Chapter 14: Casca
The Battlefield, Somewhere in Midland
Guts looked down into the river as he felt the first drops of rain, heavy and large, on his back. He'd soon be feeling a lot more than that.
He straightened out his head, clutching Casca to him as they hit the water, the impact almost as powerful as any strike from a mace or hammer. He found himself disoriented for several panicked seconds before he scraped the bottom of the thankfully rather shallow river that they'd fallen into.
With all the strength he could summon, he reoriented himself, then swam up as best he could. All this damn armor between them did its best to drag them down, embrace them as Guts struggled for air, his vision beginning to tunnel…
Then, at last, he hit the shore of the river, pulling himself out with a gasping, hacking cough as he dragged the limp form of Casca up with him.
"Last time I go swimming in my armor…" Guts muttered to himself as he pulled his helmet off, shaking his head slightly to try and clear his waterlogged ears.
Then, he looked down at Casca, laying there on the bank. Passed out. Or worse…
He leaned over, putting an ear close to her face. No breathing he could feel. His heart began to beat a little faster as he began to take off her armor as well. 'Damn it. No!'
As he put aside her chestplate, he began to do something that Daniel had shown him just in case, hazy memories from washing in a river what felt like ages ago bubbling to the surface as he clasped one hand in a fist, placing them just between her breasts and pressing hard, a silent drumbeat in his head keeping time with the repetitions.
As he paused, he tilted her head to the side, draining a little water before starting again. Finally, he tilted her head back slightly, pinching her nose and taking a deep breath before forcing it down her throat.
Finally, she coughed, Guts tilting her head to the side again to keep whatever water came out from going back in. After a moment, he leaned close to her head. Her breaths were weak right now, but steadily growing stronger. She would make it. At least, she wouldn't be dying from drowning.
He took a cold, shuddering breath himself, a lance of white-hot pain going into his side as he looked down at it. Sure enough, there was a crossbow bolt buried in there.
He growled as he snapped off the haft of the bolt, tossing it into the water. "Damn whale knight," he muttered as it splashed, watching it float away. "He'll be fish food when I see him again."
He couldn't worry about the bolt head stuck in his side now. The army medics would deal with that when they made it back. Right now, they had worse problems to deal with, as he took off a gauntlet and laid his hand on Casca's forehead. She was burning up, even in the rain.
'This is bad.' Guts thought as he looked around. 'We can't stay out here. Otherwise, we won't have to worry about any enemy scout patrols.'
After a moment's searching, he found an overhanging tangle of old tree roots, almost a cave. It might not be completely dry, but at least it would be a step up from being in the open.
He dragged her into the cave as quickly as he could, going back and forth a few times to get their armor hidden as he kept an eye on his surroundings. Finally, at least out of the rain, Guts began to strip off armor and soaked clothes that would only make things worse for them, taking off his undershirt gently as he continued to feel the burning of the bolt head biting into his side before he began to bandage it.
As he worked, he looked down at Casca, dressed down now only to her leg armor and her undershirt. She still shivered, moving slightly. As good a sign as it was at the moment, she wouldn't last long in those soaked clothes.
Guts took a moment to weigh his options. 'People saw us fall over the side during the battle. If nothing else, it means that the enemy might want to try and retrieve our bodies. If that's so, I can't risk lighting a fire and signaling them here while we're defenseless…'
He sighed deeply as he came to the realization of what he had to do. 'If there were any other way…'
He silently got to work stripping the rest of Casca's clothing off, fervently hoping that she wouldn't wake up while he did so. 'What was she even thinking, going into battle like this? She might be good at her job, but this doesn't make any sense…'
As he finished sliding off her pants, he frowned as he felt something warm on his fingers, looking down to see blood on his fingers. The sight of it, clearly not his own, startled him. 'Damn! Did she get wounded?'
He looked down and found where the blood was coming from. A private, rather embarrassing talk with Daniel reminded him just why, exactly, blood was coming out of her womanhood. 'And she kept going into battle like this.'
He couldn't help but be somewhat impressed. 'Man. Must be rough sometimes, being a woman where she is.'
He grabbed his sword and got to the back of the small cave, setting aside his sword within easy reach and gently lifting Casca to his chest. Their bodies would warm each other, hopefully speeding up how quickly they got dry. Either way, it was going to be a long wait.
. . .
Back up the cliff, the battle had concluded, a decisive victory for the Midlandian forces as the Blue Whales carried their commander gracelessly off the field and the Tudor army retired back to where they had come from. But as much as the men celebrated under the cover of their tents at the news, Griffith and the other commanders grappled with a far more sobering truth.
"And it was just Guts and Casca?" Griffith said coolly, his voice sending a shiver among the officers that was all too independent of the chill weather. It was a shiver that Daniel, Anna, and Gaston by his side, shared.
"Yes, sir." a lieutenant, one of Casca's, replied somewhat hesitantly. "It's a high cliff that they went off of. However, with a river running at the bottom…"
"This is Guts we're talking about," Judeau said, his arms crossed and a reserved look of worry on his face. "They've both faced far worse threats. Whether or not they'd land safely at the bottom and get out of the river… that'd be a challenge, even for him."
"There's every chance that the enemy might be looking for them, or their corpses, anyway," Corkus said with a grimace. "If nothing else, it'd give them a bargaining chip if something went sideways like this again."
"Either way," Daniel interjected, "if we send out a search party, one or two people to get down the cliff quickly, we can retrieve them before the enemy might find them."
"And who would you be suggesting?" Griffith asked him.
Daniel was silent for a moment. "Frankly, sir…" he said slowly. "I want to go and find him. He's my son, after all. And Anna has a knack for woodland navigation, it seems. She'll be able to find the quickest path for us."
"Lord Griffith," General Laban said warningly, "we're on a tight schedule. As much as I would like to do what's being suggested, we can't afford to tip our hand to the garrison at Doldrey if the others are made to wait."
"It shouldn't be more than a day, General," Daniel said. "They can't have gone far from the riverbank."
"All this," one of the Capital Garrison commanders muttered, "for a pair of unit commanders who put themselves into this mess in the first place? Are we sure we aren't wasting our time here?"
"Look, sir," Corkus, of all people, began, pausing only as Judeau put a hand on his shoulder.
Laban looked at the man sternly. "That'll be enough, Lieutenant-Commander Alberin," he said before he looked back at Daniel.
"Would you need anyone else to go with you?" he asked. "At the very least, it would likely make your search a little easier."
Daniel was silent for a moment, looking to the floor as his hand went to the sword necklace that hung from his neck. Then, he shook his head. "No, sir. We'll need to be quick down and up the ravine. Too many other men would likely slow us down, much as they would like to help."
He paused, grimacing slightly. "Besides, as I said, we won't spend more than the rest of the day and the next morning searching. We'll be back and ready to march by early afternoon."
He hoped fervently that he'd be able to find Guts and Casca in that time. He had an idea of what their location looked like. Where it was to be found was another matter entirely.
Laban nodded. "Very well. I hope your search goes well, Sir Theisman. I would hate to see the young man I met so long ago meet his end like this."
Daniel smiled slightly as he nodded. "Thank you for your patience, General. We'll depart at once."
He and Anna wasted little time, even in the driving rain, preparing their armor and saddling up their horses, riding away from the camp back from whence they came towards what Daniel had noted looked like a decent way down to the bottom of the ravine.
As they rode, blankets and spare clothing riding with them, they came to the narrow, twisting path that led into the valley proper.
"So," Anna said after looking back to ensure that no one else followed them, "do you think they will converse as your… books say they will?"
Daniel shook his head. "Perhaps somewhat, but too much about both of them has changed to make anything certain. We stray off the beaten path of what I know. With another world merging into this one, my understanding is further thrown into chaos."
"And yet, so much remains the same." Anna mused as they made their way to the floor of the ravine, a bank on their side only wide enough to fit the horses lengthwise all that was given them as the wall of the valley stretched high above them, the river flowing away from them as they looked up to where they came from. "We have made minor differences, but seemingly little more."
"That's how it always starts," Daniel said, a knowing tone to his words as he tried, and failed, to find anything that looked like a suitable crossing across the likely somewhat swollen river. "Little things that cascade into world-defining events. And most worlds don't have a cabal of demigods with a hand on the loom of causality, plucking the strings here and there to weave their desired tapestry."
Daniel was silent for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "We'll need to make a crossing here. Are you sure your horse won't spook?"
"I believe I can keep it under control," Anna said only somewhat hesitantly. "Why?"
"Because I need to do something that might frighten it. Animals are far more sensitive to this sort of thing than humans are, and I'd hate for your mount to bolt with you on it."
"What about Shadowdanse?" Anna asked as she watched Daniel raise a gauntleted hand out across to the other bank.
"Shadowdanse isn't most animals," Daniel said, his brow furrowing as he constructed another Framework in his soul, fighting to keep the glowing sigil that branded his brow from revealing itself as a layer of clear crystal, glistening in the rain, grew over the back of his gauntlet.
From the ground before them, a similar layer of clear crystal reached out across the river, as wide as the horses, seeping over to the other side with an edge that flowed like the water it intersected. Anna's horse neighed and nickered at the sight, trying to skitter away for a few moments before she calmed it down again. Shadowdanse simply watched on as the wondrous sight occurred before his eyes.
Finally, it reached the other side, and Daniel let his hand drop as the crystal on the back of his hand faded, taking a deep breath as he felt the all too familiar byproduct of his powers, sitting heavy on his soul, having built up as he laid out his Expression, calculating the costs needed to make it work with the least amount of waste energy.
"What is that?" Anna asked softly, and Daniel could hear tones from all the commanding souls within Anaa'ri.
"Just simple quartz," Daniel replied, his tone equally simple as he gently urged Shadowdanse across the bridge. "Anything else is simply too ostentatious."
Anna followed after Daniel after a moment, the horses going slowly on the bridge even as somewhat slight ridging allowed the animals to keep their grip. Daniel looked back at Anna as she looked down, wondering in her eyes, at their road.
As they finished crossing the bridge, Anna regarded Daniel with a curious look in her eyes. "So, what magic is this? We've seen many different sorts in our travels."
"I'd hesitate to call it magic," Daniel replied. "It's… more of a science. The one that underpins all mystical arts regardless of their external trappings, tapping into the soul-stuff that makes up all of Reality. It is not without its byproducts. The greatest one is the waste generated by using the energy of the soul. Where I come from, it is called Flux. It is an… exhaustive force, antithetical to the Expressions of the soul's will."
Before Daniel could continue, there was a deep crash, the crackling of trees falling, slowly getting closer and closer. Then, a deep, guttural roar echoed out from beyond the treeline, a sound that sent a shiver through both of them.
"What could that be?" Anna asked, a hand going down to the hammer that was hanging at her side.
"Some animals are far more sensitive to magical effects than others. Whatever it is, it's extremely sensitive, terribly large… and likely not native to this world." Daniel looked up the river, towards where Guts and Casca were likely going to be. "Either way, I don't want to waste any more time, or any safety, standing here. Let's go."
. . .
"Whether or not you come along is your decision. You are free to make it as you wish now. Besides, you know how to fight already, don't you?"
The words, spoken so long ago and yet remembered so clearly, echoed in Casca's mind as she peeled her eyes open. She found herself in an utterly strange place, dark and laced with roots. They were… on the march, right?
She looked over, seeing, of all people, Guts, crouched at the entrance of what looked to be a little cave, his armor off and his helmet in his hand as he regarded her in front of the fading light of day. "Hey," he said nonchalantly.
Why was his armor being off so important? Then, she remembered. The battle. That bastard Adon. Everything fading as Guts finished saving her life…
"Where… are we?" she asked, mumbling slightly.
"We're in a cave by the river we were fighting on top of." Guts replied. "Took a hell of a tumble into it. If the river wasn't there…" he shrugged. "Well, we certainly wouldn't be talking about it."
It made sense, and Casca sighed quietly. "Damn. The others will be looking for us."
She began to rise, Guts putting out a hand. "Hey, give it a second. You still got a hell of a fever, and the rest of our clothing…"
She frowned as a blanket of leaves and ferns began to fall from her body. Her naked body.
Casca looked over at Guts with a level stare and a rising heat in her cheeks as the man narrowed his eyes at her. "Look, what else could I do in the pouring rain in enemy territory? I don't exactly want Griffith's second in command to freeze to death on my watch."
She considered the words for a moment, then threw a punch at his shoulder, striking what looked like a fairly prominent bruise.
"Ow!" Guts said as he stumbled back. "What the hell? Is that really any way to repay a guy for saving your life?"
He grabbed what looked like her undershirt, holding it and her leggings out to her. "Here. It should be dry by now."
She regarded the shirt for a moment, snatching it from his hands as she stood with no small amount of effort. "Turn," she said curtly.
She saw Guts roll his eyes even as he still did as he was told. "Look, I'm not gonna try and lord this over you, but I'm the one who dragged both our asses out of a river, in armor. And all the thanks I get is staring daggers and a punch?"
The man shook his head. "If Daniel hadn't taught me good on how to be respectful to women, I'd be close to knocking a soldier's jaw outta joint."
To women. Casca thought back to that arrogant fool Adon. "What an unnatural thing, a woman trying to play the role best given to men. Your strength is nothing compared to that of any true soldier. What use are you in battle, truly?"
His other words cut into her like a knife. "And to find yourself in such a high position… perhaps you snuck into that man Commander Griffith's tent?"
Was that really all it still took for people to dismiss her out of hand, even after all she'd proven otherwise? She would have simply ignored it if she weren't so utterly exhausted and strung out. She hated how often her emotions got the better of her when she was on the rag like this.
Guts was still talking even as tears began to well up in her eyes. "Hell, if it weren't for you and Anna, I'd write off women being soldiers entirely."
Guts finally stopped talking, looking over at her. "What?"
"Of all the things I've wanted to be," Casca gritted out, "just 'a woman' has been last on the list for a long time."
Guts grimaced as he sighed, stepping forward. "Look, I'm sorry…"
Now he was taking pity on her. Damn it, why couldn't he just treat her like he always had?
That spark of anger flared up, setting other pent-up emotions alight as she threw what she knew in her mind was a somewhat sloppy punch at Guts' face. The man caught it easily, even with the shock that was evident on his face.
Casca struggled onward anyway, trying to close the distance with the taller man and use her left. She felt like she was barely in control of her body at the moment though, only stumbling forward as he spun her around into a hold.
"Calm down, will ya?" Guts said as she continued to squirm. "You're going to kill yourself if you keep pushing too hard."
"Let go!" she yelled, incensed that Guts could consider this little thing 'pushing too hard'. Even still…
"Let…" she said weakly, and Guts finally obliged, catching her as she went to her knees.
"Hey," he said gently, a tone of voice that Casca had rarely heard from the man. "I told ya not to push too hard just yet. You need to get better first."
She stood, brushing Guts' hands off her as she walked back over to the cave, sitting down in the back with her knees to her chest. She could still see Guts walk over to the opening of the cave, sitting down and leaning against the lip of the cave. "Need a few more minutes?" he said after a long moment of silence.
"Shut up." she shot back, even as she sniffled. "Damn it. It's pathetic, really. Of all the people who had to save me, it had to be you…"
Guts frowned at the statement. Of course, he would. He had about as much idea of how she felt about him as she did herself.
Finally, he looked out at the world beyond. "So, I have to ask. Why'd you join the Band of the Falcon anyways? Like I said, you're a bit of an odd one out, compared to most women."
Casca leered at him. "Why should I tell you about that?"
Guts shrugged slightly. "Daniel's already told you my story, mostly anyway. I figure I might as well get to know yours. Balance things out a bit, I guess."
Casca stared at him somewhat in shock for a moment. "I mean, if you don't want to talk about it," he continued, "it's your business, not mine."
Casca sighed quietly. "Griffith. It's because of Griffith."
That seemed to get his attention. 'Well, I guess I'm committed now. No reason to not explain.'
"I grew up in the Duchy of Wallatoria, in one of the border towns between it and Kushan. A pretty poor place, nestled in a ravine kind of like this one. We didn't have much to offer but a few poor fields of subpar oats. Even still, the war bled our people's coffers dry. People went without food for days on end sometimes. It was a problem that often got solved over the winter when homes would lose entire families more often than not."
"Even still," she continued, "we had plenty of border skirmishes with the Kushan Empire. All we could do when they came was just… hide in the mountainside while we watched our homes and fields burn over and over again."
She shrugged. "It was like that for every other village in the duchy we knew about. I grew up accepting that it was just part of life to be robbed and trod upon. Just like everyone else in the village."
She paused for a moment, noting the somewhat pensive look on Guts' face and how… strangely right it seemed. "Then," she started again, "one day, while he was out surveying his holdings, our local lord saw me working the fields. I wasn't more than 12. The lord approached my parents with an offer to be one of his maids. As reluctant as my father was, he accepted the offer."
She shook her head slightly. "After all, it was just the sensible thing to do. My family had six children who hadn't somehow starved to death, and my leaving would lighten the load for my family. And who knew? Maybe if I gained this lord's favor, he might help our family in some way. It was a tempting offer in exchange for my father's youngest daughter."
"Then… on the way back to the castle…" Casca grimaced. "I don't even remember what I might have done. But it offended the lord I was riding in the carriage with. He got so angry. Stopped the carriage and took me outside to 'show me what sort of punishments an improper servant might expect'."
She went silent for a moment, the memories of being pinned to the ground by the seemingly massive man, utterly unsure of what was to come. But she'd thought it must have felt like what she'd seen happen to those women unlucky enough to be caught in the middle of the raids, carried off to parts unknown. "All that ran through my head to keep me sane were the ideas that this was normal for noblemen to do, and that I'd need to learn to not earn his ire again. But then…"
Her eyes gleamed for a moment as she remembered the man on the white horse, clad in gleaming armor and looking sternly at the noble, now seemingly so petty in comparison even as he quailed before a sword with a slight curve to its blade.
She still remembered the words that man had spoken as clearly as the day that he'd said them. "Does being born into nobility really mean that you are chosen by God, regardless of your actions?"
"Griffith." Guts said as she echoed the words to him. As Casca nodded, the man chuckled. "He would go on about destiny and status like that. Hell of a way to make a first impression on a girl you just met."
Casca snorted softly. "When you look like you stepped out of a painting on the wall of the village church, I guess it works. It was wondrous. Awe-inspiring. He was like an otherworldly thing, an angel sent down by God to protect me, having taken pity on a poor soul. That's how it seemed then, at least."
"But he didn't just give me a hand to reach out to." Casca continued as she remembered Griffith letting his sword drift away from the nobleman, flipping his grip on it and throwing it in front of her feet. The blade stuck straight up in the hard dirt of her home.
"If you have something to protect," Griffith had said, "then take up that sword and defend it."
She remembered seeing the nobleman, a man she hadn't even remembered the name of that day, unsheathing his side sword, looking like he was going to charge that man, try and pull that angel down and kill him in the mud of a land ill-suited for his glory. It was then she reacted, standing, pulling out the sword with all the might she could muster, and ramming it home into the man's back before pulling it back out. He'd fallen back on her then, only having the strength left to turn around and face her when he died. She'd seen the light going out of the man's eyes. So close…
"I don't know what came over me then. Whether I was defending the man who offered me salvation or taking revenge on the man who'd assaulted me. All I knew was that I had killed for the first time in my life."
She paused, looking at Guts intently. "What… what was it like, for you?" she asked hesitantly. Casca knew she was stepping into dangerous territory.
Guts' expression grew hard, and his eyes smoldered with an old anger. "Good. The bastard deserved it after what he'd done."
"Donovan?"
Casca would have never expected the shock, the outright fear, on Guts' face that he so clearly displayed as his head whipped around to her, his body tensing up with an almost violent shudder. "Where did you hear that name?" he asked, nearly growling the words at her.
She put up her hands. "Long ago, when you were recovering before joining the Band. You said the name in your delirium. Daniel said that you'd talk about it when you're ready."
Guts' face twisted into a sneer before he looked away, and it was silent save for the rushing of the river for what felt like an age. "He was a soldier in Gambino's band. The Thunderbolts. Think we've run into them a few times on the field since I was last with them. Big, dark-skinned man. Probably a criminal from some town that was too good for him. Gambino liked to get men from those sorts of situations."
This was odd for Guts, and Casca knew it. It was vanishingly rare for the utterly straightforward, simple man to deflect like he was doing right now. What did this man do to make Guts so… afraid?
"What… happened?" she asked slowly. She did not expect an answer.
Guts shrugged. "Donovan liked the way I looked. Decided to pay Gambino off and have a night with me to himself. Would have gotten all of what he wanted if Daniel hadn't stepped in and run him out."
It was such a quick description, almost void of the emotions that had painted the man's face only moments before. That truth did nothing to stave off the chill that gripped Casca's heart. It explained so much. How he'd avoided being touched by so many. How he'd steered clear of Pippin for the better part of a year after he'd joined. How he always seemed alert, vigilant, even well into the night on a march or on guard duty. "Guts… I'm… I'm sorry."
Guts shrugged again. "There's nothing you can really do about it now. Besides, like I said, we got him back a few nights after. He's dead. And that's all there is to it."
He regarded her for a moment. "Now, enough of all that bullshit. You were in the middle of something yourself. What happened after you killed that noble bastard?"
Casca thought back again, memories from long ago reappearing to dispel for a moment the horrors of the present. "I was so… afraid. I couldn't speak. I could barely move. Even with that man's blood dripping onto my fingers, the blade shaking in my grip, I wasn't going to let go of that sword."
She chuckled softly. "I don't remember how I ended up on my ass on the ground, but I still stared at that sword until Griffith put his hand on mine. Then he just… nodded slowly before wrapping me in a blanket. The fear that I felt didn't vanish, but my resignation and guilt faded into the warmth of that blanket."
It was silent for a moment before Guts frowned slightly. "As sure as I am that Griffith would do that, I doubt that he was just wandering around Wallatoria for no reason. Did you ever find out what he was doing?"
"He and the other Falcons were going around 'collecting war funds' from the nobles in the area. They just happened to be looting the nobleman's carriage for anything valuable. Truth be told, I thought they were just robbers at first."
She remembered the confusion in her heart as she watched Griffith, that angel, take back his sword and mount his horse again. "W… wait…" Why did she stumble forward after him?
Whatever her reason for it, Griffith looked over at her. And the question she asked…
"What should I do?"
Griffith's reply would never leave her memory.
"Do as you wish."
"Do as you wish," Casca repeated quietly. "How could I have ever known what I'd wish was this life?"
She paused and shook her head. "It still amazes me that I went up to him and asked to join them. Corkus gave me hell about it for a moment, but I couldn't go home. The mayor of that town would have punished me and my family, and my family would have resented me for being another mouth to feed again."
"So," Guts said quietly, "what did Griffith say?"
"You might die, you know," she recalled, speaking for Griffith to Guts. "But whether or not you come along is your decision. You are free to make it as you wish now. Besides, you know how to fight already, don't you?"
"And like that, my life changed," Casca said after a moment. "I went from a field where I needed to sow oats to one where I needed to spill blood. From a life of simply enduring and accepting to fighting for my success and the success of my Band. And ever since that day… it all almost feels like a long dream sometimes, being at Griffith's side."
She looked over at Guts, the light of a dying day casting his face into further shadow. "I know I'm… one of the more loyal people to Griffith. But back then, it was… more. I idolized him. The whole Band did. He was almost like a… prophet or a saint, leading a bunch of ragtag commoners with no royal backing into battle and winning time after time. But he wasn't something as distant as that. He was one of us. A common man."
"After a while, I proved myself enough to become Griffith's second in command. It took years of work, but it was all worth it to be so… seriously considered when I spoke to him."
Casca's smile, a slight thing that had grown as she spoke, faded. "That was a time before we threw in our lot fully with Midland. We were still free agents, as it were. We needed help. And it seemed we found just the man we needed."
Casca's smile fully vanished now as she continued. "His name was Lord Parnnasus LeMuer. He was the recently installed lord of the first province the Tudors captured. A wealthy man, by all accounts, and intimately involved with the nation's coffers. But there were other rumors about him. About his tastes."
She said the last word with a sneer, disgusted at how such a simple word could mean something so twisted. "His 'attendants' were all boys from the neighboring villages that he'd paid their families handsomely for. Children that met his needs in far too many different ways."
She saw Guts' fist clench, his jaw tightening as he realized what she was talking about. "He flaunted them when he held court. These poor children with their eyes vacant of every emotion except fear. I guess in this day and age it isn't unusual to see that, but it still sent a shiver down my spine, knowing I could have ended up like them."
"But Griffith kept you grounded then, I guess. Right?" Guts asked softly.
Casca nodded. "Every time he put a hand on my shoulder, I'd stop trembling in the man's presence. Not that we were there often, in between the little skirmishes we'd go out and engage in."
Casca looked out at the river. "There's one I remember particularly. Not for the battle itself, but for what happened after."
She paused for a few moments before continuing. "There was a boy who'd joined our band about half a year prior. He couldn't have been more than 10. I never managed to hear his name, and he never really stood out enough to be noticed. After the battle… there would have been no one to recognize the remains of this little soldier in training. No one except Griffith."
It was silent between them for a moment, Casca and Guts looking at each other as Casca remembered Guts' life. "Pippin found his belongings. He had this little doll of a knight. It was well-loved, I think. Scuffed, dirty, missing a leg."
She remembered and related what happened next. Griffith held the toy in his hand, looking down at it before regarding the boy. "A toy on the battlefield," he said softly.
Griffith smiled slightly, a rueful thing. "He must have greatly admired knights. Or at least, his vision of them."
"I remember him well." Griffith continued, surprising Casca. "He'd gaze at me in awe whenever he got the chance to see me. Like I was the hero of some great story."
Griffith kneeled in front of the boy, regarding the toy once again. "I wonder if he was happy," he said quietly, setting the toy on the boy's chest and placing a limp hand atop it. "Dreaming."
Griffith looked up into the light of a day that seemed to be fading along with what few still survived on this field of battle, joining the boy in his death. "Did he die enchanted by his dream? Or was this death the end of the dream? Was it the end of despair as well?"
Griffith was silent for a moment. "Perhaps this boy died for my dream instead of his."
"I had never seen him so somber after a battle like that before," Casca said quietly. "It was the first time, I think, that I stopped seeing him as a saint, and started seeing him as a man. Truly one of us."
The silent, wondering look in her eyes soon faded to hardness. "Then, one night while we were at the fortress…"
She walked the quiet streets next to the citadel, the night young as she mused on the previous day. Looking up at the massive building, she saw the strangest sight looking down from a high balcony. 'Griffith? What are you doing there?'
He was shirtless, and his hair flowed freely in a gentle breeze. What sort of business was he up to in there?
She began to call up to him but paused as another man came up beside him. Seemed to loom over Griffith comparatively. It was Lord LeMuer.
Guts looked over at her in utter shock. "What? Why? Why put himself through what I went through on purpose?"
Casca was silent for a moment, and she couldn't miss the conflict on Guts' face if she tried. "Come dawn that morning, I was walking past a small stream. It was a pretty private place. I guess that was why Griffith was there, washing himself off."
She began to recall not wanting to disturb him, even as he noticed her watching on.
"Why not join me?" he asked as she began to turn away. "It's nice here in the water."
She began to turn, slowly, bashfully. "Uh… I just…"
"Am I dirty?"
It was such a simple question. But the way he asked it, the way he looked down at himself…
She began to answer, to tell him that couldn't be true, but a fear flickered like a fuse in her chest, seemingly waiting to touch some gunpowder. "Why…" she began slowly. "Why were you with Lord LeMuer last night?"
Griffith was silent as he turned away from her, and she shook her head. "What am I thinking? It must have been a war council or something. Nobility has strange ways of doing things…"
"No. It's exactly what you first thought it was." Griffith said bitterly.
The words shocked Casca, and that fear found the powder it needed to ignite as she scowled. "Why? Why would you ever even
think of doing something like that with him?"
"It's simple, really. Money."
Casca's
brow creased in confusion as Griffith continued. "An armed force, simply by the merit of existing, consumes money at a frightening rate. Soldier's wages, maintenance on weapons and equipment, food and drink for men and horses, housing and camp followers, on and on and on, almost none of it given in charity."
Griffith shook his head. "And the costs will only grow alongside the Band of the Falcon. A growth that absolutely has to happen. For that, we need war funds."
Griffith looked off toward the castle. "I took interest in the treasury of Lord LeMuer. And he, it seemed, took an interest in me. Our desires coincided."
Casca hated how logical that was, and she shook her head. "Even still, aren't we doing well enough now? As long as we keep winning, the spoils of war will be able to fund us…"
"Such a method would simply waste too much time," Griffith interjected. "Not only that, every battle would waste the lives of my men."
She recalled the boy that Griffith had held vigil over only days ago. "Is this because of the boy?" she asked softly.
"No," Griffith said, a shred of his usual surety coloring his voice. "I've thought it out. It's all so logical. What is the lesser risk, Casca? To send a thousand men into battle after battle and see them killed in time, or seduce one old man?"
She watched Griffith's fingers turning into claws, gripping his skin tighter and tighter as he paused for a moment. "Casca, I do not feel responsible for the lives lost under my command to come to this point. They trusted my control of their lives. Their control of my life. They chose to fight and die for me."
The skin, stretched to its limits, finally rent, blood beginning to drip down his arms as his finger slowly dragged across his flesh. "But if, for their sakes, there is something I can do, then it will be to win. And I'll keep winning, to fulfill the dream they clung to with their blood."
Casca's eyes went wide. He wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't he? "Griffith, please!"
But he just kept going, hunching over himself as his blood hit the water. "My dream can only be built on corpses. Enemies, allies, it does not matter. I have neither regret nor remorse for that. But for thousands to depend on one so…
unclean… it won't come to me if that's the case…"
Finally, she could stand it no longer, charging into the water and almost tackling Griffith. "Stop it! Just… stop it!"
They stood there for long moments in the stream before Griffith slowly turned to face her. Whatever horror might have been on his face before was replaced with his usual look of calm assurance. "It's alright now. Thank you, Casca."
"That dream that he talked about," Casca said as they emerged from memories, "he persists in trying to bring to pass something that most write off as a childish fantasy. But his chase for that dream is so genuine and extraordinary… the burden of it must be immeasurable."
Guts was silent as Casca continued. "A strong person…" she mused. "It's such a simple way to sum Griffith up. But I think that to accomplish something so grand, he has to accomplish and endure so much more than anyone else with just any other dream."
She looked over at Guts, waiting for a response. "So," she said after a moment, "what is your dream? Do you have one?"
Guts frowned slightly. "That's…" he was silent for a heartbeat, then another. "I'm trying to figure that out myself."
"Well," she said quietly, "if he sacrifices so much for his dream… if he has to make himself strong enough to make his own path… I want to be by his side."
"I want to be his sword," she whispered.
Guts nodded, looking out at the river, thinking about the story she'd told, and that night that felt like it was so long ago, and yet also yesterday.
. . .
Daniel and Anna made their way up the bank of the river as best they could. Their progress, however, was slow, with tangled roots and stones forcing them to go around and weave through the treeline every once in a while.
Daniel looked back at Anaa'ri, watching them brush their hand past one tree, then another, a glowing green light flowing through their fingertips and disappearing into the tree.
"So, Rhia," he said after the tenth time she did this, "is relocating your people as simple as that?"
"Indeed," Rhia replied. "Transference is a quick process. They may not like the home that we drop them off in at first, but in time, this forest will flourish."
"Will it be big enough for all of your people?"
"Perhaps so," Rhia replied. She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Ulikam is hesitant to let them go, at least without verifying the security of the place, but to give our people a new home is of the utmost importance."
Again, that beast, what Daniel now pinned to be some massive bear, began to crash towards them, roaring as it came. The horses, even Shadowdanse, grew anxious, skittering forward as best they could.
Daniel urged Shadowdanse forward, Anna following his lead as the roaring grew quieter, then fell silent again.
Daniel paused and looked back at Anna. "Perhaps we should find somewhere that doesn't have bears that track you when doing that. I'd hate to see such an end to your people."
"It's fascinating, really," Nimira spoke now, even as the transfer of souls stopped. "It seems that this thing has some finite range to its sense for our powers, or it is perhaps like scent, attracted to stronger outpourings of power. If our vessel and people weren't in danger, along with our fellow soldiers, I might want to run some experiments."
"I'm sure there'll be time for that later," Daniel said with an unsure smile. "We're getting close. I can feel it."
His hand went to his necklace, and he followed the connection that it maintained.
. . .
"You know," Casca said, "it all changed when you and Daniel joined us. When he saw you."
Guts looked over at Casca again. "How do you reckon? I can take a guess, but I don't have your… perspective."
"Do you remember what Griffith said to you, on top of the hill?"
Guts' brow furrowed before he nodded slowly. "I want you," he finally said. The words were quiet, pensive.
"He's never said that to anyone else before. Not even me. And he hasn't said it to anyone since."
She shook her head. "You know, I envied you for that. Really, I hated you for a while. To get Griffith to say that to you so easily…"
She looked down. "I told myself he only wanted you for your strength. I couldn't see what he saw in you. But then, Daniel told me your story. And… I think I understand."
"What?" Guts was actively curious now, leaning forward.
"I think he sees in you something of himself. Something no one else could capture. Not even me. I don't know if he'd call you a friend, but… you're close. Closer than any of us, I think."
She looked back up at Guts, her usual stern look on her face. "And yet even with that, time and again, he risks his life for you. Risks his dream. You're more than just another soldier to him. Wh-"
Casca paused, then sighed as she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I guess you don't know why any more than I do."
Guts nodded. "Yeah. He's… distant. The moon in the sky we all walk under, hoping it doesn't set."
Casca looked back up with some surprise. "That's… well…"
Then, something coming closer, Guts putting up a staying hand to listen more carefully. The clatter and tramp of armored figures. Not many of them, but still enough to make things difficult for them. Peeking out, he saw three figures in the dying light. Then, he heard them speak.
"Come on, are you sure this is the place?" one said, wearing a helmet that looked almost bug-eyed.
"It'd have to be." his compatriot, a man in what amounted to little more than a leather mask with a skullcap replied. "Look, the battlefield's right up there."
"But they'd have to be dead by now, surely." the third, a man with a helm that had a blade-like ridge across his nose and cheeks said. "If the fall didn't kill them, the river did."
"Doesn't matter," Leatherface said with a shrug. "Lord Adon said he'd pay all of us handsomely for them, dead or alive. After all, they're command staff for the Band of the Falcon."
"He has a point, though," Bug-eye said. "Let's search more downstream. It probably carried them a decent way, armored or not."
With that, the three walked off, Guts waiting for them to pass completely out of sight before he snuck over to his armor, digging into a pouch and grabbing a small leather phial. He tossed it over to Casca before beginning to don his armor. "Here. Drink it for the fever. We'll get going once the sun's set."
They wasted little time donning their armor and checking their weapons, and soon, the day began to dim into night. With that, Guts and Casca set out, moving slowly and quietly in a zig-zagging path back toward a path that Guts had seen on their way to what had become the battlefield.
Casca crouched next to him as he scanned his surroundings, her brow gleaming with sweat. "Where did you learn to be this sneaky?" she whispered.
"Corkus decided to show me a few tricks a couple of days ago." Guts replied. "Cranky bastard sometimes, but he's smart, I'll give him that."
"Alright. But if there's only three guys looking for us…"
"That we know of." Guts interjected. "I doubt they'd call just three idiots 'all of us'."
Before they could move, however, they heard something else. The gentle clicking of hoofs on stones. Intermittent, but getting closer. "Horsemen." Guts whispered. "Behind this root. We'll go around them as they pass."
The sounds grew closer and closer. Then, the crack of a crossbow's cord, and the clatter of a hit on armor, filled the air for the briefest of seconds. Guts peeked his head out, and his eyes went wide.
Daniel and Anna were there, their horses mostly calm even as the man appeared from behind the tree he'd shot them from. Then others appeared. A lot of others. They were surrounded. They all were, a rapidly closing pocket that had an opening just behind Daniel and Anna.
"Daniel!" Guts said as he stood, hurrying over to him as he readied his sword. Casca followed after him, her own sword held in what looked to be an unsteady grip. The dying light of the day showed more and more people surrounding them as they came together.
"Are you alright?" Daniel asked as he readied his swordspear.
"Decent enough," Casca replied. "With you two on horseback, we've got a shot, at least."
Then, amidst the shuffling and clattering of men, a chuckle, growing into deep-bellied laughter, rose from the crowd as its source made its way to the front of the ranks. "There you two are!" the voice, familiar even as it struggled through a broken mouth, called out. "Alive and well. What a miracle!"
Adon, his face bandaged, leered at them with one eye, a wide grin that was missing more than a few teeth nearly seeming to split his face. "You're looking pretty lively yourself!" Guts replied.
"Bah! What impudence." Adon sneered. "I've had enough of you lowlives playing blindly at nobility. My honor as a knight of Tudor will allow it no longer!"
"You can try to take them," Daniel called out. "And that is all you can accomplish."
"Ah. You." Adon shook his head. "The vaunted Midnight Dragon. You must have fallen quite far from your station if rumors are to be believed, to hang about with these rabble-rousers, falling under the command of a child. Besides, do you really think you can stop nearly two hundred men?"
Adon again shook his head emphatically. "No, I believe we will be taking your commanders with us. The Coborlwitz torturers will have an excellent time plying their 'Hundred-Year Death' for the boy's impudence against his betters."
"Hundred years, huh?" Guts spat. "You hold a hell of a grudge, mister."
"Hardly! It is simply the right of a slighted nobleman. If you surrender quietly, the torture will be at least somewhat more tolerable than carrying you back to it without arms. Rest assured that your woman commander will not suffer the same fate. She will be of… eminent service to me and my retainers."
He said the last words with a hungry gleam in his eye, and Guts and Casca both scowled. Then, Guts grinned. "I'd be careful. She can be real snappy at times. With you idiots, she's more likely to bite than anything."
Casca shot a dirty glare at Guts, but his focus was on the now sputtering Adon. "You dare provoke me further? So be it! Take them! Kill the riders!"
With that, several men charged forward, and the four of them prepared to meet them, spreading out almost on instinct to give each other room to fight.
The first man died goring himself on Anna's lance, and two more men died to it before she dropped the weapon in favor of her hammer. Daniel's swordspear, largely unable to make wide swings in the close-in forest at his current level, jabbed precisely at the men before him, a man falling with only a few strikes each time. Casca used what leverage she could, turning the weight of the armor the men that came against her wore into an advantage as she sent them to the ground, her blade slipping into helmets or under armpits quickly after.
And Guts swept through branch and man alike with his greatsword, sending several men to the ground with each strike, their necks snapped underfoot or their heads severed in a slow, methodical fashion.
The fight seemed to hold the night back as they focused, and several men lay at their feet before those left alive scampered back, clutching at wounds or even missing hands as murmuring and muttering rose like cricket-sounds among the men.
"Come on! Fight!" Adon said, looking around with a sneer. "You know what I'm paying you all for!"
As the men around him continued to shuffle and hesitate, Adon scoffed. "Fine. Samson! Come and show these men what bravery looks like!"
From behind the lines of men, the clatter of armor grew as men either parted for whoever this Samson was or were shoved out of the way. Finally, the man, taller even than Adon, almost able to look Daniel in the eye on horseback, stopped by Adon's side. His armor was almost as gaudy as Adon's, his helmet stylized into a toothy fish and his armor molded to look almost like a massive turtle's. His shield was a round one, three blades sticking out above his hand, which held the haft for a massive morning star mace, its head almost as big as Guts'.
"Behold, the second-in-command of the Blue Whales, Samson!" Adon, seemingly a consummate showman even now, said with a sweep of his hand. "My younger brother, he is only second to me in skill! His armor has survived a landslide, and he along with it, without so much as a dent! His morning star, the Whirlpool's Demise, has left nothing but chunks of his enemies. Your fear of him is well justified."
Adon pointed at the group. "Go! Show them your power!"
Samson lumbered forward, the head of his morning star beginning to spin faster and faster as he breached the line of men. Tree branches split, and even the stones that lay within its reach did little to slow it down as he came unerringly towards Guts. "Out of the way!" the man shouted, the troops around him obliging without hesitation.
Daniel began to circle cautiously around the man, staying vigilant for whatever stray strikes might come at him from the now thoroughly attentive mercenaries that surrounded him. Guts simply readied his sword.
Finally, the morning star lashed out at Guts, the head a blur as it aimed squarely at his chest. Casca couldn't fully suppress the spike of fear that stabbed into her heart, watching something so inexorable as that come at the man who currently had her back. Why wasn't he moving?
At the last possible moment, Guts' sword moved, slamming into the head of the morning star and sending it flying away toward the ranks of men. Most of them dove to the ground to avoid the wild hunk of spiked metal. The one unlucky soul who didn't saw his head nearly taken off, falling to the ground dead.
Samson growled. "Damn you!" he shouted, swinging the morning star again and again, each swing redirected by Guts at the last moment. Finally, the fight paused, both men heaving for breath behind their helmets as their weapons dropped for a moment. Guts, seemingly without meaning to, let a hand drop to his side.
"Oh-ho!" Adon crowed. "You still haven't dealt with the bolt that you took to save that woman's life! It makes you weak."
Guts growled out a sigh. "Casca. You need to get going now."
"What?" Casca responded incredulously.
At that moment, Daniel surged forward, his swordspear aimed for the visor of the helmet that Samson wore. Samson, however worn out he was, still managed to bat away the strike with his shield, sweeping the blades at its end out at him. Daniel parried as best he could, Shadowdanse skittering away towards Guts and Casca as he tried again at the visor. The blade simply scratched the man's overly detailed helmet.
"I can't just leave you here," Casca said firmly.
"You won't." Daniel quickly dismounted, coming to Guts' side. "Get on. Shadowdanse will take you out of here quickly."
He looked over at Anna, a few more brave souls dead at her feet as they tried to come up behind the trio. "Anna! Escort Casca back to camp!"
Anna nodded, and Casca got on as quickly as she could. "Damn it, you'll die out here!" she said as Shadowdanse began to turn, her pulling on the reins seemingly doing nothing.
"They can try to make it happen." Guts said firmly. "But a sword needs to return to its sheath, doesn't it? Go. Go back to Griffith. I'll settle my little score with bright boy here."
As Casca finally turned away, Shadowdanse and Anna dashing through a weak part of the line of mercenaries that surrounded them, Guts shook his head. "Besides, I think I might be close. I just need a little more time to think," he said quietly.
"After them!" Adon shouted, several dozen men peeling off from the back lines to try and catch the horses in the dense forest. "They can't get far on horseback in this thicket!"
Samson roared as he took up his morning star, swinging it overhead to try and crush Guts' skull. Guts simply stepped back, the star smashing into the ground and throwing up specks of dirt.
Before Samson could extract the weapon, Guts dashed forward, Daniel dashing to the side as Guts planted a boot on the thick chain and turned his sword over, driving the point into one of the links as hard as he could. The link snapped, and the tug that Samson gave to try and free the weapon sent him stumbling back just as Daniel surged forward, aiming for the massive man's knees.
The shield came down barely in time to slow the strike, Guts lunging forward to try the man's other leg. If they could get him down to their level…
The man tossed away the haft of his morning star, drawing a side sword that was still almost as large as Guts' as his shield interposed itself once again, Guts' lunging stab clattering against the roundel.
Daniel moved to the side again, Guts trying to keep Samson busy as Daniel swept his sword out to clear away the skittish mercenaries before charging in to try and stab through the back of the man's knee.
He tried to block with his shield again, but Guts battered it out of the way, leaving him wide open for Daniel's blade to bite, and bite deep.
Samson bellowed in pain as he went to one knee, swinging his shield out to catch Daniel off guard, bashing him to the ground as Samson stabbed out at Guts.
Guts dodged back, and Samson overextended himself, falling forward with a mighty crash. 'Gotcha, you bastard!' Guts thought, a sense of triumph surging through his body and invigorating him.
Daniel scrambled to his feet, stamping down on a shield arm that was rising, and Guts saw the gap between helmet and chestplate, covered in mail though it might have been. "Tough armor, huh?" Guts said as he grabbed the helmet and the chain hood, yanking them off to reveal what looked like a younger version of Adon. "Let's see you shrug off this."
Guts shouted, his voice mingling with the scream of terror coming from Samson as he brought his sword down in a devastating chop, nearly bisecting the man's head.
"Samson!" Adon cried out, finally showing some emotion other than haughty pride or disdain. "Damn you both. Kill them! Whoever brings me their heads will get ten times what I promised!"
Finally, it seemed like the other soldiers that surrounded them were sufficiently motivated, Daniel coming back to Guts' side and wheeling around to watch his back.
"So," Daniel said as the soldiers began to move forward, slowly, but with gaining confidence, "how do you want to divvy them up?"
"I'd say… 100 for me, 50 for you, and we'll sort out whatever's left." Guts said absentmindedly.
Daniel scoffed. "Stealing glory from your old man. Downright disrespectful, you know."
Seemingly with that, the first wave charged them, and Guts and Daniel held their ground against the tide of steel and blood that crashed against their blades.
. . .
Casca found the ride forward, away from the fight that was no doubt going on right now, remarkably smooth. Far smoother than her and Guts' slow crawl around and over roots.
It made escape easy. It also, however, made pursuit equally easy.
She looked back again at the dozens of men after her, a few squads' worth from the looks of it, as they came after them. She looked down at Daniel's saddle and found a crossbow and a pouch of bolts ready to go. She wasted no time, her movements smooth and easy from years of practice as she lined up a shot, firing at the man in the lead.
Her aim was true, the bolt sticking in the man's neck and sending him tumbling, tripping up several of the soldiers behind him. It was nothing if not satisfying to watch the scene for a moment as Casca readied another bolt.
As they gained a little distance, she noticed that the ground that they were traveling across was a true path, as smooth a road as the roots that peeked out from the ground could give. Looking out towards where they rode, even in the darkness, she could see the tangle that had been slowing their progress just minutes before. And how it was melting away before them.
'How…' Casca looked up at Anna, and swore that she was glowing… green?
Then, mighty cracking and crashing tore down the trees before them, a shadow rearing up over them that had a strange, pale pattern on deep brown fur. There was a growl, and Casca looked up, and up, and up, at a head wider than her entire body, that of a bear's, roared at them.
Casca heard the other soldiers shouting in fright, a crossbow bolt pricking the beast's hide as she simply… stared at the thing, lumbering towards them all.
Then, Shadowdanse acted, the horse dashing to the side as Anna led her horse around the massive beast. It charged past them, into the terrified men who were pursuing them just seconds before.
"What the hell was that?" Casca asked as their path, now root-choked and rocky again, made the roars and the screams behind them more and more quiet as they pressed on.
"Daniel seemed to know a little about it." Anna's voice quavered only for a moment, and Casca didn't know if it was in relief or fear. "You might want to ask him when we get home."
There were other questions that Casca had whispering in the back of her mind. How did they manage to get that far that fast? What was Anna doing that made her glow? Where in God's name did that beast come from?
But those were for later. Right now, they needed to get Guts and Daniel all the help they could. 'Come on. Don't die. Not until we come back with the others.'
. . .
Guts' sword was dull now. It was having a damnably tough time cutting through much of anything now. It interrupted his concentration from time to time as he hacked through where he would have cleaved with ease, or wasted precious time pulling his sword from the bodies of men that he'd slain.
Regardless, it was still his sword, thick and strong enough that even those he didn't kill would die soon enough.
Time had lost all meaning to him here in this darkening grove of trees, the glint of steel and the shouts of men all that took up his vision and his hearing, action and reaction and the heat of blood mingling on his hands and under his feet.
But unlike the maelstrom that surrounded him, his mind was utterly calm. He looked forward to times like these, ones where it was so easy to just fall back on his training and have space to think deeply. He had so much to ponder anyway. 'Casca stakes so much on Griffith's dream. Do I do the same? Or am I hanging on to a different man's dream?'
He could almost feel Daniel behind him, a little to the side, the man's swordspear pinning a man to a tree as he now fought with sword and dagger, the mercenaries around them coming in crashing waves as his father watched his back. The words the man had said to Guts so long ago returned as he clobbered a man to the ground, running him through to have him join his compatriots in death. "After all, every blade has a different purpose. Even the same blade can have different uses."
His reverie was disturbed as he caught a glimpse of crossbowmen setting up behind the lines, many of them aiming squarely at Daniel's back. Without hesitation, he interposed himself, putting a hand to his visor to keep any stray shots from getting through. A few bolts clattered off his armor, but he realized his mistake, made in haste, as one bolt pierced through the leather glove that made up the underside of his gauntlet.
"Ha!" Adon crowed. "You won't be swinging that greatsword around so easily, will you now?"
Guts looked to the crossbowman closest to him, standing about two or three men deep beside a tree. It would be a risky charge. But if he got close enough…
He dashed forward, his sword coming back as he lunged forward. The tip of the blade struck true, embedding itself in the man's face as his compatriots tried in vain to wildly swing at him before he danced back.
He scanned the men around him for Adon, who still stood perched on top of the rock that allowed him to look over the charnel scene, raising his hand and crushing the relatively thin haft of the bolt, grinning as the man shied away slightly. He wasn't going to let being down a hand stop him from killing all these bastards around him.
Guts saw Adon look around as the latest wave of mercenaries abated, those survivors who weren't consigned to death already stumbling back. "Impossible. Two men cutting down almost 150 men to little more than half that number?"
Guts scoffed as he looked around himself, seeing Daniel now wielding both sword and swordspear in each hand. "Come on. There's still that many left? The sun's gonna come up before we're done killing you all."
"Enough of this!" Adon shouted. "They must be exhausted! Fall on them! Kill them without mercy or quarter!"
Finally, it seemed like the men finally got the idea, all coming at the two men that still, against all odds, stood against them. Guts' muscles ached and burned, and the wounds he'd gotten felt like hot irons were being stabbed into his skin. But his mind still churned. "What kind of blade am I gonna be? What kind of dream am I gonna have?'
Half-formed memories, distant things that he couldn't even call the foundation of a dream, came back to him as the slaughter began anew. They weren't much right now. Old promises. But they were a start.
. . .
Casca leaped from Shadowdanse as they came to a halt inside the camp of the Falcons, others gathering towards her and Anna as though they dragged much of the camp that they rode through with them.
Judeau, who was usually in charge of night watches, walked toward them quickly, several men behind him. "Casca! Anna! Where are the others?"
Casca looked around at the men that surrounded them, Falcons one and all. Would they be enough? "Guts and Daniel are fighting over a hundred men right now! We need to hurry back to them and save them while we still can!"
A gasp went up, and Judeau's eyes were wide as he walked over to Casca. "We'll get there as fast as we can. Right now, you're wounded. Get to-"
"We don't have time for that!" Casca said, marching past the others towards where a spare horse might be kept. "Anna and I can lead you back quickly."
She was quick in mounting up, every second the men that would follow them back spent doing the same feeling like an eternity. They'd allowed her to escape. He'd allowed her time to escape. She couldn't have that kind of debt, that guilt, hanging over her head after what they'd talked about. 'Come on…'
Finally, they were off, the miles once again melting away. Even still, she could see the light of day tinging all around her as they dove into the forest. The sun was rising. 'Please. Don't be too late…'
They slowed somewhat as they came to the carnage that massive bear thing must have wrought, men, or at least their parts, scattered and painted across the newly made grove of fallen trees like a demented artwork. They took the sight in for only a moment before Casca urged her horse on. They were close now…
Finally, as the sun began to break through the clouds and truly shine down on that grove, Casca crested a little hill to see the scene behind her writ large, bodies and weapons and limbs scattered across the ground like gory facsimiles of that broken doll that she'd reminisced about.
The men behind her paused, audible gasps filling the still air as Casca and Anna walked into the grove again, Judeau following behind them.
He shook his head in amazement at the scene. "What is this? A hundred bodies? A hundred and fifty? They surely couldn't have done this by themselves. Surely not…"
Casca largely ignored Judeau, scanning around for the one person she didn't want to see laying among the dead. Where… where… there!
Leaning against a tree, his armor dented and more than a few gaps having crossbow bolts protruding from it, was Guts, his sword point-first in the ground as it leaned against his body, his head bowed down. Sitting down and leaning against the same tree on Guts' left was Daniel, his greatcoat stained with blood and his armor in similarly worn condition. His swordspear rested in his lap, the blade lying on the corpse of one of the soldiers.
There they were. But they did not stir. The sight of it stoked fear in Casca's heart. "Guts!" she shouted as she strode over to him, lifting his head and pulling the helmet off it. His eyes were closed, and the fear grew greater, more insistent. "Guts! Wake up, damn it!"
She couldn't believe that, after all this, he was simply gone. She wouldn't. Why?
Before she could ponder that question, Guts slowly raised his head, putting a hand on Casca's shoulder. "Would…" he began weakly, a slight smile on his face. "Would you keep it down? I've got a hell of a headache, and the wounds aren't helping."
Casca heaved a sigh of relief as Guts looked away, down at Daniel. The smile vanished as he turned as best he could, going to a knee in front of the man. "Hey. Hey!" he said, his voice rough and he cleared his throat and spat out a glob of blood.
"Damn it, old man." Guts continued, putting a hand on Daniel's shoulder and shaking him slightly. "Falling asleep on the job. I thought you taught me better than that."
Casca could hear something in his voice, something utterly alien to her. A fear that went deeper than any other emotion that she'd ever seen Guts display.
Finally, though, Daniel stirred, a hand slowly rising to take off his helmet, revealing a face damp with sweat and eyes that were narrowed and tired. A small cut from what must have been an impact had blood running down the side of his face. "Oh, to hell with you," he grumbled with a slight grin as he focused on Guts and the others. "Waking up a man this early after a fight? I ought to… do something about it."
"Come on," Judeau said, his stern urgency nonetheless tinged with the same relief all others alive in that grove felt. "Let's get them back to camp."