--- Roric

Roric's head kept spinning. That prevented him from guessing of how much distance they were putting between them and the battlefield. The only thing the boy could do was walking, and struggling to keep their path as straight as possible.

Hold on. Hold on, Tolwin. Please, don't die.

The old man had been silent since the moment they had left. Even with the help of the young mercenary, it was clear that he could barely stand. Blood dripped from his wounds with every step and it didn't look like he was able to see properly. So, Roric decided to take the lead and simply carry him forward, despite knowing that moving an injured person could be very dangerous.

Everything had happened too quickly for his thoughts to catch up. The boy still couldn't accept that he and Tolwin were the only two left in the entire company. His friends, the other soldiers, even the commander had died. A tear ran down his left cheek, but he gritted his teeth and saved those feelings for later.

This is no time for crying. I have to save him. Still, I don't even know where we are...

Roric fought hard to remain focused on the present. The priest was limping, most of his weight supported by him, and without any help he wouldn't have made it. Feeling Tolwin's right arm around his shoulders, the young mercenary realized that his body was becoming heavier and heavier as they went on, and started wondering how much time the man could have left.

Traveling blindly, with the desperate hope that nobody was already on their trail, the two advanced relentlessly to cover as many miles as they could before the break of dawn. Due to the lack of light, Roric's face ended up all scratched and cut by thick branches and bushes, but he refused to stop. The sunset was close, that much he knew, and every now and then he could notice the sky growing in colour above the trees.

Tolwin urged him to halt, and the boy gently helped him to sit on an old trunk. The priest coughed blood, staining his beard and what was left of his equipment. From the look in his eyes, the young mercenary could guess that he was nearing the limit. He was exhausted as well, obviously, but his injuries were way less severe.

If only we could use Tolwin's magic to get him back in shape... We need to find a place to rest for a bit.

"Tolwin," he said. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm not dead yet, boy," replied the priest, with a weak voice. "Damn, I feel terrible."

"I'll help you stand, now. We are looking for somewhere to hide, alright?"

The old man nodded, wiping most of the blood away from his mouth using the sleeve of his tunic, then he let Roric lift him up. They walked for a couple of minutes more, stumbling in a small stream and a group of huge boulders.

No, these aren't common rocks. It's more ruins.

Those seemed to be the remains of an ancient tower. Nothing particularly safe, but for the moment it had to suffice. The boy carried Tolwin to a sheltered spot and left him there to rest. Once he touched the ground, the priest fell unconscious almost instantly. Roric didn't even try to keep him awake, covered him with his leather jerkin and took the chance to have a look around.

Luckily for him, there were some weak medical herbs growing in that place. Thanks to his experience, the young mercenary could recognize them among the common weeds and quickly collect them. Then he used them to bandage the priest better that he could, all while nervously keeping watch for possible pursuers.

If someone comes now, I don't think I'll be able to protect Tolwin. And even if we manage to escape, how am I going to take care of him? Aregat is still so far... And my head hurts so much.

As time passed, unexpectedly, it became clear that there was nobody following them. The woods were vast and intricate, so even if Roric hadn't been concealing their tracks it was almost impossible to find their route in the darkness. Despite this, the boy shivered every time he heard noises between the trees. He knew that there were a lot of animals around, but the memories of the battle were still too vivid for him to relax.

This place is giving me chills. Should I wake him up? What if he can't stand up now?

The night wasn't that cold but the priest was feverish. As much as he would have liked to, however, Roric didn't dare to light any fire. Not when the smoke could have given their position away so easily. Speaking of which, the young mercenary still didn't have any idea of where they were headed. For the moment, the only thing he cared about was keeping his mentor alive and leaving that cursed forest safely. No matter how dire the situation was, he would have never abandoned that man.

With a groan, the priest opened his eyes.

"Roric," he panted. "I hear water. Give me some, if you can."

The boy helped him to sit against an ancient wall and hurried in the opposite direction. His hands dove into the stream two or three times and he came back with a handful. Tolwin drank from his fingers, spitting some more blood from time to time, but at least he seemed to feel a little better.

"Why didn't you leave me?" he asked, once he was done coughing.

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"How could I?" said Roric. "You would have died!"

Tolwin sighed. The boy noticed that even breathing was a struggle for him.

"I don't think I have much left. You need to get out of here, my boy."

"That's out of the question!" replied the young mercenary. "You just need some rest, then we can use your powers and-"

"My powers won't save me. Right now, I can't even feel my spirit that clearly."

Roric stopped talking, and shivered. He simply couldn't accept that.

There has to be a way. I'm not going to let him die. I trained so hard to save those I care for. I trained...

The man grabbed his right arm.

"It's alright."

Tears flowed from the boy's eyes. He didn't know what to do. It was just like that time, in his village. After so many years, he was still too weak.

I haven't changed. Everything I've done, I-

"Death is just another step. We don't even know if it's the last one," murmured Tolwin, with a sad smirk. "Body and spirit are two separate things, remember?"

Roric nodded, weakly. Then, he began sobbing.

"You are such a good student," coughed the old priest. "And a good boy. Much more than someone like me would ever deserve."

Why can't I save him? Why am I always so...

The boy cried desperately, his only comfort in the gentle touch on his forearm. He couldn't bear to lose Tolwin. That man had always been kind to him. He was like a father to him.

"I still need you," he begged, wiping his eyes and sniffing. "There are many things I still want to ask."

As if it was enough to make him live.

The two exchanged a look. In that instant, Roric realized that there was no hope left in both of them. In spite of that, anyway, the priest was smiling.

"You are ready now," he whispered. "You aren't a helpless child anymore. I'm sure of it."

Was he really different from back then? Since the moment Tolwin had found him in the ruins of Spjaldir, a lot had happened. The boy had undergone so much training and experienced so many situations that he believed to have improved. That illusion, however, had come to an end with the battle.

All his efforts had been for nothing. His companions were dead. His new friends were dead. The commander, the man he once admired, was dead as well. And now even the person who had saved him, taught him about his true nature and encouraged him to pursue it was going to leave him.

"Life is abandoning me," said the old man. "It's the seal... I can tell because of it."

He was referring to the Eye of Judgment, his cursed gift. As he had told, the ritual that kept it locked was bound to his very existence.

"No, Tolwin! Don't die!" yelled Roric.

Stay with me. Please, stay with me.

The kind priest, the paladin who had sought redemption for so many years, was preparing to take his last breath. Roric held his own, almost fearful of blowing away the last embers of Tolwin's life. Then, the empty eyes of the man began to shine of a pure, blinding light. Like reflections of extremely refined jewels those glimmers captivated the boy, who felt something echoing deep inside.

"Roric," said Tolwin, with what was left of his voice. "I am proud of you."

His tone was calm, satisfied. For a couple of seconds, the man seemed to smile even more brightly. Finally he exhaled and the light faded. He didn't speak anymore.

Roric remained motionless, almost believing that the priest was going to wake up once his head was turned away. Yet, Tolwin didn't move.

"No..." he murmured. "This can't be."

The sun rose. Voices of birds echoed between the trees. A gentle wind blew through the forest. The young mercenary, however, couldn't see nor hear all those things. He stared blankly at the dead man for some time, his mind unable to tame his fuzzy thoughts. When he came back to his senses, he didn't know how long he had stayed there. All he felt, at that point, was emptiness.

I am alone. Alone.

Roric had been awake for more than a day straight, but he wasn't sleepy. He just wanted to leave that place once and for all. Judging from the sun he had been going East, and the countryside had to be a couple of miles further than that. Still, there was something he had to do first.

The boy stood up, prepared a small clearing and carried Tolwin's body there. Then he buried it using rocks of all sizes, stopping only once or twice to wipe away the tears. Shortly after, the priest had completely disappeared beneath the stone. When he was done, Roric felt spent. His hands were bleeding a bit, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let that person rot in the open.

"Thanks," he whispered. "Thanks for everything you did for me."

He gave a last glance to that place, recovered his sword and turned away, looking for a path that would lead him out.

***

Roric wandered through the forest for some time, then he finally reached its end.

Due to him walking blindly there was no sign of the village of Levya around, so he just went on to the East until a road appeared. There were very old signs, covered with so much moss that it made them almost impossible to read, but it seemed that he was just a day or so from Aregat, the last place where the mercenaries had been. Anyway, the young mercenary had to rest before moving on. So he just decided to take a nap a short distance from where he stood, in a field.

His sleep wasn't pleasant at all. He dreamed of the battle, of Tolwin facing the necromancer, of the others torn apart by the undead. The boy tried to scream, but his voice was completely silent. He tried to grab Rickhart's sword with his hands, to prevent him from slashing the old man. But right as he was about to do it, he woke up.

I couldn't save him... Even in my dreams. How many times will I see you die, Tolwin?

Roric glanced in the direction of the forest, at that distance just a thin green line on the horizon. Somewhere between those trees, beyond his mentor's final resting place, lay the battlefield of his nightmare.

I have to get back to Aregat. To tell everyone that the necromancer is still on the loose, at least. Then, I'll... I don't really know. I can't think about it right now.

The boy wondered if anyone in town would have remembered his face. He needed to find a way to alert the authorities about Rickhart and he needed it fast, before that foe could escape the Republic.

I miss them so much.

With a deep breath, Roric headed towards the town.