They ran down the tunnel as fast as they dared, Milora still holding onto Az as he did his best to keep up. Nagan stayed in the back, keeping his ears open for any sign of someone following them. He didn't want to think about the sounds of a battle fading behind him, nor did he want to think about the lack of a confident, even stride in front of him. By the time they reached the end and started heading into the town, Nagan told the others to stop.
"Block the tunnel," Nagan ordered, taking Az from Milora.
Milora only nodded, eyes red, and soon a variety of blue barriers erected behind them. Nagan mentally checked over her work all the while. He trusted her skill, but he had never witnessed her in a situation like this. People were unpredictable, he knew, but at least he knew Az was capable of keeping his head. Aitor was not, hence why he sent him away. The spell casting was sound, he determined. As Milora finished up the last spell, Nagan turned to Az with a grimace.
"This is gonna hurt," he said, helping Az balance as he moved to stand in front of him. Az nodded grimly, and he let Nagan take hold of his arm. With as smooth of a transition as he could manage, Nagan hoisted Az over his shoulder, the latter hissing in pain as his thigh jostled at the motion.
"Time to go, Milora!" Nagan called over his shoulder before setting a brisk pace, ignoring how his legs burned.
With every step he took, the more his anxiety grew. How was he supposed to get them out of here? They were miles away from anywhere considered safe, and their dragons were injured. Perhaps it was a stupid decision on his part by sending the dragons away. If they were here, they could've told them to protect the hoard, hoping that the dark magic surrounding them couldn't break through. Maybe the dragons were well enough to glide, at least getting them away from here. Had he already doomed them?
Another screech ripped through the air, just as haunting and tortured as the one before. Ivisian. A shudder ran through Nagan's body, knowing all too well what that cry meant.
"Carth, no!" Milora sobbed.
Nagan swallowed down his own emotions as he muttered a silent thanks to someone he was proud to call his friend.
But some friend I was. Nagan knew there was no use grieving for a possibility—something that could never happen—but that didn't mean he didn't grieve for it at all. After the life he had lived before, he was a fool for thinking he wouldn't lose anyone else.
But now was not the time to think of that. He needed to protect who remained; get everyone who was left back home. A moment of clarity washed over him as he realized he would do anything for that to happen.
Even if that meant sacrificing his own life. Despite Carth having a martyr complex, perhaps a hero complex wasn't so different in the end.
Take things one piece at a time, Nagan reminded himself, hearing the phantom words of his mother as she had once said the same. The gates of the city were approaching quickly, but Nagan almost wished he had a little more time to think. What was he going to do once he reached it and the open field beyond? At the speed they were going, they would never make it across with a single time spell, and Nagan wasn't sure he had enough in him to cast one in the first place. Milora couldn't drag Az and him across if he were to faint halfway through. And they no longer had the onyx, leaving it...with the one who needed it most. Maybe they could skirt the wall, staying closer to the side of the mountain, and slowly make their way into the woods—
Nagan!
Nagan startled as a flash of purple lept over the walls, wings batting wildly before it hit the ground, speeding towards them.
"Ravi?!"
Ravi didn't give them much time to react as sticky tendrils grabbed them and dragged them onto her back. Az let out a shout of pain at the harsh treatment, and Nagan could practically hear Az's teeth gritting behind him as Ravi made a sharp turn and jumped the wall again.
"Careful!" Nagan wasn't blind to one of her wings, torn bloody and near useless as she flapped desperately. "Ravi! You're hurt!"
Hold on.
With a pulse of magic, pulling and warping the air around them, Ravi launched into the air, her remaining three wings beating in sync trying to gain height. Another pulse and Ravi was propelled upward once more, but this time from something below them. Nagan leaned over to the side just in time for Kint to send another pulse, tears and slashes littering his wings.
"Glide, both of you!" Nagan commanded. "Stabilize! You can't keep flying like this!"
I'm sorry, master...We're not out of danger yet.
Nagan mentally cursed at his stubborn dragon. "Ravi, please! We don't—we can't heal you!" We don't have the people who can!
Then so be it.
Nagan didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. This was the clearest he had ever heard Ravi speak.
"G-General!"
Meixong's head shot up at the tone. Fai had just left their tent—something about checking supplies, they thought—leaving them alone to do their work. In an instant, many scenarios flew through their mind. Impending attack. Urgent message. The loss of Hecatite. An officer has died. It took them a moment for them to truly comprehend what they were looking at, but once it did, they ran to the door.
Aitor stood at the entrance, shaken and heaving for breath. Over his shoulder, they could see Gossamer standing over a fire pit—somewhere dragons were definitely not permitted—and other soldiers stood around in awe. Meixong would have laughed at them for standing around like that, but there was a boy three seconds away from a panic attack standing in front of them, and where were the others?
"Aitor?" Meixong barely caught him in time as he sank down to the ground. A trembling hand clutched onto their shirt while the other remained curled into a fist, a shuddering sob tearing out of Aitor's chest. As much as Meixong wanted to pull the boy into their arms, they needed answers now. Maybe they weren't too late. "Aitor, please, I need you to tell me what happened. Where is the rest of your squadron?"
Please—to any of the gods or goddesses above who are listening, please tell me they're alive! Meixong was caught off guard when Aitor pushed something into their hand; something rough and crumpled, but before they could investigate what it what, another figure knelt beside them.
"What's going on?" Fai demanded, wrapping an arm around Aitor, and Aitor willingly leaned into his embrace.
"I'm about to find out."
Meixong stood, gently prying Aitor's hand away and fully passing over the boy to Fai. The note Aitor gave them resembled more of a lump before they began unraveling it. The edges were torn. Ink smudged across the paper. But that didn't stop Meixong's eyes from flying across the words, committing every part of it to memory. Once they were done, they folded it twice and shoved it into their pocket, marching forward and flinging the tent's flap aside.
"Paroda!"
A man previously helping another coax Gossamer away from the fire jumped, throwing his hand into a salute. "General!"
"I don't care who you choose, but grab any other lieutenant with a platoon of Dragonmages and ready yourselves. I want to be up in the air by the end of the hour!"
Paroda hesitated, opening his mouth to say something, but it clicked shut from a glare. With a quick, "Yes, General," he ran to do as told. Meixong then turned to someone who had been lingering in their peripherals, a young man with black hair and olive-green eyes. With Meixong's attention now on them, the young man swiftly approached.
"Yenhei, my brother—" the young man took a deep breath to calm his growing panic. "My brother is the sergeant of this squadron."
"...I know." Meixong squeezed his shoulder. "One has already died, and I can't guarantee the safety of the rest of them. I'm sorry. But right now, I need you to take care of the boy. His name is Aitor."
With a nod, the young man's eyes became more focused. Meixong let their hand drop when he pulled away and walked past them. They only heard the young man introduce himself as Valrin Honoria before footsteps approached them from behind.
"What did the note say?" Fai asked.
"The city the Council sent them to wasn't abandoned," Meixong replied bitterly. "Gathen Farvell is dead, and Aitor was sent away by Nagan soon after. According to his report, the rest of the dragons were too injured to hold a rider."
Meixong heard Fai take a sharp inhale, but they didn't dare look him in the eyes. It wasn't as if they needed to look to know what his expression was. They could already imagine the grief and guilt falling over his face like a veil, and they needed to keep a level head if they had any chance of saving the remaining teens. No, if they looked at Fai now, they knew they would break in an instant. So they stared straight ahead into the fire, blindly reaching for Fai's hand and grasping it tightly.
"General Meixong, what is going on?" came a frantic voice to the left, and Meixong looked over their shoulder to Colonel Warven, not bothering to let go of Fai's hand, even as Fai saluted.
"A rescue. Sergeant Honoria's squadron has been attacked, and there has been a casualty."
"I—I see. But nonetheless, shouldn't we inform General Dagmire of this? We aren't allowed to deploy without his knowing—"
Meixong set their jaw. Letting go of Fai's hand, they moved forward, taking deliberate steps toward Colonel Warven. They only stopped when they stood directly in front of him, and they tilted their head to the side.
"What's my rank again, Colonel?"
"...General."
"Good. I'll write General Dagmire my sincerest apologies when I get back. But we. Move. Now." They then pushed past Colonel Warven, waving their hand dismissively as they continued in an idle tone, "But feel free to send him a message to inform him. It just won't reach him by the time I'm in the air. Carry on as usual while I'm gone."
With that, they didn't look back. Not when Colonel Warven called after them, exasperated, and not as a familiar gait followed them back to where their dragon was stationed. As Meixong and Fai approached, Chenshui and another lung dragon with gold scales, a red mane, and a red gem perched on its forehead raised their heads toward their riders. Meixong was quick to inform Sainanak, their golden dragon, of the situation, and the dragon rose to their feet to be equipped with a saddle.
The two of them worked silently, seamlessly stepping around each other and passing things before the other could ask. The saddles, supplies, flying masks, Fai even gave Meixong their sword, something they forgot when exiting the tent. Not that Meixong would've missed it much, they were more accomplished as a caster than a swordsman, but they appreciated it nonetheless.
Just as Meixong was about to turn around to ask Fai if he was ready, arms enveloped around them, pulling them back against something warm and solid. And they leaned back into it. Meixong crossed their arms over Fai's, tilting their head back to rest against his shoulder as he buried his face into the crook of their neck. Meixong could feel warm drops of water fall against their skin.
Briefly, the scene flashed into something familiar to both of them: An evergreen forest that looked over a shallow ravine. A small stream trickled below them. But the scene faded as Fai tapped Meixong's hand, silently asking them to end their ability. They should be saving their magic for something truly needed.
"Just a few minutes," Fai muttered. "Before we have to comfort who remains."
Meixong hummed as one hand reached up to the back of Fai's neck, rubbing soothing circles against the base of his scalp.
"Go ahead. The hour's not up yet."