The stranger's face bore itself into Lucius' mind. Even as a new flurry of arrows spilled across the villain, Lucius watched his face as it contorted from hatred to fear. It finally fixed in shock as he lay dead upon the ground.
It was a long time before Wil's forceful shaking brought the priest out of his mental lapse. The forest behind the archer caught the full focus of Lucius' attention. A painting of quiet mystery; parallel lines in a long row but coated with random, unorganised foliage. Only after some time of using the forest to recollect himself did Wil's face begin to sharpen into focus. The young man's lips moved energetically, bouncing apart as soundless words emerged.
"Lucius! We have to go!" Wil's voice sprang into Lucius' ears finally. He managed a slow, confused nod in response, allowing himself to be ushered along, back into the woodland. They tramped back over the ground he had covered in his escape and a nagging sense of retraction formulated in his stomach.
"I don't think I'm particularly well equipped for all of this sneaking around, Wil," Lucius managed to suggest as the small band diverted from his original path and his former prison camp.
"True. Your hair stands out a lot and your light powers would attract a lot of attention if you used 'em. Those white robes aren't very good either," Wil muttered to himself rather than Lucius.
He shifted his weight, his heavy armour aiding in the necessary sudden drop in height. The axe spun by, the audible warping of the air sounded in his ear and he felt a small gust of wind upon his face. He had to push his entire body from the left to the right again, lifting the armour with him, to bring his sword down upon the axe-wielding bandit that had attacked him. Kent's sword cut into the man's skull, rendering the victim dead.
A second passed before his sword connected with another enemy head. He and his fellow knights had been systematically taking down stragglers at the flanks of the enemy army. With the initial attack the knights had drawn the enemy attention. Harassing the invaders with hit and run tactics, Kent managed to hold their focus until Lyndis' main force had approached. In a muddle, the disorganised war machine tried to change formation to tackle the incoming force but failed in a spectacular vision of disunity as Kent had ever witnessed.
The battlefield was illuminated by bright moonlight that cast a soft white sheen to the landscape and glinted off metallic armour. A surreal beauty amidst the carnage and chaos of war. Kent found that he both loathed and admired battle. It was a beautiful dance with a terrible song as backdrop. Feelings of honour, pride and duty were at their strongest in battle, especially with the Lady of Caelin in their midst.
In the past Marquess Caelin had lead the troops into battle, however the treachery that had befallen the land had rendered him poisoned and ill, his life hanging in the balance. Kent had always felt proud to stand by his Lord, yet he felt it so much stronger now that he stood by his Lady. He would be her shield, defending her against all foes. He would be her sword, striking down the enemy for justice.
"Now now, Kent! No time for day-dreams!" Sain galloped by, sword raised high in the air. "You can oogle Lady Lyndis later!"
"I- I was-!" Kent felt his face flush. Rarely did Sain find opportunity to correct Kent on his conduct. He felt a strange sense of role-reversal.
He urged his horse forward, following Sain. The green knight attacked an archer, inflicting a dangerous wound to the man's shoulder, sending him to the ground in pain. Kent drove his horse over the downed man.
Those were the worst kills. At one time he felt them unnecessary and barbaric but experience taught him that such enemies would return, better, bolder and stronger than before. To avoid further bloodshed he had learnt to ensure their demise the first time around.
Another enemy came into sight. Sain's sword flashed in the moonlight as it ascended into the night air. But it never came down. The green knight continued to ride past the invader. Kent frowned.
The woman had been slow to react to Sain's approach but with his back turned and in full view she had raised her bow to attack. She released an arrow, missing the mark by inches. Her second arrow was poised even before the first had reached Sain. Kent's sword ensured that it never fired.
"Sain, what're you doing!?" Kent scolded. Sain had trotted back with a weary face.
"I couldn't very well hack at such a beautiful thing as that, could I?" Sain sighed, his shoulders visibly slumping despite the armour. "What's a woman doing on the battlefield?"
"You should know more than anyone how deadly a woman can be, Sain," Kent looked back across the field of battle to the main confrontation where Lyndis was battling in the thick of it.
"I think it's something I'll never get used to."
"Time's change, Sain."
"What? You make it sound like we're old men!" Sain set an armoured fist against his hip. "I'm still young and full of vitality!"
"Well, you can show that vitality out on the battlefield instead of in your mouth," Kent laughed and spurred his horse into action, leaving Sain to trail behind. The invading army had focused upon Lyndis' counter-attack, leaving Kent's knights to hit-and-run upon the enemy rear. As he approached the main bulk of the knight he held his sword high into the air. Even in the darkness, the knights saw his call and proceeded to regroup with him. The formation that evolved was an arrowhead with Kent spear-heading the movement and Sain upon his right.
Sword still raised Kent bellowed, "Charge!"
The thunder of horse hooves upon the ground reverberated throughout the landscape. Some of the rearmost bandits turned to investigate. They were too late. The horses stamped their way into the rear flank and the knights' swords came down upon their heads. Kent felt the madness of war rising within his chest. Rage, hatred, blood-lust. Only his well-trained mind managed to keep his battle-spirit in check.
"Run!" was the common cry amongst the enemy as they dispersed, scurrying away from Kent and his knights. As he progressed further and further into the enemy flank more of them ran. The knights on the outskirts of the arrowhead cut down many of the stragglers that still attempted escape.
With time the bandits gave one great lurch as they all attempted to retreat. Unable to contend with the rushing mass, many of them successfully fled around the knights and Lyndis' army.
"Kent!" came the jovial cry from Lyndis. Her blood-spattered figure emerged from the crowd of cheering Caelin soldiers. Kent slung himself from the back of his horse and landed heavily upon the soft grassy ground.
"My Lady! I'm glad to see you unharmed!"
"Did you doubt it?" Lyndis sheathed her sword with a sharp metallic sound.
"It's my duty to doubt it."
Lyndis laughed light-heartedly, a strange, though welcome, sound amidst such carnage. Kent felt his spirit soar.
Despite the cold wind falling down upon them, the site of battle was hot from vigorous fighting. Kent was looking forward to removing his heavy, red armour and relaxing in a cool bath. He remounted his horse and proceeded to bark orders to the troops, forming them into lines again. Lyndis wasn't one for such formalities but she understood the need, allowing Kent to take such responsibilities. Kent imagined an army under Lyndis' command, alone, to be little better disciplined than the bandits that they had fought. Despite such rough edges, Lyndis was a skilled sword master able to hold her own against many enemies. Her new-found tactical knowledge made her even more of a fearsome combatant.
The soldiers began their march back to Castle Caelin. Kent watched them from atop of his horse with an outward stern glare, though his heart was brimming with warmth. Lyndis stood at his side, likewise watching the army though her face was elated and enthusiastic; poorly disguised joy.
"Kent!" came the sudden, uncertain call from Sain. The red knight turned from the marching soldiers with reluctance. His eyes first traced Sain's outline through the darkness, the other knights having formed around him in two lines. Kent's gaze was pulled away from Sain by a dark, ominous swirling mist that poured into the air from within the forest.
* * * * *
The battle continued to rage outside the forest, cries of anger and anguish merging into one cacophony. The sounds were an intense backdrop to the silence of the forest as Wil, Lucius and the archers snuck through the trees. Wil's plan was to appear at the rear of the enemy forces and support Lyndis by raining arrows down upon them.
Wil was at the forefront, whilst Lucius, who was unused to such stealth, was at the rear, often trailing behind the swift archers. Wil had discarded his cloak in favour of Lucius, who's glaring white robes would have given the troupe away in an instant. The light-mage clutched at the seams of the cloak, desperately hoping not to reveal any of the white beneath.
Wil rose his fist and the group stopped, each falling into a low crouch. Through the distant noises of battle, the clear, crisp sound of breaking leaves and branches could be heard in the forest. Lucius' eyes darted back and forth, searching for the invisible source of disturbance. He felt a creeping sensation through his skin and he struggled to contain a shudder. His breathing was shallow, drawing in tiny, inaudible gasps.
The sudden sound of a streaking arrow caused Lucius to grip the nearest tree. The choking sound told Lucius that Wil's arrow had struck the man's neck. The archers in front of him began moving again, taking no moment to celebrate or rest. With a stumble, Lucius continued after them.
At moments of stress Lucius could feel his strength waver. Ever since he had been a child, illness had plagued him. He could cure the woes and wounds of others and yet remained in sickness himself, incurable by conventional means. The bishop had told him that his soul was tarnished. Stained. Ill.
He felt he might swoon. He fell against a tree, its rough bark anchoring him to the physical world around him. His eyes swam and the darkness around him seemed to encroach further on his vision.
"Lucius?" Wil whispered, a reassuring hand upon his arm.
"Sorry Wil. I'm alright. Just a wave of nausea."
"You okay now?"
"Yes. I should be fine. Thank you, Wil."
"No problem. Don't wanna loose you."
With a gentle tug at Lucius' sleeve, Wil led the group onward. The monk felt the sickness gnawing at his strength but he resolved to overcome, taking each step with determination. If he could focus upon something then his inner pain would be relegated to the back of his mind.
"This is most inconvenient," came a familiar soft, though cold voice. The archers froze. "Well, if they aren't here this has all been a wasted effort."
"What about the Castle? We can still ransack it!" said the second voice, gruff and uncouth. Lucius could see two men through the trees, one with long green hair and the other broad-shouldered with a head that bore scars instead of hair.
"Pointless. Without the children, this is a wasted venture. Lord Nergal will not be best pleased, Boiers," Lokus sighed. "You can call your men back if you wish. I am leaving."
"What? The men deserve somethin' after comin' all this way!" Boiers shouted. He wore leather armour with large shoulder pads and an axe strapped to his waist.
"I don't care wh-!" came the angry response, cut short by the sudden death of Boiers. The brutish man fell rigid upon the roots of a tree with an arrow protruding from his skull. Lokus glared in the direction of the hidden archers. A second missile was released, its course bound for the villain's neck. Lokus, however, proved more apt than most of the bandit army. He moved, pushed to the side and leaving a strange shadow in his wake, which vanished within in a matter of milliseconds.
"What was that?" Wil gasped.
"Dark magic!" Lucius replied.
"I prefer the term elder magic, Lucius," Lokus spoke out, overhearing the monk's words.
"He's the one that kept me a prisoner," Lucius said to Wil.
"Hiding in there. Come on out," Lokus' hands thrust outward, his long sleeves falling over his hands. The material didn't hamper the elder magic from springing forth and setting alight to the plant life amidst the group.
Lucius jumped to avoid being caught by the magical flame, its purple colour trailed by a dark mist. He landed on his stomach and strained to look up at Lokus. The one-eyed man wore a victorious grin and stared back down at the light mage.
He moved, leaving a trail of purple figures in his wake. Each time he vanished and reappeared elsewhere, a temporary shadow of himself was left for a fleeting moment, an arrow passing through them. A stream of purple energy sped through the forest air. Lucius felt a cold breeze upon his skin as the streak passed over his head. It finished its journey by piercing through one of Wil's archers, a clean-cut hole through his chest. He fell to the ground, lifeless.
Lucius dragged himself to his feet. His light magic held the advantage over Lokus'. He knew little about the mechanics of magic in all of its forms, having concentrated upon his own branch alone. However, he had gleaned some information from the scholars of Eturia who told him that the elder magic contained a kind of magical darkness, which gave the branch its modern name of 'dark magic'. Naturally, therefore, light magic had the power to drive out the dark magic.
He threw his hand out. A spark of light burst beside Lokus, who failed to react quickly enough to avoid the light attack. Lucius fancied that he saw some of the elder magic shirk away from the light as Lokus stumbled away from the magical light burst. The retaliation missed Lucius by inches, a blast of elder magic surrounded by glowing purple runes that streaked through the air in a straight line.
Wil and his men fired another round of arrows that rained down upon Lokus. The elder magician moved again, taking over behind a tree where the arrows struck the bark with sudden, deep thuds.
Something began to materialise above them, a symbol created from the familiar purple magic of Lokus. There was a sudden flurry as Lucius and the archers tried to get to Lokus before he finished his spell. Wil's arrow hit the tree again, only one of his men came close to hitting the elusive druid. Lucius cast a spell of his own. A beam of light pierced the dark clouds above and lanced through the forest canopy. The attack came too late. Lokus' spell reacted. Wil's body jerked as streams of purple slid from his silhouette, draining the very life out of him. Lucius' beam of light sliced through Lokus' shoulder and arced through the druid's entire body before it escaped and hit the ground.
Although Lokus was killed, Wil still fell to the ground in Death's embrace. Lucius fell to his knees aghast. The distant sound of heavy feet vibrated the forest ground. Wil's remaining men hid in the trees with their bowstrings at the ready.
The wound would not be easy to cure, however the darkness within Lokus' magic would give way to the monk's own. To channel the healing energy, however, he needed his staff. He watched with despair as the life ebbed from the Caelin archer in a small, slow trickle of purple mist.
"Wil, can you hear me?"
The eyes were staring wildly but he showed no recognition that Lucius had spoken to him.