His eyes opened wide as suppressed memories surfaced. He pushed them all away, to the forgotten corners of his mind as he leapt out into the open. “Don’t let her kill herself!” He shouted, tugging at the power within.
His hand gripped the hilt of his blade, the augment embedded into the hilt glowing bright red. He dashed towards the woman, and the startled crowd, flames roaring on his sword.
Not a drop of her blood could touch the ground. Not a single drop!
Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him, then her lips parted in shock as she saw the others rushing behind him. “They are here to stop us!” She shouted, her hand reached into the wide sleeve of her robes, and she pulled out something that glinted.
“Alistair!” Midhir shouted, his gaze fixed on the woman. He heard the sound of flowing water and felt the spiritual power all around them stir into action. He only spared a glance at the crowd rushing to get between him and the woman.
They were all cloaked and armed – the same people that attacked them and nearly killed Arwen. They unsheathed their weapons – daggers, swords and even spears appeared in their hands, summoned from holding gems hidden beneath their clothes. Yet there was hesitation in their eyes, they raised their guards oddly, and constantly glanced at the woman over their shoulders.
The woman raised the object in her hand, a small, yet sharp knife. “For the Old Gods!” She shouted, her hand moved towards her chest just as a stream of water circled around the monument, and hit her with all its strength, flinging her up and away from the monument, over the crowd.
She let out a terrified scream as she hit the ground with a loud thud. “No!” She screamed, scrambling to get back up. Her gaze snapped to the knife that had fallen to the ground near the monument. She stumbled towards it, trying to make her way to it.
As the crowd rushed forward to protect her, Captain Rianne dashed forward, tackling her to the ground. “You, are coming with us!” She hissed as the robed woman screamed and struggled against her.
“With me!” Alistair shouted at his men as he dashed to position himself between Captain Rianne and the crowd of armed assailants. The four soldiers accompanying them took their positions on either side of him, weapons drawn and blades ready.
“Take your hands off of her!” A voice rang from behind them. Another robed woman, much younger than the one still struggling to shake off Captain Rianne’s grip stepped out from behind the monument, dragging along a bound man with her.
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She held a knife against his throat as she walked out into the open. “Let her go, or I will kill him!” She shouted, bringing everyone to a stop.
Her eyes were wide open, and her lips trembled. Her hand holding the knife was shaking visibly.
Midhir’s gaze snapped to the man she had dragged along with her, however. It was a fairly tall and slender man, with messy brown hair that covered the left side of his face completely. He was covered in mud and leaves, but still he easily recognised him.
Lonan’s uncovered eye shot wide open as their gazes met. His lips parted, but he quickly closed his mouth.
“Let her go!” The woman holding Lonan shouted again. “Don’t you hear me? I said I’ll kill him!”
“No, you won’t,” Midhir snapped back. “You won’t let his blood flow here.” He pointed at the monument, then at the ground beneath their feet, where the roots of the Old Growth forest and the chalk-coloured stone tendrils intertwined. “You’d rather die than let a heretic bleed here.”
Memories stirred, knowledge he never thought would be useful surfaced in his mind. Words he had heard before, phrases that made no sense at the time that he now understood – he took a step towards her, knowing perfectly well she wouldn’t cut Lonan.
“Stay away!” She pulled the knife away from Lonan’s throat, pointing it at him.
The historian smirked for a split second as he leaned forward, then threw his head back as hard as he could, hitting her chin with quite a bit of force. The woman let out a scream as she stumbled and fell, while Lonan immediately dashed forward, away from her. Despite having his hands bound, he somehow kept his balance as he stumbled over the roots, into the relative safety of the forest.
“Don’t let a drop of blood fall, Midhir!” he shouted as they passed each other.
Midhir dashed towards the woman as soon as Lonan hit her. As she stumbled back and fell, he caught up to her, catching her wrist as she let out an ear-piercing scream. He forced the knife off her hand, stashing it in his holding gem.
“Let go of me!” She screamed as he pulled her up on her feet. “Attack them!” She continued to shout as she struggled, trying to punch and kick him. “Drive them out of here!”
“For the Old Gods!” one of the people in the crowd shouted. “For the Old Gods!” the others’ voices echoed as some of them rushed towards Alistair and his men, and a few broke off from the crowd, rushing at Midhir.
Alarm bells rang in his mind as he pushed the woman to the ground and reached for his sword.
“You can’t cut them!” Lonan’s desperate voice reached his ears. “A single drop of blood is all it would take!”
Lonan was right. He let go of the hilt of his blade, turned around, and dashed into the forest. “With me!” He shouted as he passed by Alistair and the others, “We can’t fight here!”
They ran into the Old Growth, with their assailants at tow, trying to rescue their leader who was still being dragged away by Captain Rianne. After passing the first few rows of trees, Alistair stopped them, “Now we fight,” he declared, pointing his weapon at the crowd approaching.