Chapter Twenty Five: A Turn For The Worse

Chapter Twenty Five
A Turn For The Worse

It had been a day. One day to recover, when she’d fought for her life. And now, again, she was in the thick of it. Contrary to some, Vera had never enjoyed fighting. Sure, the rush of adrenaline was as overpowering for her as it was for anyone, but she’d never felt “the joy of a good battle” like Rubicus had described it.

But fighting for someone, even if it was someone who had gotten himself into trouble, made it easier somehow. She wasn’t trying to stop an unstoppable wave of hatred and teeth, she was pushing forward. They weren’t with their backs up against a wall. They were on the offensive, and they were going to rescue Clarus. She was going to rescue Clarus, if it was the last thing she did.

“It won’t be.” Aesling was with her every step of the way. When she wasn’t increasing her strength and speed, she was drawing Vera’s attention to what she wasn’t noticing. A grunt from Rubicus as his leg acted up. A cut or a nick on Caerella’s arm she’d try to pretend she didn’t have. In a single leap, Vera would close that distance and heal them if necessary.

The three of them, in the middle of the road, were being attacked, but not swarmed. Demons poured in from all sides, but not nearly to the degree that they had been in front of the gate. Hope mixed with dread in her stomach. On the one hand… the Cavean’s army could be beaten. On the other… What if she was too late? What if Clarus was already bleeding out inside the hall on the other side of the street they were trying to cross?

“Not worth thinking about,” Aesling said. “We’ll save him.”

“We will,” Vera said, gripping her short-sword with renewed purpose, and led the three of them continuously forward, when something struck her. “Where,” she said, between strikes and dodges, “is the army?!”

Rubicus dented a Demon’s face with the edge of his shield, and then cut it off with a single strike. “We’re fighting them, I reckon! The war’s been over for ten years, the Cavean showed up at the gates without fanfare… Nobody was ready!”

“But the rest of the army, they outnumber this lot a thousand to one!” Vera said through gritted teeth.

“If it gets inside those gates,” Caerella added, “no army will stop it.”

“And there’s not a man that can stand up against that thing and live!” Rubicus bellowed as he cut a Demon stem to stern. “Trust me, I’m a fair better fighter than most and I wouldn’t want to fight it!”

“Well, there’s one who’s bested it, and he’s in there,” Caerella pointed out.

“All the more reason to save his ass!” Rubicus laughed. Vera couldn’t help but crack a smile. Despite the events of the previous day, Rubicus was giving it his all again, and Caerella was calm as ever. Under the surface, Vera saw the cracks, but they were… normal. Normal, regular, expected pain. Manageable.

“Lead the way, Ruben,” Vera said, and found that she had enough space for a little bow. She had to quickly abandon the little gesture to dodge an attack, and countered it with a strike to the spine the way Caerella had taught her.

Then their bulwark, Rubicus, pushing forward with his shield, barrelled past her and crashed into another one of the creatures. She decapitated it almost casually as she walked past it, and realized how easy it was coming to her. Not long ago, she’d been almost paralyzed in fear when she’d first come into contact with the creatures, and now they were just that. Creatures. Mindless in their rage and lust for carnage, and therefore a threat only for as long as she didn’t keep her wits and her head about her.

Caerella closed ranks behind her, as the three of them advanced on the building. The Demons didn’t let up. While their band killed many of the things, now ashen silhouettes in the street that would stain the ground for years, there was seemingly no end to them.

“Any sight of him yet?” Caerella asked. Vera looked over her shoulder. The woman was doing all of her fighting while walking backwards, her axe a whirlwind of steel. It was like she was swinging a baton at a fair.

“None that I can see,” Rubicus said. They’d reached the other side of the street. Now-inside the city walls, the streets were well-worn but well-built, with raised pavements and stepping stones. The large hall that Clarus had barged into was some kind of gathering hall, Vera reckoned, and the large doors had been closed.

She tried not to think of the people that had been inside when the Cavean had entered it, closing the doors behind it. The creature was certainly cruel enough for something like that. Instead, she tried to think of Clarus, bravely fighting and defeating the monster, saving his kingdom or, barring that, holding his own until his allies arrived.

“Hold on,” Rubicus said. “I think I see something.” Vera peered past him at the building, and she understood why he was being vague. There was a sort of flashing behind the windows, but it was hard to tell what was actually happening in there. Whatever it was, it was likely magic, and therefore bad news.

She looked at Rubicus, and then Caerella. They both nodded at her. “Go.” Vera nodded back, then broke into a sprint without saying anything more. Nothing more needed to be said. Behind her, she heard Rubicus bellow a war cry and the whistling of Caerella’s axe. She knew they’d hold the creatures off while she went to rescue Clarus. She wasn’t going to risk him. Her Clarus. Aesling and hers both.

“Our fool,” Aesling said.

“Our fool,” Vera said with a smirk as she reached the door just in time for them to swing open and the hard oak slammed her in the face. Without really being aware of how she got there, she found herself looking up at the clouds.

“Get up!” Aesling said, and Vera, realizing, she’d fallen over in a daze, quickly rolled over. On top of Clarus. “Clarus?!”

“Clarus?!” She pushed herself up and blinked at him. He blinked back.

“Vera!” Clarus said. He had several cuts and bruises, but was otherwise alive and filled to the brim with his impossible, infinitely endearing enthusiasm. “Careful!” He threw her off of him, and then rolled the other way. A second later, a sword, larger than that of any man she’d ever seen, crashed into the ground splitting stone. Shadows curled around the blade, and she knew the thing that wielded it.

She jumped upright, vaguely aware that Clarus was doing the same off to her side. She stood opposite the Cavean again. The creature felt even taller now, its death-mask a cruel facsimile of death itself. It stared at her, and for some reason she felt more malice and hatred come off of it than she ever had before.

“Well, Princeling,” the Cavean said, with a voice like dying metal and rotting wood, “it seems you will watch your beloved die in front of you anyway.” It turned to face him. “Or would you rather I devour your soul in front of her, instead?” With a dry rasping sound that Vera realized to her horror was a chuckle, it strode towards Clarus, raising the sword again. It was as tall as she was, a thin sheet of metal that wouldn’t have to be sharp to cleave someone in two. The Cavean wielded it in one hand, and brought it down with a strength ten men couldn’t muster. Clarus dodged it with an almost casual ease.

“I don’t think either of those will happen, foul creature,” Clarus said as he sidestepped another blow. He made the fight look easy, until Vera realized that he was out of breath. He wasn’t dodging because the Cavean’s blows were that easy to avoid, but because blocking its blows was likely beyond impossible. Nonetheless, Clarus wore his trademark grin like a badge, gleaming in the morning sun.

The Cavean advanced at him. “Foul creature? Is that the best you can do? You lack the cruelty to match me, Princeling.” It swung the sword, cutting a groove a foot deep into the earth, leaving shadows in the air. Vera kept low, trying not to draw attention to herself as she flanked their enemy.

“It’s what you are,” Clarus said as he swung his sword in gentle figure-eights in front of him, baiting the Cavean to swing at him. “Foul. A failure. You failed your emperor, you failed your foul, infernal armies and you failed your mission,” he continued. “You were stopped by a boy not even halfway through his third decade. You are nothing, Cavean. A mistake.” Vera could barely believe this was the same Clarus she’d grown to know. His jaw clenched. His eyes cold. The Cavean said nothing, but simply observed him. “I’m capable of being cruel, Cavean. I simply choose not to be. You are not worth me lowering myself to that level.”

The Cavean’s response was just to swing its sword again, a strike that would have taken Clarus off at the torso if he hadn’t dodged underneath the blackened blade. Vera saw the mistake before he did, the creature following up the swipe with a backhanded strike. The sound of its gauntlet of shadow and steel hitting Clarus square in the jaw as he was thrown backward rang across the street. Even Rubicus and Caerella, in the distance, turned to look for a moment.

Vera screamed and rolled past the Cavean to run to Clarus’ side. Thankfully, he’d managed to roll with the punch, though he’d been thrown quite a ways away. He was bleeding quite heavily from his head, and he felt his jaw. Vera heard it pop in and out of its socket and she grimaced. “You’re okay,” she said quickly as she put a hand on him. His wounds started to heal, and she saw relief in his eyes. Relief, quickly replaced by horror as he looked past her. She saw the hand reflected in her love’s eyes before she felt it, grabbing the back of her collar and throwing her back against the wall. It knocked the wind out of her, all her senses screaming only pain in unison.

“Vera!” Clarus shouted as she fell to her knees. Aesling was already knitting her bones back together, but it was hard to breathe nonetheless. She heard her prince scream with rage as he charged at the Cavean. When she looked up, she saw to her surprise that he was driving it backward. The infernal general moved its sword with more speed and precision than any person could with a sword that size, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Clarus’ sword was a silver blur, and he pushed forward.

To all their surprise, the Cavean stood, quite literally, with its back to the wooden wall of the gathering hall. Clarus wasn’t letting up, seizing the upper hand as he had it, using the advantage of his speed and finesse to its fullest.

And then the Cavean made one more desperate swipe, which Clarus avoided with an angry ease, bringing his sword down with all his strength and rage, onto the Cavean’s wrists, following up with a strike aimed directly at the creature’s heart.

Time stopped as the sword dug deep, then came to a sudden halt, piercing the Cavean’s armor. Vera heard her own breathing first, her heart pounding in her ears. Then a sound, more horrible than any she had ever heard in her life. Like a millstone grinding her mind to dust, the Cavean’s laugh burrowed itself into her heart. The thing took Clarus by the throat. Its other hand, equally unharmed, grabbed the Prince’s wrist.

“You fought well, Princeling,” the Cavean said. “Now, you’ll die in front of her.”