Chapter twelve

As the dragoon fell back on the ground, barely conscious, the Kindjal had the presence of mind to notice two very important things: blood streaming from the fresh impact on the left side of her head, and the fact that the gash on her right side was not an open wound. The undead don't bleed, and their mortal wounds don't heal. . . did I just. . .?

Lira breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Freya's chest rise and fall, and called out to her still-motionless husband, "She's alive, by the gods! Fratley, she's alive!" Oh, damn. What have I done? "She's alive. . ." No reply came. She looked towards where Fratley had been standing and saw him dashing from tree to tree, as though trying to outflank something. Then she heard an earsplitting, unholy roar, and saw what he was attacking.

"Leave her be!" the demon roared as he bounded away from his dark portal. In his right hand was a great flaming sword, and in his left was a fireball. The latter he hurled at Lira, who leapt well out of the way. Too late she realized her mistake, and leapt back to protect the fallen dragoon. The demon was already fleeing to the refuge of his portal, the Lady Freya tucked under his left arm. It was only about a dozen or so feet away, so she calculated and extended the Mauler to its full length as she jumped into the portal after the demon. Fratley had been on the wrong side of the portal to help his companion, but he was just close enough to jump into it before it closed.

Gilneas entered the portal in the same direction he had left it, and so was headed right back into the cave as soon as he appeared back on Elosia. Of course, so was Lira. The point of her spear missed its intended target as she flew from the Gate, but the front of the double-edged sickle cut the demon's left shoulder. The impact of Lira's body in the same spot made him drop Freya, though he tried to set her down gently. The drop had been only partly accidental, the Kindjal realized as his left hand reached over his shoulder, grabbed her, and flung her against the wall in front of him. She hit the wall feet-first and rebounded right back at him. Except that he wasn't there; he had tucked and rolled as soon as he'd thrown her, and was out of the way. Undaunted, Lira whirled as soon as she landed. Very clever, Demon. You put up a good fight, but it won't be enough.

Fratley had the extreme misfortune to enter the Gate in precisely the opposite direction of everyone else, and thus found himself flying over the edge of a cliff instead of into a cave. By the dim light of the rising sun and desperate skill, he was able to land with nothing worse than a sprained ankle. That ankle, however, was enough to prevent him from making a quick jump back up top to join the fight he could hear going on. He'd have to scale the twenty-five foot cliff instead.

Freya awakened to a pounding headache and a sharp pain in her left arm. She cast a quick regen spell on herself – such a common Dragoon ability hardly required concentration anymore – and opened her eyes. She could see that she was back on Elosia in the cave, and could hear that there was still fighting. The only sources of light were the dimly moonlit entrance and Crimson's flaming sword, which had a strange beauty about it as it weaved its way through the air in a deadly dance with Lira and her Mauler. The dragoon sat up, fighting the pounding in her head that threatened for a moment to send her back to the ground. Fratley was nowhere in sight. But he isn't here . . . Interestingly enough, her spear was right next to her. He must have set me next to it, knowing that if I regained consciousness, I would want to assist him. Ignoring the protests of her battered left arm, the bruised and bloodied – but not defeated – Dragoon picked it up and stood, ready to fight . . .

Lira had worked herself into a frenzy; her universe consisted solely of herself and her enemy. This demon was quite good; he had received nothing worse than that first cut on his shoulder since they'd begun. Though the Kindjal did find the Demon's defensive stance more than a little unusual, given the usual aggressiveness of demons, she wasn't about to complain. His defenses were difficult enough to pierce without having to dodge berserker blows. Suddenly, something distracted her opponent, and Lira seized the opportunity. She brought the diamond-shaped blade of her Mauler down on her Hellborne opponent like an executioner's axe, and knew that he would not be able to dodge this time. Even if he could dodge her blade, the sickle would get him.

Instead of metal rending flesh, she heard metal on metal as the shaft of her spear was caught and thrown aside by a Dragoon's triblade. Holding the triblade was none other than the Lady Freya. Her cheeks glistened with sweat, her left eye was swollen half-shut, and the fur and hair on the left side of her head was matted with blood; but there was no denying her grimly determined expression or the lethal potential of the triblade she now held just handspans away from Lira's chest. When she spoke, her words, though spoken through gritted teeth, were as sharp and clear as the shimmering mythril blades that tipped her spear.

"Stand down, or I swear on Ifrit's fires we'll run you through."

We? Lira wondered, and risked a glance at the demon. His posture was no longer defensive; he was ready to pounce, and his wicked-looking flaming sword was poised to strike at his Lady's command. "What's happened to you, Freya? Have ye sold yer soul to th' devil?" The Dragoon's reply was as cold and hard-edged as before.

"Leave. Now." The Kindjal obeyed, picking up her Mauler as she left. After she had gone, Freya allowed herself to slump against the cave wall, then against Crimson's shoulder when he offered it.