Disclaimer: No real super-soldiers were made or harmed in the making of this chapter. Seriously leave me alone S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't know anything, I swear!
Chapter 30
Waking Up
The floodwaters still hadn't receded. I couldn't say for sure how long I'd been in that attic, but I remembered it getting dark, then light, then dark again, and now it was starting to get a bit lighter. That meant I'd been trapped for... ugh, I just can't focus. Too tired. Hypovolemia: I have lost a lot of my blood volume. Pints. Huh, funny how I remember that, but basic math escapes me. Y'know, technically I haven't lost the blood; it's over there, and kinda streaked along there, mostly right here though. It almost looked like an unruly child was trying to paint the floor. Paint it red... Hey I love that song! I wanna see you paint it, paint it! Paaaaint it... red? No that's not right. Black. But it's not black, not yet. It's getting kinda brownish, though.
A thud outside made me start, and I snapped my head up to look around. It was a lot brighter than it was a moment ago; I fell asleep again. Gotta stop doing that! Gotta stay alert, keep my hand... My hand! It had dropped off the wound on my leg, and I panicked. Shit, the bleeding! I got my hand back over the cut, but instead of warm blood gushing out of the wound I just felt something sticky. I sat there poking at it for a few minutes before I figured out that it had started to close, or at least the blood had clotted enough that I wasn't gonna bleed out. Huh, fancy that.
There was another thud just outside, startling me again. That one was close. Rescuers? Yeah, it has to be. Finally! I just need them to see me! I spotted a hole in the roof to my right just low enough for me to see through, and steeled my resolve. I didn't know if I should be moving in this condition - probably not - but I summoned what strength I had and started pulling myself toward the hole. My wounded leg was next to useless, slowing my progress to an agonizing crawl, but the thumping outside continued, giving me courage. Rescuers, it had to be them.
I dragged myself across the floor until my head poked through the hole and looked around hopefully, scanning my surroundings for search and rescue teams. Sunlight glaring off the water blinded me at first; the sun was high in the sky, and already beginning its descent. I frowned; I thought I'd just drifted off for a few hours, but I must have been out for half the day. My eyes were adjusting slowly, and I scanned the area around me carefully. With each empty rooftop my heart sank just a bit more. There was no sign of anyone, just a sea of dilapidated roofs and chimneys sticking out of the water.
The thud came again, below me this time, and I looked down to see a form, obviously human, in the water. I felt another surge of hope, but then I realized that the form wasn't moving; it was just a waterlogged corpse bumping against the edge of the roof.
I groaned and pulled my head back inside, exhausted from the effort. So much for a rescue. They've probably written me off as KIA. That kinda hurts; I mean, I wouldn't rest if one of my friends was missing, especially if they were missing for... however long it's been. My eyelids started to droop again, and just to keep myself alert I tried again to work out exactly how long that was. One whole day, but two nights as well and then however much of today had passed. Not two days, but not one... fractions... ugh one and a half- no, two and a half days? Maybe less, I wasn't sure. No food, my pack was lost somewhere down below, but at least I had easy access to water. My stomach rumbled loudly, putting a damper on that optimistic thought.
The rumble brought Ilyana to mind, and despite the predicament I found myself in I smiled. Always so hungry and absent, you'd never think she was such a kick-ass mage. That thing she did to the wyvern the other day, electrocuting it to death, was just plain awesome. I even had to admit that I'd started to find her food addiction endearing, even though she mooched constantly.
Then there was Zihark, her significant other and my mentor, who was always feeding her addiction - pun fully intended. Without him, Daein would've made me into a pincushion long before today. It occurred to me that I'd been trying to think of something else, something sort of important before my mind wandered here, but this train of thought was far more pleasant than whatever I'd been doing before. With a lighthearted shrug I sat back and let images of my friends flit through my mind. They say your last thoughts should be of home, but I hadn't had a home in what felt like a lifetime. Friends... yeah, that'll have to do.
Al, as energetic as she was volatile, but still a valued friend; for months, she'd been the only reminder I had of home. Much as I hated to admit it, she was by far the deadliest of the displaced Earthlings. Jarod, always so dependable. Hope he and the others made it out. He'll have to take command now, but that's alright. Couldn't think of a better officer, except Ike of course. And then, of course, there was Nephenee. My closest friend, trusted confidant: the girl I still cared about even if she... she was standing right in front of me?!
"Nephenee?" I gasped hoarsely, trying to get up. The familiar figure stood not two meters from me, the same green eyes I knew so well fixed on me from underneath the raised visor of her helmet. She made no answer, though, just stood there looking at me. "Man, am I glad to see you!"
Nothing.
"There's no one here either," she finally said. It wasn't her voice. Female, but different. Deeper, with an- what's the word again? A rich person accent.
"What? Neph, I'm over here," I groaned, confused. Why is her voice different? Did she finally get that accent down that she'd been trying to pick up in Begnion? Heh, she thought no one knew, but I heard her practicing a few times.
"He probably drowned," she said, in a different voice this time. Still not hers... the hell?
"No, Neph I'm right here!" I cried, somehow getting to my feet. I stumbled toward her, reaching out, and then-
"GUHH!" I gasped, snapping awake. I was sitting back on the floor, still next to the hole in the roof and still completely alone. It was dark outside now; I'd drifted off again. Not good. No sign of Nephenee, either.
"What was that?" a voice called. Funny, that was one of the voices Not-Nephenee used. Am I still dreaming here? Layers, dream within a dream. There was a sudden thud on the roof above me, much louder than the ones earlier, and a second later a woman climbed through the hole in the roof.
"In here!" she yelled, a shocked expression on her face a she looked down at me.
I sighed. "You're not real either," I mumbled.
"He's delirious! Bring the healer!" the woman, whose distinctive light armor marked her as a Begnion pegasus rider, yelled. There were more thuds on the roof, and a woman in cleric's robes stepped inside. Something long and glowy was in her hand, and when she approached I felt a warm sensation coat my body. It was very... comfortable...
Voices. Soft, but urgent. A hint of hope in them, but I couldn't pick out any words.
I took a breath, suddenly feeling the need for air. It wasn't the crisp air of Talrega's valley, though. It was warmer, stale air from indoors, and it smelled different; burning wood, oil from torches, a metallic tang like fresh blood, and just a hint of something... nicer. Like freshly baked bread. Melted butter. God, these dreams are getting more torturous by the minute. Thank you subconscious; I know very well how cold and hungry I am, no need to taunt me with empty promises.
The voices quieted for a second after I took that breath, then started up again with an excited edge. The sounds were clearer now, clear enough for me to pick out individual voices, even a few words.
"...it easy... -t's it, just br..."
I tried to open my eyes, but found them crusted shut. I instinctively wiped at them with my hand and found the limb moving sluggishly, muscles stretching and contracting hesitantly while the joints cracked as if they hadn't moved in some time. It felt good to move around though, and was enough to convince me that this was probably not another dream. As I wiped my eyes, I noticed that my cut cheek was heavily bandaged. Medical care... did I really get rescued?
My eyes blinked open at last, and as they adjusted to the light I picked out a familiar, orange-haired priest. A few figures in cleric's robes moved about behind him, and when I looked to my right, a trio of familiar faces watched me anxiously.
"Hey there..." I wheezed lamely, not really sure what to say in this situation. There were stone walls with wooden support beams all around, warmth and flickering light radiating from a hearth to my left; I'm probably somewhere in the fortress, all the village was made of wood. Unless this is another dream. Then it could be anywhere. "Uh, you guys are real, right?" I asked after a second, unable to think of a better way to check. Rhys chuckled under his breath and nodded. Good enough for me. "'Kay good, just making sure." I started to sit up, but he held me back.
"Take it easy, give yourself some time to adjust," he said firmly. To my surprise, I found I didn't have the strength to resist him; Rhys, the most fragile guy in the universe, was holding me back.
"How long was I out?" I asked, flexing my limbs experimentally. Strength was returning, albeit slowly. My injured leg still hurt like hell, too.
"A while, but don't worry about that now," he replied. Greeeaat. "Take a few deep breaths for me, alright?" he asked, leaning down to put one ear to my chest. I did as I was told, and a few seconds later Rhys stood up and gave me an encouraging nod.
"So, what's the damage?" I quipped, lighthearted despite the pain.
"You are recovering well, all things considered," Rhys answered, but his eyes didn't quite meet mine. He motioned for me to stay down, and then took a few steps away to a shelf holding some medicine. As soon as he was gone, though, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I'm a terrible patient.
"Your Grace!" I exclaimed hoarsely as soon as I got a better look at the three other people in the room. Elincia was there, tugging at a strand of hair in a decidedly un-ladylike way, and to her right sat Zihark and Ilyana, the latter focused on a small form swaddled in blankets she held close to her chest. Zihark subtly nudged Ilyana with his elbow to get her attention.
"How are you feeling?" Elincia asked, watching me closely.
"A little weak, to be honest," I answered, my voice hoarse and groggy. I suddenly realized what I'd just seen, and my eyes snapped away from Elincia to the bundle Ilyana held. What the hell is she...? No, no way... "What in th-? How long have I been out?" I burst out, pointing to Ilyana and the cloth-wrapped figure in her arms. "And should I be, I dunno, congratulating you guys?"
"...Congratulating?" Zihark asked, raising one eyebrow. Ilyana smiled, evidently pleased, but if the vacant expression on her face was any indicator she had no clue why she was being congratulated.
"We checked for head injuries... thoroughly," Elincia murmured, tilting her head to the side and furrowing her brow as she considered me. "Perhaps you are not yet ready to be awoken."
"No, but it's-" That would mean I've been out for at least nine months, so... Oh, I get it! "Dammit, I'm hallucinating again," I muttered. This one was really convincing, too.
The others looked as confused as I felt, but after a few awkward moments Zihark finally followed my confused gaze to Ilyana. Realization dawned on his face and he let out a soft chuckle.
"That's not what you think it is," he assured me. He quickly reached over and snatched the bundle from Ilyana's arms.
"AH! Careful!" Ilyana and I both cried. You can't jostle a- And Zihark pulled off the cloth to reveal... A loaf of bread? So that's what I was smelling earlier...wait, but if she hasn't eaten it yet then-
"You brought me food, Ilyana?" I asked, surprised and a little touched. That was huge, coming from her.
"I thought you might be hungry when you woke," she explained almost sheepishly, taking the bread back from Zihark and handing it to me. Her hands lingered on the bread as I took hold of it, and I could see a hint of longing in her eyes as she reluctantly let go of the food. Typical.
"Thanks," I said, still shocked. In all honesty, it might have been even more surprising than her having a child. I looked to Rhys for permission. He nodded, and I immediately tore a chunk of bread off with my teeth. Ohgodthatsgood!
"So," I started through a mouthful of bread, hardly noticing the crumbs spilling out of my mouth when I talked. "How long've I been out?"
"You were missing for three days, and we've kept you asleep for four more to speed your recovery," Rhys replied, returning to the bedside with a small jug of water. I took the jug and began drinking greedily; the bread was already half-gone, leaving me extremely thirsty. I recognized the cool, numbing sensation of an elixir as I drank, and the pain in my face and leg lessened slightly; Rhys must have added a bit of medicine to the water. The priest took the jug away after a few seconds. "Not too much at once," he cautioned.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my arm - I'd intended to use my sleeve, but I seemed to have no shirt on. Usually I would be mortified to be like that around Elincia - I mean, she's royalty and here I was half-dressed and covered in breadcrumbs - but at the moment I hardly noticed.
"Good to know you guys made extracting me a priority," I quipped sarcastically once my face was clean-ish, drawing a frown from Elincia.
"We had search parties scouring the whole valley," she insisted, making me regret my choice of words; I hadn't really meant it as an accusation. "There was a lot of debris to sift through; it took them a day to find us, and we put markers out on the roof. As for you, well, they said anyone who wasn't found by the second day was likely... well, you're alive and well now, that is what matters."
"I didn't mean- It's okay, I know there was a lot goin' on," I replied, softening my tone. "How many made it out?"
"Myself, Sergeant Jarod, and ten of your men," she reported. I did the math; that meant four died in the village, bringing the company down to only twenty. I nodded, torn between sadness and pride; they'd been green recruits when the war started just over a month ago, but now they were fighting their way out of an ambush with minimal losses. I made a mental note to go and see them as soon as possible (and sooner than Rhys would like me to, no doubt). The letters to families... yeah, that would have to take priority too.
"Where are they posted?" I asked. Somewhere warm and safe, preferably. They've earned it.
"Western gatehouse," Zihark replied. He must have guessed what I was thinking, because he added "It's close to the mess hall, and about as secure and warm a place as Ike could find."
"Their bravery has not gone unnoticed," Elincia assured me. Her composure cracked for a second, and she sighed heavily. "I feel I must offer you an apology," she added, casting her eyes down. "It was I who led you into the ambush, and-"
"Elincia, don't apologize; the reason I've followed you this far is because that's the kind of person you are," I cut her off. The last thing I needed was her beating herself up for doing the right thing. Her eyes widened and she looked slightly hurt, so I quickly clarified. "I mean the kind who rescues helpless villagers, y'know, not the whole 'leading-me-into-traps' kinda person," I added.
"But she does lead you into traps," Ilyana spoke up, cocking her head to one side in confusion. Zihark tried to shush her, but she kept going, oblivious as always. "That's twice now that Princess Whatsername has led you into a trap and gotten you seriously wounded."
"Ilyana!" Zihark hissed, his face turning red. "She meant no offence, Your Grace-"
"It is fine, Sir Zihark," Elincia replied hurriedly, casting her eyes down. "Whatever my intentions, it seems I keep leading you into trouble."
"Sooo... does this mean I get hazard pay when I'm assigned to you?" I asked, cracking a mischievous grin. The levity worked; Elincia relaxed, even smiled a little.
"I'm afraid not," Rhys answered before anyone else could speak. "What you are going to get is some rest. Apologies, my lady, but I'm afraid this has already been too much excitement for him."
"Honestly, if I'm not getting hazard pay then I'm not all that excited-" I protested, but Rhys shot me a look that was, well, pretty benign because it's Rhys, but his eyes narrowed just a little and his lips formed a thin line. I guess it was about as threatening as the kindly priest could get.
"I'm afraid I must insist, Your Highness," Rhys reiterated.
"Of course, Rhys. We will leave you to your work," the princess replied before I could protest any further.
"Rest up, you'll be back to full strength before you know it," Zihark said, clapping me on the shoulder before leaving.
Ilyana lingered a few seconds, looking longingly at the half-eaten loaf of bread in my hands. I laughed knowingly and tossed her the rest, saying "Thanks Ilyana, that hit the spot."
She smiled as she left, clearly pleased with herself for doing something nice. The door closed softly behind her, leaving me alone with Rhys.
"My apologies for cutting your reunion short, but I thought you might like some privacy for what I have to do next," Rhys said softly once their footsteps had receded.
I frowned, not sure what to make of that. "And this thing I need privacy for is...?"
Rhys pointed to the bandage on my face. "It's time for that to come off," he explained.
My frown deepened. Why would I need privacy? "But you healed the cut, right? What's wrong with it?"
"You were missing for three days," he explained. "I did all that I could, but the wound had already started to heal improperly. I am afraid that there will be significant scarring."
I gulped, preparing myself for the worst. "Let's see it then," I forced myself to say, keeping my tone as even as I could. Think positive, it can't be that bad. I sat up so he could reach the bandage easier. "Waiting around isn't gonna make it any better."
Rhys nodded, and carefully began to peel the dressing off my cheek. There was a slight sting as the cloth pulled away and air got at the wound, and I winced despite my best efforts to remain impassive.
"There, that's it," Rhys said as he carefully plucked a few leftover fibers off the skin. He pointed behind me. "There's a mirror over there," he said, gently prodding me in that direction. Swinging my legs over to the side of the bed, I cautiously eased my weight onto my feet. Unsurprisingly, my leg was a little shaky and my thigh throbbed painfully as it took my weight, but the leg held. Scars or no, Rhys is good at his job, I thought.
Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I carefully turned to face the mirror.
"Well?" Rhys asked apprehensively after a few seconds passed in silence. "The redness will go away with time, so it's not as bad as it looks."
My mind finally formed a reply, and without turning to face him I said: "Thanks for patching me up, Rhys. I appreciate it." My tone was a little robotic, but that was the best I could manage. He started to say something else, but I cut him short. "I'm sure you've got a lot of other patients who need you."
"...I do," the priest replied understandingly, a hint of worry still in his voice. His footsteps receded gradually towards the door. "I'll give you some time alone, then," he added as he left.
I sighed and turned my gaze back to the mirror. The figure standing before me met that gaze, and while I knew intuitively that it was my own reflection I couldn't reconcile that fact with the grim, haggard face that stared back at me. I looked different. Leaner, with a little extra muscle on the torso and arms, but battered. My hair had grown long, coming down almost to my shoulders, and a few weeks' scruff hid most of my cheeks... well, except for the part with the scar.
I knew I had scars - that was just inevitable - but until now they were mostly on my torso and arms: a jagged line along my lower back from a near-impalement, cris-crossed lines on my shoulder where damaged chainmail broke the skin, a few thin lines on my chest and abdomen from shallow cuts back when we were escaping Crimea, and of course a contorted starburst pattern on my gut from a crossbow bolt in Sienne. They were reminders of close scrapes and hectic battles I'd somehow survived; fond memories, in a twisted sort of way. And sure, they made it look like I'd been through a meat grinder one too many times, but I was really the only one who saw that.
Then there was the wound Josh gave me... It was an angry, jagged red line stretching from my right ear to the bridge of my nose. Hideous and out in the open for all to see, but it was more than that. This wasn't a reminder of some great adventure or daring feat; it was a reminder that I killed a man I knew to be a good person, that I beat his head in and watched him drown. It seemed fate wasn't about to let me forget that.
What was most shocking to me, though, was what I didn't see in that reflection. Even at the realization of what I'd done, the man starring back at me showed no sign pf remorse or regret, the blank eyes conveying only a vague sense of apathy. As I considered the expression, I realized that I didn't feel regret either. I did at first, when it happened, but now... Josh was a good man in a desperate situation, but he crossed a line and I put him down. A small part of me realized that was a pretty ruthless conclusion, but... it is what it is, and when I thought about it, I also realized that I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Is this who I am now?
"You're still alive," a smooth, cultured voice said from behind me. I jumped and turned to face the newcomer, too startled to be self-conscious about my scarred face. If the newcomer noticed it, though, he gave no indication.
"Kezhda," I replied, seeing the assassin standing just inside the doorway. He was dressed as a Begnion scout, his cover identity in this army, but the odds of him being here as part of his scouting duties were slim. Something to do with Nevassa, then. We do have a deal, after all.
"Can you walk?" he asked. I found no trace of concern in his voice.
"Yeah," I replied curtly.
"Good, come with me then," he ordered, all business as he swung the door open again and waved me out. "We need to talk."
I shrugged, grabbing my shirt from the end of the bed and getting up to follow him. He passed me a warm cloak as we exited the room, and from there led me out into the courtyard. It was late at night, and the courtyard was only sparsely lit by torches. Roving specks of light along the walls marked patrolling guards, but there weren't a lot of them.
Despite the lack of light, I could see that the fortress and its walls seemed largely intact. The buildings and yard were tidy except for a few drifts of snow, no scarring or burn marks in the rock, no broken weapons and equipment lying around. You wouldn't know the castle had just been taken by storm... Well, just taken the week before. Felt more recent to me.
Kezhda lit a torch and led the way around the barracks we'd been in, bringing us out of sight of the keep and around to a less-patrolled section of the wall. I followed him onto the parapet wordlessly, too busy trying to sort through the myriad revelations rushing through my head to make conversation as we walked along the walls.
We stopped at a protruding section of wall overlooking the still-flooded valley, Kezhda apparently satisfied that we were isolated enough to speak freely.
"Nevassa," the assassin started simply. I nodded my understanding; Daein's research facility would be there, the one that held Matt and Beth and Ashera knows how many others.
"We'll be there soon. I trust our agreement still stands?"
"Yes, but there's a... complication," he replied. "Ike's forces have been delayed here longer than I anticipated. If we arrive with the main army, we will likely find the research facility empty. I am afraid we have to move up our plans."
"But don't we need the army to-" I stopped, realizing what he meant. "No."
"I am already putting a team together. We'll sneak into the city under the guise of villagers - no weapons, just a few extra civilians in the flood of refugees streaming towards the capital."
"Yeah, that's all well and good when you're trained for infiltration, but Beth and Matt definitely aren't! Neither am I, for that matter, and Deain'll be on the lookout for any spies trying to slip in," I countered. This is reckless! He's gonna get someone killed!
"Adam, this is the only way, and it's happening with or without you," Kezhda insisted.
"No, it's not. You need me to bring Beth and Matt in on your little operation, and there is no WAY I am going to send them into a death-trap!" I hissed. "They're the only ones who can help you find the research facility."
"Believe me, I wish there was another way, but the longer we delay the more time the researchers have to clear the place out," the assassin reminded me.
I frowned. I didn't like it, but he was right. Without Talrega, the capital was defenseless. If the researchers had a secondary location - and they certainly did - they would be moving their operations there the instant an army showed up on their doorstep.
"Just think it over, alright?" Kezhda asked. "We leave the day after tomorrow."
"I'll talk it over with the others," I conceded. I may not like it, but I couldn't see any alternative to Kezhda's plan.
"That is all I can ask," the assassin said gratefully. "Now, we should get you back to your room before you're missed. Don't want anyone asking too many questions about why you're associating with assassins."
"Aside from me, you mean," I grumbled, but he ignored the snide comment and led the way back across the near-empty castle grounds.
The barracks were dark when we returned, flickering candlelight coming from just a few windows. The torch at the entrance was lit, but there was no one on guard outside. I chuckled to myself; the guards were likely just inside the door, dozing contentedly next to a fire rather than staying outside in the cold. Sure enough, the guard post just inside was dark as we stepped inside, the fire burning low in its small hearth.
"Layabouts," Kezhda grumbled as he pushed the door closed. "Light a torch, will you?" he asked, moving to the table where two armored figures were slumped in their chairs.
Shaking my head at their incompetence, I fumbled around for a flint as Kezhda approached the snoozing guards. I got one torch lit just as the assassin kicked one of the guards in the shin, sharply enough it would have surely woken him. The man's leg flopped limply to the side, but there was no other reaction.
"They're really out of it," I commented drily as I brought the torch closer, but instead of responding or kicking the soldier again, there was a distinctive ring as the assassin snapped a knife out of a hidden sheath.
"Bring the torch!" he hissed, head darting about to scan the room. I approached, suddenly on guard, and struck the flint to light the oil-soaked rag. Flickering light burst across the two inert forms.
"...Goddamn..." I murmured after a second, staring at them in blank amazement. The guards were dead, necks broken with such violence that the heads were almost backwards. As I watched the corpse Kezhda had kicked slowly slid out of the chair. The floor under him was scuffed and a broken spear lay near the wall next to a fallen weapons rack; there'd been a fight, and whoever killed them must have posed the bodies, hoping the darkness would deceive a casual observer.
"Still warm," Kezhda observed, placing the back of his hand on one of the bodies. "This happened just a few minutes ago."
"So whoever did it's still here," I grunted, grabbing a sword from the rack and tucking it into my belt.
"These guards were just in the way; whoever did this wanted inside," the assassin snapped, pushing the inner door open and checking the hallway. With his free hand he retrieved a small crossbow from his back and handed it to me. "Here, this should be able to bring down any lone assailant," he explained, then pointed to the hallway outside. "No way to tell which way they went; you take the left, I'll go right."
"Wait, wouldn't it be better if we-" I started, but the laguz had already vanished into the shadowy corridor. "...stuck together..." I finished glumly, looking around at the dark, empty building. "It's not safe to go alone, take this dinky crossbow," I grumbled in my best impression of Kezhda's smooth, cultured voice as I headed in the opposite direction, the loaded crossbow leading the way.
I encountered no one in the first few tense minutes as I moved quickly but carefully along the hallway, cringing every time a floorboard creaked under my weight. As I followed the eerily quiet hallway, I realized that I was retracing my own steps from earlier, drawing ever closer to my room. I frowned and stopped; why would anyone risk so much to get here? These are low-ranking soldiers' quarters... the most remarkable ones would still just be just some Greil Mercenaries and Earthlings. Not exactly high value targets.
I lowered the crossbow and turned back. Kezhda was the one heading into danger, not me. This area is secure, simply by the virtue of having absolutely nothing of interest. I took a few steps back the way I came, but froze suddenly as the slightest of breezes touched my cheek. I followed that warm current, and my eyes came to rest on a door just a few steps away. Mess hall, if I was reading the barely-visible sign correctly. I hadn't noticed before but it was slightly ajar, barely clear of the jamb but still enough to let a trickle of warmer air seep through.
Raising the crossbow again, I crept up to the door and eased it open, sweeping the weapon's sights from the nearest corner towards the center of the room as I scanned for any movement. It was quiet like a tomb and dark, the only light coming from a few hot coals under the empty roasting spits in the middle of the floor. Before I could even finish my scan there came a faint creaking of wooden floorboards from the other side of the room. I froze, my heart feeling as if it had dropped into my gut; there was someone else in here with me.
There were a few unlit torches in a wall sconce to my right, and I carefully picked one out, then crept towards the fireplace. I thought I was being stealthy, but just as I reached the spits the sound on the other side of the room stopped abruptly, as if the other person had suddenly stopped in their tracks. I froze as well, and for a few tense seconds there was no sound but my own laboured breathing and my pulse hammering in my ears. Then, they spoke.
"I can hear you," a low, thickly accented voice snarled. The accent was familiar... not Tellian, but close. Menacing, gravelly like stones grinding together, and dripping with barely-contained rage. The creaking started again, this time coming closer. "The darkness won't hide you."
I lunged forward, throwing the torch onto the hot coals. The oil-soaked rags caught almost immediately, flames springing up before me and giving off just enough light for me to see a small part of the hall. As the flames grew, a dark figure slowing resolved itself on the other side of the fire, just at the edge of the circle of light. I snapped my crossbow up, centering the sights on his chest.
"Don't move!" I hissed. "One more step and I'll put you down." At that range, there was no way for them to dodge a crossbow bolt... was there?
The figure didn't answer, didn't give any sign that they'd heard aside from a slight exhale that might have been a chuckle. They started to circle around the fire towards me. I pulled the trigger, and the bolt shot from the crossbow into the shadowy figure's chest. He flinched but didn't stop, just swatted at the bolt as a man might swat a pesky fly.
"What the shit-" I gasped, dropping the crossbow and going for my sword. As soon as I did the figure accelerated, shooting towards me with unnatural speed as I whipped the sword out of my belt, bringing it straight across at the figure's neck. A hand snapped out and seized the sword before I completed the swing, stopping it dead with the blade right in the man's palm. He ripped the weapon from my grasp and cast it aside, and as he did I caught a brief glimpse of his face in the flickering light: short beard, dark hair, laugh lines around his mouth, eyes like burning coals. The image was gone as fast as it appeared, and the hand that had grabbed my sword - barely lacerated when it should have been cut off - came shooting back at me, striking me in the chest.
I was suddenly flying, shooting across the room in a way that just wasn't possible. No human - or laguz for that matter - could possibly hit that hard, and yet I slammed into a table several meters back from where I'd been standing barely a second after taking the hit. The man was on me before I had even finished falling over, and I just barely managed to half-roll, half- fall out of the way as his fist smashed into the table behind me with a crack of splintering wood. He whirled on me without missing a beat, his booted foot slamming into my gut and launching me into the air again, this time to crash into a column.
He didn't press the attack right away, and I managed to pull myself up to my knees in time to see him tear the crossbow bolt out of his chest, clenching it so tightly in his fist that it broke in two. That hindrance removed, he stalked towards me again, emitting an angry growl.
I rose to meet his advance, shaking from more than just the pain of those hits. Someone has to have heard all that, I told myself. Just stay alive. The infiltrator snapped his foot up at my midsection, but I blocked low with crossed forearms, ducking back to avoid the follow-up punch. His fist just clipped my shoulder, but I used the momentum to pivot and crack my elbow into his jaw, then deliver a rapid flurry of short-range punches to his ribs. He let out an enraged yell and backhanded me across the face, catching me by the neck with his other arm before I could fall away. My feet left the floor as his iron grip tightened, and I was spun around with my back to a table.
"Oh shi-" I gasped just before the enraged killer slammed me down onto the table. "OWWwwwWWhat the HELL!" I yelled as waves of pain shot through my back.
The man suddenly stopped, his fist frozen in the air above me. "Your voice..." he rasped. "You're one of us!"
"One of- what the hell are you?" I wheezed.
"A follower-"
Any further explanation was cut short as the doors to the hall suddenly burst open, torchlight flooding the room. The infiltrator's head snapped around to face the new threat, and the pressure on my neck was suddenly gone as he released me and dashed towards the light. I rolled on my side and gasped, sucking in a breath of air as thuds and cries of pain came from the other end of the hall, then pushed myself upright.
The infiltrator was fighting Kezhda and a trio of soldiers, but in the seconds it took me to drag myself off the table and get my feet under me that number dropped to two, one soldier falling away with his own sword in his gut and Kezhda cast aside by a whirling kick. The assassin landed hard, but rolled to his feet and sprang right back into the fight, whipping a pair of daggers into the infiltrator's back as he approached.
Again, the missiles hardly seemed to slow him, and another guard fell dead just as Kezhda drew his sword and cut at the man's head. Unsurprised, the man spun and blocked the sword with his forearm then delivered a sharp blow to Kezhda's wrist to knock the sword away. The assassin was far from finished, though, and ducked under the follow-up punch, redirecting the momentum to give himself an opening. Before the infiltrator could recover the assassin had delivered a blinding series of stabs with yet more hidden blades, finally drawing a yell of pain.
I was close enough to the fight now to grab one of the fallen soldiers' weapons, but before I could rejoin the fight the last guard fell and Kezhda was again thrown away, his temporary advantage lost. The infiltrator rounded on me, and I shrank back, looking for any way to kill him. He had blood dripping down his side and spattered across his face, but it was hard to tell how much was his own. In my peripheral vision I caught sight of Kezhda grabbing a spear from a felled guard's hand.
"Hey!" the assassin yelled, throwing the spear at the man. It missed and sailed over his head to embed itself high in the wall behind him, but Kezhda rushed in anyway, ducking a punch and slipping around his opponent. Rather than staying to fight, though, he turned and ran. The infiltrator took up the chase, sensing victory, but just when it looked as if he would trap the assassin Kezhda took two running steps up the wall, snatched the spear he'd "missed" with, then spun and drove the tip straight down with all of his weight behind it. The spear took the infiltrator dead center in the chest, and the two figures crashed to the floor.
I reached the pair just as people began to pour into the room, bearing torches and improvised weapons and in various stages of undress. Kezhda got to his feet and took several steps back, grabbing a fallen torch to better light our enemy. It might have just been my imagination, but I thought I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.
A pained gurgle drew my attention to the downed infiltrator to see him wrap one hand weakly around the spear shaft - which had gone straight through his heart and probably into the wooden floor.
"Shouldn't he be dead?" I hissed to Kezhda. He answered with a stunned look and a shrug.
"I think he's dying, at least," came the uncertain reply.
The people who'd come into the mess hall were staying well back from us, eyeing the impossibly strong man warily, but their hesitance gave me some privacy. I crouched down and grabbed the man's shirt, pulling his face closer. I noted with some surprise that the stab wounds Kezhda had inflicted with his knives were hardly bleeding at all.
"Who sent you?" I demanded. "Why are you here?" Maybe it was the light, but he seemed less threatening now. By all appearances he was just a man nearing middle-age; a bit stronger than normal, but definitely not some inhumanly powerful super-soldier. Kezhda crouched down beside me for a closer look, prying one of the man's eyelids up. The eye was a sickly yellow shot with dark red veins.
"He's been dosed with the Feral drug," Kezhda gasped. "These effects, though... I've never seen a beorc affected this way. The enhancements-" The dying man suddenly gurgled again, and his eyes focused on me.
"Who sent you?" I reiterated, shaking the man by his shoulders.
Kezhda tried to pull me away. "It's no use questioning him, Feral beorc go nearly as insane as laguz-"
"...rir..." the man murmured, stopping Kezhda mid-sentence.
"What was that?" I asked. The man took a shuddering breath, then spoke again.
"...Fenrir." It wasn't much to go on, but the voice was stronger this time and his eyes were looking clearer by the second. And then there was the accent... is that... Australian? The man's eyes strayed off to the side, and suddenly focused intently on something. I followed his gaze to see Beth standing among the crowd of onlookers, still in a nightgown and brandishing a fire poker as she stared at the grisly scene.
"What does she have to do with this?" I snapped, pulling his head back to look at me. His skin was getting really pale; augmented or not he didn't have much time left, but the weaker his body got, the less of a hold the Feral serum seemed to have over him.
"The Midgardians must be recaptured or killed... they will comply, we all comply... compliance will be rewarded..." He said that last part like a mantra, but it was the first words that held my attention. Midgard... that's Old Norse for Earth...
"You're one of us..." I whispered, sure of it now. "They..." They turned him, experimented on him, made him into...whatever this is. Bastards. He was fading fast, but the man locked eyes with me as his hand scrabbled at the collar of his shirt.
"No one... escapes... Fenrir!" he hissed, fighting to get each word out with such insistence that I knew whatever he was saying had to be important. Before I could ask any more questions, though, his hand fell limply away from his neck and his eyes, now white, rolled back in his head. He was gone.
I laid the head back on the floor and closed his eyes, but as I did I noticed a burn mark on his neck, just under the collar of his shirt he'd been pulling at - he was trying to show me something. I tugged the fabric away to reveal a hideous brand burned into the poor man's flesh, and suddenly everything fell into place.
It was the image of a wolf, with wicked fangs and piercing eyes. My mind hurtled back to the peace talks just a few weeks ago, to the mysterious mage from Nevassa; the man who made a room full of wyvern riders nervous, the man who'd taken such an interest in Beth. The man who wore the exact same symbol on his robes. A Daein researcher...
"Fenrir," I murmured thoughtfully. It was from Old Norse too: Fenrir, the monstrous wolf, bane of the Aesir themselves. Honestly, I couldn't think of a more fitting name for the group of reckless and powerful mages. I know who you are now, you bastards.
Kezhda grabbed me by the shoulder, turning an intense look my way. "What is Midgard?" he demanded. "You knew what he was talking about, didn't you?"
"Not here!" I whispered, eyeing the crowd of onlookers. "Just follow me and I'll explain everything." Without further commentary I pulled myself to my feet, ignoring the pain in my back and wounded leg, and pushed my way through the crowd, getting Beth's attention as I did.
"Don't let anyone touch that body!" I heard Kezhda order a nearby guard as he followed me.
"What the fuck is happening?" Beth asked once I got close, but I just motioned wordlessly for her to follow me out of the mess hall.
"That guy was one of us," I said once we'd made it out of the crowd.
Beth cast an uncertain look at Kezhda, who was hovering over my shoulder. "You mean, like from the same, uh, country?" she asked.
"Yeah, and Kezhda's fine; past time we told him what's going on," I assured her. I looked back at the crowd. "Where are Al and Matt?"
"Still asleep, last I checked. We're sharing a room," Beth replied, still uneasy about Kezhda's presence. Fair enough; he did put a crossbow in her face the first time they met...
Kezhda nodded, ignoring her discomfort. "Perfect, take us there."
Their room was close to the mess hall, just a few meters from the doorway the Midgardian had been going to before I interrupted him. I followed Beth inside, still reeling from the shock of what had just happened and growing angrier by the second. This "research" organization - Fenrir - was hunting us now, and they were using other Earthlings, Midgardians or whatever they called us, to do it. Turning innocent people - people from my home - into expendable pawns.
Al and Matt were both awake now, and looked to Beth, both wearing concerned expressions.
"Did you find out what's going on?" Al asked.
Beth shook her head. "Not exactly. Adam, you gonna explain this now, or are you still being all secretive?"
I paused for a second, considering exactly how to explain everything that just happened. Fenrir must after Matt and Beth because they escaped, and since their agent's orders were to capture or kill, then they're more worried about tying up loose ends then getting back what they lost. Once that agent fails to report in they'll send more - they have to - and that means it's not safe for us with the army. We could go on the run, but Fenrir's obviously got resources. They'd find us. Best option? Go on the attack, follow Kezhda's plan. Beth and Matt can find the base, and once we're in... Once we're in we end this, by whatever means necessary.
I started to turn back to talk to the others, but as I did my eyes came to rest on a small mirror on the wall. The reflection hadn't changed from what I'd seen earlier, but now when I looked at myself I didn't feel shame, just a sense of purpose. Yes, the man in the reflection was a cold and ruthless murderer, but doubt and morality weren't luxuries I had time for anymore. This is what I am now. This is what I need to be.
I turned to Kezhda. "So, Midgard..."
A/N
I'm honestly not sure of anyone still reads this, considering it's been four months since I updated. Oh well, if you're still here then welcome to the main arc of the fic! It has officially begun; the underground war between the nefarious organization Fenrir + brainwashed Midgardian super-soldiers and the the Assassins + Midgardian allies (That's right, no more Earthlings! I like this new name better). And yes, that means the last few OCs will be showing up in the next few chapters... almost 2 years after the first submissions...
Okay, so part of what took so long in this chapter (aside from the hiatus) was that I've been trying to get the tone just right. Obviously, things are going in a much darker direction than before, but I don't want a sudden, jerky transition. Trust me, the first few iterations of this chapter were verging on twisted... really twisted. Doesn't help that I'm writing the RD section too, which is way darker than this stuff. But yeah, if it seems too sudden or if some of the chapter doesn't make sense, by all means let me know.
Review Responses
Kukyo: Well, I fully intend to try to keep them coming! 4 months has been enough of a hiatus.
Guest: I'm glad you liked it!
Tom-Ato13: Yep, that death kind of marks a watershed moment for the main character. Not the good kind.
godofmadness43: Did you mean tell Jill about Josh's death? As far as I know, the two didn't really know each other. It was Shiharam that she was worried about. But at the same time, I guess since she is concerned for her people, the loss of another strong Daein leader would be significant.
NLV: Um, well at least it wasn't a month...? Yeah, that hiatus was kinda long, especially after a cliffhanger, but at the same time I kinda needed it for a lot of reasons I'm not gonna go into. Glad you liked the cliffhanger!
As always, reviews and concrit are much appreciated, and thank you to everyone who stopped by to read. In case I don't get the next update done before the end of the year, have a happy holiday season, Christmas, exam time, New Year and all that good stuff!