No Longer Alone
Another day, another update. It's kinda funny how I can actually update this story pretty fast since I pay so much attention to it that I've prewritten out most scenes beforehand in my mind. My other stories? Not so much, which leads to rather long update lag times.
Of course, if I go off on a gaming binge, or find some particular interesting and time consuming website (like TVTropes…) my updating time's shot, just like that.
Anyway, hope I don't disappoint.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Another foe crumpled before him, his stomach torn open. Franz spared him but the slightest of glances as he leapt over the body.
All around him the battle thundered, soldiers on both sides each grappling for an advantage. The arrival of the backup forces, along with the Fluorspar having apparently spent all of… well, whatever those long range lightning spells were, had encouraged Ephraim to the point where he had ordered a full on charge. The sooner the Grad troops were routed, the better.
And of course, the sooner their commander was removed from the fight, the faster the Grad soldiers would capitulate. Knocking aside another soldier that had appeared in front of him, glaring at the tiny islet in which General Selena waited atop her mount, calmly assessing the battle.
Franz wasn't a fool – he knew he wouldn't stand a chance in hell going up against the General herself. But he could clear a path towards her and let those more skilled than him try to take her down.
Of course, the opposing soldiers were doing everything they could to prevent such a thing from occurring… The cavalier jerked back from a high slash from another soldier's sword, countering with a low attack of his own. His opponent was skilled enough to parry the strike, and Franz shifted his weight, seeking another angle, an opening.
And then an arrow embedded itself in the soldier's leg, causing a cry of pain. Taking advantage of this, Franz managed to slash down on the enemy soldier's right arm, forcing the sword of out his hand.
As the wounded soldier stumbled and collapsed, Franz shifted his gaze to the side, catching side of Neimi, in the process of grabbing another arrow from her quiver. The young archer looked pale, exhausted.
Taking advantage of the brief reprieve, Franz quickly cast about the battlefield for signs of others – Amelia, his brother, Prince Ephraim. No one. All probably engaged in their own life and death struggles.
Hearing the sound of splashing water, he noted that Neimi was running up to meet him. "Neimi?" He questioned. "Anything the matter?"
"N, no." The archer shook her head. "I just thought… we should stick together, you know? Strength in numbers, and all that."
Privately, Franz could ruminate on a fair number of reasons why a melee-focused warrior such as himself would not want to be facing the same target as an archer, but he kept his mouth shut. "Okay." He nodded. "Let's try to find the others."
Come to think of it, where's Amelia?
Amelia slammed the butt of her spear into another soldier. There was a wet 'splurtch!' sound and the metal end of her weapon tore through the Grad warrior's stomach. The soldier staggered back and collapsed, flopping limply to the ground.
Wincing, Amelia turned away quickly. I… that wasn't supposed to happen. So much for non-sharp ends of weapons being any less lethal than the… well, the sharp ends. The battle wasn't giving her a lot of time to think things through properly.
Where was Franz? The thing about the main army was that there was a whole lot more of soldiers in the area, and after darting away from an enemy attack, the press of soldiers had separated the two of them. Again.
Hopping over a body sprawled in front of her – the mud and blood caking the corpse made it difficult to tell which side he had been fighting for, and continued pressing onwards. None of the Grads had singled her out thus far, which both helped and hurt. Helped because if they had decided to properly focus on her she'd probably be killed in short order, and hurt because that meant any kills she scored in the course of fighting were deliberate ambushes.
This is a war. No place for weakness. She'd drummed that mantra into her own head countless times since the fighting began. Silently she wondered if doing that was ever going to help one whit.
The battle, as far as she could tell, was going well. The Grad soldiers had entrenched themselves well enough that the going was hard – but nevertheless, the Frelian troops were slowly but surely grinding their way through the Grad lines.
She managed to catch another soldier unawares and hastily disarmed him by stabbing at his arm. Silently, she wondered if somehow gaining the ability to look in multiple directions at the same time would be useful. Attacks could come from anywhere.
As if to punctuate the point, an arrow zipped by her face, so close that she could feel the tiny brush of wind as the air parted for the weapon. A quick brush of her cheek with her hand confirmed that the projectile hadn't actually touched her and she quickly cast about for the source before the archer could try again.
There! Crouching amongst the rocks, was the person slowly, deliberately drawing another arrow from his back. Amelia frowned. She'd learned from Neimi that archers were valued for being able to fire either very accurately or very quickly. The arrow had missed her, and he didn't seem to be particularly hurried…
She was about to move into a defensive position when someone slammed into her from behind with enough force to take her off her feet. Another arrow shot went wide. Muttering a short expletive under her breath, she half-turned, trying to shove the person – the body, the helmet was cracked, blood oozing from the holes – away from her. And above her, another arrow shot through the air.
Okay, chances are she hadn't been the archer's target at all, if his lack of adjusting aim for her new position was anything to go by. Well, maybe that meant she could catch him by surprise… Finally succeeding in rolling the corpse away, she shakily clambered to her feet.
Circling around slightly and trying not to get the archer's attention, the young lancer quickly covered the distance between the two of them, using her lighter weight to cross the treacherous marshlands. Just a couple more seconds…
And abruptly the world exploded. Crimson flame surged up all over the area, lances of searing heat blasting their way through Amelia's right leg. With a scream of agony the recruit tumbled to the cold earth, all her ability to think, feel, reason, focus, understand, all pinned to the fiery sensations erupting from her calf, her thigh, her foot.
No… no Fire spell…never this strong… she thought dimly. She couldn't even summon up the strength to scream again, to let the hurt out, all she could do was focus on breathing, feel the tears stream down her cheeks, feel the supernaturally induced heat from the surroundings fade away as quickly as it had come-
"I am sorry. I had intended for the kill to be immediate, so as to spare you the agony." A clipped, professional voice sounded behind her, but it took several seconds for Amelia to even realize that someone was talking. All she could think about was the pain, the damnable, soul rending, unending, mind-numbing pain…
But even then a distant corner of her mind registered the voice – she'd heard it only once, about an hour ago, but she could recognize it all the same, it was the leader of the Grad army, the Fluorspar, General Selena, and Amelia realized that she was about to die.
Knocking aside another Grad's weapon, Franz thrust his dagger in a downwards stab, piercing the unfortunate soldier's knee. Shifting his weight, he kicked upwards, sending the wounded fighter sprawling.
I spare their lives… and I end up crippling them so badly they'll likely never walk again. Franz reflected with some bitterness as he moved on, leaving the fallen soldier where he lay. Is that truly mercy?
All around him lay the dead and the dying. Men and women screaming for help, for water, for their mother, for death. Dozens he could do nothing more for than simply jumping over their shattered bodies, sometimes even being forced into duelling others over the bloody corpses. Behind the front lines were the healers, Natasha amongst them, trying desperately to cope with the ever increasing number of casualties, trying to heal, to help.
And all he could do – all he had ever done, was fight.
Franz shook his head, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. As if he really needed more of a reminder that war stunk anyway…
Turning, he noted Neimi trying her best to keep up with him while simultaneously trying to shoot at enemy archers that were harassing the Frelian Pegasus Knights. He was about to double back slightly, perhaps provide some sort of cover or support for the gentle archer, when he saw his brother.
Lying on the ground. Bleeding.
He wasn't aware of breaking stride, changing course, of doing anything, but several seconds later Franz found himself kneeling over the fallen form of Forde, trying to assess the damages.
"Forde!"
"Hey." His brother was still conscious, still cracking his trademark grin. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
. "Brother, you've – you're…" Franz sputtered, unconsciously tugging at the vulnerary at his belt
"Oh? Oh." The crimson clad knight lifted his head slightly to glance down at the wound on his chest, still leaking dark blood. "Yeah, knocked the wind out of me for a bit. It's not bad – nothing I can't live through. And I made the poor sap pay for it too." He gestured towards a limp form lying several meters away.
"No! That's not it… that's…" Franz's mind was drawing a blank as he mechanically administered first aid to his brother, his stunned mind trying to process the simple fact.
Forde. Wounded.
His brother didn't get wounded. It was ridiculous. He was Forde, part of Lord Ephraim's personal retinue, one of the most skilled knights on all Magvel. Every battle they were in he threw himself into the thick of the melee alongside Kyle, emerging without so much as a scratch. His armour may be dinged a bit, sure, but…
His brother. Wounded.
Trying not to think about it, Franz finished his work and sat back slightly. "That should do it." He said softly.
Forde was about to make a reply when his expression froze, eyes staring at something behind Franz.
The green knight was already rising before he knew it, already bringing his sword up in a diagonal slash, The soldier wasn't expecting resistance, had expected an easy kill, and Franz effortlessly cut his belly open.
Wincing at the exertion, Franz stumbled back slightly. Neimi had finally managed to reach him and stood panting. "Franz…" She muttered. "You run too fast."
A flash of pale white and Vanessa had landed, too, a cut alongside one arm. Forde managed to sit up enough to look her in the eye. "Hey. How're things up there?"
She sighed. "Rather hectic, to say the least. We've no idea where the Pegasus mercenaries came from. At least they're not using Wyverns as well."
Forde shook his head wearily. "Well, no use standing around here. What say we get back to the battle?"
Franz glanced worriedly at his brother's wound. Forde evidently caught the look, for he rolled his eyes. "Look, everyone on the battlefield gets hurt sooner or later. If you'd like I could show you all the scars I've got over the years – that'll please the ladies, I'm sure, but seriously, I'll be fine."
Yeah… yeah, he's right. Franz blew out a tiny breath of air and managed a slight smile. "Okay, let's go."
When the spell had hit her, Amelia had dropped her lance, and now she fumbled desperately around for it, her eyes too obscured by her tears of pain for her to properly see where it was – not that it would really have helped a bit, she couldn't even stand, but if she was going to die she wanted a weapon in a hands.
She was sprawled facedown and so she couldn't see the General behind her, couldn't see how close she was to completing her next spell of whatever it was, but Amelia knew it would all be over in a matter of seconds-
"General Selena!" There was a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye, the wet thunk! of a lance impaling something, the sound of a horse's scream –
Surprise coursed through her – what was happening? Had someone saved her? For a moment – an all too brief moment – she forgot her pain and, with her left arm, managed to roll herself over so she could look at what was going on.
Ephraim. Prince Ephraim, his steel lance coated in blood, was standing over the fallen mount of Genera Selena. The Fluorspar herself had managed to jump nimbly off and was standing a meter away, one outstretched already glowing with magic.
"Lord Ephraim…" General Selena was speaking in the slow, controlled voice of someone mentally assessing the situation.
"General Selena, I implore you to surrender." The prince of Renais shifted his lance in his hands, adjusting the angle slightly. "There is something you must know. Emperor Vigarde is-"
"Insane. Corrupted by the darkness flowing from whatever 'Dark Stone' the alchemists in the capital have devised. I know." Amelia felt her heart skip a beat. Insane? Corrupted? What in the world…?
"You know?" Ephraim's voice rose in outrage. "You know, and yet you continue to serve him? To follow the orders of a madman?"
"He is my liege lord, whom I have sworn fealty to. There is nothing else. Prepare yourself, prince Ephraim." A tiny ball of fire sprouted from her outstretched fingers, billowing towards the turquoise-haired lord.
Ephraim batted the fireball away into the brush with his spear – and as the tiny fireball hit the earth it exploded into a raging column of flame, nearly two meters high. Amelia winced at that. Considering the effects of the spell, she should probably have counted herself lucky getting away with only a torched leg. And on that note… she glanced down at her wounded leg and let out a tiny gasp of shock.
The long boot she'd worn into battle had been all but blasted away, though a few ragged, melted strips still clung to her skin. Large patches of dead, blackened skin were all over the place, and wherever wasn't black was as a fiery red, almost as if the spell itself had surged into her skin, still heating it supernaturally. She could see blood on the ground around her, although she couldn't detect any bleeding. Just then a fresh wave of pain stabbed through the leg, causing her to grit her teeth, letting out tiny whimpers of agony, feeling more stinging tears pool up, letting them drip onto her breastplate.
A war cry from Ephraim called her attention back to the battle. The lancefighter had charged, his weapon stabbing out the Fluorspar, who was able to dodge – just barely. Another blast of flame that Ephraim diverted with his weapon, another strike with his lance, and the two combatants continued in their deadly dance, neither side able to score a blow on the other.
Something welled up in Amelia, telling her that should help. But there was no way she could stand, much less walk, in those conditions. But she couldn't just sit there and do nothing. Well, she thought, at least I can find my lance, and she quickly began casting about for her weapon.
There! Lying slightly hidden amongst a thick patch of reeds. Gritting her teeth, Amelia leaned over, reaching out as far as she could to fumble at the thick cord she'd tied to the end of her weapon. With short tugs and yanks she was able to draw the weapon closer to her, until she finally grasped the thin metal shaft in her hands once more.
Suddenly, there was another blaze of light and energy, but this one was different, this bore the distinct sound of something breaking, and pieces of fragmented metal, glowing red hot, landed all over the area.
Quickly she looked back to the battle between the two powerful warriors – and she saw Prince Ephraim, eyes wide in shock and – was it horror? She couldn't tell – staring down at the remnants of his broken weapon in his hands. Apparently it wasn't very durable against spells as powerful as the one General Selena had been fielding.
The blonde spellcaster shook her head slightly. "An unfortunate turn. I am sorry, but it's over." More energy began to gather to her palms
Later Amelia would claim it was pure instinct, nothing more. An understanding of the situation that he had no weapon and needed one, that she had a weapon but couldn't use it, and that was really all there was to it.
"MILORD!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. The prince of Renais glanced over at the same instant that she swung her arm up in an arc, tossing the gleaming metal weapon over into the air in his direction.
The Fluorspar caught the exchange, and reacted quickly, thrusting her arm out and firing off another one of the super fireballs, but Ephraim threw himself into a dive, somehow managing to grab the her lance in the process, and as he rose up, the fireball exploded at his back. Another quick flash of movement and –
General Selena, the Fluorspar of the Grado Imperial Army, stared down at the weapon piercing her chest, her eyes dimming. She took a single step back, staggering, opened her mouth and said something Amelia couldn't hear – and fell.
The prince shook his head, walked over, and yanked the gleaming implement from where he had stabbed her with it, wiping off the blood from the head with his cape as he did so. All around them, the sound of battle was drawing to a sudden, surprised halt as more and more Grad soldiers began to register the fact that their leader was dead.
Then Ephraim walked over to Amelia and dropped her lance by her side. "Thanks for the save, recruit." He said briefly. "Just stay here and I'll get a healer to look to your leg soon enough." He sighed. "The battle's all but over, anyway."
And as he walked off, the remaining Grad soldiers began dropping their weapons and surrendering.
Chapter End
Hmm. Shorter than usual. Ah, well. Thanks for reading, please review.
