Petra watched as Ysmena fearlessly led their group of Finders down toward the Ivory Bridge at the rear of the keep. She took the stairs two at a time as she rushed ahead to secure a path for Petra, Elune, Ardenel, Dal and Violet who trailed her. With sword drawn and adorned in her family’s colored gambeson, Ysmena reminded Petra of the knights in the stories her mother had told her when she was young. Sworn to protect the people in the name of Yasha, the knights of the noble families warred against Rolakkhad and Iv invaders to protect Temul at all costs. She had known at an early age that the stories did not often reflect reality, and most of the knights were no more than landlords conscripted by a greater family.
Yet, a knight shone in front of her now. She knew Ysmena was a true knight from their conversation at the inn.
“The whole point of living is to inspire others,” Ysmena lectured. Her energy had swelled as she spoke, and Petra had become enraptured. She had never seen a trained orator before - even a novice like Ysmena. “To be remembered as a symbol of leadership, courage, and strength that posterity looks to in times of suffering; to inspire the ingenuity of future generations; to secure the safety of those around you for hundreds of years; those are the hallmarks of a true and successful leader. My great-great-great-grandfather’s legacy still stands the test of time because he was a true hero of the people. I walk in his footsteps because he inspires my greatness, just as I hope to inspire others in the future, even if it is a single person!” Ysmena finished her speech with a clenched fist. Elune had giggled at her cousin’s sincerity, but Petra found it invigorating. She had found someone who earnestly strove to embody the good in the world, and nurture its growth. As Thorne had said, she would not let her go.
They had seen the Ivory Bridge earlier on the third floor. Ysmena had pointed out its immaculate white stone to her, and the beauty of the sunset colors awash with pink hues against the white stone of the huge bridge. As they reached the landing at the bottom of the final staircase in front of the bridge, Petra called out for Ysmena to stop.
“I gotta go back,” Petra said.
“What? Are you crazy? That was an excisor up there!” Ysmena replied.
“I know, but I can’t stand havin’ more people die just so I can run, you know? Eventually I gotta stop runnin’ and help,” Petra said, struggling to find the right words. She was no orator, and she was very new to this helping thing.
Apparently she had said some of the right words, though, because Ysmena smiled and clapped her shoulders before pulling her in for a hug.
“Is everyone trying to die today, or something!?” Dal called out from behind. His face had turned red again from running. Elune jabbed him in the ribs with a finger, which made him yelp. “What? The bridge to safety is right there! You’re acting like I’m the crazy person here, or something!”
Ysmena pulled away from the hug and looked at Petra sternly.
“Be careful, okay? You’re strong, but no normal person can fight an excisor. If it comes down to it, run back to us. We’ll be waiting here,” Ysmena said.
Petra nodded.
“I promise.”
“What do you mean we’ll wait here?” Dal shouted again. Elune crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip at him, which made him shut up. Petra was impressed at her ability to manipulate him without even speaking. She would need to ask her about that later.
With a nod to Violet - whose face was filled with concern, as usual - Petra ran off the way they came, back up the stairs toward the sunny corridor with the second excisor. She fought the ingrained Finder urge to swing open every door as she ran and shove all the curios into her bag. She had already seen multiple sparks, orbs that emitted light forever, and it took everything in her power not to stop the group and collect each one. The myriad of tapestries and artworks that lined the walls would also sell for a fortune to the right collector, though she did not have any trustworthy art contacts in Yasha’s Step, so they were of lesser importance. Maybe Ioren knew one?
She shook the thoughts of fortune from her mind as she bounded up the steps toward the fifth floor. Old habits die hard.
As she rounded the landing on the fourth floor, a shout rang out from above. It sounded like Onep.
Petra gulped hard. Apparently Onep had killed three armored men on his own earlier in Riverstop, so she struggled to imagine something that could make him yell out. Her hands trembled as she considered going back to the bridge and lying her way out.
The excisor killed them. Ioren too. Let’s go! It was the safe choice. They could cross the bridge out of harm’s way and find a way back to the Step, or wait out the Greys for a few days and sneak back into Riverstop. It was preferable to facing an excisor head on, at least.
No, she was a changed person now. What use was surviving another day if you lived for nothing? If you never did anything for those around you, who would remember you anyways?
She wanted Ysmena to remember her. For that, she would be brave, and good, and knightly. She would try to, at least.
Petra took one step atop the stairs to the fifth floor and saw a blur flash past her. The limp body of Onep slammed into the stone floor, lightly cushioned by the ornate rug that covered the floor of the landing, and rolled over a few times before coming to a stop. He lay there, unmoving aside from the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Everything in Petra’s mind screamed for her to flee. The warrior Onep had just been tossed like a doll in front of her eyes by some sort of mythical demon, and she wanted to get involved? For what, some snotty brat six generations later who would think fondly of her?
She took a deep breath in and forced her legs to move forward. No more running, no more hiding.
Okay, maybe a little hiding, she thought as she crept forward slowly to the corridor the excisor had been in. Linoor stood toe to toe with the monster, her gauntlet sword thrusting powerfully at him to no avail. He sidestepped each attack with ease, despite the sword movements being faster than Petra’s eyes could comprehend. The sword became a cyan blur with each attack, yet the robed boy’s beige blur was always one step ahead.
He did something that scared Linoor, and she leapt backwards with a small scream. Petra realized that Linoor was shaking. She was wracked with fear too, yet she still fought bravely against the monster in the hallway so that others might live. Petra felt like a candle, covered in cobwebs and dust from having been stored away deeply in the cellar, had finally been lit within her. She puffed her chest confidently and unsheathed a dagger, prepared to charge at the robed boy and assist Linoor, when a hand touched her shoulder from behind.
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Despite her surprise, Petra held in the yelp that stuck in her throat as she twirled to face the assailant. A powerful hand caught her blade between two fingers as she noticed the smiling face of a Finder with short dark hair and kind eyes, darks hanging from his neck.
Ioren!
She wanted to hug the man. How had he survived the fight against the excisor? Petra noticed now that the fingers that gripped her small knife were covered in dark blood. The blood extended all the way up both of his arms, and included what looked to be a large gash on one. He had not escaped unscathed, it seemed. She looked up with concern, but Ioren only shook his head and began to walk toward the corridor with Linoor and the excisor child. He held a small silver box - a firestarter, if Petra had to guess - in his hands, but his dagger sheaths were empty.
Petra and Ioren both emerged at the end of the hallway together, just in time to see the robed boy plunge a knife into Linoor’s chest.
The two of them scrambled quickly into the hall as Linoor dropped to her knees, staring at the crimson stains on her hands.
“Linoor!” Ioren screamed as he rushed forward. He barreled ahead past Petra with incredible speed toward the robed boy.
“You are next, traitor!” The robed boy yelled down the hall toward Ioren and Petra. Fear gripped her heart as she looked into his crazed, ragged eyes, but somehow she knew he was speaking to Ioren.
Ioren leapt forward over Linoor who lay crumpled in a heap on the ornate rug and engaged the robed boy. Both moved with incredible speed, throwing punches that defied human abilities and blocking with loud smacks of skin on skin. She struggled to follow their movements as they spun around each other in the cramped hallway, though it seemed like Ioren was beginning to overtake the boy. He was somehow beating an excisor!
Petra reached Linoor’s crumpled body and knelt down beside her. She sucked in quick and shallow breaths, and her face was white as a sheet. It wasn’t good.
Ahead, Ioren opened the firestarter with a click and pointed it toward the robed boy, whose eyes looked as if they would bulge out of his face. Suddenly, a massive roaring flame exploded from the firestarter with a crash, sending bricks, glass, and other debris flying out through a gaping hole in the elevated hallway. Sunlight streamed through the obliterated portion of the hallway. Did Ioren hide some sort of bomb in the firestarter?
The boy, his robes singed from the flame, crawled away from Ioren toward the spiral staircase at the end of the hall, screeching the entire time. It was a blood-curdling scream, as if Death stood before him in the flesh. He had somehow avoided the majority of the blast, though his psyche was apparently not unscathed. His hand searched for something in his robes, and he pulled a glass tube filled with sand and quickly shattered it against the ground. The sand began moving on its own, vibrating across the floor of the corridor in intricate patterns.
Ioren moved as if to chase the boy, but turned instead to look at Linoor and Petra and stopped.
A sphere of moving sand formed around the boy, and just before it enclosed itself over the top, Petra swore she saw the image of brown-quartz buildings form inside of the sand. The sphere of sand stood for a moment before collapsing in on itself, but the boy that had been within was now gone. What in the world is happening?
Petra’s eyes flicked around the hallway searching for the boy, but Ioren turned away without a second glance and rushed to Linoor. He already had his pack in his hands.
“Ioren…” Petra began. Her voice shook much more than she expected. “We can’t do nothin’ for her, Ioren. She’s in shock and bleedin’ all over. You can’t bandage her insides,” she said somberly. It was a harsh truth, but she had checked Linoor’s condition. Violet probably couldn’t even help at this point. They were better off helping Onep at the end of the hall, who still hadn’t gotten up.
“No, there is one thing I can do,” Ioren replied quickly. He rustled through his pack and removed a jet black ring and quickly placed it on Linoor’s finger.
“Is it an artifact?” Petra asked Ioren. It was nothing like any artifact she had ever seen. Its black twists looked sinister, as if it was a natural formation, or something not created by man. It made her stomach drop just to look at it.
“Take your knife out,” Ioren demanded, ignoring the question. Petra did as she was told, and unsheathed her small serrated knife. Ioren flipped Linoor over so that she now lay on her back. Her gambeson was heavily stained with blood at this point. It wouldn’t be much longer before her shallow breaths disappeared entirely.
Ioren felt along Linoor’s chest with his fingers, pressing down on the spaces between her ribs. Petra’s face flushed with embarrassment at the indecency, but said nothing. The man had just fought off two excisors; she wasn’t about to question anything he did.
“Stab here, now,” Ioren said, indicating a point in Linoor’s chest.
Okay, maybe questioning one thing won’t hurt.
“What!? Are you crazy, man!?” Petra shouted at Ioren. She wasn’t about to stab the woman who had just defended them until the end. “Why ain’t you doin’ it?” Petra quickly added.
“It has to be you, and it has to be now. I will explain everything later, but right now you need to do this, or she will die!” Ioren replied.
This man is insane. Actually insane.
Petra stared down at the point Ioren pointed to. It was just above Linoor’s heart and between two ribs. The easiest place to quickly end her life with Petra’s small knife.
She took one more look at Ioren, expecting to find the crazed look of a madman. Instead, his face was full of concern and sadness. Tears had welled up in his eyes as he pleaded with Petra to stab the woman on the ground.
Well, she’s gonna die anyways.
With a deep sigh, Petra plunged the knife into Linoor’s chest. After a slight hiccup and a spasm, Linoor’s breathing stopped. Strangely, the black ring on her finger dissolved, leaving a dark black band like rock encircled around her finger where it had been.
To Petra’s surprise, Ioren hugged her.
“I’m sorry for making you do that. Thank you. The rest is up to her,” Ioren said cryptically. Petra didn’t understand, but she was grateful that Ioren hadn’t decided to kill her with his immense strength. “Let’s go, the Greys have likely breached the keep by now. We need to find a place to hide.”
“Ysmena and the other people are down at the bridge,” Petra said. “Why don’t we go there?”
“Okay,” Ioren agreed with a nod before picking up Linoor’s corpse onto his shoulder with ease. He didn’t even grunt. Petra wondered if it had to do with the black ring, until Ioren moved down the hall and picked up Onep on his other shoulder with similar ease.
Things are getting very weird.
The two scrambled down the stairs toward the bridge on the third floor. Clanging sounds of armor and stone echoed from below through the halls of the keep. The Greys had gotten in.
As they approached the group at the bridge, Ysmena waved hesitantly toward them. They must have been quite the sight. Ioren, covered in blood, carrying the similarly bloodied corpse of Linoor and the unconscious Onep as Petra trailed, her eyes blank with shock.
“What happened to Linoor?” Ardenel yelled at the sight of them.
Neither had time to answer, though, as an armored Grey burst up the stairs to the bridge.
“Run! Across the bridge!” Ysmena shouted at the group. Everyone broke into a sprint toward the cliffs on the western side of the bridge. A thousand feet below them, the Barrier River coursed through the heart of Danet, cleaving it in two.
A hundred feet behind them, a massive horde of Greys clambered over each other to reach them.
Petra’s muscles ached from the sprinting. Her mind throbbed from the shock of battle. Her hands shook from the killing.
Yet she continued onward, further into Danet, and further away from everything she had ever known.