Battlefield
Matthias is beginning to have some serious doubts about Torleif's 'great' plan as he an Tino crawls at a snail's pace on all fours through the snow towards the enemy encampment two days after finding it. They are cloaked in white and with scarves covering the lower half of their faces to blend in better with their surroundings, much like the enemy scout they faced outside of Aeston.
From a distance it should be hard to notice them against the snow, and that is what they all are hoping for. If somebody does notice them, right in the middle of enemy territory like they are, they are as good as dead. They are on their own, too far away from any other rebels to hope for a rescue.
They move slowly, waiting for Torleif and his chosen men to create a distraction that can keep the king's soldiers' focus away from the two of them as they creep even closer. With the camp standing so far out in the open, their route to approach is long, slow and uncomfortable even after two days of planning to find the best way for their plan to work.
Their clothes were soaked through from the snow after only a few minutes of crawling, and getting worse the further they move. The northern wind is mercilessly biting at them, and turning their wet clothing to ice around them that crackles as they move.
Tino eventually slows down and halts his movement and waits for Matthias to come up beside him. "We can't get any closer without risking them seeing us," he whispers nervously as he readjust the white scarf over his face. His breath in combination with the freezing wind is turning to a layer of ice crystals gathered in his eyelashes and brows, making him blend in even more with the snow. "We should wait for Torleif and the others to make their move before we do anything else."
Matthias gives a confirming nod and gazes towards the camp, trying to ignore how the axe tangles up in is cloak every time he moves. It is not the most practical weapon for a stealth mission, but there is no way he would leave it behind. He can feel his heart racing as his nerves makes themselves known. The camp seems much larger and more intimidating this close than it had from a distance when the soldiers looked little more than ants ready to be squashed. He is beginning to think this is all a really bad idea.
Most of the soldiers on duty appear to be wearing heavy plate mail and have swords hanging on their belts. There are some marching back and forth between the tents, others are sitting around scattered cooking fires and eating while a few are practicing maneuvers against each other on the open areas between the tents. None of them seem like they have noticed anything.
Tino and Matthias are not all that interested in the soldiers for this particular mission beyond being discovered. Their interest lie in the large enclosure where they keep their horses instead.
From what Matthias can see from their position, there are only six guards keeping an eye on the simple fences they have set up to keep the animals contained. "Gods, I hope this plan will work," he whispers. "I'm not sure this is much safer than just rushing them in a surprise attack."
"Don't worry," Tino whispers back. "Torleif would never have asked us to do this if he didn't think we would make it." He shields his eyes against the bright glare of the snow in daylight. "So far it looks promising I would say. None of the horses are saddled and less than half of the soldiers are wearing full armor. They are not expecting anything to happen and can't have spotted any of our scouts in the past two days."
They go silent as they wait for several long minutes. Matthias only sighs on occasion and taps his fingers nervously against the snow. Waiting around his certainly not his strongest ability.
Then finally, something happens.
Tino is the first one to notice and gives Matthias a tap on the shoulder and points towards a few vague silhouettes in the distance to their left. Soon after they can hear the sound of marching feet and the figures become clearer. Some of them are on horseback, but most on foot.
"Here they come," Tino whispers excitedly. "Now we find out if this plan works or not."
The marching grows steadily louder as the entire rebel army lines up in the distance. They have stopped moving forward, but those on foot are stomping their feet and beating their weapons against their shields to make as much noise as they can.
One man, Torleif most likely, is on a horse just a short distance ahead of the others. He rides back and forth in front of the troops, raising his sword and earning a giant roar from the rebels.
It is definitely causing a reaction in the soldier camp.
People have begun yelling and are rushing about, barking out orders and grabbing weapons before running towards the edge of their camps, safe between the line of poles set up to protect them and the tents from just this scenario.
"So far so good," Tino whispers. "There are only two guards left to watch the horses what I can see. We should move now quick before they figure out they want to saddle up and send out riders of their own to meet the rebels head on." He stands up in a low crouch, carefully keeping his hood low to shield his face.
Matthias stands up as well and together they move forward, much faster than with their original approach as time is now of the essence. The guards are staring towards the troops lining up and certainly not taking any notice of the two rebels sneaking closer. Just like they planned for.
They come up to the line of protective poles and Tino notches and arrow, ready to fire at a moments notice. He gives a quick look at Matthias who reaches for his axe and gives him a sharp nod to ask if he is ready to move.
Matthias gives a quick one back, and then Tino lets go of the arrow.
It rushes silently through the air, striking its target and sending the guard down almost without a sound except for a surprised gasps and then there is no more breath left in his lungs.
Matthias makes a run for the second of the two soldiers guarding the horse enclosure, zigzagging between the sharpened poles.
The guard is still looking towards the gathering armies, completely unaware, and Matthias swings his axe, taking him down before he can utter a single sound of warning.
The horses grow nervous and e few of them begin tossing their heads and making sounds of unease. Luckily, their noise drowns out under the racket the rebels are making and does not draw any unwanted attention.
Tino runs to cut over the ropes keeping the gate shut and Matthias jumps the fence and pulls off his cloak, waiving it around like a banner to scare the horses towards the opening.
It is not effective at all, the horses too well trained for battle, even if a few of them are uneasy and only a few of them trot away from the sudden stranger in their enclosure and towards the opening, but it is not what they want.
"Hurry!" Tino hisses through clenched teeth as he glances back towards the soldiers still busy lining up. "Get them moving before the soldiers see us!"
Matthias curses quietly, and hoist his axe up on his back again, realizing that he needs a stronger method of persuasion. He coils up the cloak and whips it harshly against the rear end of the closest horse, and jumps back to get out of the way as the horse startles and kicks out towards him. He snaps the cloak again and the horse startles into a gallop away from him, scaring a few more horses into moving.
Tino moves along the fence, waiving his own cloak to scare more of the horses. Panic is beginning to spread among the herd and they make their escape towards the opening in the fence and there is no stopping them now. They tear through the camp, trampling everything in their path and there is a shout from the line of soldiers as the sudden noise catches their attention and they realize what is happening.
Matthias grabs a hold of the mane of one of the calmer horses at the back of the flock before they can all escape, and pulls himself up. "Its time to get out of here!" he yells after Tino, his voice barely audible over the stampede of hooves as the last of the horses make their way out of the enclosure. He turns his horse towards the fence, kicks it hard in the sides and clings on for dear life as it makes the jump.
The landing is hard and with the lack of a saddle and reigns he only barely manages to cling on and avoid a dive to the ground. He sees a group of soldiers that have broken ranks to come after them and he urges his horse forward again with his heels.
Luckily for them, the panicking herd moving towards the soldiers are blocking their way. They are however reaching for bows and arrows instead, and it will not take them long to line up a proper shot.
Tino is sprinting in the opposite direction of the encampment, and Matthias steers his horse towards him.
He rides just past Tino and pulls on the horse's mane to make it halt just long enough for Tino to catch up, and climb up behind him. Meanwhile he thanks all the Gods that Tino is much smaller and far more agile than him and manage to climb up without toppling them both in the process.
Then he kicks it in the side once more, and they set of in a gallop, ducking down as arrows whistle past them. Behind them, more soldiers are breaking their ranks to try and get a hold of the panicked animals before they can run through the lines of soldiers and try stopping them from escaping into the wilderness.
"Get us out of here!" Tino yells as he clings desperately to Matthias' tunic even though their horse is already tearing over the field and to safety.
This is exactly what the rebels were waiting for.
There is the sound of a trumpet and the army of rebels storm forwards with a thunderous roar. Torleif and the other riders taking the lead with drumming of hooves against the frozen ground and a cloud of snow whirling up behind them, ready to trample down anyone in their path. Behind them, the fighters on foot are running like mad men to catch up, just as eager to get a piece of the action.
The soldiers have no place to hide. They were prepared for the furious army that is rushing towards them, but the confusion with the horses have their lines in disarray. A few of the horses have stormed right into their lines of men, knocking over several and sending more scattering to get out of their path and avoid being trampled.
Matthias turns his horse towards the rebels and makes a wide arc to join in with their charge towards the camp. Matthias roars as he rides up besides Torleif, adrenaline pumping in his veins and wind whipping through his hair.
Tino has his bow out and is aiming it over Matthias' shoulder towards the lines of metal, plated soldiers ahead.
"Whatever happens, do not stop!" Torleif roars over the thunder of hooves and rush of wind. "To death and justice! For Freedom!"
"Freedom!"
The soldiers have managed to put together a halfway proper line of defense, even with the chaos erupting withing their own camp. The first line of defenders are crouching and all have spears at the ready, with the blunt end planted in the ground and with the sharp end, waiting for the rebels to come to them. The second line are archers, bows ready and just waiting for the order to shoot once the rebels are within range.
Tino is one step ahead of them, far more secure with the range of his bow than any others. He releases the first shot and one of the soldiers keels over with a cut off cry of pain.
A shower of arrows returns as the soldiers realize they are withing shooting range, darkening the sky above them.
Matthias ducks down, clutching around the neck of his horse not to lose balance.
The horse next to him is hit with an arrow to the leg and crashes to the ground. Its rider screams in panic as he tumbles over the animal's neck, landing in the snow with a sickening crash.
He forces himself to keep his eyes forward as more men and horses fall on either side, leaving gaps in their charge, but nobody slows down.
There is hardly any room for a horse and rider to make it past the line of sharpened poles that lie ahead. They all know that not everybody will make it past, and yet they keep going and the two forces crash into each other.
There are screams and clangs echoing through the air.
Several horses run directly into the poles, impaling themselves, and sending their riders flying through the air. The fist line of soldiers have waited for the assault, and they manage to fell more of them before the number of rebels finally become overwhelming and their defense faulters.
The rebels swing their swords wildly as they move forward, and the soldiers on the ground have little room to return the blows.
Torleif is among the first ones that manage to force his way through the first lines of soldiers, seemingly driven by pure determination alone and Matthias sees him disappear into the chaos. Matthias digs his heels in harder to urge his own horse forward faster. They have to break through as many lines of soldiers as they can to leave room for the rebels on foot coming after them.
They make it through the first line of spears, then the archers, but no further as their horse seems to disappear underneath them and Matthias flies over the horse's neck.
He hits the ground hard, but he knows he does not have the time to recover and stumbles back to his feet as he reaches for his axe. More horses storm by him on either side, he can just barely see Tino huddling down by the corpse of another horse to avoid getting hit, but he takes comfort in seeing him moving.
The air is full of whirling snow and dust alike, bodies litter the ground already. The riders have caused massive damage and now the first few men on foot are beginning to catch up. They flood the battlefield left behind in chaos after the stampede and they are hacking away at the soldiers and forcing their way forward.
The rebels keep pushing forward and making a wedge right in the middle of the soldier's lines, splitting their army in two and the constant flow of men arriving means they have the people to keep up with the rapidly growing front line.
The soldiers are desperately trying to back up to get some room to maneuver, but behind them are the ruined tents and scattered equipment after the horse's great escape, which is slowing their retreat and making them stumble over rubble.
Matthias takes his chance and sprints forward. Most of the riders seems to have stormed past and he is not at immediate risk of being trampled. He has his axe raised before him and swings it wide, catching a soldier unaware in the chaos. Tino is about half a step behind releasing arrow after arrow to keep Matthias from being overwhelmed and they make a deadly team moving forward.
They can finally glimpse Torleif further ahead where he and several others are trying to break through the line of soldiers and drive them back further. None of their horses are anywhere in sight and Matthias wonders if any of them has survived at all.
Matthias runs faster, and is just in time to block a sword from catching Torleif unaware.
Torleif whirls around in surprise as he earn a little breathing room, and the relief is clear on his face as he recognizes Matthias. "perfect timing, lad!" he yells over the noise . He has a cut across his forehead and his clothes are stained in blood, but he seems to be holding his own well enough. He whirls back around to bury his sword in another soldier with the scream of protesting steel and the soldier's armor caves under the force.
Matthias takes up a spot beside him, to help him hold the soldiers at bay. There are still more rebels joining them and flooding the field further. "This is going well so far," he yells and makes a swing of his own and taking down another soldier. "But aren't you afraid they might be able to surround us like this?" He drives the butt end of his axe into a soldier's stomach, sending him doubling over.
"Not if we surround them first!" Torleif yells back and swings his sword at the soldier Matthias just incapacitated. "I made Brynjar and Berwald in charge of one group each," he heaves for breath and keeps swinging as he roars. "They should be attacking one flank each right about now."
There is no telling whether or not that part of the attack has begun with the amount of noise around the, but a desperate scream to their side draws their attention. It sounds far more urgent than the other yells from battle they have heard so far. They turn swiftly see a group of their own men frantically backing away from something that is approaching from withing the soldier's ranks.
Torleif gives Matthias a quick glance, silently ordering him in that direction before their own frontline can collapse and Matthias runs.
"Stand your ground!" Matthias yells. He runs up between the rebels to show them he is not afraid. He swings his axe, meeting metal as a soldier blocks his blow and pushes him backwards. He makes another swing and this time, the solider is not quick enough. The axe buries itself in his neck.
The pace on this side of the battlefield seems to slow down somehow.
Matthias yanks his axe back, but there is no wall of soldiers waiting before him as his opponent fall. The rebels have back up, but so have the soldiers, making an opening between the fighters and they all seem to wait expectantly for something, and Matthias hesitates.
He keeps his axe at the ready as the soldiers step aside, creating a pathway in between them.
One man marches forward and Matthias' heart skips a few beats.
It is Lukas.
Subconsciously, Matthias always knew they would end up meeting on the battlefield. He just foolishly refused to think about it and pretend it was never a risk. He is regretting putting the thought at the very back of his mind now. Then he might feel a little less unprepared than he does now, staring directly at the soldier's commander.
Lukas looks deadly. His demeanor is nothing like Matthias has seen on him before. There is no trace of his normal calm or his teasing smile. His face is void of emotion and his eyes determined. There is one longsword in each of his hands, both of them dripping with blood. He stands shorter than most of the men under his command and is only wearing leather armor with a simple chest plate, but still he seems to evoke a fear in everyone around him. Even the men that is on his side and in full plate or chainmail keep their distance.
Lukas moves towards the rebels, with the confidence of a man that fears nothing.
Besides Matthias, one of the rebels are muttering a prayer, his eyes are wide in fear and his fingers tremble around the hilt of his weapon. The other rebels do not look much better. They are hesitant to step forward towards this one man.
Matthias is not one to back down. He remembers Lukas' words from that day on the cliff, but he refuses to believe that Lukas will casually murder him after spending so much time and effort in helping him. He steps forward, taking up a protective position in front of the rebels.
There is no visible reaction from Lukas. He does not seem surprised that Matthias challenges him in that way, nor does he seem nervous for what will transpire on this field. His face is purely blank. Then he raises his sword in attack position and moves into a run towards him.
Matthias barely manages to block the two incoming blows that come at him in rapid succession. Lukas is far stronger than his looks would indicate, and Matthias yelps in surprise as he almost looses the grip on his axe.
Lukas steps back and cocks his head to the side. He looks almost curious that his target did not fall over dead immediately and is still unscathed. He stalks around Matthias, analyzes his movement, searching for an opening. He looks like a wild animal stalking its prey.
Not wanting to wait for an attack, Matthias lashes out at Lukas, but he blocks it effortlessly and swipes back in retaliation.
One of his swords finds Matthias' arm and he yelps in pain. He lifts his axe just in time to block the next sword, but it hits with such a strength it knocks him backwards. His foot knocks against a rock and he stumbles to the ground.
The rebels finally seem to wake up as they see Matthias thrown to the ground. A few of them that were hesitant to attack finally jump back into action with furious cries.
Lukas dodges easily and gracefully dances away only to spin around to run his sword through one of them in the same fluid move. He steps back equally as graceful and holds up his two swords read to parry. It is a dance of steel and death, something that Lukas has it mastered perfectly.
"Get that damned commander!" somebody screams. "Take him down!"
The rebels flood around Lukas, but for some reason the soldiers only draw further away.
Matthias is still struggling to get off the ground and back into the combat and he can just sense that something is off. The air feels thicker somehow and hotter to a point where it is almost hard to breathe, which is strange with the winter wind howling angrily around them. He pushes himself up to his knees and then notices a red flare inn Lukas' eyes and a red mist curling around the tips of his fingers.
Matthias all of a sudden realizes why the soldiers are so eager to stay back.
"Get away from him!" Matthias yells at the rebels, but his voice is hoarse, and nobody seems to notice over the din of battle. He scrambles harder to get up, but his legs are slow to react.
There is a loud crack, like a whip or a clap of thunder, and three men flies backwards as if struck by a massive force. There is nothing to explain it. The only thing they can all see, is the commander that just made a swipe in the empty air.
It must make no sense to most of the rebels, but Matthias just knows there was magic involved. He reaches for his axe, happy to fid it just within reach. He pushes himself to his feet, knowing that they need to knock down Lukas before he can do the same thing again.
He never makes it more than three steps forward and he sees Lukas make another sharp movement with his arm.
Matthias flies backwards, moved by some unseen force and can see nothing but a bright red light. The temperature is unbearable and time appears to stand still.
Then he crashes into something and everything goes black.
When Matthias comes to, his head is throbbing horribly. The air is dense ad warm around him, with the sharp sting of burning flesh that makes his stomach roll inn protest. He cannot have been out for long as he can hear the battle still going on around him. There is a horrible mix of metal clashing, thuds of impact and screaming, so much screaming. It makes him feel as if his scull is about to crack open an spill its contents all over the ground.
He tries opening his eyes, but fids the light to sharp and blinding, making him shut them again immediately. The sudden whirl of colors does not help his rebelling stomach and he wants little more than to just clench his eyes shut and go to sleep.
He knows he cannot keep lying around on the ground if there is still active combat, but every movement is a struggle. His entire body aches and he wonders if he broke any bones in the crash, but he cannot tell unless he tries moving. He can feel the cut across his arm sting, but it becomes a mere afterthought as a sharper, more insistent pain makes itself known.
His chest feels like it is burning, and it only gets stronger as the seconds pass. He heaves himself up to sit, clawing at his chest, but finds nothing that could cause the pain.
His skin feels like it is on fire.
He tears away his scarf and pulls down his outer coat and shirt to find skin and figure out what the hell is wrong. His fingers clutch around a small item on a chain. His fingers burns at the touch and he instinctively tears at the chain until it snaps and throws it to the side.
The burning on his chest fades and he finally manages to force his eyes open. It takes several seconds of blinking before the world turns from a blurry mess of colors to something distinguishable.
He looks down at his hand that he used to throw away the burning item and realizes it has turned bright red and stings as if he accidentally touched a hot stove. He uses his other hand to touch the skin on his chest and find it warm and sore to the touch as well. He imagines it must be red as well, showing clear signs of burns.
He looks down at himself to make sure he has no other injuries. His clothes are no longer white. They are red from several different blood spatters and black with soot. One of his sleeves appear to have burned off entirely, but strangely enough, the arm underneath is completely unscathed.
The ground around him is bare for several meters in each direction. The thin layer of snow is gone. Melted most likely as the ground underneath looks burned. Then there are the bodies, littering the ground. Some of them are little more than blackened bones, those are the ones easiest to look at as he cannot recognize the people they belonged to. Others look like they suffered horribly before they dies with the burns that have reduced their clothes to shreds and turned their skin to open sores.
Those were apparently the lucky ones. At the edges of the blacked scar in the ground lies those that survived the attack. They are howling in agony from their injuries. The clashing of steel is not enough to drown out the sounds of their suffering.
Matthias is the only survivor in the center of destruction. He feels so confused. There is no way he should survive when all the others are dead, but then he remembers the crystal he just hurled aside in a frenzy. This must have been what Lukas meant when he said the garnet offered protection against magic.
He forces himself up, ignoring the protest of his body and the throbbing of his head. He does not get further up than his hands and knees, but he desperately wants to find the crystal again. It feels too important to leave behind on the battle field. It lies on the ground only a few meters away, appearing almost glowing, with a deep blood-red color.
Matthias is hesitant to pick it up after how badly it burned his skin before, but it seems cool to the touch now, and he puts in in his pocket for later.
The sounds of battles draws his attention once more, he has no idea what happened after he got hit by the red light. There are far fewer people fighting than before, the combat appears to be winding down. The flanking forces must have arrived while he was unconscious and the rebels appear to be winning.
He can see Berwald wielding a great sword, keeping the soldiers well at bay. Tino has his bow slung on his back as he swings around with a sword of his own. Matthias feels a jolt of relief seeing both of them alive and still fighting. Their clothing is bloodstained, but they appear to move just fine, without any major injuries.
Matthias finally pushes himself up fully and stumbles towards his two friends.
Tino is the first one to notice him and his mouth drops in disbelief. "Matthias!" he yells. Then he has to duck and slash out to finish of one of the last soldiers in his path. He takes a quick look around to make sure the rebels have control and then he sprints for Matthias. "We thought you were dead for sure," he yells hysterical and clutches Matthias' arms as if to make sure he is real. "Nobody should have survived that fire." He gestures towards the blackened path from where Matthias came.
"I can't explain it," Matthias lies. His own voice comes out hoarse and weak.
Tino pulls him away from the scorched path. "I don't care," Tino says, squeezing his arms harder. "I'm just glad to see you."
The fighting seems to be under control. The rebels have circled in the last few soldiers, blocking off any route of escape and disposing them one after another.
Tino bullies his way through most of the crowd, puling Matthias along with him until they can see what is going on. Matthias almost moves forward on pure instinct alone, but Tino holds him back.
Right in the middle is Lukas, still swinging his two blades in a flurry.
Matthias does not know hos to feel about it at all, except complicated.
The battle has left some marks on Lukas. There are scratches and dents on his chest plate along with mud and gore. One of his sleeves are slashed and discolored with blood and his hair is clinging to his forehead. Their eyes meet. Just for an instant, but it is enough to make Matthias' stomach flip. The eyes that meet his are cold and empty.
Lukas hacks down two rebels that were coming for him with an inhuman roar. The rebels are hesitant to storm towards him. Many of them have already fallen for his sword or by his flares of magic. Even Torleif is keeping his distance. Instead he focuses on taking down the last few soldiers that have decided to give in and end their lives quickly now that victory is apparent.
Tino is not one to hesitate. He reaches for his bow and the last few arrows in his quiver and fires off a shot before Matthias can do anything to stop him.
Lukas moves quickly, but he is not fast enough.
The arrow strikes him the shoulder and Tino fires off another one immediately after, hitting him in the thigh. He drops to one knee as the injured leg gives out under him.
The rebels are still keeping their distance. Tino steps forward with another arrow resting on the string and getting ready to make the killing shot.
"Wait," Matthias whispers. "Don't kill him."
Tino looks back just long enough for Matthias to see fury flashing in his eyes. "He showed none of us mercy," he argues angrily. "Why the hell he should get any from us!"
"It is not for the sake of mercy," Matthias says weakly. "He could have information." He hopes his reasoning is good enough. It could buy him enough time to figure out a compelling enough argument for Torleif and Brynjar to keep him alive. He really does not want Lukas to die.
Out on the little circle between the rebels, Torleif takes charge and steps forward. His face is red from anger and his hands are shaking as he rest his blade against Lukas' throat.
Lukas appears to take the situation with devastating calm. He barely even blinks as he lets his sword drop to the ground and lift his hand in surrender, not at all seeming worried about the threat of immediate death should he make a wrong move.
It is hard to tell from a distance, but they appear to exchange a few words. It is too quiet for anyone to hear, but whatever it is, Torleif does not like it. "Chain that damned thing up in one of the tents!" Torleif snarls. "Make sure to keep him under constant guard."
Brynjar is quick to step forward, looking all too happy as he tosses a spear from hand to hand. He steps right up to Lukas who does nothing but stare back at him with a bored expression. Brynjar bares his teeth and makes a wide swing with his spear, whacking the blunt end of it against Lukas head to send him crashing to the ground, unconscious.
Torleif steps out in the middle of the cleared circle to address the rebels. They have just defeated their final enemy. The fight is over and they just won. "We stand victorious!" Torleif yells. His voice is firm, but it is obvious his short conversation with Lukas has him feeling unsettled. The rebels do not seem to notice his unease however, and they cheer loudly in response. Their voices echo across the tundra in a deafening roar.
"Our enemies have fallen and we have their commander captured!"
Another cheer.
"We will interrogate him and when we have given our people the prober funeral that they deserve we will execute him. He will pay for what he and his men have done, for the lives they have destroyed!"
There is more cheering and a few demands to just kill him immediately and have it over with.
Matthias feels dizzy again and the only thing keeping him upright is the death grip he has on Tino's arm as his visions grows blurry and dark around the edges. He thinks he might get sick at any moment and it does not get better as he watches Brynjar and another rebel drag a bloodied and beaten Lukas away to one of the tents that are still standing.
Torleif is still talking, but Matthias cannot seem to pay it any attention.
"Are you okay?" Tino asks as he turns around and notices Matthias' struggles.
The earlier anger on his face quickly gives way to worry. There is the sound of arrows clattering on the ground and Matthias realizes he must look even worse than he feels to make Tino drop his quiver. Then there is an arm slung around his back and Tino hoists him up best as he can. "We better get you to Eir, right now." Even the words are beginning to blur together. "There is no telling what that magic did to you."
Matthias almost laughs at those words. If it was only magic that caused him to feel like this, it might be easier. Then he would not have to explain how conflicted he feels. He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Tino that he is fine, but the words that leave him makes no sense.
It seems that far, far away he can hear Tino's voice, frantically calling for help and then everything goes black once more.