The brave fool will accomplish so much more than the doubtful sage.
— Meditations, by the Red Emperor
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Lyka knocked the arrow out of the air with the butt of her spear before bearing down on Primrose, who had tried to sneak in under Lyka's guard in the middle of her maneuver.
"Stop." Primrose's voice rang, an almost irresistible call to Molam as he desperately looked for another opening to shoot Lyka without hitting Primrose. The command did not so much freeze Lyka as make her downward strike sluggish; Primrose rushed right past the speartip towards Lyka, who flipped backwards to avoid the kick aimed at her throat.
Lyka didn't wait for Primrose to finish her backwards flip, her speartip flashing upwards before Primrose shouted another command. "Retreat."
The sudden forced backstep surprised even Lyka, whose extended spear just missed Primrose's lower back before Lyka's unnatural extension of her body forced her to lose her footing on the wet carpet. Molam hesitated, seeing his chance but unable to coordinate with Primrose's agility as the two women recovered their footing and their weapons clashed again.
Though Molam had asked both of them their fighting styles in preparation for the formation, he found himself unprepared for the sheer ferocity unfolding. Primrose's brief description of being a short-ranged fighter did not capture the sheer beauty of her flashing blades in the brightly lit Mansion. She whirled, orange hair, purple silk, and blue flowers that flashed silver steel in the face of Lyka's fluid spear movements that extended and struck without pause. The Sand Spear stood her ground, her arms a blur as the speartip slashed, stabbed and sliced in equal measure but seemed to only strike at air.
"Stop." Primrose's voice rang out anytime before Lyka threatened to land a blow. The momentary jerk in Lyka's movement was almost imperceptible to the casual observer, but enough for Primrose to parry or adjust her movement to avoid injury.
Primrose's shifting whirl of burnt-orange and light blue obscured her actual body from Lyka's measured strikes. The Sand Spear dodged and retreated, parrying strikes that could not be predicted and found herself unable to gain ground but unwilling to yield it either. In mere moments, the two women exchanged a flurry of blows and parries leaving Molam in awe before his lungs reminded him that, at some point, he had forgotten to breathe. And though it was evident that Lyka was not going to be swayed by Primrose's Charm, it seemed Primrose had also recognized Lyka was not completely immune.
"Backstep."
Primrose's new command came as a surprise for even Molam. Lyka took a step backwards at the force of the command; even Molam felt the urge to take a step back of his own. The new command had clearly surprised Lyka, whose balance was thrown off in the midst of another forward strike. The spearwoman's forward step hesitated and Primrose immediately stepped in within the spear's range, a thrown dagger flying towards Lyka's foot and another slicing towards Lyka's neck. For a brief moment it looked as though Lyka was forced to be hobbled in exchange for parrying Primrose's attack, but Lyka bent backwards following her backstep and used the momentum to dodge away from both strikes, astounding Molam with her agility.
Are you just going to watch or are you going to do something?
Molam shook himself from his reverie and took off running in the other direction towards the other side of the Mansion. Lyka's vigilance about angling herself behind Primrose put one doubt to rest: Lyka could be pierced by arrows.
He ran down the gallery, the clash of dagger and spear intermixed with Primrose's commands reverberating behind him as he dashed to the other side, looking for a clearer angle to aim at Lyka. He could only hope and pray that his repositioning was fast enough that he didn't leave Primrose vulnerable against Lyka's drastically greater reach with the spear.
The far side of the building's wall crumpled as he ran, the stone collapsing in a small avalanche of dust, rock, and stone. Shurra's fight with Agytha threatened to destroy the entire building. The scholars of the Fallen Star Pavilion had reasoned that it took the Red Emperor a century to conquer the Northern Tribes due to their mastery of physical reinforcement, but it was a completely different experience to witness it for himself.
As Molam cleared the angle, a rush of water gushed into the lower floor and he heard a dull thud followed by a pillar crumbling into dust. Shurra emerged from the rubble, shaking off water like a large animal and launched herself towards the water's source. Molam looked away, trusting Shurra to keep the City Lord occupied while he and Primrose dealt with Lyka.
He could see Lyka clearly now, making full advantage of her spear's reach against Primrose. Primrose's twin blades caught Lyka's speartip whenever it got too close. Lyka's balance shifted without end, having adjusted herself to Primrose's commands, and even Molam could see that Primrose had no hope to close the distance necessary to get in range with her daggers. A momentary lull in their exchange had Primrose standing still enough for Molam to see several bleeding cuts on her arms and one on her neck.
The visual reminder spurred him to draw an arrow as the two women resumed their clash; then the muscles on his back clenched in agony and the pain almost caused him to drop the bow. The arrow dropped from his fingers and clattered onto the floor as he bit his lip and tried to not pass out. Whatever the spirit had done wasn't enough, probably limiting the aura it used to only ensuring that he wouldn't die.
But he pushed through the pain, blinking away the tears and looking for the arrow that he had dropped. If Primrose died, Lyka would kill him next; and if he ran now without the Dao he could never go home.
Gritting his teeth, he notched the arrow and aimed for Lyka. He breathed in deeply, preparing himself for the impending pain before he pulled and loosed, the string snapping back in place as the arrow went for Lyka's head. He collapsed forward at the pain, holding himself against the railing as he looked at the shot.
"Stop." Primrose's voice commanded just as the arrow shot out, and Lyka froze in place. At the last moment, the woman twisted her neck and the arrow whizzed by, thudding into the wall.
Molam made his decision then, twisting his armguard.
"Heal me fully."
If we do not preserve the aura —
"Heal me, damnit! Unless you're able to bring me back from the dead too."
His back itched even more as he tried to wipe away his tears, watching helplessly at the deadly exchange between the two women. Lyka utilized the rampart's narrowness, her spear's reach carefully calculated to keep Primrose just out of reach. Primrose retreated from Lyka, unable to contend with the deadly speartip darting throughout the air aiming for a lethal blow.
It is done.
Molam wasted no time in readying another arrow, notching it against the bowstring and preparing to shoot as he saw Primrose gain footing against Lyka, who made to block Primrose's blades with the shaft of her spear. He pulled and loosed the arrow at that moment. Lyka's hands left her spear, a hand reaching for the arrow, the other catching Primrose's downward stab and redirecting the wrist towards Primrose's other hand. In response, Primrose rotated her body along her downward stab motion, spinning around and bringing her free arm up for a backwards stab.
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"Stop."
Lyka did not freeze, but slowed. Her palm struck upwards, connecting with Primrose's elbow and preventing her from completing the strike. The arrow slipped through Lyka's hand, cutting her ear before it thudded into the wall and the spear hit the ground. The two women made for the spear, Lyka stretching her hand and Primrose dropping down to sweep at it with her leg. Seeing Lyka move faster, Primrose flicked her right hand's dagger straight up at Lyka's throat, causing the spear user to jerk backwards erratically to avoid the weapon. The dagger spun in midair, obscuring Lyka's vision and Primrose took that chance to change her leg sweep into a kick in Lyka's stomach.
Lyka crumpled backwards onto one knee. Primrose didn't hesitate, flicking another dagger into the air and pulling the arrow out of the wall before shoving both the arrow and her remaining dagger at Lyka's throat.
Lyka's hands caught both of Primrose's wrists, and Molam had a third arrow notched.
"Stop."
Primrose's voice no longer rang out as it had. Lyka twisted Primrose's arms downwards and Primrose pushed to the side, forcing Lyka's head to the side. A dagger fell blade down — the one she had flicked up earlier — it pierced Lyka's shoulder. Molam fired as Lyka looked at the dagger in her shoulder, the surprise keeping her in place just long enough for the arrow to pierce Lyka's head. Her body jerked to the side, hitting the wall and sliding downwards. Molam already had another arrow notched, the blood rushing in his ears and throat as Primrose had also fallen to a knee, leaning against the railing. Was it over? Would Primrose have stopped if Lyka was still alive?
Primrose's head drooped, and she slid down against the railing until she was in a sitting position.
"Primrose!" Molam did not bother slinging his bow over his shoulders as he retraced his route to reach her, worried about the result of Agytha and Shurra's fight.
But Primrose didn't move. For an urgent moment he thought she had suffered a lethal blow of her own, but then he took a stuttered breath to collect his thoughts. He prioritized running towards her, unwilling to let his thoughts get in the way.
The building shuddered once again as he reached the stairs. Molam looked up just in time to see the ceiling cave in as a ball of water smashed through the roof, a crashing torrent rushing onto the top of the stairs and running down the steps. Bits and pieces of burning wood also came crashing down, evidence of the signal fire they saw earlier at the top of the building.
When the water cleared, Molam saw that Shurra had Agytha pinned against the floor by the neck with her sword stabbing into the City Lord's shoulder. The City Lord's hand was equally gripped around Shurra's neck, a dome of water covering Shurra's face and a short sword buried into Shurra's thigh. In the water illuminated by the firelight, Shurra's hair floated about her face in ghostly wisps as the two suffocated each other.
Molam readied his bow again with haste but saw the dome of water begin to slide down Shurra's frame, falling onto Agytha. Soon, Shurra's blonde hair was plastered against her head, the water clinging unnaturally to her frame like a second skin as she gasped and inhaled deeply, pulling Agytha's hand away from her neck.
Molam lowered his bow, running towards them on his way to get to Primrose, pausing only when Shurra turned her head to look at him, the flames of battle still in her eyes.
"Restrain Agytha and get back to the first floor, Shurra. I'll get Primrose." Molam stepped past Shurra gingerly, then turned. "We need to keep Agytha alive, Shurra. Lyka is dead and Agytha has information. Do you understand?"
Shurra blinked away the water that still clung to her eyes. Molam wasn't sure if the water had gotten into her ears either, but the Northerner nodded. He looked down to confirm the City Lord's lack of consciousness before leaving it to Shurra, Primrose's unknown condition still weighing on his mind.
Molam rushed over the gallery to Primrose's side, passing by the deep scores and gouges in the walls and floor that were the evidence of the battle they had just fought. Primrose was settled with her back against the wall next to Lyka's body. Blood dripped everywhere and for a moment he feared the worst, but her arm lifted with a raised dagger as he approached.
"It's me, Primrose," Molam slowed in his approach as he came up to her. "You— we won."
The orange hair shook as Primrose's eyes looked past her bangs at him, her eyes red and full of tears.
"Agytha?" She croaked.
"Shurra won too. We've captured her. You need to—"
The raised arm fell down, the dagger falling from loose fingers. Molam ran forward, fear flooding his veins, dropping to his knees to check on Primrose. Her eyes looked at him.
"Poison." She whispered, a shaky finger pointing at Lyka. "Lyka likes to tip her spear with drowsiflora."
Molam relaxed just a bit at the name. Drowsiflora grew in the Endless Sands and though the poison was not lethal, it made one's body sluggish and unable to channel aura. He stepped around Primrose and went to Lyka's body, forcing himself to look at what he had done in order to check if Lyka carried an antidote on her. As he approached and saw the arrow lodged into her head, the bile threatened to rise from his stomach.
Blood pooled all over the ground around Lyka's body and Molam forced himself to get to his task. He bent down and flipped Lyka around, glancing away in distaste as he avoided looking at Lyka's lifeless eyes while he searched her clothes. The dead Sand Spear's open eyes stared at him accusingly, her slightly ajar mouth giving off a ghastly impression of being mildly surprised. But as Molam searched, he only found all of Lyka's pockets devoid of anything important, though he did find the jade talisman. Dark green and carved in the shape of a triangle, Molam recognized the faint golden etchings on its surface as similar to the ones Kalle carved into his warming stones before he pocketed it.
Molam straightened up and looked away, returning to Primrose. "No antidote — let's get down to the first floor and wait for Kalle, he might have some ideas. Drowsiflora isn't deadly, right?"
She nodded weakly, and Molam pressed his lips together, trying to understand what he could do for her. The time they had spent together was short, but even he could see how close Primrose and Lyka had been. Whether it was the effects of the drowsiflora or the shock, it pained him to see Primrose, normally so self-assured and full of life, become listless and so disinterested.
"Do you need to lean on me?"
Her head drooped, but she nodded. He hoisted her arm over his neck and helped her stand up.
As he helped Primrose limp back to the stairs, he couldn't help but regret not closing Lyka's eyes. It seemed as though the lifeless gaze stared at him from behind as they walked away; his breathing became shallow when he remembered that he had been the one that struck the killing blow.
Primrose's legs dragged under her. He adjusted her balance against him so he could better support her on the way down, but his actions weighed heavier on him than anything else. His mind raced with what he could have done to alter the outcome for the better. The fact that he dragged it out and could not differentiate between Lyka and Shurra before Lyka's betrayal had been a critical mistake. If he had more time, he could have dug into Lyka and Agytha's past and looked for the problems.
Yes, he could console himself that it ended well. Lyka had been a traitor and she was dead; they had lost nothing there. Shurra had beaten Agytha and they had captured her. So long as Kalle stuck to the plan and the city guards had no reason to turn to abject violence, the city was theirs. He would accomplish all he set out to do and more, then be able to go home.
They were just temporary pieces he was moving to accomplish the real reason he was here, weren't they? The implicit rule between all humans. If he thought about it, once he secured the city's elderwood, he no longer needed them. A more morbid thought: if Primrose had met her end at Lyka's hands, Shurra was hardly interested in assuming control. The leadership of the Dao would naturally fall into his hands. He could leave Primrose now, go down and tell Shurra that Primrose had —
"Are you… hurt?" Primrose murmured. Sheer exhaustion dragged her normally melodic voice.
With a start, Molam realized he had stopped walking. She was the injured one, yet she bothered to ask after him?
"Not as much as you are. We'll get you to Kalle soon."
"Thank… you." She limped along with him, her arm bracing her weight and he tried to keep her hair out of his face, the scent of satem flowers flooding his nose. "For… Lyka."
"What?"
But Primrose was looking at the ground, her voice cracking. "I couldn't… do it."
The memory of her final struggle with Lyka flashed in his mind. The dagger. Primrose had set up her final gamble with that dagger, and she could have pulled Lyka's head into the dagger's fall. But she had jerked Lyka to the side instead.
He opened his mouth but words failed him. He wanted to blame Primrose for not knowing, to shout at her for trusting Lyka, to let her fall down and ask her who else could possibly be a traitor. The blood rushed to his head and he exhaled until his lungs could push out nothing more and he inhaled the chilly air in the Mansion.
"It wasn't your burden to carry."
Primrose relaxed against him at the words, but Molam's mind echoed with the words he heard a long time ago. Only those that faced the hardest choices know the brittleness of morality.
For a moment, Lyka's lifeless gaze wasn't the only one staring at his back. The other gaze belonged to a boy that had promised himself he would do better. The guilt flooded his veins, and all he could do was hate himself.