by D N Meinster
From behind the flames, a bronze disk broke through, spinning through the air and bringing with it the smoke and heat from which it had been exposed. It missed its owner by inches, smacking into the hand of his second captor before falling to Doren's feet.
Slythe let go of the rope and grabbed his injured hand. By the time he realized what he'd done, Doren had rolled away, the shield now tucked between his knees.
The hot metal burned through his bindings. They frayed just enough so Doren could pull them apart with his own strength.
Pieces of rope remained on his body, but they no longer restrained him. His limbs were free, and regardless of how hot the bronze remained, he held onto his shield and prepared for combat.
Slythe folded his arms, and Doren wondered if he would even have to engage him. But from behind, Doren heard someone coming. He ducked just when the metal ball would've struck the side of his head.
M'dalla's flail was no longer on fire, but it gave off plumes of smoke as she swung it wildly at Doren.
Doren skipped back to avoid a few hits, and then let his shield absorb a few more.
When she paused her attack, she did a cursory examination of his weapon. "Not a single dent," she remarked. And her eyes lit up, as if she knew exactly the type of shield he was carrying.
Doren slapped his shield into the metal ball, and for a few seconds, M'dalla lost control of her flail. It was enough time for Doren to slam the bronze disk into the side of her head. She went down and made little attempt of getting back on her feet.
"Very well then," Slythe said. A velizard ran between them, and when it was gone, Slythe was charging with both blades in his hands.
Doren spun out of Slythe's way, but the Roamer swung his sword so widely that the tip scratched against the shield.
Slythe turned and twirled the blades in the air. "We could work together. Get your friend to turn over the Key willingly. There's no need for violence between us."
Doren smirked. "Now I know you're scared." He lunged forward and jabbed his shield at the Roamer, who was forced to use his blades to push back against the attack.
Slythe hopped back and Doren prepared for another strike. But instead, he took a hit in the ribs. He could only make out a stone hand as he stumbled to the ground.
Zeniri raised both hands, but this time he was the one to take the hit. A mace slammed into his sides and sent him flying toward his leader.
Yveen helped Doren back to his feet. "We can take them together."
Doren nodded and they both held up their weapons and readied an attack.
Slythe kept both blades pointing down. Doren hoped he might flee, and perhaps he was considering such a course. His comrades were down and his mission was an almost certain failure. Doren would not be going with him.
But Slythe took both blades and held them out horizontally, so that their hilts were mere inches apart. And then he brought them together, snapping each end into the other. He let one hand go, to show that two blades had become one. He whirled the double-bladed sword around his body, to profess his skill with the weapon. And then ended the demonstration by pointing one end at both of his opponents.
"I have not seen a weapon like that," Doren said. He thought Aros' clawblades had a unique design. This one was as impressive, if not more so.
"No one has made a sword like that in ages," Yveen replied, holding her mace high but remaining in place.
"How do we go about this?" he asked. Visions of his battles with Uterak and even the woman at his side ran through his head. They needed a plan, and, having never fought together, it needed to be explicitly laid out.
"How about this? You stay, I go." She dove forward, snatching a stray crossbow, and headed right at Slythe. When she got close enough, she took a shot at him, and followed up with her mace.
Slythe easily displaced the arrow and stopped her mid-swing. He retaliated with a wide slash that drew a line of blood on her chest. When he went in for another swipe, a bronze shield knocked him off guard.
Doren swung wildly until he had driven Slythe back from his injured ally. When he presumed that the Roamer's weapon was out of reach, he ran back to her. "Mind coordinating now?" he said with obvious contempt.
Yveen scowled at him. "Keep his blade off me and I'll crush his skull."
"There's a plan."
Slythe was already on top of them before they had a chance to move in. His skills with the double-bladed sword were unparalleled. Doren had never seen anyone move so gracefully with such an elongated weapon. Even the mages with their staffs hardly whipped them around with such ease.
Doren blocked one strike and barely had time to recover before the other end was in Yveen's face. He swatted away the blows with his shield, doing his best to allow his partner to get a hit. But Yveen's injuries had clearly gotten to her. Her swings were stiff and far off from their intended target. While Slythe drew blood, she only managed to slice through air.
It became obvious as Slythe continued to cut them that he did not mean to kill them. He had many chances to get at vital parts of their bodies, but he always held back. Doren couldn't help but think that this was a better man than he'd let on.
A low horizontal swipe took Doren off his feet. Slythe kicked the shield away and then engaged Yveen directly.
When she concluded that she was not going to land a hit on his body, Yveen went for his sword. She smacked the mace into his blade, each time there was an increased fury as she tried to break it apart. But she missed as many times as she made a hit.
"Would you like me to take your other eye, too?" Slythe taunted her as she failed in her offensive.
Doren took off to retrieve his shield. She didn't stand a chance without a partner. But when he returned to the scene of the battle, Slythe was standing with his foot pinning her to the ground.
"Trade yourself for her life," Slythe suggested.
"You're not gonna get me like that," Doren said. And he bolted forward with his shield first.
Slythe separated his two blades and jumped straight over Doren to avoid his assault.
Before Doren could even turn around, he felt a blade dig into each of his shoulders. "You've lost this one, young Prince."
Doren didn't drop his shield, but he didn't try to move either. He crunched his teeth together as the stinging in his shoulders worsened. Slythe had beaten him. He was going to be used again.
"Sir," a new voice spoke up from behind Doren. "We've found him. We need you."
"You left Yuurei alone?" Slythe sounded furious.
"I am still far from who I was."
Doren felt the blades slip out from his shoulders. He knelt down to the ground as he tried to prevent the pain from causing him to black out.
"Get M'dalla and Zeniri out of here. I'll help Yuurei. Until our next battle, Doren. I suggest you train some more."
Doren turned in time to see Slythe spin in place and disappear. A man in a blue cloak ran to his fallen comrades. Meanwhile, Yveen groaned as she tried and failed to get back up. Doren crawled over to her.
"I guess I'm still your hostage," he said to her.
Doren was sure he heard her laugh.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Magenine's Haven
Aros Asilias woke with little idea of where he was and complete uncertainty as to how long he'd been asleep. He heard someone near him, but his eyes refused to open and reveal his present environment. He tried to move his arms to rub his eyes open, but they were stiff and only shook in response.
"Lie still," he heard someone say.
"Whe – " Aros couldn't get a full word out of his lips. It was like his entire body was paralyzed. Had he lost that much blood? Had the arrow done more damage than he suspected?
He began struggling against his paralysis. He had feeling. He was not lying on the ground, but something soft. A mattress. "Whe – " he tried speaking again.
"I know you heard me," the mysterious man said to him.
Of course Aros had heard him, but h
e couldn't obey. He had to know where he was and what was happening. Was he even in Faunli anymore? He dreamed for a second he was back in Kytheras, but then considered that extremely doubtful. It was more likely he was in the Great Bastion than Kytheras.
Oh no. Could he be dead? The perpetual blackness wasn't giving him any comfort.
"You're not dead," the voice said, as if it could read his thoughts.
Aros suspended his struggling. Was this the voice of the Goddess? It responded in such a way that it might be, but it was a male voice. It was deeper and more melodic than the one he had gotten used to. And it sounded more like it was coming from outside his head than inside.
"Where?" Aros finally managed to speak.
"Where are you?" the man echoed. "Is that truly the most important question right now? What about 'who are you?' Or 'why can't I move?' Hmm?"
"Yes," Aros managed to squeak out.
The man chuckled.
Aros might have been frightened, but somehow he knew he was in safe hands.
"Here." Aros felt drops of cold water land on his eyelids. Within moments, he was able to open them.
The entire room was a blur of colors. He went to rub his eyes again but continued to find his arms unresponsive. So he blinked fiercely until he could make out his surroundings. First, he saw the man that was by his side. There was no other way to describe him than to say he was fat. He was wider and rounder than any other person Aros could recall, but the man was not embarrassed by it. He wasn't even wearing a shirt. His obtrusive stomach and massive arms were in plain view. Aros stared at his features for a disrespectful amount of time before he gazed into the man's face. It was chubby, of course, with divine yellow eyes and wild black hair growing down his back. The man crossed his arms, and that's when Aros spotted the glinting metal hanging from his neck: a fancy golden M swung slightly with each of the man's breaths.
"So," Aros spoke hoarsely. "Who?"
The man's smile revealed a warmth and friendliness that sent a wave of calm through Aros. "My name is Pudo. And you are Aros."
That he knew Aros' name only felt natural. Yet Aros had never heard of this man before. Pudo was as unfamiliar as the rest of Faunli, but somehow less disconcerting.
"Our medicines have left you with a slight paralysis, but that will pass soon."
Aros glimpsed down at his body. He was also shirtless, with his upper arm and shoulder wrapped in white bandages. His appearance only struck him with panic. Where was his blue shirt? It was the last shirt Leidess had ever seen him in. He had held her when he was wearing that shirt.
Aros started flopping around on the mattress, his body tingling as he woke it up so he could begin searching for the shirt. He looked away from Pudo, his eyes searching the entire room until he spotted it. It was crumpled on the floor, stained with his blood. Aros reached out for it, but his arms only moved a few inches.
"Please," Aros said as he tried to grab onto it.
Pudo only watched. "Your shirt is ruined. The blood will not come out. The holes cannot be mended."
Aros kept inching his arms toward it.
"It is much how you feel about yourself." Pudo's grin disappeared and he left the room.
Aros' arms fell back onto the bed. What was that supposed to mean? Aros wasn't a shirt. He may have had a hole in him, but it was for the same reason his shirt did: an arrow struck him. Blood will not come out? From what he saw, he had been cleaned; the blood washed away. His wound had been tended to and wrapped. So what was this Pudo talking about? Maybe he had said it wrong. He was probably used to speaking in Faun.
Pudo came back into the room with a glass of water. He held it up to Aros' mouth and poured it in when Aros parted his lips.
The cold liquid soothed his throat until it caused him to start coughing. When his throat was clear, he tried speaking again. "So where am I?"
"Our town is known as Magenine's Haven," Pudo told him. "It is a fitting place for you to end up, since She has guided you here."
Had She? Aros hadn't heard Her voice in decks. He was here because he had spent his final moments wandering around Faunli.
"Doubt if you want," Pudo said. "I do not."
"How do you do that?" Aros asked. "Respond to my thoughts?"
"I am not a mage," Pudo replied. "But I have been touched by Her." He set the water down at Aros' side and stepped away. "I cannot heal your wounds with magic, nor conjure up more water to fill your glass. But I can feel your thoughts; sense your very soul."
"Are there mages here?" Aros asked. He wouldn't have minded a quick heal.
"There has not been a mage in the Faun Empire since the Liberation."
"Why do you call it that?" Aros had heard every Faun refer to it as the Liberation.
Pudo was struck by a question he was not expecting. "You call it something different?"
"The Great Parting."
Pudo leaned in closer. "It is not surprising for the Fauns and the Kytherans to fail to agree on even a name."
"But Liberation?"
"Many felt we were slaves to your Kytheran king. After the lands parted, we were free."
From the little Aros remembered of Ghumaic history, that made a good deal of sense. He scooted his body so he was sitting up on the bed. The tingling throughout his limbs was getting worse, but he figured that was better than not feeling them at all. "Why did you help me?"
"Because I was meant to. As you are meant to be here, in Faunli. In my care." Pudo tugged at his hair. "And no, you can't leave yet."
Until Aros could move freely again, he wasn't going anywhere.
Pudo left the room once more and came back with a sparkling green liquid. "Drink this and you will heal faster while you sleep."
"Haven't I slept enough?" Visions of Doren, Rikki, and Leidess flashed through his mind. He had responsibilities to those he cared about. He couldn't spend too much time in bed. Doren was kidnapped. Rikki was missing. And he had a promise to keep to Leidess.
"Drink this and it will wake your body faster," Pudo said, offering the same green medicine.
"But you just said..." Aros tilted his head at Pudo.
Pudo merely smiled and shoved the bottle into Aros' face.
"You're trying to give me a headache, aren't you?" Aros said, trying to back away.
"I haven't even started speaking in riddles yet." Pudo pushed the tip of the bottle into Aros' mouth and forced him to swallow some of the liquid.
Aros started coughing again, but almost immediately his entire body sprang to life. As he continued coughing, his body curled up near his face, and he didn't stop until the tingling had completely dissipated.
Aros stretched out his arms and then dove off the bed for his shirt. He nestled the soiled fabric between his fingers. As he held it, he realized he would never wear it again. It was ruined.
He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, and wondered why a shirt mattered so much to him.
"You are not that shirt," Pudo said.
"Why do you keep comparing me to a shirt?" Aros' yell was muffled as he smothered his face with the blue top.
"Your hole was not caused by an arrow. It was caused by grief. The blood belongs to the woman you watched die."
He was trying to give Aros a headache by speaking in metaphors. "Can't you speak plainly?"
"Magenine has not brought you here so I can only heal your body," Pudo replied. "I must heal your soul. She thought Leidess may have helped, but...you are still broken."
Aros stood up, the shirt clutched in his hands. He was at once furious that he should accuse him of being broken, though he knew it was true, and also confused at how he could know her name. "Does She whisper to you?"
"No," Pudo stated. "She does not have to."
Aros sat down on the edge of the bed. Would it have mattered if She did? Magenine had led him down this path, where he had lost Leidess, and now his friends. He was so alone, but perhaps resented that She had not even tried to speak with him. Instead, She had sent him to thi
s Pudo. Aros looked over to him. "Why do you wear that?" he asked, pointing at the golden M.
Pudo lifted his necklace to eye level. "Most Fauns continue to worship their ancestors. They craft figurines and statues in their likeness, to pray to and keep them company. Here, we worship Magenine, but Her form is unknown to us. All we have is Her name. It is the same name in old Kytheran as it is in Faun."
Aros recalled another group that didn't worship ancestors. They prayed to Neanthal, yet they had statues of him to do so. "That's less than even the Thalians have."
"But it is enough for us."
"Why do you let them live?" Aros asked. Thalians were their enemy. They were dangerous and would undeniably support Hatswick and the release of Neanthal. If this was a community of Magenites, then they should have gone to war to make sure that didn't happen.
"We may hold different beliefs, but for all this time, we haven't bothered them, and they haven't bothered us. You think they deserve to be executed?"
"Yes," Aros said succinctly.
Pudo's eyes widened. "Do you think any of them can remember Neanthal? Or what he did?"
"But it's all been recorded."
"You've forgotten, Aros Asilias. Violence is not the only means. Peace is as important a tool as war." Pudo bent down and picked something up from the corner. He held it up for Aros to see.
The magnetic straps Aros had made for his clawblades were hanging from Pudo's hands. "You appear to be missing your weapons."
They were taken from him, along with Doren. Aros dropped his old shirt. "I need something I can wear."
"You have more time than you would think," Pudo told him. "Stay and rest. Let me help you heal."
"You can't," Aros stated.
"And you can't wield a sword with your shoulder looking like that," Pudo snapped.
Aros touched the area covered by bandages and a sudden pain ran down his arm and back. Pudo was right, but his condition wouldn't prevent him from finding Doren or his swords. Staying to rest and talking through his problems with a stranger would be a waste of time.