Chapter 44 – A Reminder of Mortality (3)

The scent of burnt hair and charred flesh filled the air. It was a sickening smell that made his stomach turn. A small part of his mind that hadn’t lost itself in the thrill of battle, and the wrath he still felt was shocked and appalled at his choices.

But he had no time to be appalled, or shocked. He couldn’t pause to throw up, or to feel horror at how he killed that man, or the ones behind him.

His blade drew blood, and soon all their opponents either fell or routed. Only when he wasn’t attacked anymore did he relax his grip on the hilt of his sword and let the flames lighting up the blade fade away.

Somehow, they had survived. Barely.

“Good job,” Captain Rianne’s voice reached his ears. “Retreat and rest for now.” She was talking to her men, all of which had suffered various wounds, some severe, others simple cuts and bruises.

Midhir wiped the blood from his cheek, then cleaned his sword before sheathing it.

“Midhir!” Alistair brushed past the captain and her men and grabbed his shoulders. “Arwen? How is she?!” His eyes were wide as he expected the worst.

“She’ll live,” He replied, “But she won’t be able to keep fighting today. There’s a decision to be made,” he glanced at their surroundings, then walked past Alistair to help one of the wounded soldiers walk back towards the newer growth.

They retreated to where Willow was busy tending to the soldiers. Arwen was unconscious still, though it was for the best as the pain she felt must have been simply too much.

As they returned, a faint smile appeared on Willow’s lips. She breathed a sigh of relief but continued with her healing work, holding the gem over the wound of her current patient, and directing the spiritual power around them into it.

Alistair’s eyes widened for a split second before he averted his gaze. “We have more losses than I hoped.” His voice was low and bleak.

Captain Riann approached them, she sheathed her sword and glanced at the wounded before she nodded. “Yes. It’s a blessing you are unharmed, but we lost too many. I doubt we would be able to move forward with the number we have left.” She pursed her lips in consideration.

“If the man they abducted is the same man father mentioned – the expert he wanted us to accompany – then we must not let these people harm him.” Alistair pointed vaguely towards the old growth. “Who knows what they will do to him – and what will they use his knowledge and expertise for.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Midhir folded his arms. Moving forward now was too great a risk, but retreating would mean losing the only lead they had.

“If we retreat now, it will only embolden them.” He looked at both of them. “If we move forward and fail, we will be giving them the greatest advantage they can gain against Lord Orlein,” he shot Alistair a meaningful glance.

“If we don’t go after them,” a weak voice rose. Arwen grunted as she pushed herself up and leaned her back against a tree. She could barely sit up, but a fire burned in her eyes. “If you don’t stop them, they will use that man. The Veil is weak here, don’t you feel it?” She paused to take a few deep breaths and recover the strength to speak. “They will tear it apart, why else would they go to monuments built to honour the Old Gods?”

Her weakened body shook as she coughed.

“Don’t overexert yourself!” Willow knelt beside her and used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off of the young woman’s face.

Arwen shook her head fiercely. “You don’t understand!” she insisted, “Midhir, remember Lillia!” Her eyes were wide as she pleaded. “If these people are anything like the alchemists of old – if they truly follow the twelve-part serpent, they will not hesitate to sacrifice that man!” she pleaded.

The memory of his hands squeezing a small, fragile neck surfaced. He quickly closed his eyes and shook his head, suppressing it.

Alistair bit his lips. Conflicted, he glanced at the wounded men and women, then deeper into the old growth. “We can’t retreat now.” He finally decided after a few moments of consideration. “But we have wounded and dead – we can’t leave them here. Willow,” he turned towards the young woman. “Keep healing everyone. I will leave Marta and Tormod with you, they’ll help you carry those who can’t walk back to the road. Please make sure they survive.”

Willow breathed in to protest, but glancing at Arwen, who had fallen silent out of exhaustion, she nodded. “You need to be careful out there too.” She looked at the gem in her hand, then glanced at Midhir. “I’ll keep this a while longer then.”

He nodded before turning his attention deeper into the old growth. “We should hurry.”

“You should stay behind,” Captain Rianne sharply spoke, looking at Alistair. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but you shouldn’t come with us. We are expendable, but you are not and if you are captured-“

“I have visited the monuments to the Old Gods before, Captain Rianne,” he cut her off. “You haven’t, nor has Midhir. If that’s where you think they’re headed,” he glanced at Arwen, who could only summon the strength to nod, “I’m the only one of us who has even a vague idea of where to go. So, no. I will not be staying behind.”

He turned away, not giving Captain Rianne a chance to protest. His word was final.

She pursed her lips, but held her tongue, shooting an annoyed glance at Midhir. Perhaps she was hoping he would try and talk Alistair out of going, but the young noble’s argument was sensible. Getting lost in the old growth was almost inevitable without tracks to follow. Alistair’s knowledge could be the difference between survival and death.

The three of them soon set off, accompanied by four of the six remaining, mostly unharmed soldiers. Their blades were drawn, and eyes peeled as they crossed the threshold between the new growth and the old growth.

The air grew heavy, the already dim sunlight faded further. They marched on, Arwen’s words ringing in their minds.

They had to stop these terrorists, no matter the cost.