Chapter 21: Fallen
A Note from the Author: Hello. I'm back, after seven years. Sorry for the long delay... I tried many times to continue this story, and finally this year I decided to make the immense effort of finishing Blazing Waves, Burning Rain. I've been working on this story every single day since the beginning of January of 2016, and the end result is that the story is done. This chapter represents the first step in uploading the remaining mass of the story onto . All that's left for me is to edit the remaining chapters (roughly 20 or so) and upload them. So, the story will be finished and you'll see the chapters appearing here, one by one, as I edit them. Expect the next one to be up in a week.
Chris gripped the hilt with two hands and rammed the sword blade into the dead warrior's cheek. The blunt force snapped the decrepit neck and flung the ever-grinning skull aside, scattering bone chips. The skull clacked and rattled as it skipped and rolled to a halt amid the tall grasses. The headless skeleton had loomed over Chris moments before. Now it sagged to its knees and fell in a twisted pile of bone. A funereal mound of shattered skeletons gathered at Chris' feet. A hundred more of the walking dead staggered towards Chris and Hugo from every direction, stirred by the power of the True Rune's Incarnation. In the auburn glare of the dawn light, the skeletons cast long and awkward shadows.
The creatures moved through a confusing jumble of images, scenes from here and now intermingled with the past, replaying before their eyes. Chris squinted, tried to blot out the confusing imagery. The illusion was fading, but not fast enough.
Hugo spat on the ground. "The spirits loathe a restless corpse. But these corpses seem to loathe us more." His words sounded hollow to her ears, but the fact that the lad could muster such bravado in the face of the horrors closing in on all sides was a comfort to her. Chris shifted her grip on the sword and fell back a step, scanning the grassy field for an avenue of retreat. She saw none. The dead had them cornered. They could fight the heartless husks until their muscles turned to water, but they would not stop coming. Sooner or later, Hugo's and her strength would be spent, and then they would die.
"Listen," she said, glancing at Hugo. "If we do not make it, I want to say—"
Hugo clasped her shoulder. His grip was iron as he shook her. "Don't say it. Don't even think it. It's the worst of luck." He relaxed his grip, grasped her arm instead. "I need you to believe. I need you to tell me we'll make it out of here together. You're the captain of the knights. So let me be your knight. I'll fight for you. But I won't hear some shit like it's over or we're dead already. Got it?"
Chris stared back, mouth agape. Hugo's shoulder slumped, and he sagged on exhausted knees. The boy was beyond fatigue. By all rights, he should not be able to stand unassisted. And yet, Chris could see in his half-lidded eyes both the strength and the determination to run another mile, leap another chasm. Fight another battle. She knew she had to match that.
Chris scanned the terrain around them, searching every feature of the ever-shrinking area surrounded by the dead. She prayed for a miracle, or at least for inspiration. Goddess, give me something to work with!
"Tell me," Hugo said suddenly. "Tell me we'll live to fight another day."
There. Chris squinted against the rising sun to make out a dark blot against the bright light, a formation atop a low hill. A tall cairn, an elongated, rounded boulder raised on the hill. She turned to Hugo, raised her sword in front of her eyes to look past the blade at Hugo. "I so swear."
Hugo clapped her shoulder. "There. That's a damn sight better."
Chris pointed at the hill, and to the cairn atop it. "See the boulder raised up there?"
"It's a grave marker," Hugo replied.
"It is our escape. If we are strong enough." He frowned at her as if she had suddenly grown giant, feathered wings. Chris's mouth felt dry. She really did not have the time to explain. "Do you trust me?" she asked.
She had expected him to question her. She had expected doubt, hesitation. To her surprise, Hugo simply grinned and slapped her on the back. "We're strong enough," he said. Then, without another word, he took off at a run towards the hill. Chris followed one step behind, shocked and relieved.
Five dead warriors blocked their path. The grisly group had converged on the side of the hill, two shambling in from the left, while a trio had aimlessly milled about the area until the sound of their footsteps had turned them their way. The skeletons raised broken spears and rusted swords, shuffling towards Chris and Hugo.
As Chris drew near the undead guardians, she slowed to a jog and gauged the movements in the corners of her eyes. "We have ten, maybe twenty seconds, then we will be surrounded. We must make this quick."
Hugo twirled his daggers, she suspected more out of nervous habit than any need to show off. He nodded. "I'll distract 'em, you knock 'em down. Get those swords out of my face."
Chris started to protest, but Hugo gave her no time. He let loose a deranged howl as he launched himself at the animated corpses, then dropped and rolled into range beneath the jabbing spears and slashing swords. A pitted blade severed a lock of hair from his head, while another sword whiffed an inch from his cheek. He came up in a leap, bowling into a sword wielding skeleton and knocking it back.
Horrified, Chris threw herself into the fray. An ancient spear split like firewood under the great chop of her unwieldy sword. She danced between a sword blade and Hugo's back, parrying the blow and delivering a return thrust. Instincts honed into perfection in countless hours of sword drills in the courtyard of the Knights' Chapter placed the blade perfectly between the ribs. Chris felt a haunting chill as the tip of the sword slid right between the skeleton's naked ribs. She pulled her blade back, but not in time to block the rusted sword arcing for her head.
Chris dropped to one knee, feeling the wind force of the slashing blade pass over her head and shoulder. She swung her own sword in one motion, hammering the hardy blade through the skeleton's thighbone. She heard a satisfying crack and felt the bone break under her assault. Before her long dyed-gold hair had settled back on her shoulders, she surged to her feet and slammed her booted foot into the falling skeleton's ribcage. The force of the blow staggered the dead warrior, preventing it from making one final thrust with its flailing sword. Then Hugo cried out in pain.
Chris spun around, fearing the worst. She found three corpses still standing, with one more lying motionless on the ground, its arms and legs cracked and its spear disarmed. Hugo clutched his forehead and reeled from a blow. When his hand came away, Chris felt an immense relief. There was no bloodstain there. Only dirt and sweat.
Hugo reached out and snatched hold of the spear in the hands of a skeleton. He used it to pull himself forward, denying the dead creature its use of the weapon. The remaining two skeletons staggered towards the Karayan and raised swords overhead.
Chris flung herself into the gap, pushing up against Hugo so that they stood back to back. She threw her sword up to intercept the blows, and was rewarded with an arm-numbing impact as the first skeleton's blade slammed into hers. Her weapon held, and the dead warrior pushed down, leaning into the struggle with all the strength and viciousness imbued into its dead bones by rune magic. Chris saw her own blade rush up in her vision before she managed to stop it. For a moment, cold fear gripped her as she realized she couldn't match the skeleton's unnatural strength. She twisted her blade and pushed her free hand against the flat of the blade, straining to turn the tide. Their swords quivered against each other, inches from Chris's face. The grinning skull on the opposite end of the swords stared balefully at her. At her back, she felt Hugo struggle against his foe, grappling with the skeleton and grunting with great effort. Chris pushed with all her might, looking to both sides. Where had the other skeleton gone?
At the last minute she saw it. Some malevolent intellect had spurred the skeleton to circle around and put the rising sun at its back. She saw its sword appear out of the blinding light, coming right for her unprotected flank. In a split second, Chris resisted the urge to throw herself out of harm's way—that would leave Hugo exposed—and instead made a snap decision. She released the pressure on her blade and tilted her guard to one side. The skeleton's blade suddenly jerked free, and slid down her blade with a grinding of sparks. The sword bit into the dirt by her foot. Chris used her momentum to twist to the side and elbow Hugo forward. The flanking skeleton's sword slashed through the air where they'd both been standing, a moment ago.
The first skeleton lifted its dead grin to regard Chris, bobbing up and down as it yanked at its trapped sword in desperate need. Chris gave the corpse no time to recover. She swung her sword two-handed, severing its spine with a yell of satisfying rage. She brought her sword around to deflect the second thrust of the skeleton at her side. She was just in time to see Hugo circle around it and clasp his hands around its skull. He twisted and turned, resisting the buckling motions of the skeleton's attempts to free itself. Then, with a snap, he tore the skull free and tossed it to the ground.
Chris allowed herself a moment to bend her back, plant a hand on her knee, and breathe deeply and hoarsely. She sheathed her sword awkwardly through her belt. Then she motioned for Hugo to follow, and leapt the scattered bones of their fallen foes to ascend the hill.
They gained the top of the hill as the dawn sun pulled free from the horizon, casting a golden light across the savannah and throwing long shadows from the acacia trees rising from the grass. The illusion faded slowly, the false images bleeding out to be replaced by the grim reality. They came in ranks, unnatural figures staggering up the hill from every direction. Chris shielded her eyes with one hand and swung around the cairn to examine the rock. To her relief the boulder's features seemed carved out in rounded folds, like the bulk of a sedentary matron.
Chris motioned for Hugo to take his place at her side, and saw understanding dawn on his face. As one, they leaned against the boulder and planted their feet in the loose earth. With a nod to each other, they threw their weight against the stone formation. Shoving, groaning, gritting her teeth, Chris felt sweat bead on her forehead, felt her wounded shoulder ache with stress. The boulder, however, did not move.
Chris felt cold. Was the cairn too heavy? She could hear the stumbling steps of the dead as they gained the top of the hill. Countless more milled about the base of the hill on all sides. Moments more, and they would be surrounded. In her mind's eye, Chris saw the dead warriors swarming up the hill and tearing Hugo and her from the crest.
Hugo roared out his frustration, stepping back to slam his shoulder at the boulder. Once, twice, three times. Chris almost imagined she could hear his bones crack with the strain of the move. And yet, the boulder refused to budge.
Goddess, grant me strength! Chris prayed. She couldn't let it end like this. Even knowing she should not, Chris threw a glance over her shoulder and saw the first of the dead clamber up the hill. They were so close now, almost near enough to jab their spears at them.
"Time your pushes," Hugo breathed. He paused for a moment. "We'll shove it together. Ready?"
Chris nodded. She glanced back again. The skeletons were close enough to reach out cold skeletal hands now. The blood froze in her veins, and she could wait no more. "Glory to Zexen!" she howled, and threw all her weight against the boulder. Hugo followed suit. The cairn budged, slowly. Chris's howl took on a victorious note as the earth creaked and the boulder began to list. The stone cairn toppled and thumped onto the hill's crest, slamming into a skeleton's shoulder and crushing the dead warrior beneath its weight. The boulder was on its side now, ready to be set into motion down the slope.
Skeletal fingers grasped Chris's arm. She jerked around and tried to tear loose, but the unnatural grip held her in place. The skeleton raised its other hand and the sun glinted on the rusted blade of a short sword. Chris rammed her fist into the monster's skull, snapping its head back at an unnatural angle. She rammed her elbow into its shoulder to knock the sword aside, then leaned back to plant a vicious kick at its sternum. The skeleton toppled back and collapsed.
"Quick, get the boulder rolling!" Chris crouched down and shoved her hands at the fallen cairn. Hugo joined in, and they struggled to get the mammoth stone into motion. Bones cracked underneath as the massive weight began to rotate and slowly pick up speed, rolling down the hillside. The hill was crawling with skeletons, blocking every side of the earthy mound. There was no escape—except for in the wake of the rolling boulder. "Go! Go!" Chris shouted.
Hugo needed little encouragement to follow. Chris saw a sweeping axe blade out of the corner of her eye, and ducked to let it pass overhead. For a moment she worried that Hugo had been close enough, and glanced at him. She was relieved to find him running beside her as if nothing had happened.
The boulder built up speed as it tumbled downwards. It came crashing down the hillside, and Chris and Hugo had to run to keep up. The dead warriors tried to scatter before it, but few could escape. Bones cracked with each bounce of the boulder, exploding rib cages into shattered bone fragments with each rotation. The tumbling cairn cleared a path of carnage before Chris and Hugo.
The boulder bounced down the base of the hill and slowed to a rolling stop twenty yards ahead. Countless skeletons wandered in confusion, but even as Chris glanced back, she saw them forming back up into ranks. They moved to bar Chris and Hugo's path. But there was an opening.
"Damn it," Hugo breathed. "Quickly, run!" The Karayan sprinted at her side, pumping his legs with ferocious strength. And yet, Chris caught the boy's anxious glances at her. She could see that he was pacing himself, allowing her to keep up with his long legs. Chris barely felt her shins and thighs, so fast did her blood pump as she ran. Dead warriors were shambling in from the sides. The gap was closing. It would be a narrow thing, if they made it.
A skeleton with a spear stepped up beside the pair, shoving its rusted spearhead out as if caught between trying to pierce and trying to trip. Chris reacted in time, leaping over the spear's shaft. She avoided the weapon but lost her balance, landing foully on her left foot and stumbling. She felt panic rise.
Then Hugo was there. His hands grasped her arm and side, and he yanked her back onto her feet. For a moment she felt like a feather in his arms, being tossed up into the air. She set down midstride and regained her pace, marveling at Hugo's strength, even wounded as he was.
"There!" he pointed at the tree line ahead. "We'll be safe in the woods." He spared her a quick glance, and a tight smile. "Just a little further."
Chris dashed into the dense foliage. Pine-needled branched lashed her cheeks as she forced through copses of trees, and gnarled roots tested her balance with each step. She slipped and slid and slammed her knee into an outcropping rock, but was on her feet at once, adding the smarting feeling to a growing list of pains in her body. She kept her eyes focused ahead, resisting the urge to glance into the shadows between the trees. She imagined skeletal grins peeking out of the foliage, watching and waiting.
The rising sun cut through the fading illusion, burning dew from the leaves of shrubs and bushes all around her. Side by side Chris and Hugo burst through the dense undergrowth and leapt a series of mossy rocks to trot down a loamy slope. There, ahead, the forest's edge lay invitingly, with the morning sun filtering between the trees. They should be safe once they reached the edge, and could make their way back towards the road. Away from the cairns, away from the madness.
Chris heard Hugo gasp before she saw them herself. She had her head ducked down, catching her breath, vision swimming with exhaustion as she ran. She stumbled to a stop and blinked several times, as if to clear her sight.
There, at the edge of the woods, a band of skeletal warriors pushed past the branches—an executioners' squad scouring the woods for their prey. They had found it.
Chris yanked the overheavy sword from her belt and held it out in challenge as the grinning dead stumbled towards them. She heard branches snap to the side, and knew the monsters would be there, too. They were everywhere. Desperately she scanned the tree line for a gap in the ranks of the skeletal warriors. She could find none.
Hugo snarled. "We can't go back, now. It's forward, or nothing."
Chris used her free hand to shield her eyes against the sun. Behind the front rank of the dead, numerous more lumbered past the trees. A small army. "There are too many of them. To cut through them would be…" Chris shook her head. "And yet, it is the only way."
Hugo wiped sweat from his brow with his arm. He brandished his daggers in a fighting stance, but Chris could see the doubt in his eyes even in a glance. She studied the approaching figures, sketching out the moves of the desperate battle they would soon commence. She would dodge the first one's mace, shoulder past it, sever the neck of the one pushing up behind it. Once she leapt past the boulder behind them, she would be surrounded, with four or more skeletons hacking and slashing for her. The crucial moment would come there. And even then, if she could block and dodge their attacks and push through the throng, there would be more. How many, she did not know. She longed for her armor. She felt naked in the padded traveling clothes.
Chris glanced at Hugo. She wanted to say something, but somehow the boy's words from before were burned into her mind. I'll be your knight, he had said. Chris felt a chilling determination sink into her body. Saying nothing, she launched into motion, lifting her sword overhead as she charged the ranks of the dead.
Hugo gasped then, clutching at the Fire Rune on the back of his hand. "Someone's—"
A flash of bright crimson bloomed somewhere just past the tree line, visible even against the rising sun. There was a whooshing sound as air surged, and Chris felt a blast of heat wash over her, blowing her hair back. She staggered back against the force, almost knocked over. The mid-morning shadows of the forest vanished as a raging fire enveloped trees, branches, and skeletal figures. The dead warriors appeared as dark outlines in the white-hot flame, and quickly their gaunt bodies were absorbed into the fire. Bone burned to ash and cinder.
When the explosion died down, Chris gasped for breath. Her skin felt blistering hot. She put a hand to her face but felt nothing amiss, except the terrible heat pulsing back at her hand. At her side, Hugo stood with his hand outstretched, the unpredictable fire rune glowing on the back of his palm as he channeled his magic to fork the approaching flames around them. Protecting her. She saw his face give way to exhaustion. He slumped onto his knees, doubling over in pain, one hand still clutching the fire rune, and a sickly grimace twisting his face. His eyes closed as he fell unconscious.
Of the skeletons, mere ashes remained, drifting on the surging hot wind. The trunks of the trees were blistered and coal-blackened, and bushes and branches smoldered. A horrible crackling sound filled the woods. Out of this hellish scene, a figure staggered into view, one hand pressed to his chest, the other dragging a sword behind him.
Lilly Pendragon stood holding her horse's reins, watching the distant hillside through the cover of tall buckthorn bushes, when she first caught sight of the soldiers cresting the hilltop. She clutched the hilt of her rapier as she watched the bedraggled train of soldiers troop into view. Of Huarn's proud company, perhaps a few dozen men remained. To a man, the surviving soldiers battled injuries, some bandaged, others left untreated. One man had the top half of his head fully bandaged, blood soaking through the gauze around one eye, tufts of dirty hair sticking out from between the wrappings. Another soldier had to steady himself on his spear as he trudged forward, his other shoulder propped up by a comrade. A creaking supply wagon brought up the rear, half busted and sagging, straining forward behind a single forlorn ox while the harness for its mate dragged uselessly, plowing furrows in the earth. A slouching banner man carried a single remaining pennant, the blue-white Harmonian flag limping in the stillness of the wind. Of the captain himself, there was no sign.
These broken men marched through a devastated land. The illusion had faded, leaving an image of desolation in its place. The earth was gouged in deep furrows, the grasses singed and bare. Broken bodies littered the forbidden grounds. Some were the piled bones of the animated dead, given their rest once more. Many were Harmonian soldiers, their bodies bent into horrifying unnatural shapes where they lay staring at the dawn sky. Lilly had tried to avert her eyes as she passed them, but she could not. She had looked for Chris or Hugo among those poor men, but had seen no sign of them.
Lilly assessed the approaching soldiers. Most were still armed, and some carried crossbows either on hand or slung over their shoulders. Nonetheless, the Harmonians did not look like they were spoiling for a fight. A bold move should produce the desired effect, she decided. She turned to her companions and nodded, saying, "Alright. I will speak with the soldiers. You two wait here, until I make sure it's safe."
Yumi and Yun shared a look, then Yun cleared her throat, looking apologetic, "There's no need—"
"I insist," Lilly said. She patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly. Poor thing must be beside herself with fear. No, Lilly could not allow Yun to come to harm. Not when they'd come this far. Lilly stepped into the stirrup and mounted her horse in one smooth sweep of her leg. She nudged the beast into motion, pushing past the leafy branches and out onto the grassy hillside. She paused for a moment to gather her courage before setting off at a trot, hollering to catch the attention of the soldiers. She could do without some nervous man setting off a crossbow bolt at her in a panic.
The soldiers called for a halt as Lilly approached. There was some hesitation, then a man with a fine sword sheathed at his hip separated from the squad. He pulled his helmet off as Lilly reined in beside him, revealing a shock of ruffled hair and a face lined with fatigue. "I am Corporal Lucas of the 282nd West Company. Who goes there?" the soldier asked.
Lilly remained in the saddle, straightened her back imperiously, and said, "I am Lady Lilly Pendragon of the Tinto Republic. I warn you not to take me for a defenseless traveler. My escort waits in the shelter of the bushes, including a full complement of archers, and several rune bearers of notable skill." The lie should prove believable enough. She hoped.
Lucas cast his weary eyes on the bushes from where Lilly had emerged. She thought she caught some doubt in his expression, but he did not press it. "I remember you, Lady Lilly. You were traveling with the caravan. You're a long way from home."
Lilly smirked. "As are you, Harmonian. I've come for Chris Lightfellow. Don't try to hide it—I know she is a prisoner of your captain. I now demand that you take me to him." Lilly couldn't help glance at the soldiers crowding around the single remaining supply wagon. The men now squatted where they'd stopped, some slumping down to sit, while others rested against the wheels of the wagon. It worried Lilly that Chris was nowhere to be seen. Where was the woman?
Lucas sighed. "Captain Huarn is…" He pursed his lips, then said, "He's not here."
Lilly thrust her hand onto the hilt of her rapier. "If you've allowed harm to come to Lady Chris…"
"I'm sorry," Lucas said. He made no motion to defend himself, should Lilly decide to draw her blade. In his eyes, Lilly thought she saw, what, remorse? "When last I saw the Silver Maiden, she was running deeper into the forbidden grounds. She left me in command." Lucas looked up, and his eyes seemed pleading, wracked with guilt. "She entrusted the safety of these men to me…"
Lilly's mind raced, trying to make sense of the young soldier's reaction, not to mention his words. "She… what?"
"She ran in there to save the Karayan boy. But—"
Lilly pushed her hat down. Her head hurt from trying to grasp what the man was telling her. "Hugo! But… and what… You said she left you in command?"
"Believe me," Lucas said. "We're in no condition to resist you, Lady Lilly. Nor would I wish to." He turned to make a sweeping motion encompassing the remaining soldiers under his command. "We owe our lives to the leadership of the Silver Maiden. I would gladly see her returned to your care, if it would please her."
When last Lilly had seen Chris, she was being trundled off as Huarn's prisoner. Now these selfsame captors were heralding her as their savior? Lilly realized her mouth was sagging open, and shut it. "Tell me," she said cautiously, "Where do I find the Silver Maiden?"
"Borus…?" Chris gasped.
Smoke billowed through the burning forest. Borus shoved his way through the smoldering bushes, walking doggedly, like a war god striding the battlefields of Hell. The knight was unhorsed and unhinged. His armor was dull and spattered with blood, his golden blonde hair singed and dirty, his face contorted with rage. When he saw her, he stumbled to a halt, as if struck in the stomach.
"Lady Chris!" His face lit up with some mixture of shock and relief. The warm expression was short-lived, however, as Hugo groaned in his sleep where he lay beside her. Borus swung his sword around to face the Karayan, though he remained too far away to act upon the threat. "Stay back, milady. Get away from the barbarian." He advanced on Hugo, and in three quick steps he was near enough to raise his sword at the defenseless boy.
Borus's bloodthirsty expression sent a chill down Chris's spine. The Rage Rune upon the back of his hand still glowed. She thought back to moments before, the terrible heat washing over her body, threatening to envelop her and consume her. Without Hugo's drawing upon the power of his unstable fire rune, she felt certain the firestorm would have incinerated her. Chris knelt down to wrap her arms around Hugo, instinctively protecting him from Borus' sword. "Sir Borus, you misunderstand. If not for him, I would be—"
Borus halted in mid-slash, horror dawning in his eyes at the sight of her sheltering the boy. "Milady, listen to me. This boy's a treacherous dog. Don't you see? His barbarian witchcraft has twisted your mind."
Chris stared up into Borus' pleading, desperate eyes. She saw nothing but sincerity in those blue orbs, but there was madness in his voice. "Witchcraft? Sir Borus, that is nonsense." She had to cover her mouth and cough as thick wood smoke curled into her nostrils. "Lay your sword to rest. We must leave this place before more of the dead surround us." When the knight hesitated, she set her face sternly and added, "That is an order."
A pained look came over Borus's face. Nevertheless, his sword hand did not falter. If anything, the fingers upon that greasy hilt tightened with purpose. "I never thought I would disobey an order from my captain. From my Silver Maiden…"
Chris was shocked to hear such words escape Borus's lips. He, of all people, she had thought would follow her through Hell and high water. "Borus…" she began. She rose to her feet, painfully, with much effort, and maneuvered to place herself between Hugo and the knight. She stretched her arms wide in a protective stance. She did not trust Borus's sword so near the Karayan's vulnerable form. Glancing to either side, Chris scanned the lurid flames enveloping the wood for the glimmer of rotted teeth and exposed bones. How long before the disturbed dead were once more upon them? "Borus, I ask you not as your captain, but as your friend. Lay to rest these notions. Do not harm Hugo."
Borus scoffed. "Hugo…" He seemed to taste the name on his lips, and by the twist of his mouth, the taste was as bitter as gall. "Listen to yourself, Lady Chris. How firmly in the grip of his magic are you? We are Zexen. He is our enemy. The Silver Maiden would never associate with these barbarians, these oath breakers. Can't you see your mind is clouded?"
Chris searched the knight's eyes, trying to see traces of something false in his mannerisms, some sign that the figure before was not Sir Borus but rather an illusion woven by Sarah. Even twisted with anger and distrust, Borus's expression showed nothing out of place. And, she felt, an illusionist would choose a fairer shape. Not this bloodied apparition standing before her. "My mind is clear," she said "But, I am much surprised to see you here after I had ordered you to remain in Vinay."
"Vinay shall manage without me. My captain needs me."
"You almost burnt me to cinders. Without Hugo's protection, you would have."
Borus flinched as if struck. "But I found you." He held one hand out, pleading with her. "Please, milady, step away from the boy… Trust me. Let me help you."
Chris eyed him warily. She thought he might in a moment leap around to slash at the boy, where he lay sheltered behind her. "I would welcome your help. But you must trust me. I am under no spell."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Why would you doubt it? My golden hair? My travel garb? Help me understand."
Borus reached for her, and Chris shied away. "Milady…" He grimaced, gave a pained look. "Nothing so trivial. How else to explain your actions lately? How else to explain your presence here, abandoning your duties as the Captain of the Knights, neglecting your rightful place as Zexen's protector? I know you better than that. Only magic could explain it."
"Is that how you see it? And rather than trust my word, the word of your captain, you would trust some intuition? There is much you do not know about me, Sir Borus."
"Alron told me—"
"Alron?" Chris spat. "Is it he who has poisoned your mind with these falsehoods? Alron, who butchered women and children at Karaya? Alron, who tarnished the honor of the Zexen Knights? Alron, who threw me in the dungeons and personally whipped me to satisfy his twisted pride?"
"No. Don't say…" Borus shook his head, as if struggling against a vision of something he would rather leave unseen. "Alron would never do such a thing. This cannot be. This must be a lie."
"A lie?" Chris pulled her collar down, exposing her back just below her neck. The scars of Alron's lash remained on her skin, plain as day for all to see. "Is this a lie?" She spun back around to face him. "Alron. This is the man whose word you trust over the word of your captain? I trusted you with Head Councilor Adeline's safety. This is the fool errand you chose over honoring my wishes?"
Borus's face had paled. Chris breath ran ragged; she'd worked up such a fury, her face was twisted painfully in rage. She forced herself to calm, to relax her death grip on Borus's arm. When she came to her senses, she found her own arm shook with emotion. And, in Borus's eyes, she could see that she might have gone too far.
Borus struggled for words. Surely he could see there in her eyes the resounding fire of the truth. She was no illusion, no victim of evil charms. She was his captain, speaking with the conviction of the Knights of Zexen. The knight's eyes were haunted, now, straining with horror.
"I… There is something I must tell you," he said. "At Karaya…" Borus squeezed his eyes shut as if to hide from her. "At Karaya, I fought alongside Alron."
"No," she breathed. Her head swam. The thought of what the blonde knight was about to tell her almost broke her heart. "No!"
"My sword is stained with the blood of those women and children…" Borus's voice cracked. "I don't know what came over me. I felt such an overpowering rage, I…"
Chris felt cold. She stared at him. She knew her face must be twisted into such a mask of loathing, her eyes distant and unkind. She felt for him, wanted to hide her shock and disgust—she really did. But she found that she could not. Chris imagined she could hear the knight's heart breaking where he stood.
Borus's sword clattered against the rocks. He buried his face in his hands, digging forcefully into his hair, pulling and twisting violently at the golden locks. His voice came muffled through knitted fingers. "I couldn't stop myself. Goddess, I tried to. I tried…"
Chris heard a branch snap, and swiveled to see a skeletal figure step through fire between two trees. More of the dead were swarming around them. "We must leave this place now," she said.
Borus made as if it grasp her arm, but stopped short of touching her. His hand hovered near hers, desperate to touch but unable to do so. "Please…"
Chris shook her head. She felt numb, almost dizzy, as if the world swam around her. Borus let his hands fall to his sides, and his moist eyes stared into hers. She knew he wanted desperately to have her forgiveness. But, forgiveness was not hers to give.
"What you did is unforgivable. You must answer for your crimes. You are no longer a knight." She almost could not bring herself to add the last part. And yet, her voice sounded so cold to her own ears. In her mind, she fought to reconcile the images of the smiling, dashing Sir Borus with the butcher of Karaya.
Chris gathered up Hugo and slung his unconscious form over her shoulder. She began to drag him out of the forest, away from the approaching monsters. "Help me," she said.
Borus looked one last time in her eyes. Then he turned his back on her, facing the forest with its shadows and flame, with its stumbling monsters. He raised his hand to gaze at the Rage Rune emblazoned there. "In a way, it is a relief. So long have I yearned to tell you…" He shook his head, and without turning around, he said, "I love you."
Chris stared at the knight's back. She saw his squared shoulders, his body slumped in a mixture of determination and relief. She struggled to find the words, and failed. Instead she said, "This is not the time…"
Borus laughed, then, but there was no mirth in that sound. Only a deep sense of relief. Borus put his palms out before him. "Goodbye, Chris."
Chris halted, mind racing. "What…?"
The Rage Rune flashed, drawing power. Too late, Chris reached for Borus, and then the flames burgeoned, the heat and cascading waves of uncontrollable power forcing her back. A horrible howl tore through the air, and Chris realized Borus was screaming in torment. Chris stumbled and shuffled back, dragging Hugo away from the building inferno. Borus' body was a torch to light up the forest. Then the power of the rune spiraled out of control. A torrent of fire burst from the knight's figure, surging away from Chris and into the woods. In the white-hot glare of the fire, Chris saw trees disintegrate. She saw skeletal figures vaporize. She saw the knight incinerated.
When the flames died down, nothing remained. A clearing of a hundred yards had been stripped bare, leaving flames ringing a perimeter of half-charred trees and singed bushes. Where the trees had stood, cinders sailed slowly from the sky. Ashes swirled, building in droves. Where Borus stood, a pool of liquid steel bled across the earth, swiftly cooling. The knight's armor. Beside it, a half-melted steel blade sat planted in the earth. Borus's sword, stained at Karaya with the blood of the innocent, now purified by the inferno. The Rage Rune had burned so hot, it consumed itself.
Hugo came to slowly, thoughts jumbled and confused. He saw shapes and colors, but could not make sense of them. His ears rang with a loud and insistent drone, and the sunlight stung his eyes as his eyelids fluttered. His head ached like an anvil under the hammer, and he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
"Thank the Goddess," someone said. "Hugo?"
Hugo reluctantly opened his eyes to squint against the sunlight. Blurred shapes manifested before his sight, formless giants looming over him and shading him from the sun. Four shapes hovering over him where he lay, he thought, on a patch of soft and dew-marked grass. Every joint in his body burned. "Where…" he croaked. His mouth felt dry as sand.
"Lie still, Hugo…" someone said. He felt a cool hand press against his throbbing forehead. There was a flash of faint golden light, and Hugo instinctively knew that rune magic was pouring into his sore limbs. The feeling was at the same time both chilling and refreshing, like an icy dip in a shaded stream on an early morning after basking in the dawn sun. The callous power that issued from those gentle fingers surged through his body and dulled the feelings of soreness, masked the pain.
"How are you feeling, Hugo?" someone asked. Long light hair framed the indistinct face above, glinting yellow-gold in the sun.
A dark-haired figure, the one who had her hand on his chest, turned sideways and said, "He seems remarkably well. To use a Fire Rune while the Incarnation's presence unbalanced them… He should not be alive."
He should not be alive. Hugo considered those words. Yumi's words—he began to make out the features of her smooth face. His body told him she was right. The stabbing feeling in his eyeballs each time he shifted his vision, the throbbing ache in his restive limbs, the way his skin stung as if burned from prolonged exposure to the hot midday sun, all of it was evidence of how close Hugo had come to passing over to the realm of the spirits. Would he have made a fine fire spirit? The thought intruded suddenly and felt logical for a moment only, before his mind caught up and began to clear.
Four concerned faces stared down at Hugo. Yumi, with dark brown curls bound up in an embroidered Kinese headband, face lightly sweating but with a slight smile on her lips as her large brown eyes focused on Hugo and her hand still pressed against his naked chest, glowing with the light of the Earth Rune's healing magic. Yun crowding in beside her, a childlike mirror of her elder clanswoman, cheeks still pink and fleshy with the glow of youth. The girl's radiant smile suggested an admirable lack of concern. Lilly, face stern and imperious, wide-brimmed hat for once held in one gloved hand, her tousled reddish-brown strands somewhat askew around her delicate cheeks. Chris, her dyed-blonde hair singed and damp with drying blood, clinging haphazardly to cheeks stung red by fire as she leaned forward over him. Dirt mixed with sweat on her forehead, her skin bruised in several spots by scrapes and hits in the thick of battle. With the burning halo of the morning sun enveloping her sternly concerned face, she seemed a warrior queen of the Karaya, returned blooded and proven from a rite of passage. Baptized in flames.
The Rage Rune. Hugo sat up suddenly, biting back a sudden twisting of his neck that sent a jolt of pain through his body. "Borus! Where is he? What happened?"
Chris slumped, letting out a deep sigh. She shook her head. "Borus is dead." She drew a deep breath, and then launched into the story of what had happened in the burning forest after Hugo fell unconscious. Borus, wreathed in the flames of his madness. Borus, with sword drawn, demanding Hugo's death. Borus, consumed by his anger, drawing too deeply of the Rage Rune's power. Hugo sensed that Chris was holding something back, but he sensed her pain, and did not wish to push it.
Mixed emotions warred within Hugo as he listened to Chris' story. Without question, there was relief. Moments before the unchecked power of the Rage Rune had pounded his body and mind into submission, Hugo had known true fear. Not for himself, for in those moments he thought would be his last, it was not his own death which haunted his mind. Rather, he had feared for Chris' safety. He told himself it was his pride as a Karayan warrior that had made his heart swell with such overpowering joy and relief at the sight of the knight's delicate face when he awoke again to find himself alive. He had vowed to see her safely delivered from Alron's clutches, and he had made good on his vow. But then there were those images out of his recent dreams and nightmares that told him something else entirely. Feelings of confused desire he couldn't allow himself to dwell on.
Yes, there was relief. But also guilt. Guilt at hearing about Borus' death and feeling glad for it. This thought weighed on Hugo. The blond-haired knight with the hateful eyes had hounded Hugo at every turn. And he had been at Karaya. But did he truly deserve to die? Chris had been there, too, and it was her blade that had so brutally skewered his friend. Did Chris too deserve to die, then? Hugo shook the thought from his mind, resolving to pray to the spirits for Borus at a later time. Perhaps the knight wouldn't approve, but he was returned to the spirits now, whatever their Zexen Goddess said.
Thoughts of the spirits guided Hugo as he spoke. "I will return to the Forbidden Grounds." He made to push himself to his feet, standing woozily. Chris steadied him, but shot him a dark look.
"Is your head still scrambled? Have you gone mad?"
Hugo hardened his face and tried to stand against that glare. "The Incarnation has made playthings of my ancestors. This is unforgivable… That monster must be destroyed."
Chris planted her fists on her hips and found a second layer of steel to add to her eyes. "Look around you. The Forbidden Grounds is in flames. An army of the dead walk these harrowed fields. And the Incarnation itself swallowed Huarn's army. What could you hope to achieve on your own?"
Hugo shook his head. "I must do what I can. Now that you are safe-"
"Damn you and your pride," Chris said. "I did not risk my life to see you run off like a fool and get yourself killed!"
Hugo gaped. "You think this is about pride?"
Chris drew herself up before him. Something in her eyes, in her face, made his tongue dry out. "Now, you will hear me, warrior. You want to help your ancestors? Then look for the living. Protect your family. The Harmonian army marches across the Grasslands. They will force your people back to Chisha. Chief Lucia and all your friends, your family, will make their stand there, because they must. Because they are fighting for their homeland, and for your future. Our future. You would abandon this battle? You would run off and fight a dragon? A warrior does not seek vengeance. A warrior seeks to become a shield for his people. We must go to Chisha and negotiate a truce between Zexen and the Clans."
Chris's words stung Hugo's pride. He couldn't show it, of course. He bit back several hasty replies before speaking. "How do you know this? The clansmen would meet the Harmonians on the field. This is our land, our home. We are strong, strong enough to repel the invaders. No matter their numbers." Hugo muttered the last part, uncertain in his convictions even as he spoke. Chris was staring him right in the eye and he had trouble meeting her gaze when she leveled that steely beam of icy blue at him. The two of them stood face to face, staring each other down.
Chris was about to speak when Yumi exclaimed, "Look! The sky!"
Hugo spun around to see the sky smudged with blotted gray-black dots. They were puffs of smoke drifting skyward from a great distance. Smoke signals, rising from a hillside fire. Grasslander signals. Chris shielded her eyes against the sun, peering at the smoke signals. "Where is that? What do they say?"
Yumi shrugged. "They are from the direction of… Chisha, I believe." She glanced between Hugo and Chris. "I can't read the meaning, though. They are Karayan."
Hugo's throat felt ashen. "War," he said. "They mean war."
There was no gloating in Chris' expression, then. Only sympathy. And conviction. "We must leave at once. We travel for Chisha. Only Chief Lucia can save the Grasslands now. I pray to the Goddess that she is safe."
Even Hugo was ready to pray to the Goddess for the same.