Ingvard watched the two Purged tending to Bartholomew on the slate floor of what had once been a glorious chamber meant to discuss the ruling of Pilta. Bart grunted as the two men in their white robes fondled his sides and sealed his flesh, while Sun mumbled to a Legionnaire by the door. Whatever had happened to Bartholomew, it went beyond the deep wound in his side- Ingvard had seen him stabbed before and he knew, better than anyone, that his ward would never be brought down by a meager jab of a knife... no, this stupor and his continued lack of responses could only stem from a much more profound damage and exhaustion.
“Lord Ingvard.” Sun spoke over his shoulder- snapping the ancient man in his silver armor from his inattentiveness.
“They report a man unlike the others- a man clad in a cloak, fleeing towards the Dungeons. As soon as Squadron four and six made contact, the enemies began to make their way towards four and six.” Ingvard knew that Sun knew the proper action, but he would never voice it- not when Ingvard was close by. The General ran his gloved hand through his silver hair and nodded his acknowledgment of the report, before addressing the visored soldier by the door:
“He is to be your highest priority. If he is in the Dungeon, surround it and move in from all sides.” The soldier tapped his chest and began mumbling the order out into the hallway, but the fact he remained in place could only mean he had more to report. Sun was the one to continue in the soldier’s place, as apathetically, yet respectably cautious, as ever:
“And... They have found Titus.”
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Asrael saw the distant torch grow closer and with it, the trio of variously shaped forms huddled together in the comparative brightness in the darkness. The man cradling the necromancer in his arms had brought him about halfway before they caught up to Neda and the Ogre- both of whom stood over Eleanor.
Neda’s stomach ached with her fear of the unknown. Asrael’s fright had been the first sign that something was amiss, but the explosions and tremors shaking the entire city was a grim confirmation of her previous suspicions. To add to her worries, Ellie had screamed so loudly as she awoke that the Ogre had come to a halt by a torch and dropped them from his strong arms to regain their breath.
This, Asrael found, was an unwelcomed reaction. Even from afar, he could sense that something was oddly... off... about the Ogre. Though his will was still under Asrael’s command, the lieutenant had acted on his own and chosen to disobey him, an action the Necromancer had thought impossible only five minutes previous. But as he looked at the growing, massive, flabby shape of the malformed satyr, he realized that he had seen that green sheen in his eyes before. It had been a sneaking thing- a feature that only grew stronger with every man he added to his ranks.
Seeing the state of the two women, he imagined he would have to explore the Ogre’s motivations later- when they were not being chased by what he imagined to be the most effective army in the world.
Neda’s red, teary eyes looked down at the shrieking girl’s head of black hair as Asrael and his shoulder appeared from the dark.
“What the Hells are you two doing!? We must leave immediately! Ingvard’s army may find that manhole any second and if they do, they will cut their way through my men in a matter of minutes!” Neda seemed relieved to hear Asrael’s voice, only to have her grimace return as she heard Ellie’s choked whimper. The Blightlander spoke with desperation in her eyes: “I-I don’t think she can go on, Assie! She’s in pain!” Asrael was no stranger to pain- he was feeling a mind-numbing agony of his own with every step of the armored man carrying him in his arms.
“Of course she is! I told you she would be!” Asrael ordered his man to put him down and spoke to him: “Take the screaming one. I do not care if she screams until she expels blood- take her to the village!” The soldier’s slack jaw clamped shut as he stepped over towards Eleanor and forcefully grabbed her into his arms- uncaring for the rhapsody of screams she let loose as he resumed his sprint down the dark tunnels.
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Next, the Ogre stepped over and grabbed Asrael by the shoulder to lead him onto his wide back, where the necromancer took his seat and jerked his head back towards Neda- still deep in his thoughts. Though it pained her to listen to Ellie’s distant screams, Neda’s adrenaline prevented her from arguing with her companion and leaped onto the Ogre’s wide back.
Asrael leaned down to wrap his arms around the Ogre’s neck, and in turn: Neda grabbed hold of the necromancer’s abdomen as the Ogre began charging forth- away from the torch and back out into the darkness. He took a moment to close his eyes and ascertain the status of his men, only to have his disheartenment reaffirmed. Nearly every last one of the men still in the Garrison had been dealt with by the Legionnaires- hundreds of hours of work had disappeared into literal smoke in the reclamation of the Garrison, yet... strangely... he was eerily calm and far more preoccupied with slowing the hunters than mourning his men.
“W-where’s Bart?” Neda questioned from behind his back. Asrael had to struggle to speak as to not let the violent slams of his chest against the Ogre’s back knock the air from his chest.
“He is staying. He suffered an injury, but no organs were harmed... it is but a flesh wound.” Asrael informed in a mutter. Neda was saddened to hear it, as she enjoyed Bartholomew’s company, but Asrael’s assurances went a ways to appease her.
“There are none of your guys down here... they all ran back towards the Garrison.” Neda needlessly informed- still brandishing that annoying trepidation on her voice.
“Yes. If all goes well, some may make it out alive, but I fear we must sacrifice most of them.” Asrael was surprised to hear how calmly he could speak such dreary news.
“I’m... I’m sorry, Assie...” He scoffed over his shoulder and she was surprised to see the faintest outline of a smile on his lips as he clung onto the Ogre with all his might- fighting the pain in his ankles with every jerk of the massive corpus beneath him.
“Your sentiment is unnecessary. Our test has exceeded my expectations. They sieged the Garrison without losing a single man and for now, that is the strength we need... but we must avoid this First Legion at all costs- at least until we can find a way to counter them.” It was odd to hear what appeared to be hope in Asrael’s voice. Whatever the cause, she found the little smile affected her, too, and she responded by tightening her grip around his stomach. Had she been her usual self, she might’ve seen the romantic undertones in their wild ride, but as the panic had her mind focused elsewhere, she would be sure to curse herself for not enjoying the manback ride in full, at a later time.
The loud shrieks of metal echoing between the walls signaled that the Legion had finally found their way into the dungeon and found the manhole. Asrael silently mourned the death of yet more of his men, but found that his mind would soon be ablaze with fury as he realized that not only had the girl’s shrieks of pain in the distance faded- he could see her, kneeling by one of the torches in the distance- next to the man he had tasked with evacuating her.
“What the Hell is going on here!?” He shouted as he approached the teary-eyed, raven-haired girl in her tattered, black dress.
The slack-jawed soldier eyed the note on the smooth rock next to Ellie’s left hand. Her teary, dark bulbs jerked back and forth in the dim light as she scribbled something in charcoal- something hardly discernible in the torchlight from the wall.
“W-we’ll b-be s-safer...” She spoke through her choked-back sobs. Asrael recognized the rune and then and there was reminded that not all his companions were bumbling fools. Some could be useful, however, debilitated they were. Asrael was about to signal for the Ogre to come to a halt, only for the beast to halt pre-emptively. This sudden and unexpected decisiveness of his soldiers was as unnerving as it was seemingly useful, but if Ellie could finish this job, he would have more than enough time to consider the implications.
“S-step b-back...” Ellie whimpered. Both the Ogre and the soldier obeyed the command and stepped beyond the young magus. With all her fading strength, Eleanor poured her magic into the rune- sparking it to life with her sickly, brown glow. It was small- smaller than Asrael would’ve drawn, but in her current condition, it was all he imagined it was all he could expect of her.
As the rune’s power reached its crescendo, the stone began to deform and turned to a spike that then grew out of the ground to slam into the ceiling, where transferred its kinetic- and magical energy to the receptive stone- forming wide and long cracks in either direction.
The soldier that had led her thus far grabbed her by the neck of her dress and in a smooth movement, threw her up in his arms as the party resumed charging for the village beyond a rain of heavy rocks- each slamming down with enough force to rival the lingering explosions in the Garrison. Curiously: this time, it seemed Eleanor remained determined not to scream as the soldier charged onwards- towards the light in the distance.