Raegn’s eyes opened to a water-color sky, a deep mix of orange and magenta painting the undersides of clouds. Something waved at the edge of his vision, blurred, but distinguishable. A flag? No, an arm, by the repetitive motion. There was a voice too, strained in a yell, yet the words echoed in his head and lost their strength before he could make out what they were.
He blinked and a man appeared before him. The features of the face were masked by a haze that blanketed his sight. His eyes tried to follow as the man walked around behind him, but his neck seemed unable to comply against the weight of his head. He blinked again and saw his heels leaving lines in blackened dirt. There was a pressure under his arms. Was he being taken?
“Where...me,” he muttered. The words were as muddled in his mind as they were leaving his mouth. There was a response, but it sounded like it came from underwater and was indistinguishable amidst the ringing in his ears.
When Raegn next woke, the sky was blackened by the night. A campfire crackled before him, lighting the steep rock wall against which he rested. A dirt path, wide enough for two carts to pass, disappeared into the darkness in either direction. The far edge of the path vanished against the sky and gave way to the perilous slope below.
“Oh thank the Light, you’re awake!”
Raegn knew the voice. It was tender, yet tough like a mountain flower. Unfortunately, his body ached at the sudden weight placed against him and he groaned in response.
“Sorry, sorry,” the voice murmured.
Raelle pulled away from the hug to sit on her heels and wipe tears from her eyes. Disheveled silver hair clung to her forehead and Raegn noted one of her arms was in a crude sling made from a large piece of cloth.
“One of them got you?” he asked. The skin of water she pushed into his hands let him know that she had heard the rasp in his voice. Raegn sipped it gingerly. The cool water coated his mouth and throat and brought welcome relief.
“Not nearly as bad as they got you,” Raelle said, eyeing his chest. “I couldn’t get your armor off, but I managed to get a bandage underneath. If you were the one who tried to heal that you did a shit job of it.”
Raegn managed a pained chuckle in response and watched the concern on Raelle’s face grow in turn. Her silver eyes were filled with worry as she ignored her own injuries in favor of his. How long had she been looking after him? First as children, helping him bandage his hands before they had callused. Then again, years later as teens in blissfully ignorant love. That love may have lost its passion over the years as they became more like siblings, but even now, when all had been lost, she had found him.
“I’m fine, Raelle,” he said in an attempt to reassure her. Then the memory of his final moments before unconsciousness flooded into him. “Is the city...” He hoped that what he had seen was only a dream, little more than a hallucination caused by pain.
“Gone?” she finished. “Yes. The mountain collapsed on top of it. We barely made it out in time. If Ulrich hadn’t—”
“Ulrich! Where is he?” Raegn suddenly sat upright and paid the price. Raelle helped ease him back down into a more comfortable posture. She took back the waterskin, but stayed close, searching his eyes.
“He was the one sounding the Horn at the end,” she said quietly. “He wouldn’t have made it out.”
Raegn winced, but not from physical pain. Who else had died? Had the ones at the western gate been buried? Most of the other lords had likely still been in the city. That meant even Rollo...poor Raelle. And damn Camael! How could an Archangel kill those he was supposed to protect?!
“Raegn, what happened up there?” she asked. The question pulled him from silent curses, but the sound of approaching footsteps stole his answer.
“He’s awake! That’s good news. Thought I might have to carry him the rest of the way.”
A tall man with the signet of the Elite Guard emblazoned on his upper chest stepped into the light of the fire. His arms were filled with firewood and he had short, brown scruff lining his face with a matching mop of hair atop his square head. Raelle stood to help the man position the logs on the fire so they wouldn’t burn all at once.
“Raegn, this is—”
“Wystan,” Raegn said. “I know a few of the Elite Guard.”
Wystan gave a slight bow of his head but continued to stoke the fire and maneuver the logs.
“Are we on the High Road?” Raegn asked.
“Aye, just about halfway to Bulwark,” Wystan replied. “We’d planned on running through the night, but Raelle convinced me to detour a bit. Wanted to investigate whatever came off the mountain before it collapsed. She had good instinct, I suppose.”
Raegn pursed his lips. Others might know of his presence on the mountainside, then. Would they know of his failure? How he had pleaded with the Divine for help and been cast aside?
“Raegn, Ulrich told us to deliver a message to Bulwark. That you had assumed the duties of your lineage.” Raelle paused for a moment as if to summon the courage to finish her thought. “I didn’t know what it meant, if I believed it or not, but…” Raelle gestured to his hand.
Raegn looked down at the ring on his finger and the sigil stared back. The simple band revealed the truth to her more than his explanation would. But her words were soft, like milk, rather an accusation. Both of their fathers were dead and still she focused on him, doing her best not to upset him.
“It’s true?” she asked.
He nodded, sullenly. Raelle sighed and took a swig from the skin, licking her lips while Wystan tried to stay interested in the glowing coals. Raegn clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to tell her everything. That he had killed his own father at some foolish request. That salvation stood before him and it slipped through his fingers. Instead, the two turned to look away from him. There were voices in the distance.
Just as the approaching conversation became distinguishable, it stopped. Three men in Bastion’s colors stepped out of the shadows. Raelle and Wystan rose quickly at the intrusion. The High Road had been built for messengers and traders and led nowhere but between Bastion and Bulwark, yet bandits had been known to disguise themselves as both from time to time.
“Identify yourselves,” Wystan barked.
“Easy now, we’re brothers,” came the reply from the man in the middle.
The man was thin, a short goatee of blonde hair resting at the bottom of a pointed jaw. To his left a larger man, tall as Wystan and slightly thicker, leaned on his spear and to his right another, somewhere between the two in size, had a bow and quiver slung across his lower back.
“Sindri?” Wystan asked, peering forward. “Is that you?”
“Aye, you oaf, it’s me. Didn’t think you’d survive after I saw you headed towards the Horn,” the thin man replied.
“And I don’t recall seeing you at all, Sindri,” Wystan said. “Shouldn’t you have been in the pass?”
Raegn couldn’t see Wystan’s face, but the man’s hand remained on his hilt. He also caught Raelle eyeing her sword that was propped against the rock wall some distance away. The other three, in comparison, seemed completely relaxed.
Sindri spoke with words smooth like silk. “I was. Lucky enough to be in the fourth line, in fact. Even then I barely made it out. Gums here was almost killed with the rest of the archers on the valley wall,” Sindri said with a thumb jutting in the bowman’s direction. “A few others might’ve fled back into the city, not sure where they ended up though.”
“And now you’re headed to Bulwark?” Raelle asked.
“Aye,” Sindri said with a bit of a frown. “Wouldn’t be goin’ anywhere else on this road. The rest of the survivors will probably be about half a day behind.”
Survivors. Raegn wanted to ask how many but hesitated in fear of the number. Somewhere inside himself the urge rose, spurred by a sense of duty. Ulrich would never let him shy away from difficulties, no matter his feelings. Wystan spoke again before he could fulfill his obligation.
“Why are you so far ahead?”
Sindri clucked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest. “Why so many questions, Wystan? Bastion’s gone. We’re lucky to be alive. If we’re not welcome at your fire we’ll just move on.”
The three walked along the edge of the firelight, continuing in the direction in which they had come. Raelle used the opportunity to glide to the far edge of the wall where her sword lay, but kept her front to the three. They were half a stride from disappearing into the night when Sindri stopped. He turned back, tapping his temple with a finger.
“You know, there’s no reason to hide the truth, Wystan. My apologies.” The words were still smooth, but there was a difference now, a change in the tone, like the silk was hiding something. “We’re ahead of the rest because we went to investigate what came off that mountain. Funny thing that. Only an empty crater...with lines in the dirt like something was drug out of it.” Sindri turned to stare at Raegn. “Or someone.”
Sindri strode forward but was met by Wystan’s outstretched arm. Yellowed teeth appeared between the goatee.
“I’m surprised to see you, Lord Raegn,” Sindri said with a mocking bow. “I thought you would have been amongst the last to leave.”
“Watch your tone. You stand before the Lord of Bastion,” Raelle hissed.
“Now that’s interesting!” Sindri exclaimed with an exaggerated turn towards his companions. “There were rumors among the survivors that both father and son were dead, seeing as they were last headed up the mountainside. How is it, Lord Raegn, that you end up here?”
Raegn pressed his hand against the rock wall and forced himself to stand. The effort strained his legs, but he was pleasantly surprised by his own stability. The movement did nothing to help the throbbing in his head, however.
“You have no idea what occurred,” Raegn said once he was fully upright.
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Sindri admitted, “but I can presume! Maybe we’re wrong, but we were talking, my friends and I that is. And really, there’s only one way we see it.” Sindri paced with a hand on his chin. “You and your father go up the mountain, ordering the warriors to trap the Void in the city,” he said, “then, just as the Horn sounds, the two of you channel enough Light to send the pass into the abyss and bring the mountain down on the city. It’s a victory! The Void are stopped and the embarrassment that is the failed scouting of the Sentinels, led by our heir apparent, is wiped clean. It’s brilliant!” Sindri finished and the hairs on the back of Raegn’s neck stood on end.
“Enough!” Raelle yelled. Sindri turned to face her, eyeing her from head to toe. “Lord Aldway’s final message was that the Edelgard family served Bastion honorably,” she said, matching Sindri’s glare.
“Ah, the Old Bear.” Sindri waved his hand with a laugh and once again found Wystan’s arm in the way. “The stalwart warrior that hid the father’s weakness and coddled the arrogant son. If anyone were to cover their lies, Ulrich would certainly be high on the list.”
“You are not worthy of saying his name!” Raegn yelled, abandoning the stability the wall offered and stepping towards the man.
“And you were never worthy to lead!” Sindri shouted back and shoved him. The blow forced him to slump back against the wall. “Raegn the Reaper, the prodigal heir. It’s fitting. Instead of your name being known for the Void you’ve slain it will remembered for how many of your own people you’ve—!”
Raegn heard the two dull thuds that followed but his eyes were still on his feet, ensuring he had the footing to leave the wall. When he lifted his head he saw Sindri lying on the ground with a hand covering his mouth. Raegn’s eyes rose further to find Wystan rubbing his knuckles and staring at the thin man with a solemn frown.
Wystan lurched forward slightly and the frown turned into a look of pained confusion. He looked down and Raegn’s eyes followed. Both were surprised at the glistening spearhead that protruded from the top of Wystan’s abdomen. As the tip disappeared back through the hole Wystan fell to his knees, hands coated red and hopelessly clutching the wound.
Raelle’s anguished cry split the night. She had made it to her sword at some point during the scuffle and charged the large man with the spear. It was a valiant effort, but fruitless. Were she at full strength she might have won even though outnumbered, but when she turned to block Sindri’s strike the man with the spear grabbed her sword arm and delivered a powerful knee to her gut. She coughed heavily and fell to the ground, wheezing. The spearman kicked her fallen sword out into the darkness.
“Looks like you’ve got no one left to protect you, my lord.” The silky voice slipped away and revealed the serpent beneath as the words slithered from Sindri’s mouth. The traitor wiped a drop of blood from his lip and grinned wildly.
Raegn grimaced. He reached out for the Light, but when he envisioned the embers they erupted outward and he was painfully reacquainted with his scorched soul. He had reached his limit, able to feel the Light but unable to hold it within. Still, whatever amount he had tried to manifest exploded in turn and Sindri had once again been knocked to the ground.
In his stumble forward Raegn barely side-stepped the thrust of the large man’s spear. He grabbed hold of the weapon with both hands and lunged upward, the crown of his skull carrying his momentum into the man’s chin. The spearman’s jaw clacked shut and his grip gave as he fell limp to the ground. Raegn swayed, but with the spear in his hands he was able to support himself and remain upright.
The throbbing in his head soared to new heights and was soon accompanied by a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down to find an arrow embedded in his left thigh, then up to see the third man smiling and readying the next. Three visible teeth were enough to reveal the bowman’s namesake. As the next arrow was nocked Raegn instinctively attempted to form a barrier, but the faint shimmer appeared only briefly. Raegn screamed in pain, for in that moment his arm felt like it had been placed into a forge.
The bow rose as Gums drew, but the archer released early. Raegn eyed the arrow stuck in the ground at his feet before looking at the bowman, perplexed. The source of the poor shot would’ve been easy to miss if Gums hadn’t dropped the bow and clutched his side. A small knife, its plain hilt barely visible, was nestled just above the hip.
“Run,” Raelle said hoarsely from all fours, an arm still raised from her throw.
“You shtupid bitch!” Gums yelled as he pulled the blade out and tossed it over the edge of the path. He took several limping strides over and delivered a kick to Raelle’s head before she could stand. She crumpled, defenseless, but the man continued to shower her in blows, stomping and kicking her limp form.
Stop. Stop! Stop, damn you! Raegn couldn’t tell if the words were in his mind or if he shouted them, but he felt nothing as he snapped the shaft of the arrow off just above the head. Using the spear for support he began to make his way over to Raelle, his leg oozing with every step.
“No, no, no, my lord. You answer to me, now!”
Sindri swung out wildly with his sword. Though the spear caught the blade overhead, Raegn failed to fully stop the blow and received a shallow cut near the base of his neck. He let the spear collapse against his body and slid the blade away. Sensing victory, Sindri lashed out with a flurry of swings. Raegn blocked each, leaving the base of the spear on the ground to allow him to better absorb the strikes. A final parry came moments too late. The sword raked across the wooden shaft and caught the inside of his leg, dropping him to a knee. Sindri straightened. A smile spread across his face as he raised his sword above his head.
This wasn’t a fight Raegn thought he would win, not in his current state, but this fucking traitor thought victory would come that easy? No. Raegn capitalized on the break in the attack and swung the butt of his spear upward, catching Sindri in the groin. The blow brought the traitor to the ground writhing in pain. Raegn summoned what remained of his energy and heaved the spear at the Gums. The momentum of the toss and his own weakness nearly rolled him off the mountain, but Gums toppled as well, whirling oddly at the sudden weight in his shoulder.
Raegn started to push himself off his stomach, but his hand slipped off the edge of the High Road. With the side of his face firmly planted in the dirt he was forced to take in the dawn. The sun still hid just below the horizon, but colored the clouds and steadily revealed the mountainside. He forced his head along the hard-packed dirt to look back at Raelle. Her short silver hair was matted with dirt and her face bloodied. She seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, resting after a tiring day with her round cheeks further softened by the warm light of the fire. Raegn willed her to wake. To move. It would only take a subtle rise and fall of her chest to convince him to stay, but she gave him nothing.
Sindri groaned, one hand still clutching his groin as he stood and gathered his weapon. The large spearman, too, had begun to sit upright and rub his jaw. Raegn was out of time. Unarmed, outnumbered, and with a body beyond exhaustion, he swung himself over the edge of the road. I can lead them away, he told himself, but it was a lie only thought of to hide the disgust he felt for fleeing. With a last look at Raelle’s crumpled form he slipped into the waning night below. With every failed attempt to hold the Light his soul burned in agony, but each time also offered enough strength to prevent shattering bone as he slid and tumbled down the mountain.
