"Our talk was going so well," Camiel said seriously, "but I don't know any Lud boys who are transporting Seorite, nor any Zalesians involved" he added. "I repeat, I have nothing to do with it." He lowered his voice. "But let's get back to my offer. Can I leave peacefully or do you have anything else in mind?"
The Lieutenant moved forward again and said: "I can't let you go. What do you think I am, a coward? I have a duty to avenge my men."
Camiel snorted, but was feigning a superiority he did not possess. This time he knew he was taking a risk: the new stone was far from accepting interaction and the rope bracelet had almost run out of space for any more sprouts.
The Lieutenant reactivated his helmet and a horizontal line of purple color cut the metal visor in two.
"Too bad, I'm sorry. Can I at least know your name?" asked Camiel, raising his guard.
"Lieutenant Iznar Tun, Fifth Detachment," he said just before lunging at him.
The Hozman avoided the throat thrust at the last moment, swerving to his left. The tip hit him on the shoulder and a spray of blood stained the soil.
"What happened to your magic?" said Iznar mockingly. "Where is the great battle skill praised by your people?"
"Just a few setbacks, nothing that's unsolvable," he replied, and backed up one step. He held back a grimace and concealed the increasing pain with a smile. The right shoulder was gone and he had to focus on breathing to withstand the pain. He moved the sword to the other hand and he circled around Iznar with small sideways movements.
He tried for the umpteenth time to activate the ring and the powers that came from using the Voice of the Soul, but the large green crystal continued to not respond as he wanted: it broke the orange thread of the ring at every contact. Inside his mind, there were alternations of screams and silences without a proper balance. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't focus.
Camiel increased the distance from the enemy and planted the sword on the ground.
The Lieutenant backed away. His hands tight on the lance, the tip fixed on the adversary.
The Hozman took the three crystals from his pocket and arranged the sleeve so that the rope bracelet was free from the fabric.
"Here's the magic you wanted," he said in a challenging tone. He searched for a symbol among his memories, focused on it calmly: his eyes were fixed on Iznar, but his mind focused and joined imaginary lines. Finally, he looked at the crystals.
The three stones rose from his hand and positioned themselves in front of his face. Three blades of light formed wich mimiked the movements of each of his finger gestures. Three bell chimes spread through the air.
Iznar watched the alternation of colors that swirled around the three small pieces of Seorite for a moment. "Hozman, what are you doing?" he asked, keeping the spear between himself and the blades.
The rope bracelet filled with the last sprout. Camiel moved his fingers and the light shards attacked the Kharzanian in sequence.
Iznar rotated the spear and repelled the trio of blows in one movement.
Camiel kept his gaze on the stones that increased in speed. One of them started spinning above his head. The others started moving in front of the Lieutenant again.
"Stop these things!" shouted Iznar between one attack and another. The blades were fast and changed their rhythm every time their target guessed their trajectory. The Lieutenant seemed to be getting more and more tired. A final assault injured his arm and only then did the light shards stop.
"Filthy Hozman!" growled Iznar. He lunged forward in a desperate attempt.
Camiel saw the gap in the enemy's defense, and this time it was not a small flaw, but a wide-open door. He quickly moved the crystal above him and aimed at the adversary.
The Lieutenant was still trying to regain his balance when the blade of light pierced him in the chest. He fell to his knees, groaning, with his armor perforated from side to side at the level of his lung. He spat inside the helmet and a stream of blood flowed down his chest. He tightened his grip on the spear, pushed, but it was all for nothing.
The crystals collapsed onto the soil, without energy. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Iznar Tun," said Camiel and bent down to retrieve the sword.
The kharzanian helmet faded, the man's face covered in blood. "Am I going to die?" sobbed Iznar, his breath broken.
"Yes. You chose honor and should be proud of that," Camiel approached him, "but I can make the passing easier if you wish." His voice was warm.
Iznar Tun opened his armor and fell onto his shoulders. He looked up at the sky. "I have never seen... an Hozman warrior use the Seorite in that way," he gasped.
"No, and I don't believe there are any."
The soldier looked at Camiel and smiled weakly, wiping the blood from his uniform sleeve. The Hozman weapon was pointed at him.
"Lieutenant Iznar Tun... return to your fathers and tell them your story. May the winds of this world accompany your next journey." Camiel spoke these words fervently, as if trying to give meaning to such a brutal moment. He plunged the sword into the soldier's neck and he fell to the ground lifeless. A granite expression fell over Camiel's face, he tightened his jaw. He knew he had to hurry, he knew more were coming.
He bandaged the shoulder wound and took a moment to catch his breath. "As soon as we find a quiet place," he murmured to the green stone embedded in the sword.
The ground vibrated.
Something was coming. Camiel turned to the right and saw a train curving along the tracks. The thought of the tracks being destroyed by the explosion immediately came to mind. "It's going to derail!" he exclaimed, the screeching engine causing small forest rodents to flee.
Camiel ran to the other side of the station. The train was out of control and off the tracks. The carriages fell to the side, destroying everything in their path. A race that only slowed after numerous trees were knocked down.
The warrior rushed towards the train carriages, climbed up to the side that was now acting as a roof. Inside, the impact had dislodged most of the seats that trapped passengers like a deadly trap. Bloodied arms and legs poked out from the heap of iron and fabric. Whimpers and muffled cries of the survivors. Camiel threw himself into moving luggage, clothing, and bags, and threw them to the bottom of the carriage. He cut the metal with his sword, took a wounded person by the shoulders and placed him nearby. He went back to the others, but there were too many and he didn't know how many of them were in danger of life. It was his fault. If he hadn't run, the soldiers would not have destroyed the rails track. But he didn't have time to feel guilty yet.
"Anyone capable of moving," he ordered, "go and help in the other wagons." Two of the still dazed passengers nodded slowly and pulled themselves to their feet. There were cries and Camiel broke the glass that obstructed the passage in front of him with a powerful kick.
"Help, help us!" The voice, filled with fear, came from the wagon next to it.
"Are you okay?" Camiel shouted.
"I am, but there are many wounded here" the voice replied quickly.
"I'm coming. Hold on!"
Camiel grabbed a pair of men buried among the remains of the seats, both were unconscious with a noticeable wound on their head.
He moved some suitcases and reached the wagon from which the boy's voice came.
He opened the door and immediately noticed two young people slumped on the ground. A faint glow permeated the environment, as if the dust that had risen from the impact had not yet dispersed and shone with its own light.
"There's no blood, but they're not responding. They're unconscious!" shouted a brown-haired boy with a terrified face. He stepped back, stepping on the glass of the windows.
Camiel ignored him and focused on the carriage. There were no seats or at least they were no longer there. About thirty large, charged Seorite crystals were scattered at the corners. The young man swallowed and fell back. "Hey, wake up! Aran! Damn it, wake up!" he shouted, pulling his friend who was not far away.
"Aran?" whispered Camiel, his eyes fixed on the blond. He looked back at the boy who was hitting him. "What's your name?" he asked frowning.
"Cora, sir."
"Well, Cora. I'm Camiel. Now I'm going to check the other wagons. Don't move them, they might have something broken. If there's any news, shout," he said dryly. He ran off to check the other still accesible wagons
He cut the roof of the wagon in half to create an opening to drag out the injured. He helped them as best he could, even if in most cases it meant using their own clothes to stop the bleeding. He went in and out, back and forth until he was exhausted and helped the last passenger when the sun was already high in the sky. Tired, he went to rest near the boys in the wagon with the Seorite. Cora remembered and Aran... exactly like Allet's son.
Cora knelt in front of a young Zalesian who was regaining consciousness.
"Fez, how are you?" He had no physical damage. Camiel continued to watch them.
"I'm fine, but what happened?" Fez asked, feeling his body.
"Help me," whispered the blonde girl as she got up from the ground.
Neither the young girl was injured, and so it was for all the passengers in that wagon. If the rest was like a field hospital, in that small group it seemed they had just woken up from a peaceful sleep.
Curious, Camiel approached Fez. "How are you?" he asked. Cora took a step towards them, but the other blonde-haired boy stopped him with his hand.
The young Zalesian brushed the dust off his clothes. "I have a bad headache."
"What was all that Seorite doing in your carriage?" asked the Hozman. Fez's eyes widened in a frightened expression.
"It wasn't ours," Aran barged quickly. He grabbed Fez by the shoulders and steered him towards the girls in their group.
"There were no seats in your wagon?" the Hozman persisted, the blonde-haired boy didn't even turn around.
"We were traveling standing up," he replied from a distance.
A mixture of screeches was heard coming from the path that ran along the forest, near the tracks.
"The Kharzanians are already here," Aran shouted worriedly, "Cora, hurry up! Call Elidana and Marmorel, I'll take care of Fez, we have to escape."
While the other survivors tasted the relief of better care, the boys had already fled into the forest. Camiel turned one last time towards the injured, got up, took a deep breath and headed in the same direction as the five teenagers.