Chapter Seventy-Five

Ambrose stared at Darren's lifeless eyes. He had a gaping, bloody hole in his chest, blood still dribbling out from the wound.

His forces mopped up the rest of the orcs, who by all rights, should be fleeing, but weren’t. It was like something compelled them to keep fighting to the last man.

His arms hung at his sides like limp noodles. His face was a mask of neutrality as he simply stared at Darren’s face.

The man had died with a quiet, gentle smile on his face. Ambrose had delivered death in so many ways, seen it in just as many.

So why is this one so different? That was easy. It was because it reminded him of Alice. With Alice, he had also been responsible for her death, because of his choices. But the only one who suffered for it was him.

This time he had taken a life that had mattered to a lot more people. That had mattered to people he hadn’t wanted to hurt.

If he had chosen not to go after Eric, this wouldn’t have happened. Plain and simple. He would have been here to help, to stop this.

Instead, he was too late. Caught up with the immediate threat, he had allowed these orcs to take something truly precious away from a little girl.

Noelle tried to send him comfort, but he didn’t feel it. Didn’t want to. Some things needed to be felt.

Dimly, he was aware of someone calling his name, someone shaking him. He looked over, blinking.

“You should go rest up, Sonny. We will get this mess tidied up, eh?”

Thomas. The old man held sympathy in his eyes.

Ambrose looked down at the body. His fist clenched as he looked up, taking in the destruction around him.

He tightened his eye, his jaw working. Buildings were splinters around him, corpses, orcs and his own people, were strewn over the ground like broken machinery. Blood stained the island, and the cool breeze carried the scent of cooling blood.

Ambrose slumped his shoulders, his brain felt like stew left in the pot to congeal and harden. Thoughts tried, and failed, to push themselves through the mush.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Ambrose teleported to below the island, under the tree he had hung from in what felt like an age ago.

Vivienne was there. Her eyes, unlike Thomas’s had no sympathy. She was a creature beyond that of human emotions, even if she did have an understanding of them.

“The battle is won, Sir Knight.”

He stared at her.

Then he began to laugh. A booming thing that stirred the waters around them. His body shook as his laughter grew, and he put his head in his hands, his eye tearing up as untrollable laughter bubbled from his throat.

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He fell to his knees, looking up at the massive, beautiful canopy of the tree of Avalon that spread out like a sea of shining crystal.

His laughter echoed across the cavern, a joyless, mad sound. We won the battle she says.

Vivienne had cocked her head at him, lips pursed.

Ambrose’s laughter began to die out, and he hung his head, shoulders twitching. He took a deep breath, his chest pressing against the metal of his armor.

He blew it out, strands of his hair blowing away.

“Yeah, Vivienne. We won. All it took was heavy losses, including a little girls father.”

Vivienne made a confused sound in her throat.

“I do not understand. You didn’t kill Darren.”

Ambrose shook his head.

“Of course you don’t. It’s like with Eric, if I had just made a different choice, learned from my mistake…a little girl would still have a father right now.”

Vivienne tapped her chin, a frown on her lips.

“You were defending the island. You cannot deal with all threats, Sir Knight. Darren made his choices. He could have gone into the tunnel with the others. He did not.”

Ambrose tightened his face into a scowl.

“Which may have led to them getting caught. He bought time for the others to get away. He wouldn’t have had to do that if I didn’t priortize Eric.”

Vivienne held up her hands.

“Ah, but you told them all that you would. From the beginning, Sir Knight, you were very clear about having a goal and everyone serving that purpose.”

Ambrose rubbed a tired hand over his face. He slumped against the tree’s trunk.

“Sometimes logic doesn’t matter, Vivienne.”

“Logic always matters, your statement is nonsensical.”

Ambrose chuckled again, this time for entirely different reasons.

“That’s because, despite how you look and sound, you aren’t human.”

Her head cocked again, hair cascading like a multi colored wave.

“Explain.”

He pressed his tongue against his teeth. His head throbbed, his thoughts like melting slush.

“Just trust me on this. When bad things happen, it doesn’t always matter that it isn’t logically your fault. It just is sometimes.”

Vivienne blinked slowly, and she spoke as if sounding out the words to a toddler.

“That,” she started,

“Does not make any sense.”

Ambrose waved it away.

“Whatever.”

“There is something you should know, sir Knight.”

Ambrose looked at her, waiting.

“Your foe, Eric Delrosa. He does not have access to his spirit.”

He arched an eyebrow at that.

“Really? How do you know?”

Vivienne smiled,

“He was on the island, sir Knight. I am aware of all who are present here. He has no spiritual skill to call upon. It is a limitation I believe you can exploit.”

He clenched his fist.

“Oh trust me, I will.”

He manifested Noelle, who appeared to be okay despite the heavy blow she had taken.

The arcane white tiger chuffed, and she pressed her head against his hand. She let out a soft moo, which succeeded in brightening Ambrose’s face.

“What? Are you a cow now? My magic tiger cow?”

Noelle’s tail raised, and she lifted an indignant nose.

He scratched behind her ears, and she mooed again, and immediately shot him a glare.

For one fleeting moment, he forgot his troubles.

He didn’t worry about how Jenny was going to look at him when he next saw her. He didn’t worry about rebuilding, or what Eric was up to.

His wife’s face didn’t haunt him.

He didn’t think about all of the bodies that would need buried, or all of the sorrow that would seep into him.

No. For the moment, he was just a tired man and a big magical cat that mooed and shot lightning.

But the moment was gone as quickly as it had come. Sooner or later, he would have to face the music. He would have to go out to the others. He would face Jenny, and the little girl was bound to hate him.

He was sure of it.

He would have to help rebuild, and he would have to figure out how to go after Eric. His heart was a miniature son inside of his chest at that thought.

Eric was out there, somewhere. In another realm, and the more time he got, the more he advanced. Time was not static, it would not wait for him to be prepared.

As Ambrose grew, so too would Eric.

That confrontation was coming.

It wouldn’t be today. But it will be soon.

His fists tightened around a fistful of Noelle’s fur and he bent over, inhaling her scent. She smelled of a storms aftermath, of wet forest, and lightning strikes.

She chuffed.

No matter how it turned out, he knew she would be right there by his side.

First, he would need more power. Whatever he did, Eric would be no pushover.

And though he didn’t want to. That meant seeing to his progression.

It was finally time to look at his gains.