Chapter 22

The march to Murgan was, to say the least, a welcome break from the chaos. From start to finish, the trip was uneventful, and, outside of the occasional encounter with a stranger on the road, in which they had to be on guard, they were able to stay mostly relaxed, resting their bodies and preparing their minds for what was to come. Eric in particular, on Johan’s urging, spent much of their time in quiet reflection, mentally steeling himself for the fight ahead.

It was strange, he thought, how similar this situation to the fight for Milagre he’d experienced five years ago. A strong outside force that directly opposed what he stood for wanted to take the place that he’d come to call home. They would only be opposed by equal strength, and the will to persevere in spite of all odds being pointed against them. In many ways, nothing had changed.

Except that, in this fight, Eric was stronger than before. He’d received much more training and had honed himself, with the help of his teachers and mentors, into a very strong and lethal weapon. Such training had come with strict restrictions, of course. As the holder of such elite skills, he had to exercise restraint, and not let his power get away from him. In nowhere was this lesson more important than the acquisition of Hunter, and his personal connection to the ancient spirit of Longfang.

But in the fight ahead, where he was fighting to retake Milagre, to restore the homes of hundreds of thousands of citizens, those restraints would be lifted. He could be as ferocious as he wanted and fight against the enemies that had disrupted their peace. Sure, it wouldn’t be as a member of Issho-Ni. He’d already come to terms with that and saw the good sense in the decision. Unlike Ehran, his ties to the peacekeeping force wouldn’t prohibit him from acting here. He was fighting as a citizen of the capital city.

“I hope you’re ready,” he said quietly, sitting away from the group during one of their rest periods. “You’ll likely bear the brunt of the attack for a while until the others can get their bearings.”

He wasn’t sure if he was speaking more to himself or Hunter, but both were ready. He could feel the vibration deep inside his chest that he’d come to associate with the wolf registering his opinion. For days now, Hunter had remained silent, not even appearing to keep him company. Like Eric, the wolf had been gathering itself, collecting and storing its resolve so that, in the heat of the moment, it could appear with a clear head and fight at peak strength.

Unbeknown to both of them, Jerik and Johan had approached from the group, carrying food with them. “Ready for the fight? Of course we are.”

Eric opened his eyes to look at them and noticed Jerik take a half step back, eying him suspiciously. “What?”

As quick as the expression had come, Jerik rearranged his face back to its usual indifferent expression. “You looked like you were ready to kill me.”

“That’s a good thing,” Johan replied. He gave Eric a casual salute in lieu of a greeting, and sat down, extending a wooden plate with chicken and bread on it. “When he looks like that, it means he’s ready for the fight.”

“We’re all ready for the fight,” Eric pointed out, accepting the food with a nod. “I’m no exception.”

“True,” Johan agreed, unhooking a water skin from his belt and taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth and added, “But neither of us is as battle-crazy as you.”

“How do you mean?” It was Jerik that asked, though Eric found he wanted the answer as well. “He’s good at fighting, sure, but he’s just one man.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence,” Eric said dryly, taking a bite out of a chicken leg. He directed his attention to Johan. “But what do you mean?”

Johan was shaking his head slowly, in the same way one did when explaining something very simple to an idiot. It was a common expression of his, and Eric found it just as annoying now as he always did. “If you could only see yourself when you fight, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

Eric didn’t say anything to that, partially because he had nothing to add. But he also sensed that there was more to Johan’s point, and he wasn’t long in waiting. “Most people fight when they have to, regardless of skill. For them, it’s a job that has to be done, either to get something or protect something.”

Eric nodded slowly, still not seeing where Johan was going with this. Johan offered him a small smirk, and finally said, “But you’re not like most. You’re either average or a monster.”

“Meaning?”

“Remember that contract we had where that noble’s daughter had been kidnapped?”

Eric had to search his memory for that. It had happened nearly two years prior. A local noble of Milagre had been returning from his warehouse in Sheran and traveling with his family. A group of bandits had ambushed the caravan, taking the man’s daughter and demanding a ransom. Eric and his company had been hired to rescue the daughter, as the nobleman couldn’t pay the requested price. As he remembered it, they’d done pretty much exactly as requested. They’d snuck into the base, grabbed the child, and Eric had held off the bandits while the others made their retreat.

“When you were facing the bandits alone,” Johan continued, “I caught a glimpse of your face. You were terrifying. Then, when they attacked you, they stood no chance. Do you know why?”

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Eric shook his head. He honestly had no clue, but he chanced a guess. “Because Hunter was there. He’s very good at covering my blind spots.”

Johan leaned forward and jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “Wrong. It’s because when you get emotional, you become a beast.”

And now that it had been pointed out to him, Eric remembered another part of that mission. It was shortly after he’d learned that Emma was pregnant, and the healers had told him that it was likely to be a girl. He’d seen it as a test in his ability to protect his own daughter when she came into the world, and that had made him go a little overboard. He’d fought at his hardest without meaning to, and the fight hadn’t been a long one.

“Oh,” was all he could say for a moment. “But that was just because I felt a connection to the man. I was thinking of Emily.”

“And tell me,” Johan said, a superior sort of look on his face, “Who in your life was most affected by what’s happened with the Infernal invasion? Who are you fighting for?”

Eric understood what he was getting at. Sure, he could make the claim that he was doing his duty as a citizen of Milagre, or even that he was fighting to help out the common folk who’d been possessed or ejected from their homes. He might even say he was fighting to avenge Samuel and the Queen, who’d both died in the attack. And while both statements could be considered to be the truth, the reality was that he fought for one thing above all else. He clenched his fist. Again, Jerik leaned away, momentarily alarmed.

“There you have it,” Johan said, not bothering to wait for a reply. He knew, as did Eric, that he was right. “They endangered your wife and child. I almost feel sorry for them.”

Jerik snorted. “Almost?”

“Almost,” Johan repeated, leaning back comfortably, grinning at both of them. “It’s at times like these that I’m glad to be behind Eric. I’d hate to get caught up in it or worse, to be in his way.”

-

“Faster!”

Megan gritted her teeth, and took a deep breath, then tried the sequence again. Fire a spell, and shift with Alice, who swiped her knives in a complicated pattern of strikes. Shift back, and fire a spell again. Shift again, to let Alice, who was faster, jump back and to the side, throwing one of her short knives at the thick wooden post that served as their target. Then back to Megan again, who released a ball of flames that engulfed the target.

“There,” she gasped, kneeling down to catch her breath. “Was that fast enough?”

“You need to use my energy!” Alice snapped. She appeared beside Megan, glowering down at her. “When we switch, there’s a small window of time where you can use some of my mana in your spellcasting!”

Megan found that she didn’t quite like Alice as a teacher. She was impatient, completely unforgiving of anything that wasn’t absolute perfection, and liked to yell. A lot. She stood upright, glaring. “Do you really think it’s so easy to use your mana? It takes time to move even my own mana!”

“Yes, but you’re quick with that!” Alice pointed out. As usual, Megan’s flaring temper only caused her to get angrier. When they were both like this, it was very hard to inject any sort of reason into the conversation. “Why can’t you be quick with my mana?”

“I’ve already told you,” Megan growled. “Your mana is heavier, and it’s harder to move. I need at least a second. Mind you, that’s still incredibly fast by most standards!”

“Well, it’s not fast enough,” Alice replied, folding her arms. She’d switched from raging to a cool sort of smugness quickly, and now she was smirking, feeling quite superior. “You need to be faster, or there’s no benefit to us shifting.”

“And what about the magic I cast on you?” Megan asked, only getting angrier. “You refuse to feed the enchantment, and it fades! That’s a waste of my energy!”

“I don’t need your enchantments,” Alice shot back at once, offering an infuriating shrug. “Even if I did, I only appear to attack. Guess I’m just too fast for you.”

Michael stepped in, looking concerned. “Stop that, Alice. You know you’re just being difficult. You need to be patient. We have the time to practice, so take your time.”

In spite of the fact that he was defending her, Megan was annoyed at his interruption. “Easy for you to say, genius. You’ve already got the hang of the shifting.”

Michael gritted his teeth, then let out a sigh. “That’s why I’m trying to help you, Megan. If you can master this, then we’ll be ready for a real fight.”

Megan said nothing to that, only glaring at him. But she supposed he had a point, even if she refused to admit it aloud. He and Damien had turned out to be a perfect duo. They’d taken to all the basic skills of Infernal magic like naturals, shifting effortlessly. They’d gotten so fast they could now swap places faster than she could blink, and both had their own magicks ready instantly. She’d watched them perform the same sort of sequence she was struggling with, and they’d performed it flawlessly. Michael had even begun to find ways to improve it, adding on his own delayed spells, to give Damien an extra advantage.

Damien appeared beside him, shaking his head. “Actually, there’s still one thing we have to learn after this. Only then can we say we’re ready.”

His calm attitude seemed to aggravate Alice, who threw a knife at him. This kind of casual violence between them seemed to be perfectly normal, because Damien leaned to the side with ease, dodging it. Alice cursed as she realized that was her only remaining knife, and stomped over to collect it from the ground. While she was occupied, Damien appealed to Megan again.

“Face it,” he said. “Between you and Alice, you’re the calmest one. The reason Michael and I are doing well is that we can both look at a situation rationally, and judge what we should do.”

“I’m trying,” Megan sighed. “But Alice getting angry makes me angry too. We’re connected by that, you know.”

Damien nodded his understanding. “Of course, I know. But I also know that you can ignore it if you choose.”

“Alright, alright,” Megan said, accepting the point. “I get it. I need to be calm enough for both of us.”

“Yes,” Damien agreed. “And Alice, you need to be more patient. Let Megan help you with her magic, and give her enough time to react to yours. You don’t have to be fast yet. That will come with practice.”

Alice swore again but agreed. “How long do we have?”

Damien frowned thoughtfully as he considered that reply. “The Archmage told me they’re going to attack on the fifth day, right as the sun starts to rise. I’d wager that leaves us with just over thirty hours in the mortal plane.”

“So two months?” Michael guessed, doing the math in his head. He was the only one who’d been able to grasp the conversion. “Maybe more?”

“Probably closer to three,” Damien corrected him. “So we have the time. Let’s take it slow, and try again.”