Chapter Five

Aftermath

"He calls 'imself Morph."

Nothing had moved in the town center. No villagers moved about; in fact, none had been even seen, though the houses were obviously no longer guarded. The remaining brigands weren't moving. They stood as still as statues, still sneering and smiling, which added a surreal air, as though time had utterly frozen. Sierra, among the battered survivors (still awake, of course) was the only one not unnerved. She sighed and continued.

"Apparently he's some kinda experiment gone awry. Now I don't know none of the details myself, but Bartholomew 'ere says it was somethin' they dug up from one o' dem ruins, what was formerly th' lair o' some baddie."

Walter sighed, "When you say that you do not know much… you shouldn't have neglected to say that your information was vague enough to only be slightly helpful."

Sierra wrinkled her nose, "Well now, aren't you a bag of mirth! I'm tryin' to help ya'll out s'best I can; least you could do is mind yer manners an' act like a proper gentleman."

Walter bristled, but sighed and said nothing. Sylva was next to break the silence, saying "Do you know what Morph wanted with this village?"

Sierra shook her head, "Didn't look like he was after summfin' here, guess it was just th' closest croppin' of souls. He uses 'em fer summfin', though it's beyond my ken what i' is." Her attention was averted to Benton, who was struggling to get back up, "Aw, hon, don't go nowheres. I haven't even given ya no salves; you'll just hurt yerself if'n ya get ta' squirming."

Benton pulled himself to a seated position, laboring to draw breath, "Got…no choice…" he rasped, "Others…still in… houses… captured… need help… fast… gotta…free them…"

Walter turned his ire on the panting boy, "Stay down, Tempuer! Think about it; if anyone was held captive in their own homes, they would have left when the guards left their posts. Don't waste your energy looking for your friends. By now, they are likely all slain. If any survived, let them come to you, but don't push yourself further than necessary on a fool's errand."

The ensuing silence weighed heavily on the others. Benton slumped back to the dirt resigned. Sylva leaned against a wall for support, realization and grief taking the strength from her legs. Sierra made an obscure hand gesture, muttering as if in prayer. Nora's face remained impassive, though her eyes angled towards the ground.

And then the silence was broken… by the sleepy ramblings of Bartholomew.

"Master Canis… no, no… I am not deserving… such praise… it was honestly nothing…please, I do not require such commendations… from one as legendary as you are…"

Walter raised an eyebrow, "What is he talking about?" Despite himself, he couldn't help the slight edge of amusement in his voice.

Despite herself, Sierra chuckled, "Aw now, ain't that the sweetest thing? Lil' guy's havin' that dream 'bout his idol again. Know what I like t' do? I like ta mess 'round with him while he's sleepin'"

"Hmm… no, of course not… anyone could have figured that out with train… oh, master Canis… you intend to make me arro…gant…"

Sierra knelt next to the sleeping shaman, putting on her best swooning lady act, "You're wrong, lord. It takes a real genius to figure out what you did."

Bartholomew blushed and shifted slightly, "Such a wonderful thing to say… I don't deserve praise from such… a lovely lady."

Sierra giggled, an uncharacteristically juvenile sound coming from her, "Oh, master 'Mew-mew'!"

Sylva snickered, "'Mew-mew?'"

Sierra turned away from Bartholomew, who at this point was a deep scarlet and fidgeting, and explained in hushed tones, "It's a term o' endearm'nt he wants some girl to call 'im someday."

Walter tried hard to keep his expression straight and serious, "Come on now, we don't have time to play around. We still need to tend to Tempuer and do something about these…"

"Whozat?" Bartholomew mumbled, "Master Canis, I didn't know you… invited Oswin here."

Benton eased slowly back into a seated position, the effort leaving him winded. He stared silently at the statuesque bandits, still standing in a ring around the town square, still smiling derisively, still staring blankly at the very center. A wind blew through the town at that moment, and all the bandits swayed, but otherwise made no motion.

One of the thieves swayed further than the other, Benton observed, and suddenly began to lurch sideways. It was then that it moved; the bandit moved out his leg to stop himself from falling, and held that pose for a moment. Then, to Benton's horror, he straightened, turned towards him, and drew the sword sheathed at his side, marching forward resolutely, still with that sneer splayed across his face.

"Trouble!" Benton cried hoarsely, "They're coming!"

Everyone spun around (Except Bartholomew, who turned over in his sleep muttering about "Noisy crows")

"Nora! Tempuer's girl! Sierra!" Walter barked, "Get back behind me, now!" Walter brought his sword to bear, becoming Grenbien once more, and despite the pain wracking his body, charged passed Benton and swung with all his weight.

The bandit held the sword one-handed; it would have been difficult to parry a two-handed strike with a blade as heavy as Grenbien's. When the brigand brought the sword to bear, however, he made no motion to side step or repel his opponent's sword, resolving instead to attempt to stop Grenbien's attack completely.

Grenbien carried the attack through, and, unsurprisingly, the brigand's sword was thrown from his hand and Grenbien's attack connected with lethal force.

"More are coming!" Benton reported, trying to get to his feet. Indeed, more bandits were beginning to twitch and move, and several had already draw weapons, marching with uniform resolve towards them.

Grenbien cursed, hefting his sword to a defensive position and squaring his shoulders. He side-stepped the first aggressor's axe and responded with a swipe that laid him low. A larger bandit swung downwards with a war-hammer. Grenbien slashed upwards, cleaving the handle and taking the hammer head off. Up went Grenbien's hand to catch the heavy metal head, and then down it swung, sending the now useless weapon part crashing into its owner's face. The warrior brought his sword to bear in the next motion, barely halting a slash from a third brigand.

And it was there that Grenbien's momentum failed. A spasm of pain coursed through his whole body, and every muscle locked up. The bandit swordsman wasted no time, sending his foot rocketing into Grenbien's gut. A fourth swung his fist into Grenbien's face, sending him sprawling to the ground. The swordsman had his blade up and began advancing for the now prone warrior.

"Walter!" Nora cried out. Sierra fitted an arrow to her bow, and without taking time to aim let loose. The swordsman took the bolt in the chest, and at the short range between Sierra and himself, the speed of the missile was enough to knock him off his feet. The unarmed bandit kept advancing, but was quickly halted when his face met with a malignant fireball.

Sierra cursed as she pulled back on her bowstring and aim, "I'm thinkin' we're in a bit o' a sit'iation here." More bandits were moving, and though there weren't that many left, Sylva was clearly showing strain from everything that happened today, and Sierra had her last arrow on her string. Benton tried futilely to stand, but he knew he couldn't do much of anything. Grenbien struggled on the ground, cursing himself loudly. Nora whimpered behind them. It was then that they heard the voice.

"Sorry I'm late. Do you by chance need my help, my lovelies?"

Someone brushed past them, running flat out for the group of remaining bandits. The first was caught off guard, and received a punch to the face for his inattention. The mysterious man landed another blow; this time to the gut, then swung his fist in a backhand to his opponent's face, dropping him at last. Sierra focused, firing off her last bolt into the back of a bandit that became distracted by the newcomer.

The stranger turned and offered a simple, "Love ya, babe!" by way of thanks before turning his attention to his next opponent.

Sylva straightened, "I've seen him before! Who is that?"

Sierra frowned, shouldering her bow, "Ya'll can reminisce later. Get t' helping 'im now!" Sierra grabbed the nearest weapon; a sword dropped by one of the bandits, and moved to Grenbien, "Can ya stand?"

The stranger smirked confidently, reaching into his pockets, "Sorry, guys, but I try not to dance unless it's with one of my lovelies." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and threw their contents all around in front of the advancing throng. The bandits moved forward, seemingly oblivious to the stranger's action.

Sylva had the runes of a spell just about to leave her lips, when the battlefield lit up. The ground in front of the stranger lit up as the bandits triggered the trap, and the sound of myriad tiny explosions greeted her ears. When the smoke cleared, not a single bandit was left standing, and the ground had become pitted from the explosives.

The stranger turned around, dusted himself off, and happily sauntered to the girls, "I'm so very sorry that you three were in danger, but you know how we heroes work; showing up in the nick of time just before anyone important gets seriously hurt."

Benton growled, "'Anyone important'? What about me and Grenbien?'"

Sylva nodded, "Um, thank you so much for your…" Suddenly her face hardened, "You!" she exclaimed, "You're that."

The stranger chuckled, "Sorry about earlier, my lovely; I was serious when I said I intended to become a hero for a change." He winced, "You still didn't have to roast me, though!"