Indigo = my characters
Green = Tinuviel Nix's characters
Dark Blue = Morayne's characters
Shaking his head, Apollo could think of little he could do to aid his guard. Every village they had passed was vacant, and threats seemed to be unheard of. Even out in the unsheltered wilderness he could find no employment for his guard. Who would have thought an enemy would be so desired?
As the night became thick, the camp settled down to rest. The ground was chilled and hard, but the bodies far more weary. Eyes closed quickly as the soft breath of sleep enveloped all. A scattered patch-working of blankets, tents, and smoldering campfires was all that remained of an entire nation. The group huddled for the night in a natural hollow to shield the tired bodies from the night’s winds. As his people slept, the King struggled to remain awake. Patrolling the sleeping bodies with his most favored guard, he made certain all seemed at ease. Sleep would not come to him, not yet.
Leaving Aryu behind, Apollo decided he could at last lay down for the night. Joining his sleeping Queen in their tent, Apollo closed his eyes and gave in to the night’s whisper to sleep.
Not far away something had caught the scent of food and smoke. The loud baying of hounds was quickly silenced with a hissed whisper as soil was quickly kicked over the campfire. They had found them. Crouched around the fire, a group of men grew silent, signaling their scout to follow the scent of smoke and monitor the situation. The leader of the group of men quickly pulled a small scrap of paper from his sack and read what it said. Written in the flowing Ty’Mish scrawl were instructions for the group to follow, disguised as refugees in the large group, until they could get close enough to complete the true task.
The King was to be assassinated. Word traveled quickly when given a full year to settle in the minds of the enemy, and these men had survived in the Serrian wasteland waiting for the King to retreat from the safety of the Abbey so they could make their move. Cautiously, ever cautiously, the scout made his approach. Dark, soft cloth swaddled his body making every movement as silent as the earth would allow it. Snaking his way between the trees, soon he could see the first group of sleeping bodies. There was not even a single guard at this end he could see. Messy. Continuing his approach, the other men of the group also began following his tracks into the heart of the valley surrounding the unknowing people. Royal blood would be shed this night.
Aryu paced the camp, still restless and thirsty for blood. He had abandoned his great axe, preferring his short sword and spear for a long night of hunting rabbits and scaring any curious foxes in the area. Standing on the edge of the forest, he looked at the few people still awake at such a late hour. It was curious to him how even now men and women found each other’s companionship an escape. He was quite sure that Kuzoth’s population was well on its way to being rebuilt. Even as ugly as he was, he had done his share in aiding Kuzoth’s repopulation.
The subdued sighs and muffled moans brought one specific moment into recollection. In his mind’s eye, he no longer saw flesh peeking from between laces, but far more. Although both had more than their fair share of drink that night, it was still one to remember. Looking down at the ring, he felt that perhaps another child would be just what he needed.
Watching a woman shuffle to her bed, he noted another person wandering through the sleeping bodies. No… not wandering. This one moved with purpose. This one did not have the exhausted, shambling walk that the other civilians had. Standing to his feet with spear in hand, his eyes scanned the camp once more. One. Two. Three. There were three. Around the bend, concealed by trees, a camp dog growled low. A single yelp, and it was silenced. Assassins.
He let his spear fly at the closest intruder. Letting loose a roar of a battle cry in Ty’Mish, he rushed forward to meet the other two in battle. Finally, something to do.
The ripping of flesh as the spear’s metal point flew through the assassin’s body was the only sound the man made as he fell to the ground below, as his tongue had been cut in the Ty’Mish fashion to make him useless in an interrogation. It wasn’t until the body fell to the awakened people below that the reality of the situation became known to the camp.
Screams rang through the night air as people awoke and ran for the safety of the guards stationed around the king’s tent, unknowingly impeding the soldier’s progress to the assailants in their mad dash for safety.
Quickly the two men closed in on the soldier as their third member fell fatally wounded to the ground, the spear quivering from the flesh of his torso. Drawing darkened blades and taking a low stance, the swift men quickly tried to circle Aryu to keep him at a disadvantage. With his spear gone, the short sword would be their only danger, as they trusted their speed to give them time before the rest of the guard caught up with this singled out man.
Bursting into the tent, several of the soldiers seized Apollo and Tinuviel tightly and pulled them to their feet, signaling silence. His eyes were wide and his chest heaving, but Apollo managed to remain silent. Being led out into the mass of the civilians, two soldiers took their places in the tent to serve as decoys. Should the men make it through the guards who now raced through the crowd for the assailants, hopefully the tent deception would gain them time.
Whispering for Apollo and Tinuviel to cover themselves in poor clothing to disguise themselves among the crowd, Justice was at their side, silently holding out tattered wraps.
“Stay with the people. You have safety in the crowd. I cannot stay, as I stand out far too much. Please be careful.” Handing Tinuviel the precious dagger the young woman always kept, she hoped the girl would not have to use it, but she could not bare to leave her unarmed even with the soldiers all around. As soon as the dagger was in the girl’s hand, the young woman disappeared once more into the crowd.
Grasping her bow, she pushed and shoved her way through the rushing crowd to hop up onto a fallen tree. The log gave her a little height so she could see the chaos below. Unable to see the far end of the camp, it was unknown to her that Aryu fought the two men. Instead her eyes were trained on the war hounds which tore through the camp, leaping at people and tearing throats. With a steady hand, she managed to kill one of the four hounds with a well placed arrow.
As she remained stationary to aid in killing any enemies, the people were being led quickly down the road to escape the band of enemies. Many were trampled and left behind in the wake of chaos, their frail and weary minds unable to handle another heavy blow such as this. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, her stomach turned as her eyes found the first of the enemies.
A group of three burst from the roadside and rushed for the guards who rushed the people onward, and she was barely able to raise her bow before she saw blades pierce flesh and people begin to fall. It was going to be a massacre if someone did not make a stand.
No pauses, no holding back. The two men should be no problem for such a seasoned solider. Of course, his time off had made him slower than he had been, but that did not occur to the man. He was full of adrenaline and more importantly, arrogance.
Taking a fairly easy stance, he made a practice swing at one of the men to judge their speed. This would be over in no time
As Aryu lunged for one of the men, the other quickly took advantage of this moment to strike hard for the soldier’s back. The blade he held was small, but should it make contact, it was so sharp he would hardly feel the slice itself, but rather the pressure of impact. The man whom Aryu had attacked quickly leaped back as the one behind lunged forward. They were very fast.
Pulling Tinuviel through the crowd, Apollo kept the girl as close as possible. He had seen no sign of ranged attacks or magic from these assassins, so they where granted at least that safety. If it came to his life or hers, he was more than ready to give his own for his queen. The sounds of the attackers began to reach the inner areas of the crowd, and the first fallen civilian greeted Apollo’s gaze as he glanced backwards.
He looked in time to see a man swaddled in black fall, an arrow in his back and a guard quick upon his body. Thank the gods he had brought the men. He doubted he would be standing here if it was not for the brave men who willingly chose to defend him.
Seeing the three men quickly become one who was being downed by the guards even now, Justice raced back to the camp to help any people who had been left behind. The hounds could still be heard barking, but in the dark it was difficult to see them. Helping a few children who had fallen and remained on the ground crying, the woman sent them running for the main body of the group as she worked her way backwards. She had not seen Aryu.
Roaring once more, this time from surprise and a hint of pain, Aryu stepped back. There were only two of them. No time to be careless. They were fast. Too fast for the hulking soldier to take on with only his short sword. This was not like the massive battles he was used to. With only two enemies, he felt flustered, like trying to swat two mosquitoes that would just not stay still.
The wound on his back ached with every twist and turn. Aryu wished fervently that he had a shield. While I’m wishing, I may as well ask for my axe. Or for these cowards to just drop dead.
With another swing too heavy handed with no means of defense, he swung at one of his attackers' necks.
It was just like before. Every time the refugees seemed to find safety and peace, the enemy destroyed it. As Tinuviel was led among the mass of people fleeing for their lives, she wondered if the Kuzoth people would ever be at rest.
Her eyes swiveled in every direction, watching for any strikes that may near them. She held the dagger Justice had given her weakly, knowing that if it came down to it, her summons would be far more powerful than anything she could do with the dagger. Provided she had the time to cast them, that is.
As the soldier extended his arm for the blow to the man’s neck, his partner closed in quickly and lunged once more for the man, this time his side. Aryu did manage to make contact with the one, but the other was once more left free to assault him with a frenzy of swift attacks. Falling mostly headless to the ground, the first assassin breathed his last as the sound of an arrow flying through the air whistled through the din of panic. Catching the last attacker hard through the shoulder, he was slowed from the wound enough to perhaps give the lumbering soldier a chance to regain his upper hand in the fight.
Unable to go to the man’s side, Justice silently player her attack gave him more time as she fumbled for her next arrow. Empty.
Damn!
Quickly darting across the trampled earth, she searched anywhere for another arrow. The fallen where her fellow civilians and offered her no aid. Eyeing the distant assassin who had been slain by Aryu’s spear, she hoped the corpse was far enough away she could get the weapon without being noticed but close enough she could be of aid.
Closing the distance, she wrenched the spear from the still flesh of the dead man’s throat and with another silent prayer closed the distance between herself and the last attacker.
As Justice and Aryu found the last assassin, the group was trying to regain control of themselves. The guards circled the outer edges making certain everyone was contained in a tightly knit group and there where no stragglers. As the last of the young and weak caught up with the main body of the group, Apollo took his first full breath.
“Are you alright?” He asked Tinuviel, making certain to not use her name incase things where still not safe.
She nodded, adding, "I am fine, though I fear many of our comrades were not so fortunate..." She longed to help those who had fallen, but she understood the danger had not yet subsided, and they could not stop. Holding Apollo's hand tightly, she cast one final glance behind her, then walked on, her eyes facing forward. There was nothing she could do right now.
His body was warm. Even though he was now slashed to ribbons, he could feel nothing. Numb to the pain, he knew he had a firm grip on his sword even though he could no longer feel his fingers. His wounds were varied, ranging from thin cuts that burned with every drop of sweat that found their way in to deep puncture wounds that blood freely poured from. He was losing his strength quickly, but could not understand why.
The arrow had come from nowhere, but he was thankful to whoever shot it. Blood was somehow running through his eyes. He could only assume it was from one of the men he had killed, but he could not remember the spray.
Forcing his arm back, he swung at the man one last time. He could only lift his arm to the man’s shoulder, the same that still held the arrow. Feeling the flesh on his back and arm rip at the tension, Aryu made one last swing. The short sword stuck in the attacker’s flesh—so much so that he did not have the strength to remove it.
The soldier simply left the weapon, raising his fists even then knowing that he would not live unless someone finished off the other man. How had they done it? How could two little mosquitoes take down such a giant of a man?
Grimacing in pain as the short sword tore through his arm, the assassin visibly weakened. Trading hands with his sword, the man knew this was his last chance. Seeing the woman approaching quickly with a spear in hand and a look in her eye which spelled death, he raised his sword and with a ripping sound, punctured the man’s stomach. Forcing the blade as far into the man’s flesh as his own fading strength would allow, he let loose the blade and took a step back. It would be his last.
In a blinding instant his body was flooded with pain as the spear head burst through his body. White light flooded his field of vision, and then the world went dark. As the last man fell to the ground, Aryu was safe.
………..Wasn’t he…?
Justice’s eyes widened as she slowly realized the amount of blood the man had lost. When she saw the blade wedged deep within his stomach, she knew he would not have long. Falling to her knees, she could not even bring her voice to shout for help. Stunned, she could only stare up at the man before her.
“Aryu…?”
Aryu did not see the man’s death. He felt a moment of pain in his stomach, then nothing. Falling to his knees, blood spilled out of his stomach and then over his hands. He felt as though he was floating. Reaching out in an attempt to cling to his body, it seemed just out of his reach. To those around him, it seemed as though Aryu was reaching towards the sky. As his vision cleared, he saw a pale alabaster spirit standing over him.
So I was wrong.. there is an afterlife.
He spoke mostly in his native Ty’Mish, but a few words of Kuzoth spilled forth in his final words. He seemed frantic, as if what he was saying was of the most importance. [[Datrah, esta cordare prochello. Esta Justice… she… moray tanah. Give… ring.]] He struggled with the ring on his finger, unable to loosen it. [[Give… sarachino… an andona lilos. Panis lura gustis. Lura Justice.]]
With a final feeble attempt to pull the ring off, Aryu stopped moving. His eyes grew distant and cold. The soldier was gone.
Stillness.
Silence.
Where was his laughter?
Where was that smile?
Why was his body so still when he should be standing, laughing at how easy they were to fell?
Grasping his bloodied hand tightly in her own, Justice heard her name faintly against the white noise of her mind. He had been trying to take off the ring she had given him. Why?
The steel band was darkened with blood from deep within Aryu’s body, its glimmer gone. Shaking fingers touched the band, staining the white digits with the thickening ruby liquid.
It was still warm.
He was still warm…..wasn’t he?
The scent of wine and the warmth of his arms around her...they had been so drunk that night. His ring had caught the moonlight, and it made her smile. Now it caught nothing but the bitter truth of his death.
He was gone.
For all of her strength, Justice had not been prepared for this wound. As the life had left him she realized with a cold certainty she had lost what she had been looking for.
“I loved you, Aryu…..”
Cradling the soldier’s wounded body in her arms, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, cutting paths through the smeared blood. His blood.
It did not take long for word to reach the group that Aryu had fallen. The King refused to believe the whispers which flew through the crowd like a virus, and tearing away from the group, he ran for the distant bloodied figure laying beneath the stars and indifferent moon.
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