New Blood
by Saber Alexander McConnell
Rated PG13

CHAPTER 12: Retreat and Loss

Kale was furious. The raid was supposed to be quick and easy, a simple search-and-destroy mission. The miserable little brats were unskilled and untrained, they should have been dead within the first five minutes. Dais had identified the two of them right away, they should have been dead.

The one with the Wildfire armor was quicker than he looked, and by sheer bad luck, he'd managed to evade attack and summon his full armor. The Torrent boy, however, hadn't, he'd simply been quick enough to escape the initial attack.

And then, damn it, every one of those miserable Ronin had shown up! Five of the armors, Kale knew well, but the other three, the newly created armors, were unknown factors. He didn't know their powers or how well their owners understood them. He knew nothing of their character, or how to deal with them.

Except for this one miserable little brat. It was clear what his armor gave; speed. With Kale's understanding of such armors, and of how they display their characteristics, he'd figured the child worked with light to fuel his infuriating speed! Seething, Kale held his weapon up, calling for his Black Lightning Slash, letting loose a barrage of dark, frigid energy at the boy. That had stopped the kid in his tracks, bowling him over in the dirt, engulfing him with darkness. The child would have been dead moments later, but for the interference of the girl--

The girl, she had very little trouble locating him in the dark, coming at him with a pair of katana he recognized as belonging to Wildfire. 'He can't even use his own weapons!' he thought with frustration. 'How could we have failed so badly?'

He had little time to think after that, as the girl attacked, and it was clear that she at least had some fighting skills. Not as much as him, but she was quick, and held her own fairly well. But Kale could not remain here longer. The sounds of sirens approached from all directions, and he knew full well that while they were mere mortals, that the warlords alone could not deal with too many of them. And there was every possibility that they would bring in their military if they had any inklings whatsoever what this attack might be.

And his armor was beginning to lose power.

Kale didn't want to retreat. His master would punish him, likely quite severely, but worse, Kale would lose his favor. He had done well, had led well, and trained the new warlords as best he could. And here, now, he had gotten too cocky, and underestimated his foes. He'd not learned yet; perhaps he deserved whatever Talpa gave him.

Kale finally snarled and leapt backwards, away from the girl's weapons, and bellowed in Japanese: "RETREAT!"

Dais, nearby, ducked away from the chaos and looked sharply at him. Kale nodded, hating it, and Dais acknowledged with a curt nod. He ran towards the guards on the perimeter, calling out the retreat, and within ten seconds, they were gone. The only one left, Kale remained for only a moment, glaring hatred at the one who bore the Wildfire armor. Then he, too, disappeared.

---

Nohano could not stop himself from cheering, just for a brief moment. He could hardly believe it, but the invaders had left, and everyone had managed to survive

"He called to retreat!" called Amaya across the compound, sounding amazed. She came over to return his katana, helping him get the weapons back onto his back, and staring in astonishment. "We did it, I cannot believe it!

The child, the one with the yellow armor, raced over, his eyes wide. "That was great!" he exclaimed, and Nohano was relieved. When he'd heard the kid go down, he'd feared the worst. "That dark one," said the kid, clenching a fist, "I will get him! I don't like him. He's cold. And now I'm cold, too."

Nohano noticed then that the kid was shivering, and frowned a little. He lifted one of his hands to his own face, feeling the heat that emanated from his armor, and stepped over to the boy. "C'mere, kiddo," he said, holding out an arm to put around his shoulders. The boy looked at him curiously, but didn't pull away, and Nohano sort of held him close, hoping to warm the boy.

It seemed to work. The boy was still for a moment, then looked up, laughing, no longer shaking. "Wow, that is great!" he said. "Thanks!"

Killian ran up, looking urgent. "There're loads of police heading this way, mate, we can't be found like this. And there're three others of us over near the edges." He pointed, and Nohano looked up to see where Killian indicated. He took a big breath, only now beginning to register the sirens, and made a "come here" gesture to the new arrivals. "Armor down!" he called, wondering if that was even a real phrase. What the hell could he call it? "Get the armor off!" He only hoped that if anyone at the faire told about them, it would be dismissed as hysteria. Not perhaps the nicest thing to hope for, but the trouble it could cause if they were even suspected of being a part of this would be big!

The three new arrivals joined the group, and one by one, the armor disappeared. Nohano closed his eyes, hoping that he could banish the full armor the way he did the riot gear, and when he felt the weight leave him, he knew he'd been right. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at a strange assortment of youths, seemingly from around the globe, all of them looking like they'd gotten roughed up pretty good in the fight. 'At least we look like victims, not criminals,' he thought.

His timing had been very close. The first of the police came over the hill leading into the fairegrounds only a moment later, spilling onto the grounds as people began creeping out of their hiding places. The direness of the whole situation was brought back full force as Nohano looked around, seeing once again the bodies that lay on the ground. He looked down at his side, grimacing at a smear of blood on his tunic, and raised it to look at the wound. It wasn't bad; the armor had taken most of the crossbow bolt, but he'd still gotten nicked. The important part was the awful hopelessness had dissipated.

"I gotta get out of here," whispered Killian, and Nohano moved to put an arm around him.

The clouds had cleared as soon as the Dynasty bastards left, and Nohano realized it was a powerful clue. Those clouds would signify trouble, a forewarning to be prepared. If only they'd realized its full significance earlier, maybe they could have avoided all of this.

A fire truck screamed into the area, and several people got out of it, beginning to put out what few fires remained. Most everything had burned up, or been put out somehow or another during the fighting. Several police cars began to drive into the area, though strangely, several officers approached on foot, and Nohano wondered why they'd not driven up like the rest. Very soon, the entire area was full of cops, medics, firefighters, and frightened people.

An officer came up to Nohano's group and asked if they were all right, and sent the whole group over to one of the medical teams. Nohano managed to give a fairly accurate story of the attack without mentioning their own involvement in the battle. Taking his lead, the others gave similar accounts while the paramedics looked them over. None of them was hurt badly, and they were sent away with some minor first aid, so they could take care of the more serious cases.

Nohano recognized several of those being treated as people who worked at the faire, but one man made him stare, unable to believe he had forgotten. "Aaron!" he called, running over. How could he have forgotten the guys?

Aaron blinked, then sighed, as if in relief. "Hey, Nohano," he said quietly. "You all right?"

"Y-yeah...I'm okay, but you're hurt, what happened?"

Aaron was bleeding badly from a wound in his arm, and blood spattered across his face from a nasty looking head wound. "Not sure," said Aaron. "It was all just...chaos. Something hit me, I dunno if it was debris, or what."

Nohano took a big breath and looked around, seeking the other members of No Quarter. He caught sight of Gregory, being treated for a head wound also, and Manny, leaning against one of the few intact stalls, looking unhappy but unharmed. But he couldn't see Robert anywhere. "What about Robert, where is he? They didn't have to take him to the hospital, di..." He trailed off at the look on Aaron's face, feeling suddenly cold. "Aaron, where is he?"

"He's still at the stage, kid," said Aaron quietly, looking at the ground. "He didn't--"

Horror washed over Nohano. He lurched to his feet, sprinting towards the stage they'd been performing on when the bastards attacked--that performance seemed like it had been days ago--and frantically searched the area. The stage itself was half in pieces, though it had escaped burning, but there was no one standing anywhere around it. Shaking, Nohano looked to the ground.

Robert lay face down on the ground, his legs half underneath the stage construct, his long hair in tangles on the dirt. Nohano heard a strangled cry from his own throat as he ran to him, dropping to his knees, grasping his shoulder and heaving him onto his back. The limp weight of his body scared Nohano; the body felt wrong. It was warm only, not nearly as warm as it should be, heavier than it should be. Nohano didn't need to see the deep, raw burn that cut Robert from his chest to his gut, nor the sightless stare of his eyes to know.

"Oh-no, Robert, oh God--"

Nohano was suddenly sobbing, kneeling numbly at Robert's side, aware of nothing else except his friend's body. The only thing he could think of was that he was dead. Dead. He'd never seen death before, never before this day. Nothing he'd ever read or seen could have ever begun to describe it. He couldn't do anything except stare, trying to force his mind around something that seemed too big for anyone to be able to accept.

Someone was besides him then, kneeling also, and Nohano turned to see Killian there, looking as if he was ready to try and hold Nohano, to comfort him somehow. He lurched to his feet, pushing Killian away, and ran; he didn't want to see Killian, he didn't want to see any of them! He didn't want to see any of them, or this! Stumbling away from the stage, he jammed his hand into his pocket, fumbling around until he forced his numb, shaking hands around the armor sphere, and yanked it out of his pocket. He flung the ball as hard as he could, then ran again.

He didn't know where he was going. Anywhere but that stage, the last place he'd ever seen his friend alive, belting out a song about the death of a man called Bartholomew Roberts. Nohano began to shiver uncontrollably at the ominous premonition of the song.

The strange battle had taken its toll on Nohano. He had not gone far, only barely out of the fairegrounds, before he dropped to his knees, unable to run any more. All he could do was cry.

It could never be the same after this. How could he sing with No Quarter again, without Robert there? Every time they were to practice, or every gig they managed to get would only be a cruel reminder that Robert wasn't there anymore to play guitar.

---

Killian sat on the ground and watched Nohano run off, not sure how he felt, himself. He'd seen so much death in the past months that his mind had protected itself by growing numb, but he was still very unhappy at Robert's death. He'd like the man a great deal; he'd made sure Killian felt welcome, all the time. And to see Nohano so upset about it made it worse. He wasn't angry he'd been shoved away. He wasn't sure he'd want himself around, either. He excused himself for a moment and darted to where Nohano had cast the orb, knowing it was a very bad idea to leave it lying around. It took him several minutes, but he found the ball lying in one of the trash bins, which was miraculously still upright. "Guess they had no reason to destroy a rubbish bin," he said with dark humor, reaching in and grasping the orb. It felt uncomfortably hot to him, and he slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans, where the thick material would shield his skin. "Fire and water," he murmured, shaking his head.

When he returned, the others had seated themselves on the half-destroyed stage, their expressions ranging from angry to unhappy. The small boy looked as if he were about to cry. The tall one who seemed to be his guardian put an arm around the boy. Killian stopped. "Well...I'm Killian Zale," he said quietly. "I'm from Australia...in case it wasn't obvious." He tried to laugh, but it didn't work. "Um, that was Nohano...the one there--" He nodded down to Robert, taking a big breath and looking back to the others. "He's a friend of Nohano's."

"Amaya," said Amaya quietly by way of introduction, her tone curt. Killian wasn't sure if she was angry or upset, but she obviously wasn't feeling friendly.

The others gave their names in turn, and Killian tried to keep them in his head, and matched to the right face. Names weren't an easy thing for him to remember. His eyes swept the small crowd, thinking their names. Suisei for the tall boy, Tarun for his young companion. Demetrius for the white-haired boy, and Rashida for the girl with him, neither of which seemed to speak more than half a dozen words in English. Amaya he already knew, and the boy who had joined them that afternoon was Xander. Xan, as he preferred.

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" asked Suisei, looking nervously around.

"We can go to my home," said Amaya. "I have rented a small house here."

"How old are you?" asked Suisei in surprise.

"Fourteen," said Amaya with a grim smile, "but I look a little older. I was able to...well." She blushed, as if embarrassed, and Killian realized she had probably done something dishonest to be able to rent a house. Amaya glanced up at the officers milling about the place, then back to her new allies. "Nohano and Killian live here, but they share a home with four...three...others." She, too, glanced down at Robert's unmoving body, her grim visage softening into sorrow for just a moment.

"I have a vehicle," said Suisei. "Small, but we can squeeze in if there is no other transportation...though it stalled just outside this place. We may have to fix it first."

Killian glanced up, catching sight of movement from the corner of his eyes, and saw Nohano walking back towards them, his eyes swollen and red, his face still damp. He said not a word, only stood near Killian, his hands in his pockets and his head down. "We're moving," said Killian quietly. "Suisei, that's the tall one, has a car. I...we were going to go to Amaya's. I dunno, d'you wanna stay here with the guys?" He felt desperately sorry for Nohano. Not only had he lost a good friend, but now he had to decide between accompanying his new allies, part of the whole mess that had killed his friend, or leaving them for the moment to be with his other friends, where he would be constantly reminded of the tragedy.

Nohano didn't answer, and Killian could see he couldn't decide.

Amaya stepped forward then, frowning the slightest bit. "You grieve," she said, "but you cannot let this rule over you. You must gather your courage, get control of yourself."

Killian winced as Nohano's head snapped up. If she had meant to be encouraging with her words, it had failed miserably. He had seen the girl's impatience with their immaturity, her frustration of their ignorance and casual ways, and what she deemed an appalling disregard of the traditions she felt went hand in hand with being a Ronin Warrior. However, he hadn't quite thought she would be this insensitive!

Neither, apparently, had Nohano. "What?" he asked quietly, but didn't give her much of a chance to argue. Killian could see tears shine in the other boy's eyes, and he yelled: "One of my closest friends is dead! I just got shot at and attacked by-by-freaks from another...the whole faire, people got killed all over the place! How can you tell me to just 'deal with it'?"

Amaya blinked, then narrowed her strange, blue eyes. "This is a war, Wildfire," she said softly. "A war. If you cannot handle it, perhaps you must surrender your armor to someone who can."

"Amaya!" Killian exclaimed, reprimanding. He didn't even see what the others in their group were doing; his field of vision had narrowed to only Nohano and Amaya, and he had the bad feeling things might get a little messy.

Nohano's eyes widened in fury, and he lunged at the girl. Yelling in alarm, Killian grabbed him around the waist, stopping his charge for only a moment before Nohano broke free.

For a minute, everything was in an uproar; Nohano was yelling at Amaya, though Killian couldn't understand any of it. Suisei and Demetrius had sprung to their feet to grab Amaya, who looked as if she had every intention of breaking his nose. Rashida and Xan were helping Killian keep Nohano from decking her.

"You would attack your ally!" Amaya hissed, stilling temporarily, glaring at Nohano. "My ancestor would be ashame to know the one who bear his armor!"

Things could have gone south quickly from there, had it not been for the arrival of several of the police officers who had been swarming the place. Killian had almost forgotten where they were, and how many people were still around.

"Hey!" one of the officers bellowed, running up with a stunstick in his hand. He didn't use it, yet, only got into the middle of the brawl, helping to separate Amaya and Nohano. "Break it up, you two!"

Killian was thankful that Nohano backed off, though tears streamed down his face, and he glared daggers at Amaya, who glared them right back.

"What's going on, here?" asked one of the other officers, looking the group over, wary that they might start fighting again.

"Sorry, sir," said Killian, when no one else seemed to know what to say. "My friend, well, he lost someone he cared for today. He's...kinda really..." He wasn't sure how to say it, and so he only indicated Nohano's tear-streaked face.

The Hawaiian boy abruptly turned his back on Amaya, ignoring her completely, and turned to the officer. "Sorry," he said in a low tone, his fists still clenched.

The officer's expression relaxed a little, and he nodded. "I understand, son." Looking at all of them, he said, "I assume you are all together?" When most of them nodded, he added, "Who here is of age?"

"I am," said Suisei.

"But Nohano's an emancipated minor," Killian added, nodding to his friend.

"All right. I'd like to get statements from all of you, then...then I think you'll want to go home. We're starting to clear everyone out here."

"I can get 'em home," said Suisei. "I've got a car outside...though it stalled out. I might have to ask for a jump if that's the problem."

The officer frowned, shaking his head briefly. "You know, several of our vehicles stalled as well, but started up again when they tried 'em a few minutes later...strangest thing, I gotta say." He took a notebook from his pocket, nodding at the others who had run up with him, and they left the group to do something else. "If you could tell me what happened today?"

Among the eight of them, they managed to relate the afternoon without revealing their own roles in the battle, as they had done while being tended by the medics. Suisei and Nohano both showed the officer their identification, and Demetrius and Rashida showed their passports; not able to speak English, it was too obvious they were not from the country.

"Thanks, guys," said the officer, and laid a hand briefly on Nohano's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, son."

Nohano nodded, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Amaya. "Listen. I'm gonna get my friend back to the other guys in his group. I think he needs to talk with them for a while by himself. I'll be back." He was having a bit of difficulty keeping a check on his own temper, angry at Amaya's lack of compassion and what he perceived as great arrogance, and he turned around to guide Nohano away from the group.