A/N: Here's a chapter to go with recent events in the roleplay… I wrote this a couple of months ago, and I've been planning all this stuff since last year, but it's never been the right moment to do it. Or perhaps there's just never a right moment haha. Here it is, finally!
Caspian scowled as the faerie walking beside him kept talking, as if he couldn't stop himself. The faerie was still relatively new to the Hunt, having joined a little while before the battle with the Shadowhunters. How he'd survived it, Caspian had no idea.
They were on a patrol, and although he was loath to bring such an amateur and annoying faerie along, he didn't have a choice, when he couldn't find anyone else to replace him.
"You know, we should buy some mundane food sometime," the faerie continued on, before Caspian tuned him out again. Listening to him was pointless, and he ran a hand over his horse's – fittingly called Eculeus - neck. Resting a hand on the horse's back, he then jumped up to ride him with a practiced ease, hoping it would end the conversation, however the faerie kept talking, not taking the hint.
Muttering something under his breath about stupid faeries, Caspian glanced out at the trees, his fingers moving over the bumps on his staff, in a familiar habit. He could feel Eculeus's eagerness to gallop off into the wilderness, and it called out to a part of his own desire. However, he focused on keeping him calm, needing to finish the patrol before they could do anything so reckless.
He was about to open his mouth to tell the other faerie to shut up, before he froze when Eculeus flicked his ears anxiously, followed by the sound of a twig snapping, and everything seemed to happen at the same moment, before he could react. An arrow whistled through the air, but before it could hit him, Eculeus reared up, causing the arrow to miss him, although Caspian was thrown backwards instead. He landed on the ground roughly, jarring his shoulder, while he clipped his head on a rock. Oddly, he also felt a sharp tinge at the side of his neck, as if something small had bitten him as he fell, although he didn't pay it much thought. There was a loud cry of pain from the other Hunt faerie and he clutched at his leg, although Caspian didn't look closer to see the damage, gathering he'd been hit by the next arrow. He cursed under his breath. For the group to sneak up on them like that, they must have used magic to conceal their presence and their footsteps. "Go and get help," he ordered the faerie, hoping he'd at least make himself useful. If he'd had any wits about him, he'd have blown the horn he was meant to be carrying, but it wouldn't have surprised Caspian if he'd lost it in the chaos. And, even if he did go to get help himself, if his leg was injured then Caspian didn't doubt he'd be slow, and that any kind of back up would be a while away.
Reaching for his staff where it had fallen nearby, a sword swung at him before he could grab it, and he tried to roll away, bracing for the possible impact. However, Eculeus moved forward just in time for the sword to slice the horse's side instead. His fingers closed around his staff, and Caspian jumped up, growling low in his throat as he stared at his horse's side, the red sheen starting to show against his coat of black hair. He could feel it too through their bond, a constant throb at the back of his thoughts. Stay back, he ordered the horse with his mind, not wanting him to get injured any further. He could feel resistance and the eagerness for a fight through his bond, and he ordered it again, firmer this time, his thoughts urging the horse to obey.
Narrowing his eyes, Caspian lunged towards the faerie with the sword, blocking the faerie's sword thrust with one side of his staff, before bringing the other side around to slice the faerie's throat. The faerie dropped his sword, grasping at his throat as he fell to his knees.
Caspian didn't stop to watch, rage in his expression as he advanced forwards, gazing quickly at the surroundings as he looked for the archer, sizing up the group. He quickly counted four other faeries – not counting the one bleeding out on the ground – and judging from their dishevelled clothes and appearance, he guessed they must be rogue faeries, and likely factionless. They seemed to be a close-knit group, knowing how to fight with each other from experience. He blinked when some blood dripped down from his head wound, obstructing his vision, and he wiped it away quickly. His thoughts didn't feel fuzzy, and he was sure it was just a superficial injury.
Three of them advanced towards him, and he had to tear his gaze away from the archer – whom he considered one of the greatest threats - who stayed a little way back. They circled him quickly, although the length of his staff kept them at a slight distance. He watched them with a focus that he reserved for battles, his staff like an extension of his body. As each one lunged forward, he kept them at bay with his staff, deflecting their blows. They took more damage than he did, although one of them managed to slice his arm, which he was quick to ignore.
When one of the faeries stepped forward, he blocked the faerie's thrust, before swiping the blade across their legs, causing them to pull back, in pain. His eyes followed the other two, frowning slightly when one of them started to mutter a chant under his breath, and the other moved to defend him. Suspecting magic, he lunged forward, hoping to cut off his words, but the second faerie engaged with him in battle. It didn't take long before he knocked the faerie's sword out of their hand with a swift blow to their wrist with the end of his staff, before finishing them off with a vicious thrust of his blade into their chest, where their heart would be.
However, the other faerie had finished their spell too soon, and vines grew out of the ground, rising up to twist around him. Gritting his teeth, he cut at them with his blade, but more grew to replace them, wrapping around his staff and his waist. The vines squeezed his ribs, making it hurt to draw a breath, and his back smarted at the pressure. More vines crept up his body, curling around his mouth, even as he tried to jerk away. He was well aware that he was a sitting target for the archer, and his struggle grew more desperate and urgent.
While one of his arms was trapped, his hand without his staff was still free, and his fingers managed to curl around the hilt of a dagger sheathed at his side. Even as the vines curled over his eyes, he could still picture where the faerie who had cast the spell had been standing, and he threw the dagger, knowing at a cry of pain that it had found its target. The vines disintegrated as the faerie died, and Caspian ducked out of the way of an arrow, before lunging after the archer, now free to pursue her. Pulling out another knife, he threw it at her to stop her from unleashing her next arrow, before he grinned slowly, as he approached her. For archers, close range was never their strength. He finished her off with a quick thrust of his blade, leaving her bow discarded on the ground beside her.
Whipping around, he narrowed his eyes on the last faerie that remained alive – the one whose legs he had cut with his blade earlier. The faerie's eyes widened, as he tried to get away, although he was slow from this injury, and Caspian grabbed a hold of his shirt, holding a blade against his neck. "Why are you here? How many of you are there?" he demanded harshly.
When the faerie was silent, he tossed him to the ground, before bending down over him, his blade carving a cut into his abdomen. The faerie winced as blood welled, and there was a flicker of fear in his eyes, before it was gone. "Answer me," he hissed. "You might be dead either way, but I can make it a slow death, or a quick one. It's your decision. And trust me, it'll be slow and painful."
Grabbing a handful of the faerie's silvery hair, he banged his head into the ground, hard. When he still remained silent, Caspian drew a cut down the faerie's arm, not deep enough to allow him to bleed out quickly, but he made sure it was enough to hurt. "I said-" he began with a growl, before he was cut off in surprise when the faerie merely laughed, and something glinted between the faerie's teeth, which he bit down on, hard. Before Caspian could stop him, the faerie swallowed, and he started twitching violently and frothing at the mouth, before finally falling limp. It was some kind of faerie poison no doubt, and he pulled his hand back quickly in disgust.
Not having expected the faerie to kill himself, Caspian made a sound of annoyance, returning the dagger to his side. He'd wanted to find out more information. Straightening up, he glanced around the field, sighing at the mess. The faeries littered the ground, and he scanned the area carefully for any more threats, although he didn't find any other movement. Perhaps they'd find some more clues from their clothes or belongings, he hoped.
Walking over towards Eculeus quickly, there was worry in his eyes as he studied the cut on his side. It looked nasty, and not wanting it to get infected, or for him to lose too much blood, he was eager to get him to Leif or a medic for help. However, the horse's red eyes glowed darkly in pain, and he tossed his head in distress. Caspian approached him carefully, sending reassuring thoughts through their connection, his eyes never leaving him. Holding out his hand, he finally placed it against his neck, relieved when the horse didn't try to reach around and bite his hand.
"Come on," he muttered, leading him back through the trees, and wiping some blood away from his forehead again, with his hand. On his way he was quick to order some more faeries to form patrols, sending them to the border to keep an eye out for any trouble, although he doubted there would be any more attacks that day. "Let's get you looked at."