Katerin lurched to her feet and made for the stairs, grabbing her staff and knife belt as she rushed from the room. She nearly ran into a man in the hall as he was rushing past, likely headed to the roof.
"Where's Fykes? And Jon?" she asked as she buckled her belt with trembling fingers. Her voice was more of a shout than she meant it to be, full of all the fear she felt.
The soldier paled and pointed down the stairs, before turning and hurrying away, armor and weapons clanking as he went. She cursed under her breath and charged down the steps two at a time. There was a booming, painful noise, and she felt the stones shaking beneath her feet. She rounded the corner in a panic, redoubling her speed, and there she caught a glimpse of Jon, standing near the doorway. He was peeking out of it as he yelled orders to a man behind him.
She heard his voice, but not what he said, as another explosion deafened her. Once the noise had passed so that only a ringing was left to disorient her, she ran towards Jon and tugged on his sleeve.
"Ah, she's awake!" Jon said, when she reached him. Keeping his good humor despite the deep furrows in his brows.
"What's happening? What can I do?" she said, rubbing her eyes. She could hear the fighting in between the beats of her heart—screams, and the sounds of weapon and shield clashing.
Jon gave her a considering look that changed to a broad smile. "Put that magic of yours to some use! Hit 'em with all you got."
"Where's Fykes?" she asked, sucking in an unsteady breath.
Jon grimaced and pointed to the largest skirmish, the line of men holding the gates, "Out there, determined to be in the thick of it."
She nodded, unable to speak. She wanted to find a quiet corner and hold her knees until the cacophonous noise and the chaos she glimpsed out the door had passed. Instead, she pushed those thoughts away. "I can't do anything from here," she said as she clapped Jon on the shoulder and dashed out the door.
As she ran towards the line of men fighting at the gate, she saw movement towards the back of the keep. The back side of the keep had no walls. Instead, the hills it sat between sloped steeply down, and flattened out into a jagged plateau, before ending in a sharp cliff face. To get around the keep would be no easy feat, but that had done nothing to keep their enemy from finding a way of harassing them from all sides.
A few figures lingered there, just at the edge of her sight in the moonlight. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she watched as they surprised the few remaining men fighting along that side of the keep, killing them without a thought.
She started after them but hesitated. If she was going to meddle in the affairs of others, she should at least make sure she could live long enough to find her own goals. A quick lance of anger spiked through her, and it was as she watched a spear rip open the throat of a soldier that she realized her first question for her mother would be why in the world she had come here.
Fykes saw an opening in the line as the healers pulled another man from the fight. He filled the gap and put his double blades to work. He was still uncertain with this style and two blades, but he could make it work when he needed to. He had gone through too many years of training to forget the basics of a sword fight.
He swayed with the line, holding every breach he could, as each side found advantages and setbacks. His blades and armor were covered in blood, and he had gained several new injuries of his own, though he could hardly complain about a few scrapes and bruises. He trusted the men to his sides and the men waiting behind, should he or another man fall.
On an honest scale, these battles were only skirmishes and small ones at that, but it felt much larger in the thick of it. The scent of sweat, blood, and smoke filled his nostrils, a thick and metallic aroma that was hard to forget once encountered. He kept his focus on his attacks as he slashed, parried and lunged.
He could only see his next opponent, until magic ignited the air in front of him and three of the people fighting to breach the wall lit on fire. As soon as the fire faded, dozens of small crystal missiles found targets with ease, in the group of lizard-folk and uhma'zarhins facing them.
The next thing he knew, Katerin was beside him in the line. Her staff was of limited use with the small amount of space she had, but she still used it well. The faint smell of parchment and soap overtook a bit of the pervasive scent of blood and sweat.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked her, his voice tense.
"I could ask you the same—" She cut herself off as she brought her staff down in a short chop to halt the approach of another lizard, and another few moments passed before she had enough breath to speak again. "I need your help." She grunted, twisting her staff to block the thrust of a slender spear. "There's a small group on the back side of the keep," she said as she backed up a step and released another spell into the line, before ducking away from the fighting.
Fykes swung his blades into the fray one last time, as two men stepped forward to take up their places. As he stepped away from the fighting, he noticed that they were holding quite well. Injured, sure—but they would not lose tonight. "What are you talking about?" he asked, as he found her not far from the gate, her hands shaking as she leaned on her staff.
"Noticed a group in the trees... I don't think anyone else has seen them, yet."
Fykes frowned, his nose wrinkling. "Where?"
"Back of the keep. They were picking off the survivors of the earlier skirmish."
"Let's go."
Together they moved around the fort, taking every effort to be as quiet as possible. There were numerous fires on this side, a result of pitch-filled barrels, lit and rolled down the hill that stood as a natural yet flawed barrier for the backside of the keep.
Jon now stood in front of one corner of the fort, having abandoned his post inside. He hated not being in any fight with his men—it wasn't right. He and his guards had just ended a small, but brutal skirmish with half a dozen uhma'zarhin's who had rushed them from the still smoldering hill. The fighting back here had already died out, and bodies littered the ground.
"Get to the line," he told the men around him. "Make 'em pay double for anything they try to take!" He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and saw a small group of his enemies, and someone he knew—someone he knew better than his own mother, in fact. Ge'henna was surrounded by a half a dozen uhma'zarhin fighters, all of them gaunt and expressionless.
His breath caught, and he felt a well of pain, guilt and shock rise up, closing his throat.
Ge'henna had lived on this very land, in a small cabin not far from where the keep now stood, since they had arrived. He had lived on this hill before the notion of a fort was even brought up, and if Sahn-Raidar had been occupying the fort instead of finishing its construction, he might still be living.
This man had to be an illusion, or some trick on his mind.
Jon had seen the aftermath, and he had mourned for his friend for months now. How it hurt to see him—illusion or not—raising his blade against his own home.
Katerin grabbed Fykes' arm and pointed out the group she had seen before, as they crouched behind a corner of the fort. The uhma'zarhin's stood around a large man. He held a massive sword, almost as long as he was, its hilt decorated with animal fangs. The uhma'zarhin's straightened, brandished their obsidian tipped spears, and moved forward, their backs toward Katerin and Fykes.
Fykes stood stock still. Staring at the group with wide eyes.
Katerin waited for him to make a suggestion, to move, or say something, but he just stood there. It was too dark in this corner for her to see his torn expression. She knew if she waited she would lose her chance to catch them by surprise, so she conjured and released an orb of flame, hitting one uhma'zarhin in the back. It was a powerful enough blow to send him rolling forward through the dirt.
That managed to catch their attention, and Fykes' as well. He broke whatever effect held him and charged forward. Katerin ran just behind him, taking the time to incant another spell as she went. It took only a few seconds to complete, and more fire drove into the chest of her already burned target.
*
Fykes charged into the fight without pause. He brought his blades in low, under an uhma'zarhin's defenses, and slashed up. The move worked flawlessly, and his blades bit deep, leaving blood pouring free of his enemy. The man snarled and drove its spear forward.
He had to dance aside to avoid the serrated edge of the weapon. Another uhma'zarhin came up beside him, slicing a spear straight for his ankle. He jumped into the air and brought his other blade down from over his head, cutting into the uhma'zarhin's shoulder, and then wrenching the blade free with a mighty effort.
Jon rushed into the fray then, driving his short sword into and through the back of the first man attacking Fykes. The mans face remained expressionless as he doubled over, sliding off the blade.
Fykes had a moment to glance up, and when he did, he stepped back in shock. He distantly felt the bite of the spear tip in his thigh, but it did not truly register. He had hoped the shadows were playing tricks on his mind, but Ge'henna was standing not twenty feet from him, looking right at him without a hint of recognition or care in his once kind and smiling eyes. He held the same blade he always had—the same blade he had been buried with.
Flashes of their conversations slammed into him like a physical thing, tearing at his heart. He thought of their sparring, their hunting trips and late night drinks. Ge'henna had been one of his closest friends, and this just could not be him.
Fykes wanted to call out to him, but the lump in his throat kept him from speaking. He remembered Ge'henna's death, seeing the cabin, and seeing what the lizard-folk had done. He could never forget the blood and horror that plagued his dreams.
*
Katerin did not notice Jon's arrival, she was too focused on her next spell. She stepped forward and to the side, wrapping her allies in a protective barrier to her magic as she unleashed a wave of thunder upon the group. The wave of energy boomed out from her in a crash of sound, bashing two of the uhma'zarhins into the ground.
It had no effect on the large man, however, and he strode toward her with deadly purpose, even as the spell hit him. She squeaked and backed away, wanting nothing to do with him or his weapon.
Ge'henna swung his blade with the flat side facing her, and it came toward her in a flash of speed and power. The flat of the blade caught her in the side and lifted her feet off the ground before throwing her some distance, to land awkwardly on her back. He stalked forward as she fell, and she saw the sharp gleaming edge of the broadsword as it swung down toward her neck. She clawed away, stone tearing at her fingertips, struggling to breathe.
Katerin watched as Jon rushed for Ge'henna, his short curved blade stabbing into the big mans leg, leaving a jagged gash.
*
Fykes' hesitation at seeing Ge'henna had cost him, and now he was having more difficulty than he should have as he faced the uhma'zarhin in front of him. His leg was unable to support his full weight, both from his earlier bruise and the new injury. And his left arm had a nasty gash across it. He knew he was not as quick as he needed to be in this state.
He needed to get inside the spear's reach, without getting cut again. So he bided his time, parrying and countering, making his opponent expend more energy than he did. After several moments of waiting, he found an opening and jumped toward the man, ignoring the spike of pain in his leg.
The spear came up to parry his blow as the uhma'zarhin bought the feint, and Fykes dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain and pushing both blades in from either side and up into the lungs of his opponent. The man gaped, convulsing as thick, bubbling blood escaped his mouth.
*
Jon realized in a matter of seconds that he was no match for Ge'henna. Not now, anyway. He was losing his ground at an alarming rate. He held one arm close to his body, where the giant sword had caught his side, despite the fine breastplate he wore. Ge'henna pushed forward, relentless in his barrage of blows.
Jon ducked and dodged all he could, and found a small chance. He ducked under the latest swing, and dove for Ge'henna's knees. He hit hard and knocked him to the ground, not hesitating to rain blow after blow to Ge'henna's ribs, nose, and any other vulnerable place he could.
Ge'henna let out an animalistic growl, and Jon felt his world spinning as he found himself pinned under a large knee. Ge'henna had released his sword, and he did as Jon had, raining much heavier punches. Jon felt his ribs crack, felt his head slam back into something solid. He wondered distantly if this truly was Ge'henna—if his friend could actually do this to him.
The last thing he saw was a familiar scarred fist, coming straight for his jaw.
*
Katerin thought she had used the time Jon bought her wisely. Another ball of flames, and a few staff swings later, and she felled the last uhma'zarhin while not being too badly injured in the process. As she turned back to face Jon, with pride lingering somewhere under her fear, she saw Ge'henna standing over him, and fear overtook her once again.
Blood was splattered across Ge'henna's face and chest, and it dripped from his fists. He turned toward her and charged, leaving his weapon where it lay in the warm, ashy soil. The first swing of his fist missed her as she ducked away, but she was too slow for the second. The blow hit her shoulder, and she felt something in her arm tear as her vision clouded.
Somehow she kept her feet, despite the shocking power of the blow. She screamed at Ge'henna and held out her hands. Frigid mist coated over his eyes, though it seemed to have little effect. Panic now controlling every action, she backed away with unsteady steps, almost not seeing as Fykes darted in from the side to intercept the man before he could swing at her again.
*
Fykes stabbed toward Gehenna's right side, but he missed and took a punch to the jaw for it. The blow staggered him, but he recovered before another blow could shake him, and he swung in wide arcs, trying to keep Ge'henna on the defensive side of things. Trying to steer him away from Jon and Katerin.
He saw an opening and lunged forward with one leg, stabbing right for Ge'henna's heart, but Ge'henna caught the blade between his palms and ripped it free of Fykes' hands. Then Ge'henna lurched forward in a flicker of motion, sending a knee into Fykes' stomach that was strong enough to double him over, leaving his vision blurring from the pain.
*
Katerin was in pain, and she was angry. She watched Fykes, head hanging low as he sagged to his knees, and she saw Jon laying motionless, not far from them. They should be fine! They were fighters, and they were the ones who knew what to do in situations like these. She was terrified as she turned her gaze back to Ge'henna. If this man could best them, she should be an undeniably easy target. Her mind screamed at her to run, to flee and preserve her life. She knew she was going to die here, but she would never run. She would not just give up and leave them.
Ge'henna was in front of her before she even saw him move, and somehow she dodged his first heavy swing. He kicked his leg out in a sweeping motion, and she felt her knee buckle as it jerked to the side. She screamed at him defiantly as she fell, and swung her staff in desperation towards his side.
A sloppy blow, but effective.
It impacted and she heard his bones crack, but he gave no sign of even feeling it. He ripped her staff from her grasp, tossing it to the ground behind him as easily as one might take a stick from a child. His face never showed pain or anger, in fact, he showed no expression at all. Another fist came at her, and this one she was unable to dodge. It hit her squarely in the stomach, and for a second she saw nothing but bright white stars on the stone below her.
Anger was the force that cleared her vision and her focus.
Ge'henna bent down to deliver the last blow. She gritted her teeth and clapped her hands together, forming a ball of acid between her hands, sticky and dripping. Another fist glanced off her jaw, and the pain was so intense that she nearly lost the spell. Using the last of her energy and will, she reached forward, pushing herself up on one arm, just in time to see his other fist careening towards her.
Katerin pushed closer, leaning into him to evade his blow and latching on to a leather strap across his chest. She slammed her palm and the ball of acid into his jaw, and sent it splashing across his face. The terrible smell of cooking meat filled her awareness as the acid popped and sizzled.
She felt his hands grasping for her braid, but before Ge'henna could toss her across the rocks, a sword plunged into his side, right between his ribs. Fykes slumped to the ground with Ge'henna as the man slid free of his weapon and horror was plain as the moonlight on his features.
Katerin could not hear past a high pitched ringing, and she tasted something odd and sour on her tongue. Her thoughts felt hindered and fuzzy, unable to process more than one thing at a time. She turned and looked to Jon, and seeing him laid out in the ash left her own pains forgotten in an instant. She crawled towards him, her whole body feeling akin to a heavy sack of grain.
She fell onto her side as she reached him, instead of kneeling gently as she had planned, and groped for a potion on her belt. She uncorked it and unceremoniously poured it into Jon's mouth.
His wounds healed and the blood stopped flowing, but he did not move, nor breathe, nor make a sound.
Fykes dropped next to Jon on his other side, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him with what little strength he had left.
They waited for agonizing seconds, neither of them breathing.
He watched Jon's face with an unbreakable intensity. He huffed out a heavy breath, and with it a faint, pale light peeked through his fingers, draining the last of any energy he had. The healing was like a tap to his soul, but his vision never wavered from Jon's face. His eyes were burning with tears. Panic pulled at his hands and made them shake. He would not lose another friend.
Katerin was so focused on Jon's breathing that it seemed she saw nothing else. If she had noticed Fykes' act, she showed no sign of it.
"No, no... you can't do this," she said, shaking her head. "Wake up, Jon." Her voice was hoarse and high, as only fear could make it.
Fykes watched as she smashed the empty glass bottle into the ground under delicate fingers, and he winced as it shattered, watching the blood drip from her palm.
Jon's chest rose with a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered open. Fykes heaved out a sigh of relief and Jon smiled at him.
"You're gonna leave a bruise," Jon said, in nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
Fykes sighed and pushed himself back, releasing Jon's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get you to the clerics." He hauled Jon to a sitting position, steadying him. "And you, too." He looked at Katerin as she stared at the glass in her palm with a detached expression.
Fykes struggled to his feet, and hefted Jon, letting his friend lean heavily on his shoulder. He was standing in between both Jon, and Katerin, trying to make sure that neither would stumble, as together they limped from the dusty, ash-covered ground, towards the stiff cots of the infirmary. He saw bruised and bloody faces, torn clothing, and horrified eyes, but they were all alive. Maybe miracles aren't so uncommon as we believe, he thought.
Katerin sat awake for hours, trying to calm her shaking nerves. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that sword with its gleaming blade, Jon laying bloodied in the dirt, Fykes' face awash with horror. His expression had been one of a man wishing to wake up from a nightmare, and she found she shared that sentiment.
No amount of pinching herself would wash away the memories she would keep from this night. No amount of sparring or spell memorization had ever prepared her for the chaos this place contained. Nothing made sense here. She had read hundreds of books, but none of them matched the reality of this wild and chaotic and terrible place.
Funny, how quickly the world can show you how terrifying it can be, she thought, staring at the thick bandage wrapped around her palm.