Chapter 4
The sun continued its long journey across the sky, and eventually the day began to come to a close. Streaks of pink and crimson lined the horizon as the large yellow orb fell, painting a masterpiece over the land. Jagen watched the beautiful display; even after all these years, he never grew tired of watching the sunset. Still, tonight, it was rather less enjoyable. The two cavaliers on patrol should have returned when the sun was high in the sky, and yet here it was, having almost completely disappeared and there was no sign of the two soldiers. The uncomfortable feeling stirred in his gut again, and he scowled to himself.
"Jagen." The older soldier started as his name was called, and turned around to see Marth staring up at him, a concerned look on his face. "It's not like you to be so jumpy; are you alright?"
The paladin cleared his throat and straightened his tunic to regain his composure. "It is not me whom you should be worried about, Sire," he murmured.
Marth understood the meaning behind his words right away. "Cain and Abel have yet to return." Although he knew that the statement was obvious, it felt different to acknowledge it in spoken fact rather than just mindless worry. "The sun has almost set; it would be dangerous to look for them at night, but I fear that waiting until morning would have worse consequences."
With a grim expression, Jagen nodded. "I'll prepare the horses."
"Wait," Marth contradicted him. "I need you to stay here and keep the others calm. The whole camp has been on edge since this afternoon, and the last thing we need right now is a fight amongst ourselves." As if on cue, raised voices could be heard coming from a group of soldiers nearby. The blue-haired prince didn't even turn his head. "I'll be back soon."
Wanting to argue but knowing that he was right, Jagen sighed. "Be careful, Sire."
"Right." Marth nodded and spun on his heels, quickly walking in the other direction towards the horses. Jagen watched him go for a minute, then turned in the opposite direction to break up the fight that was developing.
Marth slung his foot into the stirrup and lifted his body up onto his horse. Without hesitation, he yanked the reigns in the direction of the forest and followed the trampled path that the two cavaliers had followed just that morning. His brows furrowed as his striking blue eyes scanned the trees for signs of anything out of place.
Suddenly, he spotted something dark smeared on the ground. At first he thought it was just mud and a damp trail. It hasn't rained in days, he thought, feeling his stomach twist. Dismounting, he ran his long fingers through the wet earth. As he lifted his hand to examine it, his fears were confirmed; the liquid stained his fingers red. Leaving his horse stationed to a tree, he followed the streaks on foot. There was a splash of dark maroon every couple of feet, and he dreaded seeing the end of the trail.
Pushing aside a large bush and stepping over some shrubbery, Marth stumbled as the scene in front of him sunk into his mind. He dropped to his knees, and his tunic immediately soaked up the red liquid that coated the ground across the entire clearing. Slowly standing, his eyes scanned the clearing, taking in the gruesome display. Dead bodies littered the ground, unmoving, clothing ripped, skin sliced, limbs detached, bones poking out; it was a disgusting sight, but Marth couldn't tear his gaze away.
He took a few steps forward and then knelt down next to one of the bodies. Lifting it by the shoulders, he heaved it over so it was facing the sky. The dead man was wearing a small pin on the collar of his tunic. Marth unhooked the pin and lifted it up to the light so he could see it clearly. The insignia on it was clear, and the prince grimaced as he realized. Tucking the pin into his pocket, he left the body to rot on the ground and stood.
Marth's gut twisted; the probability of finding the cavaliers alive was low. While stepping over bodies and searching each one for signs of life, he finally came across a familiar face. He propped the green-haired cavalier up against a tree gently. Deep cuts were all over his body, and the imprints of large hands accompanied ugly bruises around the young man's neck. Fearing for the soldier's life, Marth reached out his hand and gently touched the side of Abel's neck, searching for signs of life.
"Abel. Abel!" Marth spoke his name, trying to rouse him. He pressed his fingers a bit harder, and at last found what he was looking for.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
His pulse was weak, but it was there. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Marth removed his hand from the beaten man's neck. Standing, he gave the clearing another scan; he had checked all of the bodies, but Cain was nowhere to be found. The young prince bit down on his lip in frustration. If Cain had been captured, there was a small chance that he was alive; it was clear that they had attempted to leave Abel for dead, and they would have left the other soldier as well if they had no motive to question.
Marth pulled himself out of his thoughts. There would be plenty of time to think about those things later; right now, Abel was slowly fading away and needed help immediately. With a grunt, Marth gently lifted the cavalier over his shoulder, ignoring the streams of blood that leaked out of the disturbed wounds that had yet to close. He carried the injured soldier back to where his horse waited, mounted, and raced off back to the camp.
