Wyn watched as Corrin shot ahead like an arrow, quickly disappearing behind the trees ahead. Unlike his friend, Wyn held onto his pack. He could still feel the weight, but burning Spirit Fire prevented most of the discomfort that holding such a weight for a long time would usually bring. Even with the blessing’s invigorating effects though, he could feel general exhaustion building within him.
It was an odd sensation, as it wasn’t that he felt tired or dull—the flame seemed to be keeping him at his peak as always—but he could almost feel some sort of barrier between him and his fatigue. He had begun to suspect its existence during the journey, like a tickle at the back of his mind, but with this sprint, he had confirmed it. Spirit Fire held enervation at bay, but based on his experience the night of the flood, he knew that once he stopped burning the fire, it would hit him all at once. So, he kept burning.
He had a reason to hold onto the pack though. Carrying it wouldn’t delay him much at this point, but if he dropped it, he’d lose access to the various salves, bandages, and medicine they’d brought with them. As he heard the fighting ahead, he became more certain that it would be necessary.
There was no denying it. Wyn had messed up. From atop the ridge, he’d misjudged the situation of the chase, thinking they’d have more time to catch the bandits before they reached the caravan. He hadn’t wanted to force a fight while they were tired, opting to get a few hours of sleep before taking off again.
And how many people are going to die because of that mistake? He thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
Finally, he reached the edge of the tree line and the battle revealed itself to him. Corrin was fighting further up the slope. Wyn wasn’t too worried about him, as he would either win the battle, or he’d fight to stall long enough for Wyn to arrive and help. Oddly, it seemed as though most of the bandits had gathered to watch the fight, rather than joining themselves. But while joining the battle was something Wyn would do, it wasn’t his priority. As he came up the hill, he noticed two bodies on the ground in front of him, covered in cuts and bruises, but nothing that looked completely lethal.
I’ll deal with this first, then help Corrin.
He checked to find that both were still breathing. That was good, one of them seemed to have escaped with only a broken arm and some more serious scrapes. But the second man…
Oh spirits, Wyn thought, looking at his injuries.
He was breathing shallowly and shared the same score of bruises and scrapes as the other man. But he also had an arrow sticking out of his arm, piercing through both ends covered in a bloody mess. It seemed another had grazed his stomach though, and movement and battle had widened it further. His leg was mangled, like it had been run over by one of the carts, and the skin had split into a long gash running down its length.
He dropped the pack, desperately searching through it for bandages and salves. The cut on the man’s stomach seemed the most dangerous in the short term, as well as the one he could treat the easiest now. Wyn tore the man’s shirt open for easier access before washing dirt from the wound with clean water. It would need to be treated more thoroughly soon, but it was all he could do for now. He applied a salve to the cut, to help with infection, before bandaging the stomach tightly, the cloth staining a deep red as he wound it tighter.
He repeated the process for the leg, quickly staunching the bleeding with liberal use of bandages and cloth. He couldn’t do much for the breakage right now, but that wouldn’t be life-threatening like the bleeding would. Wyn was grateful for Spirit Fire here, as the boost in concentration helped him work far more efficiently than he would’ve otherwise.
Next, the arrow. Usually pulling it out would be a mistake, but it had gone cleanly through the arm, making it a much safer option. He snapped the shaft, pushing it the rest of the way through before disinfecting the wound with alcohol they had specifically for this purpose. He packed the wound with gauze before wrapping the arm in bandages.
Once he was sure the man would live, Wyn wasted no time in moving up the hill. Corrin’s battle didn’t seem to be going as well as he’d expected, but he couldn’t exactly help just yet with all the bandits between him and the fight.
He’d have to deal with them first.
Wyn charged, the pack no longer weighing him down as he’d left it with the wounded down the hill. Several bandits noticed him approaching and brandished their own weapons to meet him. A few of them carried crossbows—that was a pain. Bolts streaked through the air towards him, too fast for a normal human to dodge, but even without mana, Wyn was anything but.
Spirit Fire flared, sharpening his concentration as he slashed two out of the air in a single swing, then deflected a third. Two bandits reached him, engaging him in a melee and forcing him to respond. Without his blessing, managing them along with the arbalists would’ve been a true challenge. But today, it was almost subconscious. He maneuvered deftly, quick footwork keeping his attackers between him and the arrows and was able to fight both while keeping an eye on the ranged threats.
Years of training had led him to a state he thought was perfection, but under the flame’s influence, he began to taste what perfection truly was. An arrow fired, aiming for a slight gap the bandits had created. He could’ve dodged just enough for it to graze his tunic, but that would leave him with no openings, and the fight would be quicker to win if he let them think he’d made a mistake.
He avoided the arrow, making it seem as though he’d lost his balance . The “stumble” had brought him outside the range of the man on the left, and the one on his right hastily tried to end the fight, thrusting a little too eagerly. Wyn’s blade didn’t waver a millimeter as it quickly flashed up, disarming the man before diving back down and stabbing him in the foot. His scream lasted only a moment before Wyn’s elbow slammed into his face, knocking him out.
The briefest moment without pressure from a second man or the crossbows was something he’d take advantage of, and before the rest of the bandits could reach him. With a level of control he could never have managed normally, Wyn’s blade snuck inside the second man’s guard, slashing his arms just enough to take him out of commission, dropping him to the ground a moment later.
Without wasting a breath, he was already making his next move. Wyn shot up the slopes, slashing three more shots out of the air before destroying the crossbows of the men attacking him. One look told him they wouldn’t fight back without their weapons.
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Three of the bandits ran towards the merchants, but it didn't escape his notice. Are they trying to take hostages?
He reacted immediately, rushing towards them. He was able to catch the slowest of the bandits, grabbing his shoulder and throwing him to the ground, slashing his ankle as he ran by.
But Spirit Fire didn't grant speed. Once again, he found himself wishing he had mana instead. The faster and further bandits had almost made it to the merchants. He wasn't going to make it.
Shit!
He considered throwing his sword, but he hadn't practiced it much, unlike Corrin. Worse, if he threw it, it would leave him vulnerable to attack without a weapon. There were still two bandits to his right as well, and one had a bow. He’d need the sword to deflect it.
But that doesn’t matter. Does it? He thought. I’m not the priority.
He reached his sword back, flinging it towards the bandit closest to the merchants. It hit hilt-first, drilling into the man’s back and causing him to stumble. Which was all the time Wyn needed to reach him.
The bandit turned, swinging the blade.
Too slow. Wyn caught his arm before the blade could come all the way around, then slammed his palm against it, breaking his elbow. The man screamed in pain and bent over, dropping the sword which Wyn caught as it left his hand.
Wyn! Eia cried out in his mind.
He spun, gravel spraying up from the force of his heel spinning. If he hadn’t already anticipated the threat, he wouldn’t have been able to react, even with his blessing. His hand flashed upwards, stealing the arrow from the air. His sword followed a moment later, colliding with the blade of the man who had come up behind him.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Despite his mind being able to react, his body just couldn’t keep up. The sword bit into his shoulder, though the pain quickly fled from the spectral heat of the Spirit Flame. Wyn clenched his teeth, continuing to spin with the strike, trying to lessen its force. He was mostly successful, and managed to prevent it from cutting too deep.
A moment later, he drove the arrow into the man’s stomach, igniting the wooden shaft with the flames as he did so. He wasn’t sure if it would do anything, but it was good for intimidation.
Further down the slope, the bowman threw his bow to the rocks, dropping to his knees in surrender.
Thank the spirits. Wyn blinked hard, rubbing his face. It had been close, but he’d managed it. Only two bandits left.
“Keep an eye on that one Eia,” he said out loud, pointing to the bowman who’d given up.
Got it.
Wyn turned to face the remaining two.
One of the bandits had been mobbed by men from the caravan, beaten down under their sheer number. Another one however, a bald man with a small beard around his mouth, had reached his mark, grabbed a young woman and held his blade to her neck. He looked at Wyn, a wicked grin on his face.
"Put the sword down and come this way boy. If you do, I’ll let this one live."
Wyn took a deep breath, meeting the eyes of the woman. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be just fine. Please, try not to tense up.”
The bandit’s face scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about—"
A wooden plank hit the back of his head with a loud clonk. The sword dropped from his hand as he fell limply to the ground, the woman escaping his grasp.
Behind the bandit was a girl around Wyn's age with blonde hair, dressed in nicer clothes than the rest of the merchants. She was breathing heavily as she set the plank down. "By the kings, that felt fantastic."
She looked up at Wyn, pointing over towards where Corrin was fighting. "Are you with that boy over there?
Wyn nodded.
She trembled slightly, "I think he needs help... And... Thank you."
Wyn smiled, "Don't worry, we'll take care of the rest."
He leapt up onto the cart next to him, seeing a battered Corrin facing a large man with a vicious-looking scythe on a long black chain.
It’ll have an ever-changing reach and unpredictable angles of attack. But it’s weak if you can restrict the movement of the chain. I’ll assume the fact he’s using it means he’s skilled enough to make it work. A dangerous weapon then, for the fact I’m not used to it.
The man was ranting something about killing the merchants, making people watch, but he just kept going. How was it that he was stalling better than Wyn’s own ally?
“Spirits you love the sound of your own voice.” Wyn interrupted. He jumped down from the cart, getting a better look at his friend, watching tension and anger drain from his body.
What an idiot.
After a brief reprimanding, the two took their stances against the common foe as he pulled out another chain. It was a smart move, trying to limit the advantages they’d gain from superior numbers.
They stepped forward and the chains thrashed into a frenzy. They were fast, frightening so, striking like lunging snakes from multiple directions. With Corrin to guard his left though, Wyn was able to focus on one of them. He deflected the blade to the right, watching the motion of the chain. His eyes narrowed.
Something isn’t right.
The chain leapt up back into the air too unnaturally. Sure, the wielder was skilled, and much of the maneuvering of the weapon was due to his own strength. But something about the way the chain moved… it didn’t fit.
He’s controlling it somehow. Wyn realized. The fight continued, and he became more certain of it. The chain never made any overt motions, but everything about the movements was just too smooth and precise.
It was a shocking realization, but not one he could do anything about at the time. They needed a way to end this, if they stayed on the defensive, they’d get worn down and eventually lose. If the man could control the chains, it’d be difficult to exploit a weakness in the movement itself.
Let’s try this.
Wyn suddenly disengaged, dashing around to the side before looping around, trying to place the bandit between him and Corrin. The man jumped back through, repositioning to prevent it from happening. Smart, if they could surround him, the chains would be more manageable.
But for a moment, as he repositioned, the chains dropped, and Wyn shifted course, charging in past the blades. As expected, they leapt back towards their master, attacking him from behind.
Corrin will be there.
He was. The white-haired boy attacked the chains, scattering their movement and allowing Wyn to get in close. Kai quickly looped the chains around both arms, deflecting the first strike before following up with a jab towards Wyn’s midsection.
Wyn twisted, but Kai was even faster than Corrin, and the strike took him in the side, causing him to stumble a few feet back.
“Watch out for his throwing knives!” Corrin called a warning, just in time as the man reached into his coat.
Two points of steel flashed through the air, too close to deflect both. Wyn brought his arm up, catching the one he couldn’t block on his upper arm. It didn’t pierce too deep through his clothes, and he backed away to regroup. They’d need a better opening than that, and Wyn wasn’t fast enough to capitalize. Which meant they’d need to switch roles.
He took the wooden sword from his belt, Spirit Fire eagerly leaping up its length. The bandit stepped back, a look of shock in his eyes. He regarded the two of them warily, his eyes more calculating than before.
Has he seen Spirit Fire before? Wyn wondered.
Corrin arrived at Wyn’s side as the chains snaked back to their owner.
“I assume you have a plan then?” Corrin asked, keeping his eyes on their opponent.
Wyn took a deep breath to calm himself, he was going to have to do the hard part and pray that his wooden sword would hold out long enough. The scythes had destroyed the carts at their full length, but the wood in his sword had been treated specifically to make it more durable, and the force of the scythes would be weaker the closer he was.
“Sure, I do. Let’s make use of this extra blade. Corrin, I need you to attack.”
Corrin’s head turned, leaving the bandit as he glanced at Wyn. No doubt checking to see if Wyn was serious.
Wyn nodded.
Corrin grinned.