Maribelle's mind was in a pain filled haze. What had happened? Why was she here? Where was 'here'? It certainly wasn't the heart of the Themis duchy or anything of the sort. Her home had been known for its beautiful works of wood and stone, in addition to to its center of law. It couldn't have been this burning, broken ruin covered in ash, soot and spilled blood.
No, her addled brain told her in a moment of shining clarity, it had to be. She'd gone nowhere else.
It sluggishly came back to her as she pulled herself from the cracked shell of ash she lied in. She'd heard that her home had been set ablaze and she rushed there, her and–
"Nic... ola," she rasped, coughing up a lungful of burning ash. He was nowhere to be seen and his distinctive spear lay charred just out of her reach. The spearman had been with her the entire time, keeping pace with her horse the entire way to the duchy and further still as they made their way to its heart, Nomos. He'd also allowed her to rest the entire evening as he kept watch, despite her protests that he needed rest as well. It hadn't done her any good, Nicola was just as stubborn as her beloved and twice as argumentative.
That night had been fraught with nightmares of her father's death and her people blaming her for abandoning them in their time of need, much to her chagrin. It was not the time for fear or doubt, it was the time for action. Her companion made no complaints for the rest of their journey to the burnt city, the landscape having transformed from a land of artistry and law into the ash covered plain in the span of a day. What had done this? What had the power and cruelty to attack a peaceable people in the heart of their home and in each remote settlement she'd passed before reaching her home?
It was an enemy, that was clear. An enemy that owed her a debt to be paid a hundred fold in blood. She just had to muster the strength to stand, leading to her current problem: she could not.
Her vision was still blurry, after what felt like minutes after she came to, and her ears rang so loudly that she imagined they were bleeding or worse. Just getting her head and chest from the ground took most of her strength and her legs quivered weakly when she tried moving them at all. What had hit her? Something needed to have struck her to have placed her in her current state. She couldn't recall what had done so or anything past entering the heart of the duchy. No, that was incorrect, she recalled feeling weightless a moment before pain crashed over her and she blacked out.
"How unexpected," she heard a voice muse. It wasn't one she recognized, for all that she couldn't hear it properly at the present. "That was supposed to kill the both of you, not slay one of you and weaken the other. It matters not, you will not survive a second strike."
Maribelle felt the area around her warm to an uncomfortable degree. The air thinned and her breath burned more as it was pulled from her. Her arms collapsed beneath her as her eyes cleared. The one who spoke was a cloaked figure dozens of meters away with a hand raised overhead. Floating lazily above them was a small sphere of burning light surrounded by rings of arcane sigils. Arcfire, a spell only masters of fire magic could cast. Even at her peak the spell would have been fatal, few people could survive being immolated by such concentrated heat and flame.
"Damn you," she coughed, cursing her lead feeling limbs as the ball grew brighter, hotter. The cloaked figure paid her no mind.
"You are unnecessary in my master's future," they spoke, as if referring to human filth. "Accept your end with what few scraps of dignity a human can hold."
With that, the figure loosed the spell with the lazy wag of a finger. The ball of light hurtled towards the noblewoman. Blistering heat washed over her as her end neared, the sphere warping and melting the stone road as it neared the noblewoman.
Then a shadowy figure crashed down before her, form ragged and monstrous as it caught the sphere of heat and death with a twisted limb—nay, a maw in place of an arm—of darkness, steel and rippling scales. The orb strained in the shadow's grasp, but could neither escape nor detonate as it was held firm.
"You've made two dire mistakes, "the figure intoned, shattering the spell they held as if it had been glass. Their tone was hard to discern, like an incompatible combination of sickeningly saccharine and affectless warped by the grating din Maribelle still heard. "The first was razing this land and choosing to remain. The second was attempting to slay my charge and daring to raise a hand against her people."
Their charge?
"And who are you to judge me, human," the cloaked figure scoffed, only to leap back as snaking ethereal chains erupted from where it once stood. The chains pursued them, twisting and turning around ruined buildings and through explosive bolts of flame the figure shot as they fled through the air. Debris and rubble tore after the flying figure, hounding them more doggedly than the chains as they were blasted from the sky or vaporized. Perhaps if they hadn't grown cocky at that moment and slowed down, they would have avoided the chain that coiled around their neck from behind and whipped them into the charred remains of a schoolhouse. The remaining debris rained down on the figure, followed by a series of now barbed and bladed lengths of metal, thorny vines and hooked spines.
Maribelle would have nearly called it overkill. Nearly. Anyone who had willingly participated in the attack on her home deserved punishment far beyond what the full extent of what Ylissean Law could mete. Doubly so to anyone who relished in it and the suffering that it brought. It was rare for the flame of hatred to truly burn in the noblewoman's heart, but it roared like an inferno within her and threatened to consume her.
Only thoughts of her darling saved her. She couldn't bear to see Lissa's face if she lost herself, if she became the very thing she swore to defeat. She would not forsake her humanity, she could not, no matter how appealing it felt.
The noblewoman was pulled from her thoughts as a pillar of flame erupted from where the cloaked figure had been buried. From the reignited remains of the old schoolhouse floated the figure, cloak torn to pieces enough to reveal an inhumanly perfect face. Their perfectly sculpted face was ashen and cold, with full blue tinted lips twisted into a fanged snarl and golden eyes that glinted with barely contained rage. Their hair was a salt and pepper mix cut to frame their face, meticulously and almost lovingly so. They were no one she recognized from her duchy, such striking features would have stood out to her immediately. No they were like a doll, perfectly crafted in appearance and yet warped and twisted where it counted.
"Was that your best, human," they hissed, golden eyes focusing on the shadow. The shadow that was no longer where it had been hardly an instant before. "Where–"
"Here."
The doll was cut off as the shadow drove it into the ground, having appeared behind the figure and unleashed a devastating rounding kick into the back of its head. Maribelle hadn't even seen it move, only realizing it had done so when it reappeared. The shadow didn't give the cloaked figure time to recover, summoning a cracking spear of shadow and lightning that they drove into the figure without any hesitation.
The figure gave an unholy shriek as their grey form ignited, burning from the inside out. Features lacking blemish cracked, inky tendrils of malevolence tearing from their form before it scattered like dust in the wind. Maribelle could only watch as the shadow removed its spear from the ground and approached her. Without a word it pulled her to her feet and hefted her over its shoulder.
"Unhand me, you fiend," she shouted weakly, only for the figure to laugh.
"Fiend? Is that how you see your dear acquaintance?" Acquaintance? Now that she thought about it, the voice was familiar in an annoying and ignoble way.
"Nicola?" She coughed again, spewing more ash. He was alive? Why was he covered in shadow?
"One and the same, though perhaps a fair bit different," he replied as the shadows covering him faded, revealing the spearman. The noblewoman's eyes widened as she saw his proper appearance and she couldn't help but ask:
"What happened to you?"
The journey to the Themis duchy had been unnaturally quiet. No animals called or moved, the area appeared to be frozen in silence. The once gentle autumnal breeze carried an intense chill with it, though unrelated to the coming of winter. It was the sign of something dark and foul having been done, something so far reaching and grand in its evil that it drew warmth from the area.
It served as a stark contrast to the sea of multicolored leaves fading to the ashen ruins that greeted Maribelle and Nicola as they made their way to the heart of the duchy. The noblewoman's lips were pursed in a thin line as she held herself back from leaping from her steed and running to the ruins of a fifth settlement: the first four had been nearly barren of life, save for a small number of injured children and anyone that had been quick enough to leap into now evaporated streams and rivers. Everyone else had been turned to ash, slain by beings the survivors called the Children of the Infernal Star and the bands of mages and bandits that appeared with them.
The duo only parted from the settlements after doing their best to treat those who were injured, enough for them to survive at least another day. They knew reinforcements were hours behind them, either from the Pegasus Knights or the Shepherds, and they'd see to the injured and homeless better than the two of them could. Both Nicola and Maribelle hoped it was the Shepherds: they would be able to do more for the bereft than the knights could by far in the current situation.
The Infernal Star. Nicola knew that from his dream months ago. Whatever it had been, it had been enough for Hel to work with them rather than enslave them. That meant it was a threat beyond anything he could hope to face as is... unless it was his dream playing tricks on him. He knew dreams tended to exaggerate details and warp them to fit the world they were building. With that in mind, perhaps the Infernal Star's children were a much more manageable threat, in the league of Surtr's army.
Meaning they'd be more than a simple challenge, they'd require everything he had and more. The problem was whether or not he could push himself that far and remain himself.
You'll need to cross that bridge when you reach it. For now keep your head clear and calm Maribelle before she does something reckless again.
Nicola didn't need to be told twice. Maribelle had been understandably furious from the first settlement they'd gone through and that had only worsened as they moved further into the heart of the duchy. As for himself, he was calm. He held his own building rage at bay, having no valid target to unleash it upon. Instead, he offered Maribelle a reassuring smile that didn't have an inkling of hope for reaching his burning eyes. Seeing the flame wrought destruction had filled him with the same heavy dread and anger that filled him years prior.
No, Surtr isn't here, Nicola. He needed to pull himself together before he boiled over. They hadn't even encountered the ones behind this destruction, he couldn't cut loose until then at the very least.
"Maribelle, what's your plan," Nicola asked, increasing his gait to stay at her side.
"First we confirm that there are survivors in the area and evacuate them to my family's manse. If we encounter any of the perpetrators of this incident we show them no mercy: anyone who would cause such wanton destruction is undeserving of trial or any judgment other than that at the edge of a blade." Her voice was cold, a stark contrast to the burning aura Nicola saw encompassing her. "Once that is accomplished, we defend the manse as best we can and group up with either the Shepherds or the Pegasus Knights and work on properly exterminating any remaining enemies."
It was the sort of plan Nicola dreaded, but one look told him that Maribelle wouldn't be dissuaded from it. Saving people was fine, he'd do that in a snap. The issue was doing so when they knew little from how their foes operated beyond being fast and destructive. If Zenith had taught him one thing, he hated being put on the defensive when he was several steps behind his opponent.
A bird cry caught his and Maribelle's attention. They still hadn't seen any wildlife since they arrived in the duchy, all having long fled the areas near the settlements they'd seen thus far. If not for Maribelle calming the beast, Nicola imagined her horse would have long fled. If not from moving towards danger, from being next to the former summoner. At the very least, animals could see him for what he really wa-
No, none of that. You have people to hopefully save. No time to mope or sulk, you damned nitwit. It was times like these where mentally berating himself was a good thing. It kept him from dwelling on things he need not dwell on. Things he couldn't control. If he hadn't been here, would this have even–
"Nicola, that's a familiar," Maribelle called as the bird's cry rang out a second time. What Nicola assumed to be a hunting hawk came into view and descended towards Maribelle. The relief in her voice lifted some of the weight he felt pushing down on him, the familiar was from an ally. A hint of a smile graced the noblewoman's face as the bird landed on her shoulder and flashed cobalt. In the next moment the bird took on a rose gold hue and departed from the noblewoman.
"What did it have to say?" He'd gathered from the conversation with Emmeryn that familiars were some form of magical messenger, but it hadn't been the time nor place to ask more about them and the odd lesser magics this world had.
"It was from Sir Frederick. He said that the Shepherds and Pegasus Knights are on their way, but will need to take time to address injuries they took while repelling the force at the border."
That was a mixed bag. It was good that both forces were after them, but he didn't want to imagine who had been injured and from which group it had been from. Hopefully it wouldn't set them back too much.
"And your response?"
"I told them we would be arriving in Nomos within the hour and that the sooner they could arrive, the better. I also told them of the settlements we've encountered and that they will need assistance."
Good. That was more weight lifted from his shoulders. Neither had wanted to abandon the survivors of the settlements they came across, but they didn't have the time to try and save each of them, not when the duchy's heart was still at risk. He wasn't sure how Maribelle knew that or if she did at all, but he trusted her in that regard. She was stuck up and abrasive more often than not, but she had a valorous heart he envied.
"-ola? Oaf, did you even hear me!?"
He hadn't. Had she said something?
"Can you repeat what you said?"
"Once we arrive in Nomos, I'll need you to get to my family's manse and rest. You appear to be flagging and I cannot fight with you at my side while you are in such condition."
"You aren't getting rid of me that easily," he returned. He didn't even feel tired in the first place and he wouldn't until he was certain he'd done everything he could to resolve this situation. Then his consciousness would desert him and he'd sleep like a rock or his brain would just turn itself off and he'd sleep at that moment if too much time passed between now and then. As things were, he only slept decently because of that charm he bought and he could easily force himself to stay awake longer if needed.
"It isn't a matter of getting rid of you," Maribelle hissed. "It's a matter of you being able to keep yourself in one piece while you're sleep deprived and addled."
Oh. It was almost as if she was calling him a potential burden.
"Maribelle, I'll be fine. Once our backup arrives, both of us can fall back and rest."
"I'm in far better shape than you, oaf."
"With how you tossed, turned and kept waking up in the middle of the night? Not by much. Besides, you're off–out of your mind if you think I'm leaving you by yourself to rest. We stick together and we rest when the main force arrives."
"We will continue this discussion later."
They would not. Nicola may have been passive more often than not when dealing with others, but he was also as stubborn as the earth he pretended to hold mastery over. That being said, all conversation between them ceased for the remainder of the trek. The final stretch of the trip to Nomos was made in grim silence. So much for keeping Maribelle calm then. A small part of Nicola hoped that Nomos would have been in better shape than the rest of Themis as a larger city compared to a settlement. Evidently that had been to its detriment as the city came into view.
It looked like someone had taken a page from Surtr's handbook then enlarged the scale. The smell of death and charred flesh was faint in the air, buried by the thick smell of wood smoke, ozone and brimstone. Most of the ground had been buried in layers upon layers of soot and ash, with small pockets of charred concrete where the wind pushed the ash aside. Burnings were burnt, charred or still burning across the city, but a small number were still wholly intact. Bridges and stonework had been melted or shattered and metalwork had been twisted into unrecognizable forms.
It was almost unsettling how much this reminded him of that dream, that dream and his old home: all that was missing were the holes neatly carved into the earth and tall structures and a lack of any intact structure.
He wasn't seething at the sight, not at all, he was seething at the perpetrators. His blood wasn't nearly boiling in his veins and he wasn't seeing red. His anger was far cooler and much more tempered, locked behind a glacially impassive wall held together by what looked to be a faint smile. Anyone with half a brain could tell it was fake—like most others it failed to reach his eyes, his eyes the color of molten metal.
"Nicola, could your Loki do something like this," Maribelle asked quietly, dismounting and dismissing her steed once she collected her parasol—it was better to be on foot in such uneven terrain, a lamed horse would do her no good. It was as if the full gravity of what had befallen her home had struck her as she looked over the gutted remains of her birthplace. She looked so small then, drawn in on herself as her gloved hands were balled into trembling fists. He couldn't blame her, he'd been the same way once before. Now such sights no longer drew any reaction from him, the ones responsible did.
"She could not. Loki's strength was nothing on this scale from what I experienced when fighting her. Her strength was in her cunning and remaining four steps ahead, even when on the back foot," he breathed, planting the smaller blade of Demna into the ash. The noblewoman nodded to herself and squeezed his free hand when he offered it. He realized then that she was trembling and that he had no words of encouragement to offer. Instead, he offered purpose where hers began to waver and collapse. "We need to get moving. The longer we wait here, the fewer people we can save."
"Right." She gave him an almost mechanical nod and he squeezed her hand in turn. They could both see the burning lights clashing with spears of light and azure spheres in the distance as arrows sailed and the faint clash of swords echoed from afar. The city was still alive and fighting back where it could, it just needed a bit of help. Help was something they could offer in spades.
If anyone in need of help remained in the first place.
Maribelle knew that Nicola was strong, she'd fought ruffians beside him and been dragged into his training with the Wing Commander enough times to know that for a fact. She also knew he held back the majority of his strength, though that knowledge came much more recently—after he lifted pieces of wood and stone easily twice his size from a trapped family of three. It had been a family of five, but Nicola told her that neither he nor she could save the others. From the way he prevented her from viewing the bodies, she could easily piece together why.
"Damn them," she cursed, balling her hands back into fists in impotent rage after they escorted yet another small group of refugees to her family's manse. "Why Themis? Why do this at all!?"
Nicola had no answer, instead he directed her attention towards the sounds of fighting. They were dying down and she didn't trust that it was simply from her people emerging victorious. He must have had the same thing in mind because he began moving towards the conflict, barely slow enough for Maribelle to keep up. At one point he'd offered to carry her, but she refused. Part of it had been from wanting to maintain her dignity as a noble, the other and much more focused part of herself noted that it would hinder her ability to cast spells. Nicola was fast and he did not run places when he had the choice, he hopped from structure to structure and point to point or propelled himself through the air as if it were solid.
He looked at home in the air, yet oddly vulnerable. It was as if something was missing from the way he carried himself but Maribelle couldn't quite pinpoint it.
"Get ready," the spearman called, flashing forward in a blur of grey and green as they rounded the side of a building. Beyond it was the first shift in scenery the noblewoman had seen since arriving home: carnage.
Crumpled and burnt bodies were scattered across the muddy looking and browning ash. Maribelle could make out the fallen forms of her countrymen and their assailants, when they weren't blackened beyond recognition, buried under jutting slabs of stone or turning into ash themselves. It was as if something had indiscriminately attacked the lot of them with fire and burning stone, not caring that they struck down ally and enemy alike. Another sign of near childish cruelty, but without the innocence of children. Children could at least try to not hurt their friends, unlike the ones who had perpetrated this. Pure malice was all it could be.
The Noblewoman frowned grimly as a fur clad figure rushed her, bloody axe gleaming in the grey light from on high. There were others as well, some hobbling to throw themselves in front of her, others rushing her. After all, she would be a prime target as the duke's daughter, an easy target with no sense of what was going on in her shocked state.
It was a pity that her shock had long passed and that she had a companion as livid as she.
The axeman barely took a third step when Nicola crashed down on him with the fury of a fallen star. A plume of ash erupted from his landing, obscuring the vision of all present as Maribelle fanned her parasol open.
"Kill the noble and the strag–ack!" One of her home's attackers called, only to cut out as a violet glow colored the cloud. Hardly a second passed before a thin blade of hardened ash erupted from the plume and met its mark. When the ashes settled and the ash blade disintegrated, Nicola stood—spear glowing a faint violet—between two corpses in the midst of a group of bandits.
It was some form of Earth magic, she'd gathered. Nicola told her that it was faster than him casting proper Earth spells, manipulating the ash in the area. For one, there was far more to work with, but that also played into the other reason: the overabundance of ash interfered with his spells. When he'd tried casting one spell as an example it took nearly half a minute before a proper slab of earth jutted from the ground, but a thin blade of ash took a quarter of the time in comparison. This wasn't the time or place to ask him where he'd learned to do such a thing, but she noted it for later. They'd have much to talk about once Nomos had been saved.
"Anyone else." Nicola drawled, tone as cold as the coming winter's bite. When the bandits chose to rush him and Maribelle still, he sighed. "Fools."
Nicola whirled into action as Maribelle closed her parasol and stepped forward. The spearman was a flurry of efficient death, carving through anyone who approached him like they were butter to an open flame. Maribelle was much slower, using her parasol like a rapier between firing bolts of pink lightning from its tip against the few that dared bare arms against her. The skirmish ended as quickly as it had began, with Nicola flicking blood off both tips of his spear while Maribelle checked on the survivors among her people.
"Lady Maribelle is that you," a lightly armored man propped upon a blade asked. The patterns adorning his chest plate told her that he was one of her father's men, but that was less important than the cauterized stump below his right knee. The noblewoman grimaced and nodded, causing the man to give a sigh of relief. "Thank Naga you're here, the people thought you were lost, caught up in the strike that hit Ylisstol."
"No such thing reached the capital," she spoke in turn, making a perplexed face. "I made my way homeward the moment I heard that we were under attack."
The man blinked. "B-but we heard that the capital was attacked in the same manner we were."
"From whom and when?" Her eyes narrowed. If such a thing had happened, the Shepherds and Pegasus Knights both would not have been en route to Nomos.
"A messenger proclaimed it to the duke two days ago, just hours before the sun turned white and our land was set aflame." His expression soured. "They were outside the manse's walls when it happened."
Dead then.
"Are you fine with being moved," Maribelle asked, changing the subject.
"I'd not make you carry me, milady."
"I wouldn't be. Nicola."
The spearman looked up from speaking to another one of her house's men. "We aren't going to be able to move them as easily as the others. Complex injuries all around."
"In what way?"
"Internal bleeding from the lady to my right, broken ribs from the man beside her and a severed spinal column from the man across from them," he reported, causing the woman to blink. He was able to perform acute medical diagnosis? "The woman to his right has a broken leg and the woman near her is blind. The remaining three are bruised and scraped."
She'd need to double check his diagnoses just in case and rather quickly. They could ill afford to leave such dire injuries untreated and attempting to treat them out here was asking for trouble to find them. Perhaps the mages they'd heard fighting could help out if any remained. They needed to find them and assess their conditions and, if any remained, hopefully one was capable of using wind magic well enough to ease the trip back to her ma–
"Milady, look out!"
Maribelle felt a push moments before her world was obscured by a choking cloud of ash. Heat washed over her back in sheets as something heavy impacted behind her. Her lungs filled with smoke and hot ash as she gasped and stumbled forward, only to feel an arm wrap around her waist and the ground disappear from beneath her feet. The noblewoman nearly shrieked, but found her voice gone as she felt something streak past her face.
Soon she was out of the smoke and realized she was airborne, Nicola having grabbed her and launched himself skyward. The reason why became clear as a bolt of molten lightning brushed across the spearman's back, destroying the supply-filled pack he carried, and hit the ground with a deafening crack, spewing another cloud of ash into the air. The dark haired ruffian's grip tightened to a near painful degree as he twisted through the air, narrowly avoiding several other bolts before he smashed through the wall of a damaged building back first. When he pulled her closer as he fell into a roll, Maribelle realized he'd been trying to shield her from the full brunt of the impact. Thankfully he succeeded, the worst the pink clad noblewoman experienced was a sense of disorientation and a hard landing as his grip loosened enough for her to spin from his grasp into a broken wall.
"Oaf, are you alright," she shouted once her voice returned, rushing to the fallen form of the spearman. He couldn't have been, both the bolt that struck him and the landing had clearly done a number on him as he struggled to stand.
"I'll... be fine," he gritted out, wobbling to his feet with his spear supporting him. Then his strength failed him and he fell to a knee as his weapon fell to the ground. Maribelle could see small arcs of orange lightning dancing over his form as the scent of burnt flesh mixed with the cloying smell of brimstone reached her.
"Let me–"
"I'll be fine, Maribelle," he snapped, halting the woman as she readied her parasol. He forced himself to stand again, hissing in the process. The noblewoman watched as his eyes took on a haunting azure tint—the same they'd been in the Exalt's audience chamber the day before—and steam rose from his back. Blue sparks burned small holes in his ruined shirt and vest as he stood up straight then took a shaky breath. "It's better you save your magic, worrying about me when you've others to save isn't worth your time."
Maribelle could only frown. Nicola had been far more stubborn than usual since they arrived, to a reckless degree when it came to himself. Perhaps he couldn't see it, but she recognized the signs of exhaustion in the way he moved and acted. Even one as unnaturally swift and strong as he could be tired, regardless of if he wanted to admit it or not. Despite that, he'd displayed capacity far beyond what he did when they'd gotten into scraps in the halidom's capital and had done everything in his power to save others. She would have found the selflessness admirable if she hadn't known he wasn't disregarding his own wellbeing in the process. There was only so much a person could do when they were exhausted and even less if they collapsed.
"Nicola, did my father's men..."
"The one who pushed you out of the way didn't make it, the spell meant for you struck him head on." He looked away, annoyance coloring his normally schooled expression. "As for the others, I can't say. The ones with severe injuries likely didn't make it either, but perhaps the less injured were able to make it to safety while the Bolting spells targeted us."
Their assailants had used– No, it made sense that siege magics would be used on attacks of this scale. How she—they—had been specifically targeted, she couldn't tell, the sky was far too overcast for any ordinary mage to launch such precise attacks.
"We need to keep on the move then," Maribelle breathed, passing Nicola his spear. "I'll send a signal my father's men will recognize as a call to regroup. Should any remain outside my family's manse, they should be able to find us."
"That may attract the magi targeting us. I would wait until we reach a more fortified point away from the manse to send that signal or send one telling them to find a fortified location themselves and shelter there."
"You believe they would try to strike us all down at once if we attempted to gather at the manse or the mage's college."
"We would be out in the open and it's clear they can target us rather easily despite visibility conditions. A mass of targets congregating to a single location would make their lives far easier."
The noble woman bit her lower lip. She didn't want to think that Nicola was correct, but endangering her people while trying to move them to safety wasn't something she wanted to do. Still leaving them left a terrible taste in her mouth. The look on the spearman's face told her he felt the same.
They had their work cut out for them then.
Nicola deflected a bolt of lightning as he charged a grey clad mage. The caster fumbled to hurl another his way, only to collapse like a puppet with their strings cut as he brought Demna's smaller blade across their throat.
"That's another one," he sighed, looking down at the fallen forms around him. This was the fourth ambush he and Maribelle had run into since they left what had been the ruins of an observatory. It was a rather disconcerting occurrence, considering they'd been moving as covertly as they could. Maribelle had purposefully coated herself in ash to detract from the bright pink her outfit had once been, turning it a mix of muddied pastel and brick red where it had once been vibrant and striking. Nicola no longer took to the air, instead choosing to stick to the noblewoman's side like a second shadow. And yet four times now, a group of mages and assorted warriors had rounded on them the moment they thought to take a rest or meet with any other people they'd found. Four times attacked and four times victorious, but not without cost.
Maribelle was flagging, though she tried her best to hide it. She wasn't built for back to back battles like the ones they'd been through, though she had better endurance than he'd given her credit for. Endurance or sheer stubborn willpower, there was a fine line and he couldn't tell which side the noblewoman stood on. He himself was still feeling the sting of the Bolting that grazed him, more than the impact of the wall he'd shattered. His back would send a jolt of pain through him on occasion, but he could mostly ignore it now. He'd forced himself to recover from the brunt of the injury, pushing back his disgust as he felt his skin ripple and scale over along his spine before melding back into mostly healed flesh. He didn't like doing that at all, it was one of the few things he knew that fully detracted from his humanity, but he'd needed to at the moment. He only hoped he wouldn't need to a second time.
"How are they managing to find us," Maribelle hissed, leaning on her now battered parasol. She'd had to use more than her spells recently and it showed in the blood and burnt fabric decorating it. "We can't be that obvious."
"We aren't, this is unnatural," Nicola breathed, taking a moment to flick the blood from Demna. The timing of each attack made it abundantly clear: the chances of four groups of assailants just happening upon them each time they did were impossibly low. The fact that each group had been immediately ready to engage rather than surprised at finding them made it even more apparent. "One ambush I could understand and possibly a second. A third and a fourth implies that we're being watched, but I can't pinpoint from where or how."
"Is it your enemy doing this?"
"I imagine she's involved, but this is also outside of her ability." To his knowledge at least. Loki had been able to vanish without a trace and always appeared at the worst time, but she never brought or took anyone with her when she did. That could have been part of some long running scheme to get her many enemies to underestimate her, but he doubted it at this point. Someone or something else had to be involved here and he couldn't figure out who or what. Nonetheless, he continued. "At the very least, some form of magic is involved. Something that either conceals their presence until they're upon us or something that warps them to our position instantaneously."
Maribelle grimaced, following behind the spearman once he began moving. As much as he was her shadow, she had to watch his back. For all that he was capable of taking care of himself, he tended to overextend himself and take more risks than necessary, doubly so against mages and warriors that wielded fire magic. He targeted them with extreme prejudice and force bordering on excessive as he combined his false earth magic with blistering spearmanship.
Despite that, he was holding himself back. When he told Maribelle that, she became cross with him until he elaborated: if he pushed himself any further, he risked losing control of himself and causing more harm than good. Considering how his aura felt when it washed over her in the audience chamber and each time they'd been ambushed, she was inclined to believe him to a degree. He omitted the part where protecting someone further reduced what he could do. It was one thing to disappear and reappear amidst enemies and sow chaos in their formation with sudden strikes. It was another to leave your partner open to attacks when doing so. He wouldn't allow himself to do that, not when Maribelle had proven to be a reliable companion and something bordering on a friend for all that they fought. That and her death would be crippling to the already low morale in Nomos, not to mention the effect it would have on Lissa and a number of the Shepherds.
Despite her abrasive demeanor and sharp tongue, she was well liked by her peers.
"Oaf, do you think we can do much more as we are," Maribelle asked after a long silence.
"There's still some good we can do, but..." His eyes narrowed and he readied his spear. "The frequency of these attacks is making that more and more difficult."
He heard the noblewoman give a ragged sigh as she brought her back to his. "How many?"
His eyes flickered green for a moment. "Six. Three on your side, three on mine."
"Of course." As if on cue, three swordsmen rounded on the duo from behind, rushing towards Maribelle as an axeman accompanied by a cloaked swordsman and a mage stepped out of the ash in front of Nicola. There was no time for words or banter, unlike when they'd encountered bandits and thieves, their ambushers tended to be well trained warriors or veterans. They weren't as strong as some of the legendary figures Nicola encountered on Zenith, but they weren't particularly weak either.
The axeman and cloaked swordsman approached Nicola cautiously. He couldn't see their faces, but he could tell they were sizing him up just as the first of other swordsmen reached Maribelle. He heard metal meet metal, but he didn't have the luxury of taking his eyes off his opponents to help her. He'd lose his head the instant he did.
The cloaked swordsman sprinted forward, their short blade gleaming unnaturally in the smoky air. Nicola's spear rose to meet the attack, but quickly changed its course as the axe wielder leapt at him—the large curved blade a much more immediate threat than the slimmer blade the swordsman held. He wasn't expecting the impact to be as jarring as it was, the axeman's strike nearly pushing him out of formation from Maribelle. He held back a snarl as he forced the axeman back, spinning to meet the swordsman on his side with the smaller of Demna's blades. The swordsman hopped back, narrowly avoiding the second speartip, then sprang forward into a vicious chop Nicola was forced to sidestep.
That was the moment the mage struck, firing a blade of wind at Maribelle's exposed back without hesitation. It was a wind mage, much to his disdain. Nicola cursed under his breath as he summoned a wall of ash to take the attack for the noblewoman. The work was slow, so much so that he barely had the wall formed in time, which left him open to a charge from the axeman as the swordsman attempted to flank him. He met the charge with a lunge then pivoted into a whirling sweep to catch the swordsman, but both foes skirted just out of his range before resuming their probing attacks.
They were looking for openings to capitalize on or make for their mage companion, the real deciding factor of the fight. Nicola needed to take them out, but rushing them was a surefire way to get Maribelle killed, as much as she could handle herself. One on five when their opponents wouldn't give him much breathing room was a bit much to ask of her, especially when she was flagging. It was why he needed to end things on his side quickly, to help her before her fatigue fully caught up with her. It was unfortunate that his earth spells were slower than conjuring structures from the ash and debris around them and that took more time than he would have liked as well. The fact that they hadn't been able to link up with any of Themis' protectors made things all the more irritating.
It wasn't that he had wanted to avoid them altogether, he just didn't think a band of more than five was a good idea when siege spells were being thrown around. Maribelle had agreed, but then the first ambush came and took that choice from them.
Another blade of wind flew, this one aimed at him. Nicola ducked beneath the attack only to be forced back as the two melee fighters pushed their way into his guard a beat later. He couldn't let them get behind him he thought as two mirages appeared to intercept the sword and axe wielders. They shattered as a third appeared, blocking a slantwise blade of wind with its body—Nicola could return and deflect a number of tangible spells with the right timing, but wind spells were beyond what he could handle. Still, that bought him enough time to focus on the axeman.
He closed the distance between himself and the axe wielder in a heartbeat, Demna taking on a violet hue as it snaked forward. The axeman met the blow with a swing of his axe, but Nicola pushed through the blow that left his arms shaking. With a shout, he whipped his spear around and carved a deep gash into his opponent's chest before being forced back by a hail of bolts of wind.
Sagittae. It was a spell Veronica used often when she wasn't pulling the air from people's lungs or toxifying the air they breathed. He'd need to–
A dull impact followed by sharp pain in his left shoulder blade sent those thoughts grinding to a halt. In the moment he brought his attention to the axeman, the swordsman managed to stab him with– Heat blossomed from the wound, followed by jagged pain as he ripped the poisoned dagger from his back and staggered, feeling his body grow sluggish before another wave of heat wracked his form. He barely managed to summon a mirage to finish off the axeman before his thoughts became addled and his vision split four ways.
There were four swordsmen and just as many mages, just as there were four of him. He felt himself sway and nearly fall, but he caught himself as the swordsmen became inky blurs that approached from all sides. Unfortunately for them, poison burned through his system quickly and made him angry.
Nicola's unfocused eyes sharpened as he lashed out with Demna, his vision clear. Once again, the swordsman leapt back, but not quickly enough this time. Nicola's spear snagged their cloak and tore it away, revealing a leather clad warrior with a greying complexion and numerous blades strapped to their body. Their eyes felt familiar to him, crimson in color with pure white pupils and gear-like teeth of the same color near the outer rings of their irises. He shook the feeling off as he heard Maribelle's battle grow more intense. He hoped he hadn't missed a turning point during the brief haze he'd been in.
The assassin sneered at the spearman as he rushed forward, dancing out of Demna's reach in tandem with four blades of wind from different directions. Nicola conjured as many mirages to intercept the spell then skipped back as the assassin flashed forward, unleashing a flurry of slashes with their unnatural looking sword. The spearman weaved between the strikes, but was forced to block a sudden kick from the swordsman as pain jolted through his spine. When they kicked off from Demna's shaft he realized he'd been had.
A fan of daggers fell upon the former summoner, forcing him away from Maribelle's back once more. Another blade of wind sailed her way and another mirage took the hit in her stead. He had to take the blade that immediately followed, half a beat behind the first. Searing heat cut across his collar and arms as he leapt in front of the attack, just to see the assassin hurl another dagger that caught him in his right shoulder. The debilitating haze from before tried to take him once more, but he beat it back as he felt the power he'd buried within himself scrabbling against the prison he'd buried it in. Normally he'd have been averse to that, not wanting to lose full control of himself or otherwise become what he feared. He didn't have that luxury at the moment, not if he was going to protect himself and keep Maribelle alive. The number of presences on her side had dropped to one, but he could feel the noblewoman's ragged breathing as her battle grew more frenetic behind him.
He wasn't a fan of running through borrowed time to save face, not when lives other than his own were at risk. He'd just need to rein himself in as best he could. He just needed to allow that power to well within him and burst.
The world slowed. Not because he'd gained mastery over time, but because his senses cleared. For a brief moment he was aware of everything around him. The pulse in his veins, the locations where the wind mage was gathering power, the number of attacks it would take for Maribelle's strength to fully fail her. The amount of ash in the ruined city. Then he tuned his senses, bringing them back to a level he could manage as a vortex of ash and deep blue energy whipped around him. He'd have control of this for seconds at best, then he'd have to force everything back or risk losing himself.
His first choice was to slay the assassin. He was upon them in an instant, launching an aerial lunge at them with Demna's larger blade. They managed to hop away from the attack and even block the first of the thrusts that followed. The second shattered their blade like glass and the third vaporized them as a torrent of burning ash and lightning erupted from the spearhead. Just in time for four volleys of Sagittae from different directions.
Four was a recurring number today, he mused, placing a hand on Maribelle's shoulder before vanishing with her. When they reappeared near the wind mage, the caster maintained their composure and rained dozens of smaller blades on the two of them. At least they tried to. The spell died on their lips as numerous tiny lacerations turned what remained of the spearman's shirt and vest into tattered scraps. Without a word, Nicola withdrew the smaller of his weapon's blades from the caster's chest. For all that they'd caused him trouble, he wasn't intentionally cruel.
All that remained at that point was the swordsman. No. His instincts screamed at him in an instant. He'd been seen. An attack was coming. Danger. The cacophony of information bombarding him nearly caused him to miss the hurtling mass of heat and death flying towards him and the Maribelle. He didn't have the time to fully escape the blast zone and both he and Maribelle would die if he tried to redirect the spell—not that he was remotely capable of deflecting a meteor in the first place. Instead he opted to get the noblewoman as far from the spell as he could before it touched down.
In the few seconds he had, Nicola grabbed Maribelle and vanished once more, reappearing more than a dozen meters away. He used himself to cover the noblewoman and began conjuring a dome of ash of them. It was the best he could do before the world flashed white, the earth rumbled violently and his consciousness cut to black.
Oh no. This will not do at all.
A/N: Writer's block is annoying. Kept getting caught up on small details and rewriting things because I didn't like them and still don't really like them, but I also have another chapter to get out. Life was also a thing, where some days it was hard to really find time to write beyond thinking about writing. That being said, this is finally done and I'll be working on the next chapter by the time this one is posted. I can't say it will be out by tomorrow or Monday, but soon.
In any case, if you like this story and want to find more stories by other authors for Fire Emblem and other fandoms alike(many more talented than myself by a decent margin), swing by the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (Code: 9XG3U7a). There are plenty of brilliant writers there and the community is pretty chill. There's also a Podcast on Spotify called the Fanfiction Treehouse Podcast and a YouTube channel by the same name (Fanfiction Treehouse) if either interests you. Regardless, stop by if if you want and I'll see you in the next chapter.