She and Luffie disappeared in a flurry of crumbling walls, turning the chamber silent in an instant, and it was just then, that I landed in a slide, up to Ellia. She had her head in her hands—no she was pulling at her hair. She was on her knees. She was crying, over and over.
"Ellia, Ellia. Ellia."
She wasn't answering me. I was touching her head, her face, pulling her hands away, trying to look into her eyes. I needed to think of something better to say, but in my mind, it was only Silos, saying—while my body had still been burning, while I'd lied there in a bed—saying how Kraehe might drive her mad. How hadn't I been more careful? How hadn't I foreseen this? I should have known myself that Kraehe was evil, lost; I'd seen her, I should have known. I should have come to kill her before Ellia could come in contact with her.
"Ellia, please. Answer me. Answer me."
She screamed something about her dragon. Something about not being able to sense her.
"Ellia—"
Then it was sudden, like she'd come up for breath, that she said my name.
"Cole? Cole, I can't feel her. She's gone from me."
"Don't worry. Please don't. Don't try to sense her. You have Luffie. We have to go. They'll come back."
"No. No, help Luffie. Cole, help Luffie. Help Luffie."
HOW could I help Luffie?! Luffie was off in the air fighting. I turned back to Ellia. I glanced around, I could see no one; there were fallen soldiers—had Ellia never found him? Was he not here.
"We need to go where it's safe, Ellia. Please. Please, look at me."
She did. Her hands first, found my face, nearly loosening the wraps I'd forgotten completely about at the sight of her screaming. I tried to tell her body; was it hurt? She wasn't hurt. She was only pained, by Kraehe. Her eyes were turquoise; they were all full of tears.
"Help, Luffie, Cole. Help Luffie."
"We have to leave, Ellia. Come with me. It will be alright. Where's Lox? Did you find him? Is he dead?"
I did not mean to say these last words. I did not want him to be there. I wanted to kill him—to do that that I should do, but not with Ellia there. I wanted her safe. Lox wasn't safe. I couldn't see him. He wasn't here. He'd been somewhere else?
Ellia, she was shaking her head, against me. "I couldn't feel her, Cole!" she repeated.
I gripped my jaw. I meant to lift her clear. I'd thought I might have to descend that wall with her on my back before—Well I would. I'd get her, somehow, back to the Warriors. They were just outside, I would flag them down. I'd find a way. She couldn't stay here. But then, before I'd even gotten hold of her, something had slammed against me. It had been so hard, and so painful, that I was sure it had come from Lox. And it had been nothing but black spots, and that pain for moments, until I'd felt myself knocked to a wall. Then, even past, my upset vision, and my lack of breath. I scrambled to my feet.
I'd been too long fighting, too long climbing—too many jumps. I was not as good as I had been, as Cyric; I felt pain in all my body, pounding. Then I looked, no, I heard it first, a growling, and a dripping—then I saw white teeth, just yards from me. And I realized, I was looking up at Kraehe again. This was Ellia's dragon—again! It was the same thing, again, but I needed to help Ellia. I couldn't fight Kraehe; I couldn't even kill her! I loved her, because she was Ellia's.
"Cole!" I heard shouted.
It was Ellia's voice, and I looked, to see her standing where we'd just been, that far? So far from me, at the center of the chamber. Her hand stretched out as soon as I turned to her, and from it came a small flash of orange light. Overshot, it was soaring above me, but I jumped to catch it, even ducking a swipe from Kraehe at the same time.
I felt it like warmth in my hand, and with a hard, glass casing, so that it seemed as if I were holding stone; I did not have to look to tell that it was the Echrian bottle of endless fire. And that was well, since Kraehe's body swung around, and she swiped her tail, down across me. I kicked off rubble in a high jump to clear it. The vial still in my hand, still with Kraehe there. I looked to Ellia. I couldn't barely see her; the light beyond her was too bright. There was her hair; she was holding swords. No, we couldn't be apart; we couldn't fight separately; I needed to be beside her.
Even as I thought this, Kraehe swiped me from the side. I felt claws, digging into my body. My side, and my leg. I cried out in pain, and slammed against a wall, then fell to ground. It became clear, in an instant to me, then, that me and Ellia must fight separately; that I could not think on anything but to stop this dragon, or I would be dead, and Ellia would be left to manage it in more danger than ever.
The vial, came to mind then, humming in my hand—even as I scurried to my feet, away from Kraehe. But still I had her focus. I ducked behind a pillar, and moved left and right to avoid her. Then I realized, the vial, the endless fire; it was what Ellia meant for me to use. Is it what she meant for me to use? She wanted me to kill Kraehe? She couldn't have. It wasn't possible. There had to be something else for it.
I heard a sound, one which froze time for me—that way that it had frozen and twisted when I'd realized that Ellia had gone to kill Lox.
"You've turned worse than a nuisance, yet again," it said.
I knew it. I knew it, so well. I only didn't know how it was possible, because I hadn't seen him. And who was he talking to? Me? He knew me. He knew I was here? He had sent the dragon after me.
All this, I thought, that same moment, he had spoken, then I heard another voice, but it didn't speak. It made a sound, like the gasp or the moan given before the strike of a sword—the strained strike of a sword; and with it, just after there was a distinctive clash of metal to metal. But the gasp, even as just a gasp, it had been as clear to tell as that voice's had been Lox's. —It was Ellia's gasp, Ellia's moan before a strike, and then clashing metal, and then more, more, they kept on, successively.
It was a nightmare, for I was forced to duck from Kraehe again. And her tail came whipping around, knocking the pillar I'd been using to avoid her loose. I had to race and dive, to avoid the snap of her jaws, and even then I only got a glance, the smallest glance of a massive gold body, plate-mail, that must have been my old commander, my beloved commander, and then Ellia, with her swords, shining just as bright; they were like a silhouette, against the window, but I couldn't reach them. And I didn't understand, why those flying figures outside didn't see them, either. Hadn't I warned the Warriors? Hadn't I warned that Democedian? Luffie had come—Where was Gael? Where was Yurei? Where was LUFFIE for that matter?
"Would you like to know what it was that I did, to switch her to me? To bond her to me?" Lox spoke.
I crashed to ground, in a roll. Ellia screamed as she struck. No, this couldn't happen. It couldn't. He was going to torture her; I needed to—
I saw the bottle in my hand. I couldn't kill Kraehe with it. I didn't know how. Break it against her? Watch her go up in flames. Didn't Ellia realize, that would be the worst way to die. What if Ellia felt it? What if it drove her mad? What if Kraehe dying drove her mad? These things, I thought, but still I raced and jumped to a wall. I kicked between it and a pillar. I'd swept up a sword. I leapt high, then plunged it into Kraehe's neck, locking me there onto her.
She shot her head back, the way she liked to, to screech. She shot streams of fire to the ceiling so that bright drops of molten stones came down like rain. I rolled to avoid it, still gripping my sword to keep on her back. Dragon fire was not the same as chimera fire; it was liquid; it was hotter. She wasn't so lucky as I'd been, screeching out as the flames fell and burnt her wings; wings which were already torn, and ragged.
I put the Echrian bottle up to my mouth, to open it. (even while I wasn't sure if I could use it anyways—kill her like that. What sort of revenge, turning her to nothing with flames) Only, then to realize she was flushing out her wings. She was lifting off the ground. She was trying to. Her body shifting under me so that I could feel all those pounds of force, and I had to pull to the sword with both hands. In
doing that, I took the chance to look after Ellia. Bad idea with the rest of it going on? Yes, bad idea. Since, in looking to Ellia, seeing, even in delight that she'd kept firm ground against Lox, there was a figure hovering in the air past her—Luffie—I didn't take note of Kraehe's claws digging to the pillars. And from there, she kicked off. Kicked off, for Luffie. She kicked, off, with such force that it sent my Echrian bottle dropping off to oblivion. It sent the two pillars—those centermost of the war-room, crumbling. She kicked off so fast, the wind of it, killed my ears, and though I was turning and spinning, I kept to the sword until I felt her body collided. I felt it since her speed was mine, and halted suddenly, like two great forces far beyond me. I could see bright sun, and blue to tell we were outside. Then red-dirt, then a flash or white and black, then I was slammed onto the ground, slammed onto my bad leg. Caught under some part of her neck so that I couldn't help but scream for the pain of it. But then just as quickly, she was gone, rolling over in a swirl across the red-dirt ledge.
Wincing, I saw many things at once, my eyes darting everywhere, but not with the ability to rise up to my own feet for myself. Luffie, in the sky, hovering beside another chimera. A white-tiger, spun into that roll with Kraehe—Kraehe who was even now trying to rise up on her wings—so that I was sure that it had been the white tiger which had collided with us. Some trap of Luffie's? Drawing the dragon out, having it fought? But why a white tiger? and how had it gotten there? And without a rider besides. There were other things, a bird of fire; it was there at Kraehe's face, but it was barely large enough to measure to her largest tooth. Then there was Ellia, speaking loudly. Had she called my name? No, she was saying Cyric, and if she'd seen something of the dragon and I, it didn't show. She was standing facing Lox. She'd disabled him hadn't she? Yes, his weapons were all gone. She had two. She was shouting at him, not of Kraehe, but of Cyric. And something in me wanted to tell her gutturally, not to kill him. But then, I hated that and thought: Kill him! Kill him!
Then it was Kraehe, toppling off the red ledge in a dive that could have been taken for a fall, only she pulled her wings, out of it, coming to height, catching the wind just below there, above the city. I knew where I was now; that was the one thing I hadn't figured in those seconds after I'd landed here. I was at the edge of the cliff. I was stretched so close to it, I could see down to its base, and the whole length of the wall, with my own leg craned badly against the dirt. But I didn't look there. I watched where Luffie was diving after Kraehe. Kraehe—she was following a fiery flash. She was following the Vermillion bird?
Without seeing anything aright now, I struggled to my feet with a groan. I thought it would be a long struggle to the place where Ellia was; one of my legs wasn't working for me; wet, but I didn't like to think how bad it might be. But then, she was there, racing towards me. No, not towards me; she stopped at the base of the window, just inside the war-room, where all that glass had shattered. Both swords, she held at her sides. Her gaze was all after Kraehe.
Where was Lox? Had she killed him.
"Ellia," I called, only wanting her to respond to me, to tell me that she was alright. But then her arms came up suddenly, dropping the swords to cover her mouth with her hands, her eyes widening, so that I couldn't help but look where she did.
And there—it was far—it was so far off, I thought she must have been seeing something that I wasn't, but I could guess well enough. It was back near the front gate—to the south of the city, where those Tortoises were. It started first, as a pinprick of blue light, streaking high into the air, from the midst of the Tortoises, then it swirled around with red, white, and grey. At its center was a figure of black that might have been taken for one of the many wyverns crowding the sky if not for her massive wings—or the way she shined violet in the sun. No, this was Kraehe there, where they'd led her. And whatever it was, happening now, her screech was so violent as to be felt, if not heard this far off.
I did not think that she would be coming back; I thought that this was the Constellation Animals way for taking care to their own kind. I did not watch, but looked back at Ellia, expectant that the battle, for the greatest part, was over. I had hopes to see she didn't fight any longer. Who would expect her to? She'd killed Malatos Lox. She'd found his great monster and seen to her end. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she was wasted off, her hands still over her mouth. Her swords discarded. And her hair, still in its braid, but half-ragged, was being pulled backwards, no her whole head was, wait, all of her was.
She shouted, the next second, then fell off into half shadow—to the sound of clashing glass. I lunged forward, automatically, only to stretch the wrong leg ahead, collapsing down on it. Then there was that massive body of gold, only now it wasn't gold. He was stripped down to a layer of padded cloth armor. His hands were weaponless. She hadn't killed him? That's what screamed inside of my mind. She hadn't killed him? But she'd had him, she'd been staring off at Kraehe— how?
Then he was stepping closer to her, crushing down to the debris. His back to me. He was speaking, but I didn't hear the words. I stumbled forward. Remembered the knife, stuck against my leg; not in my boot, as I used to keep them. Cole's boots were too small. This wrapped against my calf. It had struck me, hadn't it? That was part of why I was bleeding. I pulled it out.
I heard a scream from Ellia. Calls of no's no's. Then she was being lifted up, by her neck. Lox's hand was around it. He was just inside the war-room. He was angry. I'd seen him every which way; he was angry. His body was tensed forward. He knew he wouldn't get away. He knew he would die. He knew she had caused it. He was going to kill her.
Everything seemed a blur, but I saw two things clearly. First, standing pressed to a wall, inside of Uldin Keep. I could feel Ellia's hand in mine, I could smell death, and I could hear two voices in the following room. One a goblin's; one an Akadian Commander's.
I turned my head inside to see him there, for the first time. Massive, great, and in spite of all this surrounding death, perfectly calm.
Then the second thing, I was sitting on a bed, in the Scholar's wing of Uldin Keep: My room, to be aright, I'd come there years past, but now I was becoming a man, that age something like thirteen or twelve; I'd seen my father die, as well years past. I was dressed in the silver-and pale-blue of the scholars' wards. Scholar Padril, had been there. He'd come to talk about my starting training with the soldiers.
"Isn't there something else I can do?" I'd asked. There was a stone in my hand. I was tossing it back and forth from one palm to another, my body craned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, off the bed's edge.
"Don't you want to be a soldier?" he'd laughed.
It was in that scholarly way; that expectant of a certain behavior. From me, a boy—did he expect that was exactly what I would want to do? Should it have been?
"It's not that I mind the idea of fighting," I said. "Or training."
"I should think not," Scholar Padril interrupted.
My eyes went on to him, where, he gave me a small smile reminiscent of those many reprimands he'd spared for me: to keep my feet planted on the ground. No running along the sides of walls; staircases were not for practicing flips; rails were not for balancing on and they didn't slant up along steps just to make for a greater challenge.
"But it's the going off to battles..."
"Are you afraid?" he'd asked. And though there was nothing in his tone to say he truly suspected this (rather the opposite) I'd given him a sudden and vehement "no."
After that, he'd made a little sigh, then come to sit beside me.
"You know, young Cyric," he said after a moment, "To kill, and to murder, they're not the same thing."
"I've heard others say that," I replied instantly, looking up and over at him—surprising myself with how quickly I'd responded (had I been thinking of that already?). Scholar Padril's expression was so calm and patient (he never looked at you as if you were a child, even if you were, but a capable adult instead, an equal). It was so much like
that, that I spoke more softly, going on, "But don't you think that's just what the murderers would say to themselves?"
He'd thought on this, for a long time, his expression shifting in the low light while he pondered. I'd wondered whether he was thinking of my father, as much as I was. I thought of those days I'd tracked him down, into the city, but I couldn't well define whether he might have said, or thought, those times before he'd murdered, whether he should or should not have done it; whether it was evil or wasn't.
"I think," Scholar Padril, finally said, after a great sigh, and with a not unhappy expression, "That there will be a time you will learn it best for yourself, what the difference is. But as for soldiering, that's the path set before you. And you'll never learn the difference at all if you don't try. Protecting your country, the people you care for—it's a cause worth risking for."
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