneath her bangs. "That wouldn't happen to be directed at anyone in particular, would it, tactician?" Geoffrey, who either didn't hear or pretended not to hear, merely studied the path ahead of them as if expecting someone to appear.
"Let's just say that much of what our visitor said about certain members of this group wasn't completely inaccurate."
"You really do know how to make friends, don't you, Soren?" Titania remarked as she twisted around in the saddle towards him, her voice laced with sarcasm. "It's more prudent to arrive a little later with our full strength than to arrive there fast only to find we are hopelessly outnumbered. Allright?" Without waiting for his response, she put her fingers to her lips and let out a long whistle, attracting the attention of everyone in the line. "Okay, if you're ready to move out, yell out 'ready'."
One by one the aligned pairs affirmed that they were prepared to leave. "Very good," the deputy commander observed as the last pair at the tail of the train, Renning and Mia, confirmed their readiness. "Allright everyone, let's— "
She was interrupted by a low, almost musical whine from the woods to the south, followed immediately by a glaring surge of luminosity. The attention of everyone in the group pivoted to the source of the disturbance, whispering among themselves. "What was that?" Geoffrey asked, the disturbance shaking him at last out of his reverie.
"Don't you recognize it?!" Lucia hissed, impatience in her voice. "That was the sound of warp magic being used, and a massive amount by the sound of it!"
Titania felt her body tense up, her hand slipping unconsciously to her weapon as the faint but unmistakable sound of shouts began to well up from the from somewhere deep inside the impenetrable shadows. "All foot units, dismount and form a line against the southern boundary," she called out as she spun her horse towards the sound of the noise. "Soren, get to the back with Shinon and Astrid. The rest of the cavalry should line up towards the rear to provide support and protect us from an assault from behind."
"Excuse me deputy commander," Lucia cut in, "but wouldn't it be better to split the calvary into two, one for our east flank and one for the west flank? That way if a threat arose they could respond more quickly."
Titania squeezed the reins in her hands as she took a deep, calming breath. "I just believed it would be better to keep them near the center, so we could respond to threats as they appeared. "But please," she added, gesturing to the line of onlooking cavalry, "deploy them as you see fit."
"Please excuse this fascinating discussion of battlefield tactics," Soren said acerbically as he injected himself into the conversation, "but as the official tactician for the company, may I suggest that you both be quiet and listen?'
"Soren, what's the point?" Titania shot back as she watched the line form up in front of her. "Our camp is about to be overrun by enemy soldiers, so we must get into some sort of formation to meet them!"
He shook his head. "I don't think so."
"What do you mean you don't think so? Don't you hear that shouting?"
"That's exactly my point. Take a minute and actually listen!" He was talking to Titania, but his words were so loud and insistent that everyone stopped what they were doing and pricked their ears.
Titania trotted her steed towards the woods, listening intently. At first, she heard nothing different, just the clattered cacophony of a group of men preparing to kill them. But then something odd hit her.
"They sound the same distance away as before," she noted, "they haven't gotten any closer."
"Very good!" Soren said in a congratulatory tone blended with a chafing dose of condescension.
"What are they playing at?" Titania mused as she pondered the possible options. "It looks like they would have been a little more subtle if they were planning a surprise attack."
"Maybe someone made a mistake, and they came out closer than they expected," Oscar offered as he moved his horse into position beside Titania.
Soren let out an exasperated breath. "I don't know, but we're wasting time while we are needed in Sienne. This is a problem that Lucia and the Crimeans can handle on their own. We should let them deal with it while we go help Ike."
Titania shook her head. "There's no way we're going to leave with a potential enemy force of unknown size at our backs. She climbed down off her steed, tying it to a nearby shrub. "Soren, you and Boyd are coming with me to find out what is going on," she commanded as she gestured to the surprised fighter, who flipped his head toward her after hearing his name spoken. She looked around her at the other expectant faces clumped around her until her eyes settled on a diminutive figure with purple hair and a ready sword. "Mia, get back to our camp and warn them to take cover. The rest of you stay here, and be on alert."
"We're going with you," Lucia stated as she practically yanked her brother off his mount while simultaneously grabbing a torch from the supply wagon.
"So I guess you're going from two commanders to none," Boyd joked as he slapped Oscar's leg on his way over to Titania, who face had just gone a shade darker than her crimson hair.
"Lord Renning can watch things while we're gone," Lucia interjected quickly, regarding her coolly.
Renning's gaze flitted back and forth between them warily before finally nodding. "Of course," he replied, nodding. "Don't get killed out there."
"Whoever they are, I doubt they pose much of a threat to us," Soren commented as he followed the others through the encroaching shadows.
"It's not the enemy I'm worried about," Renning muttered to himself as he watched them go.
Titania moved with steady, cautious motion, the rigid thicket of dry shrubbery scraping against her armor as she led the small band towards their objective. As they prodded deeper into the woody thicket, the ancient trees seemed to close ranks with each other, forming a dense, thick labyrinth that, while providing good cover, severely reduced their already limited visibility. Just how deep in the woods were they? She thought to herself as she made her way towards the now fading voices, straining her ears to pick up even a fragment of the conversation being discussed. Suddenly, she thought she heard a distinct and familiar word called out, a puzzling presence in the conversation of would-be attackers.
She raised her hand, motioning those behind her to stop. "Does anyone else hear that?" she asked.
"Hear what?" Soren responded.
"I thought I heard a cry for help."
No one made a sound as they remained still, listening to the noises up ahead, but the voices had become lower and less distinct. "I can't tell," Lucia said finally, "but even if they were, it could just be a trick to make us lower out guard."
"Let's just charge them and get it over with," Boyd said as he twirled his axe around in his hand, "I doubt that they…whoops! he called out as he lost his grip on his axe, fumbling to catch it as it went tumbling off to land at the base of a massive oak.
"Idiot!" Soren lashed out. How in the world have you managed not to chop your own head off by now I'll never know."
"Listen here, you little twerp," Boyd shot back as he groped around on the ground for his weapon, "I'll have you knoYAHHHHHHH!"
Everyone clustered over the screaming warrior, who seemed to be tugging frantically at something on the ground near the base of a tree. "Boyd! Be quiet! You're going to give us away!" Titania whispered as she clapped her hand over his mouth.
"Too late for that," Soren muttered as he looked around anxiously.
Boyd had stopped screaming and now attempted to be trying to say something. Titania removed her hand, as she gave him a sharp look of warning. "It's got me, the tree's got me!" he cried out in a pointed whisper, his eyes protruding with wild terror as he continued to yank at something on the ground.
Soren blinked rapidly. "I take back what I said earlier, now I only wonder how he hasn't managed to kill all of us and set the entire woods on fire."
"Something has me, you jerk!"
"Boyd, you're probably just caught on a tree root or something," Titania sighed as she knelt beside him. Everyone else maintained a close watch for what was sure by now to be alerted enemies, which curiously did not appear.
"Tree roots don't normally grab people, do they?!" he demanded as she grabbed his arm and yanked with him, but his arm didn't budge. She reached down to his hand to pry it free when she suddenly felt something warm and leathery writhing against her fingers. She drew back her hand as if she had just touched lava. "Something has him," she whispered, wiping her hand against her sleeve. She motioned to Lucia. "Bring that torch over here."
"No use trying to hide now anyway," Lucia noted with more than a little irritation as she passed the torch to Soren, who flicked a small surge of power into it. A weak beam of light appeared, strong enough to see for a few feet around. He held it down to Boyd as they all focused at the point where his hand met the forest floor, gasping with shock as they finally realized what it was that was pinning him down.
It was a human hand.
The shock of seeing what was holding him down infused Boyd with a fresh surge of strength, and with a shocked yelp he pried himself free of the hand's pressing grip. Neither he nor the others could find the words to speak as they stood there gazing upon the macabre sight in horrified fascination as the gloved hand continued to squirm and stretch outward, as if looking for something else to grab before gradually going limp.
Just then there were crashing noises from behind, and they turned to see Oscar and several others from the camp rushing towards them with ready weapons. "I heard Boyd screaming," the green-clad knight explained as he approached. He studied the expression on Titania's face "What happened?"
She said nothing as her gaze turned back to the limp appendage. "By the goddess," Oscar cried, taking a step backward, "what is it?"
"As far as I can tell, it's a gloved hand," Soren remarked, unmoved from his position near the aberration, poking it with a stick.
"What's it doing here?"
Soren said nothing as he turned his head towards the now silent darkness ahead of them. "I hope I'm wrong about this," he said as he righted himself and proceeded forward, guided by the faint light of the torch.
"Soren? Where are you going? You don't know what's out there!" Titania called out as she ran to catch up with him, the others following her example.
"I have a pretty good idea," he called out as he stopped suddenly, the pale light of the torch doing little to illuminate his somber features as he turned to face them.
No one moved. "Soren, please, if you know what's going on, then just tell us," Titania admonished, "we can't afford to dawdle."
Soren sighed. "On that point, I am afraid that there's no room for argument." With that, he pumped more power into the torch, flooding the entire area with dazzling luminescence.
There, strewn and twisted along the forest floor like debris after a summer storm, were the blood-drenched bodies of countless soldiers. As Titania regarded the scene with eyes tragically accustomed to such sights, she noticed that these soldiers bore the uniforms of every nation on Tellius, even the laguz. A stiff breeze blew past her, bringing with it the fading twang of spent magic mingling with the iron-soaked smell of drying blood.
"Oscar, take the others and search the woods and see if there are any survivors out there," she called out as her eye caught an unmoving Crimean soldier to her left, his face locked forever in an unbearable contortion of pain, his head and arm dangling from a stout elm. They said nothing as they hastened to obey, leaving her alone with Soren and Elincia's somber retainers.
"I've read about situations like this, where the person using warp magic is careless or in a hurry," Soren said as he studied the Crimean with the passivity of a child studying his bug collection.
"So that hand…." Titania whispered as she gently closed the soldier's eyes.
"When used improperly, warp magic can carry you anywhere, whether in the ground or," he replied, gesturing to the elm, where the limbs of the unfortunate soldier were protruding like grotesque branches, "inside a tree." He shook his head. "But I've never heard of anything even resembling the scale of this disaster, it's as if whoever used it either had absolutely no skill or absolutely did not care about the safety of those he was transporting."
She looked away from the morbid, twisted sight, back towards the disturbing yet somehow more normal image of the men lying about on the ground, as her mind groped around for an explanation.
"There must have been fighting, and someone tried to save them by warping them out," she said finally. "Remember that last battle before the awakening of the goddesses? Maybe one of our priests was trying to use warp magic to save some wounded allies at the exact moment when everyone was turned to stone, and then when it was reversed this is what happened in the shock and confusion."
"Sounds like a reasonable guess," Geoffrey offered.
Soren shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, that would require long-range warp magic, and as far as I know no one in our camp had access to that, let alone some random priest. In the second place, there is the nature of the wounds on these bodies. Did you notice anything strange about them?" he inquired, signaling with his head.
Before Titania could respond, Lucia stepped into the conversation. "In any case, we need to get our healers. Maybe there are a few who can be saved."
Soren shook his head. "These are all dead, and I don't think anyone will be found alive out there in the forest."
Lucia studied him with a coolness which they both shared. "You seem awfully sure of that."
As if to answer as to the truth of Soren's assertion, Oscar and the others plodded back into view. "We found a lot of other bodies, but no survivors," Oscar reported in a demoralized tone. Titania looked to Soren, expecting to see a satisfied smirk. But instead he was merely shifting back and forth in place, as he looked back north.
"Why are you looking so glum, man?" Boyd asked the solemn, brooding figure. "I feel bad for these guys too, but at least we were wrong about them being enemies. So at least there's a bright side."
"If there is a bright side, then it isn't anywhere near you," Soren retorted. "Don't you see we're still in danger? We need to get back to camp right away!"
"What do you mean Soren?"
"Look at the bodies!" he cried out in exasperation as he gestured frantically. "If there was a battle, then all these soldiers should have a wide variety of wounds and certainly not all of them would be mortal! But all of them that I have seen bear a single fatal wound in their torso at the exact same spot, which guarantees death in a matter of minutes, but will keep you alive long enough to make some noise."
"He's right," Geoffrey whispered, his face going pale as he surveyed the corpses again.
"Of course I am!" Soren burst out. "And something else odd - doesn't it seem odd that none of these men, who supposedly just warped out of combat, have no weapons?"
Titania swallowed. "Then that means…" Suddenly something caught her eye and she knelt down to study the wrists of one of the corpses as a churning disgust welled up within her. They were red and chaffed with rope burns. "Someone wounded these men on purpose and then warped them here to…"
"To distract us!" Soren spat. "All of this was a trap, just not the one we were expecting!"
The truth of his words hung over the group with a sickening certainty. Titania swore to herself, her teeth grinding together as her hand pressed hard against her weapon. She should have known better than this!
Before she could respond there was loud tromping drawing closer to their position, and then spindly form of Mist popped out of the darkness, followed by Gatrie and Rhys, and a flustered Mia. Titania lowered her weapon as she made a quick motion to Soren, who quickly dimmed the torch. "Mist? Why are you here?" as she looked to Mia for an answer, who shrugged. "What can I say, deputy boss? She's her brother's sister."
"I woke up and everyone was gones," she babbled out, clearly still a bit under the effects of the sleeping medication. "I was saddling my horse when I saw a bright flash of light and then there was some shouting, so I came to help," she said, brandishing her sword with an unsteady hand as she eyed her surroundings. "Just tell me where the enemies are!"
Titania smiled. "I appreciate that, Mist, but everything's under control. Why don't you go with Gatrie back to camp and rest? I'll tell you all about it later," she urged as she put her hand on the young girl's shoulder, trying to direct her away from the scene.
But it was too late. In pushing Mist back Titania had inadvertently brushed her against the hand in the tree. Looking to see what she had rubbed against, she let out a shriek of horror, backed up and tripped over a body lying behind her.
Boyd rushed to Mist's side, pulling her up. "What happened here?!" she asked as she flipped her head from side to side, taking in the grisly carnage, the last vestiges of the stupor gone. Suddenly, the color left her cheeks and her eyes went wide. "Where's Ike? Where's my brother?!"
"He's fine, Mist, I promise." She was about to continue, when from the direction of the Crimean camp she heard faint cries and the screech of weapons. With a hiss, Soren extinguished the torch and cast it aside, looking at Titania with an angry, expectant expression. "It's started. What are we going to do now?"
Mist flipped aside a lock of her chestnut hair. "What's started? What's going on?"
"Mist, I don't have time to explain further. We have to get back and help Ike," she said as she directed a pointed gaze at Boyd and Rhys, who both nodded with understanding. "Boyd, I want you to take Mist, Rolf, and Rhys and find a safe place to hide, the camp may be compromised. Mia, Gatrie, you're with me," she yelled out as she headed back through the woods. "Everyone head back to the others, now!"
Not even Lucia hesitated as the group dashed back through the woods they way they had come. Enclosed in a boiling cloud of wrath fed by the horror of the murdered men and the feeling of her own stupidity, she hastened back to the Crimean camp, putting away her silver axe in favor of Urvan, the great axe that had once belonged to Greil that Ike had given to her for the fight with Ashera. You may have tricked me, but that is the last thing you're going to be sorry for, she thought as pressed her hand against the hilt, feeling a small measure of reassurance in its solid presence.
She could hear the yells more distinctly now, the loud, eager bellowing of men hungry for combat from ahead of her, followed by the distinct clang of weapons meeting and the defiant calls of the remaining defenders fending off the onslaught. "Soren, stay with me," she directed as she quickened her pace, "We may not be able to form a solid defensive line, but I will…"
It was then that she cast a sideways glance and realized she was talking to the air.
Part 2
"I can't believe this," Boyd protested as he slammed his axe into the soft earth, listening to the cacophony in the distance. "There's a battle going on, and I'm stuck here on babysitting duty."
He was crouched behind a large, fallen trunk to the west of the mercenary camp along with Mist, Rolf, and Rhys. A few yards ahead lay the mercenary camp dappled in the light of a fading fire. Boyd contemplated the site, pausing his gaze on the shifting figure of Mist's horse tugging gently on its tether. He wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable against the damp roughness of the decaying bark. "I mean, I can understand you guys having to do this, you're just healers and pipsqueaks. But me, I should be in the thick of it. If I were, it would already be over."
"Boyd please," Rhys whispered as he put a finger to his lips, "we don't want to attract undo attention to ourselves."
"Yeah Boyd. And what do you mean just a healer?" Mist demanded in a quiet but harsh tone, "I can fight too, if I have to."
"Yeah, right. The only time I've seen either you or Mr. Straight Shot here take down an enemy is after someone like me has already taken a good whack at him. Basically, all you do is ride by and tip him over."
Mist's reddened face flicked towards Rolf. "Are you going to let him talk about us like that?"
But Rolf wasn't looking at her, his attention was focused on examining the camp. He reached back and withdrew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it on his bow. "I think I heard something," he said softly, oblivious to the quarrel around him.
Boyd surveyed the area. "I don't see anything." He thought for a minute, then grinned. "It was probably just Mist's horse, preparing itself to cut down hordes of enemies."
Mist's fingers balled up into fists. "Boyd…"
"Boyd, Mist, please calm down," Rhys urged, his face an image of calming tranquility. "Boyd, your fighting skills are beyond argument, which is why Titania sent you to watch out for us. And Mist, while I have no doubt that you can handle yourself in combat as well, your calling lies in healing. And that's just as important, if not more so, in a battle situation as physical strength."
"Yeah, Boyd," Mist added, a knowing smirk spreading across her face, "I would think that lesson would be painfully obvious to you by now."
He furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"What I mean is that even Rhys here was chosen to go into the Tower of Ashera, while you were left behind."
Boyd grimaced, as if he had just been forced to swallow a piece of rancid meat. "Well, taking on Ashera and all of course you would need healers. Besides, you didn't get chosen either."
She shrugged. "I'm willing to admit that Rhys has a lot more experience than I do with healing, and besides with my mobility I was the best choice to cure the extended line of defenders outside. But you, you say you're such a great warrior, so it looks like Ike and Micaiah would have made room for you on their Ashera squad, doesn't it?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe they just thought if they took you along it would be over too quickly."
Boyd gritted his teeth as he crushed a handful of rotting wood in his hand. "Be quiet, Mist. I'd hate to say something I'll regret later."
"You do that every time you open your mouth!"
"Boyd, I can assure you that it was not a privilege to be one of those selected," Rhys murmured as he stroked his heal staff, "there wasn't a single moment where I didn't fear for my life, where my skills weren't pushed to their limit until I thought I would be consumed by the very power I was wielding. If I had had the choice, I would not have gone."
"It's easy to say such things after you've already done it," Boyd grumbled in a half-appeased voice as his finger skirted the edge of his axe, "but I'll never know."
"Who are these guys?" Mist asked as looked off into the darkness as if she could see the ongoing skirmish. "I thought we had taken care of all the Disciples of Order."
"I don't think it's the Disciples of Order," Boyd interjected. "They had a simple and straightforward attack plan." He shook his head. "These guys seem smarter. They must be part of the group that Navina…"
"Who's Navina?" Mist asked, a curious expression on her face.
"I'll tell you later," Rhys cut in suddenly, giving Boyd an admonishing look. "For now, we just need to wait."
Mist looked over at Boyd, the anger in her features softening somewhat. "You're right about one thing, we should be over there helping instead of hiding like this."
"In a situation like this, where you don't know how many enemy you're facing or where they all are, it is best to keep your healers concealed until conditions have stabilized," Rhys reminded them as he removed his hood and ran his fingers through his frazzled hair.
"Yeah, or maybe Titania had another motive for having you stay put," Boyd mused.
Mist stared at him. "And what would that be?"
"Maybe she didn't want you and Rolf sneaking off somewhere playing lovebirds again" he teased as he made soft kissing sounds.
"Wha..? That's not… I wouldn't" she sputtered as she attempted to put words together. "How..how dare you say such thing about something you know nothing about! You just charge and blunder into everything without having the slighted idea what's going on!"
"I know more about what's going on than you do!" he snapped, "I bet you don't even know what Ike's doing, do you?"
"He's over in the Crimean camp fighting, isn't he?" she asked as Rhys made desperate signs to Boyd to stop talking.
"No, he's not," he continued with a sense of satisfaction as he ignored the flailing healer, "He flew with Elincia to Sienne to help the Empress. Apparently, she's under attack too."
Mist's body went rigid, and she fell into a stony silence. Rhys and Boyd stared at her. "Mist, are you all right?" Rhys inquired gently.
"Then this attack, it was meant to keep everyone here and away from Sienne, right?" she suddenly burst out, causing them both to start. "Ike is heading into a trap without backup! That's it, isn't it?"
Rhys shook his head. "We don't know that for certain."
"I do," Mist replied resolutely as she stood up and, before anyone could stop her, leapt over the fallen tree and towards the camp.
"Mist! Come back!" Rhys called out in what was a loud tone for him, arm extended outward. "It's too risky to go out in the dark with so many enemies around! You could be hurt, or..." he stopped himself, unable to finish the sentence.
"So could Ike," she yelled back as she worked to loosen the tether.
"Wait, Mist!" Rolf called out as he bounded over the trunk towards her, bow and arrow still in his hand.
"Rolf, don't try to stop me," she warned as she swung herself up into the saddle.
He stopped beside of her, a dangerous smile on an otherwise innocent face. "I'm not trying to stop you. I just want to go with you," he answered as he held out his hand.
Mist's hard and determined expression softened a little, and she extended her hand and helped him leap up behind her.
"Boyd, you have to stop them!" Rhys insisted as the pair began to trot away.
"Why me?"
He shot him an accusing look. "You know why!"
He let out a mammoth sigh. "Oh, allright" he yielded finally, pushing his colossal form up out of his position. "Okay you stupid kids," he yelled out, "it's time to stop—"
But he never had the chance to finish, for at that moment there was a loud thwacking noise and Rolf flew off the horse and crashed to the ground, a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Mist cried out and tried to dismount, but her panicked, bucking horse prevented her from doing so.
"Rolf!" Boyd screamed as he cleared their cover and bounded forward towards his wounded brother. "Mist, get off that damn horse!"
"I'm trying!" she cried, trying desperately to calm the frantic animal. Just then another thwack tore through the air followed by a sickening thud, and with an anguished whinny Mist's steed collapsed on its side, pinning its rider's leg underneath.
Boyd reached the pair and slid down on his belly, using the fallen animal as cover. He checked his brother quickly. A large, encircling wetness stained the area where the arrow had penetrated, but he seemed to be breathing steadily. He looked over to Mist, who was tugging at her leg, trying to jerk it free. "Mist! Are you allright?"
"I think so," she muttered, my leg's stuck, but I don't think it's broken."
"Do you have your heal staff?"
"It's under my horse. How's Rolf?"
Boyd was about to answer when he felt another crossbolt bolt cut through the air inches above his head, his hairs tingling as it whizzed past. He gritted his teeth. It would take the archer, assuming there was only one, about a minute to reload, and his aim would probably improve the next time. Rolf needed help, and Rhys was now the only one who could give it, but the healer couldn't leave his hiding place as long as that sniper was out still out there. He looked behind him, towards where Rhys was still concealing himself.
"Rhys! Do you have your physic staff?"
"It's in the cart!" He called back.
Fat load of help it's going to be there, Boyd thought to himself with disgust. That was when something else caught his eye. It was the last crossbow bolt, which had buried itself into an enormous oak. Boyd smiled as he followed the approximate route the arrow had followed back towards where it had been fired, smiling to himself. I have you now.
"Rhys!" Boyd yelled as he quickly leapt up and surged ahead, "take care of Mist and Rolf! I'm going after that bastard!" He darted forward in a haphazard, zigzag pattern in case the attacker happened to be unusually efficient. He pushed through the tugging limbs and rolled down at the base of some thick bushes, listening intently. It was then that he heard footfalls stomping off towards the south. Boyd almost laughed. The bastard was running away! His first thought was that chasing down such an obvious coward was beneath him, until he remembered his small, bleeding brother back in camp. Clenching his axe with renewed vigor, Boyd propelled himself after the fleeing figure.
Part 3
Back at the mercenary camp, Mist watched Rhys' tall, white form materialize from the wooded blackness like a nervous ghost and make his way cautiously towards her, his gaze roving everywhere as he knelt down beside Rolf and examined him. Mist felt a mass forming in her throat as a frown clouded over his features.
"How is he?" Mist asked the silent healer as she continued her thus far futile efforts to extricate herself from underneath her fallen mount.
"Let's get you taken care of," he replied softly as he scooted over her and thrusted the tip of his mend staff under the horse's body and pushed up on it in attempt to loosen her leg, "I'll need your help for what must be done."
Mist swallowed. "You…you've never needed my help before, even on the really bad cases." Suddenly, a terrifying thought crashed down on her harder than a thousand horses. "Rhys, tell me the truth, is—"
But then there was a thud, and a soft groan as Rhys dropped his rod. His features went blank as he crumpled over in a pitiful white heap, revealing a pair of worn, furry boots behind him. Mist followed the boots upward past bare, shaggy legs up to an oversized, fur-covered torso and a head crowned with the hollow, motionless hide of what appeared to be a mountain lion, its mouth open in a final, silent scream. The eager, angry eyes set into a young but grizzled face glinted with eager malice as he studied the three hapless figures before him. "Well, well, well," he bellowed in a loud, throaty voice, "it was quite nice of your friend to be so obliging as to give us this time alone together. My friend will lead him on a merry little chase while we can have a nice chat."
"Bastard!" Mist cried as she pulled hard against the mass holding her down, "what have you done to Rhys?" She tried to push toward the unmoving heap, stretching out her hand towards her motionless friends. "Rhys, Rolf!"
The bandit roared with laughter as she flailed her arms outward toward the still figures. "I guess I won't be needing this," he remarked as he brushed a few of Rhys' hairs off the base of his axe before securing it at his side. "And don't worry about your priesty friend, he's just taking a well-deserved rest before he joins my band. Someone with his healing skills are worth more than a Serenes Royal, especially these days."
She spat towards his boot. "Rhys will never join you, and never will I!"
Mist watched with gleaming intensity as He wiped the tip of his boot on the body of her horse, smiling like a wolf at a wounded rabbit. "Sorry, but I intend to make your rest a little more…permanent. But before that…." He bent over Rhys, rummaging through his clothing, until he pulled out a thick, shimmering book. "Before I can finally relish in my triumph, I must take care of a little business." He removed a small vial from his crude belt and poured some kind of thick syrup over what Mist recognized as Rhys' tome of magic that he had taken with him into the Tower, and then tossed it aside. "What'd you do that for?" she asked, eyes still on his boots.
"I didn't ask the man, because I didn't really care," he replied as he turned his attention back to her. "All that matters to me is the little arrangement I made allowed me to have this opportunity to finally avenge the undeserved and cowardly murder of my brother."
"I guess I'm supposed to know what you're talking about," she shot back tartly, assuming a defiant a stance as possible given the circumstances.
He folded his arms across his chest. "I wouldn't expect you to, so let me refresh your memory a bit. He smiled with a grin that was sharpened on both ends. "Otherwise it would be like eating stew without spicing it up a bit. Think back a couple years, to when you and your brother first came to Begnion, begging for help for that pathetic excuse for royalty." He took a step closer to her, his gaze fixed on hers. "But before her supreme saintliness the Apostle would deign to lift a finger to help you, she wanted to see how high she could make you jump. So, she sent you out to run a couple of errands." The muscles in his face tightened. "Now tell me, do you remember what the first of those was?"
"Of course I do," she answered, "it was to take down some scum-nuts who were dealing in laguz slav…." She cut herself off, realizing with raw disgust that the pelts that this man wore were not from ordinary animals, they were in fact laguz pelts. She looked again at the face of a cat laguz mounted above those hideous gloating eyes and saw the pain, anguish, and fear locked forever in the death mask of a once living, sentient being. "Monster!" she lashed out, "your brother got what he deserved, and if there's any justice in the world, you will too."
"No, your brother is the monster. He is the one who killed a man for only doing what he had to do to make his way in the world and help provide for…" He shook his head, as if trying to force the memory out of his head. "It doesn't matter, all that matters is that now he will know the pain of returning to his camp and finding his sibling slaughtered while he's off wasting time with a floozy," he replied with satisfaction as he advanced toward her, his weapon ready. "If you're good, I'll make it nice and faAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWW!
His smug gloating was interrupted by the sharp end of Rhys's mend staff. When he was in reach she had grabbed it and plunged it down on his foot with both hands with as much force as she could muster, feeling it tear through the boot's fraying material and into the yielding flesh underneath, jamming firmly into the dense bone below.
Her attacker dropped his weapon and howled with the enraged intensity of a wounded lion, hopping around the camp on his remaining good foot, grasping the other in his hands.
Mist then jammed the staff one again under the horse, and with a force borne of desperation, pulled and yanked until finally with a plop her leg came free from its prison. It was swollen and glared with nasty bruises, but it appeared to be intact. Seizing Rolf's bow and some of his arrows, she hobbled back towards the woods, dragging her unresponsive leg behind her. She got as far as the forest's edge before her leg gave way and she collapsed into a clump of shrubbery. She looked back to her assailant, who had stopped bouncing madly around the camp and had his hand on the staff lodged in his boot. He wrapped his hands around and with a sharp shriek he yanked it away, looking angrily around the camp until he spotted her. "I was going to make it quick, seeing as you are a little girl and all, but you just had to go and make things difficult," he growled as he limped his wounded yet deadly frame over to her. "I'm going to make sure that when your brother finds you there will be no doubt that you died in extreme agony with a mend staff of all things" he growled as he held it in front of him. "I've never considered it as a weapon, but thanks to you I'm beginning to see the possibilities."
Mist grabbed one of the arrows and nocked it. She knew next to nothing about archery, but she hoped that at this distance the little that Rolf had managed to teach her would be enough. As she pulled back on the string she heard a hollow, sickening snap, and looked down with horror at the broken bowstring. Her attacker was drawing closer, his heaving frame dripping with murderous intent. She flung her head from side to side, anxious to find a rock or heavy branch to defend herself with.
It was then that she saw it– Rhys' tome that the guy had sprinkled with something and then thrown away. Even though she could not cast the spells within it, it could still be a useful weapon for her. She reached for it, but then pulled her hand away. It was making some sort of hissing sound! Despite the strange noises it was emitting she forced herself to seize the heavy book, and realized with no small amount of surprise that it was also shaking. What had he done to it? But she had no time to ponder the question as the deranged hunter closed in on her. With a loud yell, she hurled the quivering bulk towards the approaching figure, but in her current state the heavy tome fell short of its target, landing directly in front of her attacker, who scoffed with amusement. "Nice try, girl, but I'm afraid a book isn't—"
He never had time to finish his murderous thought, for at that moment the tome exploded with a deafening boom, sending the surprised attacker falling backwards to the earth amidst a gentle rain of shredded parchment.
Mist studied the attacker. He was stunned, but otherwise seemed unharmed, which meant that he would be after her again any minute. She rubbed furiously at her leg, which remained in a maddening state of numbness. She grabbed at a sapling to stand, but it was too weak to hold her, curving downwards in a tense arc under her weight. Despairing, she was about to let it go when a thought occurred to her. She may not be able to get up, but maybe she could….
The man picked himself up with a snarling grunt, not wasting any more words as he closed on her position with a primal roar. Mist was laying on the ground, still holding onto the sapling, the attacker cackling madly at her pathetic attempt to hurt him, not even bothering to dodge it. He raised the mend staff, preparing to bring it down on her head, when she released the sapling.
At first the attacker smiled as he felt the branch slap harmlessly against him. But then the smile disappeared as he felt a sharp, penetrating thickness in his chest. He looked down and saw the fletching of an arrow tied to the end of the sapling, as a red, thick wetness coalesced around the fraction of the shaft that yet jutted from his torso. The hate and rage evaporated into the blank, floating acquiescence of death as he groaned and collapsed forward next to her, silent and unmoving.
Mist laid there for a moment, breathing heavily, hand clasped over her heart as she tried to calm herself down as the feeling reluctantly trickled back into her leg. But then she remembered her wounded comrades, and hurried as fast as she could back to the clearing, using the mend staff as support. Off in the distance she could still hear the sounds of fighting. Praying that Ike and her friends were still okay, she knelt down between her two friends and examined them. Rhys seemed to be stable for the moment; he had a glaring bump on the back of his head but he appeared to be breathing normally. On the other hand, Rolf's skin had gone chillingly pale and there was dribble of blood around his mouth. Frantically, she tried to awaken Rhys, but he was out cold. She would have to do this herself. But before she could heal him, she would have to get that arrow out of him.
With the greatest of care, she lifted up the slender archer's shoulder and examined his back, eyeing the glistening metal tip sticking out. It had passed all the way through. She raised him up so that his head was resting against her chest, his scraggly blond hair tickling against her neck. "I'm so sorry," she whispered as she found the slick, pointed steel with her hand and snapped it off, trying to ignore the frightening coolness of his body. Then, with the greatest delicacy she pulled out the remaining shaft, cringing at the horrid sloshing sound it made as it finally exited the hole. She laid him back gently on the ground.
"You're going to be okay," she assured as her hands grappled about on the ground until she found the mend rod. Her shaking fingers wrapping around the assuring solidness of the staff as she placed the swirling blue orb against the wound. Mist closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the magic that would fix all of this, that would push this nightmare into distant memory.
But nothing happened, there was no glow, no welcoming light that brought healing and rejuvenation. Mist opened her eyes and examined the rod. Was it worn out? No, it was a brand-new item, given the clarity of the orb. Had it been damaged in the struggle? She didn't see any defects, but that didn't mean there weren't some that she couldn't see. She pressed firmly against the wound, trying to push all her concentration against her growing sense of frustration. Finally, she tossed the staff aside. It was hopeless, she had no choice but to get another one out of the wagon.
Before she could move, she heard the rustling towards the north end of the camp, past the trail. No, no no not now, she thought to herself as the last vestiges of hope began to flitter away. She rubbed her eyes, trying to push away the gathering wetness. She was so tired, and her friends…her brother… "Ike, forgive me," she whispered. "I tried, I really tried."
She heard a growl as she shifted to face this new intruder, preparing to make her last stand. But instead of an armed attacker, a smooth, sinewy form slid out of the shadows towards her. Upon seeing it, her tense muscles relaxed as her eyes gleamed with renewed hope at the sight of the large blue cat approaching. As she watched the sight the curved, sinewy body began to change slowly, exchanging the prowling gait of a feline for the steady, upright trot of a human, his normally wry features marred with concern as he came up beside her.
"Ranulf! It's so good to see you!" Mist called out, gripping the surprised figure in a strong hug.
"Mist, what's going on here?" the warrior asked as he surveyed the scene, gaze lingering on the hulking figure with an arrow sticking out of him, his nose wrinkling. "I smelled something…strange and came back to investigate." His cat ears pricked up as he turned towards the Crimean camp. "Is there fighting going on over there?"
"Yes, but I don't have time to explain," Mist muttered as she stooped back down beside the fallen archer. "Please, can you get the recover staff out of the supply wagon? It's an emergency, and with my leg…"
Ranulf cast a quick glance at her leg, then at the figures on the ground, before hastening to fulfill her request. He returned with the requested item, his face marred with confusion.
"Thanks!" she cried as she seized the rod, "if you want to go join the battle now you can, but I have to stay here and heal Rolf. He's hurt bad."
Ranulf stooped on the other side of the quiet, pallid form of Rolf as Mist applied the recover staff to the wound. He put his finger on Rolf's wrist as his keen nose sniffed the air probingly. "Mist," he whispered.
"Not now, Ranulf, I have to focus!" She shook the staff in her hands. "Dang it, why isn't anything working tonight?"
"Mist," Ranulf uttered quietly as he rested his hand on her shoulder, "Rolf is dead."
Part 4
Titania screamed as she felled another attacker in front of her, whose collapsing form was quickly replaced by another. Dammit, they just keep coming! she thought to herself as she engaged this new assailant. It didn't help matters that she had been unable to get to her horse and had to fight on foot, something that she hadn't done in a long time. As she parried a blow, she cast a quick glance at the line of defenders. Crimeans and mercenaries, horsemen and foot were all jumbled together in a desperate mass towards the south end of the camp, where the clearing tapered off into a narrow, circular stretch before merging with the woods. However, despite the pressed and inefficient grouping, the line was holding, but the supply of enemies just seemed to be inexhaustible, unlike her already depleted strength.
As she pondered this problem she heard a sharp, snapping sound to her right. She cursed, thinking that they were being attacked from the side, but a quick gaze revealed that it was only two priests who had appeared, close to the battle but far enough to be out of range of most of their weapons. A quick glance to the other side showed that a pair of priests had appeared there as well. Although none of them appeared to have tomes, they could still cause problems if they began to heal the enemy soldiers. But if that were the case, why were they here, instead of at the back of the line with the wounded?
She had no time to consider this issue. "Shinon!" she yelled towards the back, where the company sniper was picking off targets, "take care of those priests!"
Shinon nodded as he fixed another arrow on his string. But before he could fire, the priests had ripped the crystals off their staves and were muttering strange words that Titania had never heard before. Upon seeing this, the remaining enemy troops retreated hurriedly back into the darkness, leaving behind their dead and wounded behind.
As Shinon fired off his shot, the priests screamed out "Halvena!" and flung the orbs over them where they burst, spilling drenching liquid all over them. Titania darted back, trying desperately rip off her armor, believing at any moment she would begin to feel a burning or stinging as whatever it was worked its purpose. But there was no burning, no itching, no effect of any kind as she watched the liquid simply evaporate and disappear.
She looked for the priests, who had all disappeared, except the one that Shinon had brought down.
She shook her head. "Sometimes, Shinon, I wish you weren't so damned accurate with that thing."
"If you wanted him alive, you should have said so," he shot back as he brushed at his outfit, as if some of the sticky goo remained. "I should hunt the others down and feather them as well. What the hell were they playing at, throwing that crap all over us?"
"I don't know, Titania muttered as she scanned her surroundings for a now vanished enemy. "There had to be some reason behind it. We better have Rhys check us just to be—" She cut herself off as a slight hissing sound reached her ears. She looked around the ground, thinking that she had stepped on a snake, when she felt her hand shaking. She studied her axe Urvan, realizing that it was vibrating, and the hissing was emanating from it. She shot a glance to Shinon, who was studying the quivering bow in his hand, and a creeping dread flooded through her as her mind as the pieces fell into place with screaming urgency.
"Everyone who has a blessed weapon, throw it away now!" she screamed.
Through the haze of grief, Mist barely noticed the screeching eruption of bursting metal.