Chapter 6

The dagger in Caelie's hands flashed, slicing through a goblin's throat. Blood spurt out from the fatal incision, flying through the air and landing on her newly acquired leather boots. The petite blonde grimaced and took a step back, straight into another puddle of congealed blood.

"Really," she deadpanned to no one in particular. "This just isn't my day…"

Another one of the pink-skinned creatures came running up to her, its mouth opened wide in a primal scream. It clutched a crudely fashioned stone axe in its grubby little hands, and it swung the weapon around unpredictably as it approached. Caelie watched its every move carefully – it was weak, but so was she, and she couldn't afford to make any mistakes if she was going to prove her worth to Kleven.

It was a miracle that she'd managed to escape his notice while exiting the town's gates. She'd managed to purchase a full set of leather vestments off an enterprising merchant, but the man hadn't had any headgear in stock for her to hide her conspicuous blonde heritage. Now that she'd made it out of the town, however, she was more concerned with not getting any of the blood and gore in her hair, rather than hiding it.

The goblin before her snarled in frustration as she dodged yet another one of its clumsy strikes. She was hardly a good fighter, but the basics had been drilled into both twins by their father, and that was more than enough to deal with such a single-minded creature. Kleven had taken those lessons more seriously, while Caelie herself had loathed them, but now she was grateful if anything.

In a way, the goblin reminded her of the townspeople of Mirnas. Crude, untrained in combat and full of single-minded hatred for the Bandit King and everyone related to him. An fun idea popped into her head as she thought about her hometown, recalling how Kleven had gotten rid of a gang of teenage bullies once. Glancing around, she spotted what she was looking for, sidestepping another of the monster's attacks to move closer to her target.

The decapitated goblin's head she found wasn't exactly a ball, but it would do for all intents and purposes. Winding up a leg, the blonde kicked the disembodied head as hard as she could. Goblin head met goblin head, resulting in an extremely satisfying crack. Hah, exactly what Kleven did back then!

The goblin with its head still attached collapsed from the impact, crying out in pain as it grasped at its broken nose. With her chance in plain sight, Caelie jumped the goblin without hesitation. The sharp point of her dagger found its throat, and just like before, its blood sprayed out from the arterial wound as it perished. This time however, she was a little unluckier, and the gore found its way onto her face and into her unwittingly open mouth.

"Ah… shit!" cursed Caelie between spits. She stood unsteadily and reached up with her left hand to claw at her mouth, but remembered at the last second that it was encased in an armoured gauntlet – another one of her new acquisitions. Cursing again, she transferred the dagger in her right hand to her left, before using her now free and ungloved hand to assist in clearing her mouth of goblin blood.

A flash of red out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she quickly spun around with her gauntleted hand raised. The hobgoblin shrieked gutturally as its rusted sword met the steel glove, and Caelie fell to a knee from the force of the blow. Tremors ran through her arm as she forced herself to hold it high, and she panicked slightly as she realised that her dagger was still in her left hand.

The blood red hobgoblin reacted before she could, pulling its sword back and slamming a grimy foot into her chest. Caelie was knocked onto her back by the blow, and she lay gasping for breath. Her dagger had been sent flying a few paces away as well, and the blonde slowly pushed herself back with her arms and legs as the monster advanced on her. It let out an animalistic laugh – it was laughing at her suffering! – and Caelie felt an indignant fury grow within her.

"Oh, you bastard," she muttered under her breath.

It brought its rusty sword down, but the blade only found dirt as she rolled out of the way in the nick of time. Stretching out a leg, she returned the favor, kicking the hobgoblin in the chest with as much strength as she could muster. The creature stumbled, and Caelie immediately scrambled to her feet, running for her weapon. A stone-shot struck her side, and though her leather vest took the brunt of it, the unexpected hit still surprised her.

She tripped on her own legs and fell, smashing stomach-first onto a goblin's corpse which laid right next to her dagger. The cadaver practically exploded from the force of her landing, sending its innards flying everywhere and soaking her entire front in blood. Blood dripped from her now soaked armour as she stood, holding her knife out with a forward grip.

Rage filled eyes bore into the hobgoblin's, and the creature merely cackled in amusement. It raised its own weapon in acceptance of the blonde's challenge, baring its sharp teeth and licking its lips. As soon as it did, Caelie let loose a blood-curdling cry and charged forward.

The hobgoblin swung its blade unerringly into her path, but Caelie reacted swiftly in her wrath fueled trance, her heart throbbing deafeningly in her ears. Her gauntlet met its blade again, and she swatted the red-rusted instrument aside. It staggered as its arm followed the trajectory of its deflected sword, and the petite blonde grasped the opening. She lunged forward and stabbed the monster in its ribs, through its rotted leather chestpiece. It howled and grabbed her wrist with its free hand, crushing it under its grip and forcing her to let go of her dagger. Then, it headbutted her with a snarl, its ridiculously hard forehead cracking viciously against her nose.

Stars filled Caelie's vision as she fumbled from the unorthodox blow. The creature wasted no time in taking advantage of her disoriented state, grabbing the back of her head and slamming its forehead into her own again. And again. And again.

The hobgoblin released her, reeling from its own brutal attack, and she fell limply onto her behind. Her ears rang dully, and her anger ebbed away rapidly as she held back tears, gingerly clutching at her broken nose. Ironically, it reminded her of what she'd done to the previous goblin. She tasted blood – it was the goblin's blood from before too – and she began to chuckle to herself at the absurdity of it all.

Her opponent hissed at her reaction and lumbered forward. A few goblins approached to finish her off, but they backed away as their larger kin variant swung its blade in a wide arc, barking ferociously at them. Caelie's world spun as she looked up at the ugly red-skinned creature, her gaze focused blankly on the dagger still embedded in its abdomen. She reached up for it weakly, but the hobgoblin stood just out of her grasp, grinning triumphantly down at her with its weapon poised to give the finishing strike.

"—AELIE!" a familiar voice screamed over the sounds of battle, and Caelie jerked her neck around to look for its source. The sudden movement made her head throb, and the following blur of grey and yellow slamming into the hobgoblin only served to add to her headache. The monster toppled onto its back from the impact, and in the very next second the grey figure was upon it.

"Kle…ven…?"

Kleven gave no answer as he jumped atop the stunned hobgoblin, pinning it down with his weight. He drove his sword deep into its shoulder, further restricting its movement. With a furious howl, the blond began laying into the struggling creature, pummeling it with shield and fist. The colours in her vision swam as Caelie watched her twin administer a relentless, almost cruel beating upon the hobgoblin.

"Can you stand, lass?" someone asked, an unfamiliar voice this time. Caelie looked up, dazed, and stared blankly at the heavily-scarred man hunched over her. She understood his words, but for some reason she couldn't formulate a reply. It was as if there was a fog in her mind.

"Is she alright?" Kleven asked the man, and she turned groggily to face her brother as he approached. His fists were bloody, and the mangled body of the hobgoblin lay motionless behind him. "Is that her blood?"

I'm fine, it's not mine, Caelie thought, the words escaping her mouth in an unintelligible moan. The man glanced down at her and shook his head.

"Not hers, other than the flow from her nose. She's in shock. A concussion too, I'd wager. We shouldn't move her too much, but we need to get her off the battlefield. Carefully."

"Right… I'll help her up. I'll leave the fuckers that get in our way to you," said Kleven, his voice thick with a myriad of emotions. He bent down and grabbed his sister's underarms, gently urging her up. "Come on, Caelie. Let's go back."

It was a line she'd heard far too many times, especially in that soft, beaten tone. A line he always uttered after his body had been battered and bruised while protecting her. No, she had to prove that she could fend for herself, or he would kill himself being her shield. Hot indignation welled up in her chest again as she rose unsteadily from the ground, shrugging off Kleven's aid.

"Where's… dagger?" the blonde tried to force a growl, but it came out in a slur. "Fight… I still can…"

"You've done more than enough," Kleven answered his twin sternly. He tugged on her arms gently but firmly, then added in a muted voice, "Let's go back… please…"

"Give… my weapon…" Caelie moaned in reply, struggling lightly in her brother's grip. She reached out, grasping at whatever seemed like her dagger. It had been removed from the hobgoblin's body when she'd glanced at it just moments before, and she was sure Kleven had it.

"That's enough, Caelie! Stop it!" Kleven snapped, his hurt apparent on his features. "I'll throw that damned dagger away if you won't fucking listen!"

His words resounded in Caelie's addled mind, and in that moment, it was the worst thing she'd ever heard. She recoiled, pushing him away. Her hand smarted, and she realised that she'd slapped her twin across the cheek unconsciously. Horrified, she took several groggy steps back. Suddenly, something impacted into the back of her head, and she slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut as her consciousness faded.

xxxxx

The sun had yet to rise, but the fighting had begun to die down. The mass of pink goblins had dwindled down to a fraction of their original force, though they still numbered over a thousand. The Vaettir hung back in the darkness behind the mountain of corpses which had yet to be burnt or melted, and beyond the range of the defence's bows and guns as well. What few hobgoblins that remained tried to rouse their weaker kin into charging forward again, ultimately resulting to violence when their roars went ignored.

Another fireball streaked out into the night, exploding in a small clump of goblins and providing the defenders with another brief moment of vision. The fire mage had begun throwing them out periodically when the goblins advanced had faltered, though their frequency and destructive power had lessened. It wasn't surprising that the mage had begun to tire. The magical fire had undoubtedly claimed the most lives, and Varen was sure that the spellcaster was on the verge of exhaustion after everything.

"I can't feel my arms anymore," Julien groaned, leaning on the parapet with his bow unnocked in his left hand. "I'm gonna need someone to feed me for a week."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Don't even think about it," smirked Varen, gently massaging his own right shoulder. "I'm not doing it."

"What? No! I wasn't asking—"

Varen chuckled as the boy spluttered in embarrassment. Then, feigning hurt, he said, "Wow… if you're so opposed to me spoonfeeding you, then maybe we should get Magnar to do the honours."

"I will end you, Varen, if you ever suggest that again," the soldier replied almost immediately, grimacing as the very thought sent shivers down his spine. "I'd sooner rather him bludgeon me to death with his hammer before it comes to that…"

"Might wanna keep that bit to yourself, lest you give him any ideas," Varen said, stifling a giggle. It was little wonder why Caelie teased Julien so much. "How long more do you suppose this will take?"

Laughter erupted further down the section, and he glanced over at a group of older mercenaries engaged animatedly in conversation. Even Sergeant Wallen was drawn in to the discussion, and Varen smiled in relief at the sight. The tide of battle had turned, and the worst was over.

"Another hour, maybe? The Captain's leading the cleanup operation soon," Julien shrugged, peering down on the other fighters. "I know those below had it harder than us, but we haven't had a single break."

"And you'll get one, soldier."

They turned at the approaching voice, and found said Captain behind them. Julien immediately gave a nervous salute, which Reid acknowledged with a nod. Splatters of blood stained his dark-green greatcoat, proof that the man had been in the thick of combat and adding to his already inspiring image.

"I was supposed to lead the cleanup group, but a matter has been brought to my attention. I've thus entrusted Sergeant Klein below with clearing up the remaining goblins," said Reid matter-of-factly. He turned his gaze to meet Varen's and asked, "I presume you're Junior Archivist Ashtar?"

"Yes sir?"

"The matter I speak of concerns you. Please, come with me," Captain Reid said, turning and gesturing for Varen to follow. He paused mid-turn, as if suddenly recalling something, then added, "Ah right. Private Julien, do join us."

Julien swapped a quizzical look with Varen, and the two quickly grabbed their weapons. They followed the Captain along the battlements, past the first flight of stairs that they had come up on, and Varen wondered where he was taking them. The soldiers saluted their commanding officer as he passed, and the adventurers that were familiar with Reid shouted out their greetings as well, which the man returned with a smile.

"Wow, you're really popular, aren't you sir?" observed Julien, almost immediately regretting speaking with the highest-ranking officer in the town so casually.

The Captain didn't seem to mind it too much, thankfully. He gave Julien a sideways glance and chuckled, "I did learn from the best, after all."

"Are we in trouble, sir?" Varen asked, slightly nervous.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. Trust me, I wouldn't be as accommodating if you'd done something wrong," Reid said smoothly. "It's regarding your mission, if that's any comfort."

It was, in the fact that it reminded Varen of his task. The matter had been pushed to the back of his mind once he had started getting into the rhythm of the battle. Making a mental note to check The Fate of the World later just in case anything in it had changed, he asked, "Are Kleven and Caelie – my companions – already there?"

"They are. The Chief just spoke to me, in fact, which is why I came to get you," stated Captain Reid. "I understand your mission is of the utmost importance, and he's left it to me to handle your preparations, as he usually does with important matters. There have been some complications, and you'll need to discuss them with your companions before we can move forward."

"Huh…" Varen furrowed his brows, speculating on what the complications could be. Perhaps the Head Majstor had obtained more information about the validity of the prophecy?

"Varen? Is that you?" a feminine voice called out as they started down another flight of the battlement stairs, interrupting his thoughts. It was eerily familiar, and Varen spun to face the voice's owner. A flash of orange-red hair was all he saw before the person engulfed him in a tight embrace. "It really is you! It's been so long! You're in grey robes! Are you an Archivist now?"

"Miren, I… can't breathe," Varen choked out, struggling in the woman's grip. She squealed out an apology and released him from the hug, her embarrassment apparent. "What are you doing here, Miren?" asked Varen between breaths.

Miren grinned, posing with her arms akimbo on her hooded black robe. "I left the Majstoria life behind. I'm a proper adventurer now, tried and tested!"

"You got into the Majstoria? Wait, wait. So that lightning spell from before – that was you? You're part of the Purple Robes?" Varen asked incredulously, and her proud grin grew wider.

"Mhm. Clever name, isn't it? I take it you liked my spell then, Var."

Varen stared at her for a moment, speechless. She seemed so different than what he remembered. Dozens of questions popped up in his head, but before he could put them into words, Captain Reid cleared his throat, drawing both their attentions.

"My apologies, Miss Glacer, but I'm afraid Mr Ashtar here is in a bit of a rush at the moment. I'll have to ask that the two of you catch up later."

"A-ah, yes. That's not a problem, Captain Reid. Please, don't let me keep you," Miren replied stiffly, her head bent in a slight bow. Turning back to Varen, she said, "I'm staying in the tavern beside the Guild, come find me later, yeah Var?"

Varen only had time to nod before Reid placed a hand on his shoulder and began guiding him down the stairs toward their intended destination. Miren gave him a small wave from the top of the stairs, and he returned it, still slightly bewildered from meeting her in such a place after so many years. She was the last person from his past that he'd expected to see again, though he supposed out of everyone he knew then, she was the only one he was truly glad to bump into.

"So… Var, eh?" Julien whispered, nudging him in the shoulder with a wink. "Was that the 'older sister' you were talking about?"

"Yes, that was her. It's just a nickname, nothing more," Varen answered in the most nonchalant he could muster, unwilling to give the brown-haired boy more ammunition to use in his attempts at teasing.

Julien crossed his arms and pouted, clearly irked by the neutral response. Giving Varen an accusing look, he cried, "What unholy ritual have you performed in the past? Why are all the women in your life so beautiful?"

"I believe a lot of it can be attributed to luck," Captain Reid pointed out, an eyebrow raised at Julien's behaviour. Julien groaned and buried his reddening face into his palms, having forgotten that his superior officer was there with them. Varen nearly fell over trying to hold back his eye-watering laughter at the scene, and Julien began slapping him in the sides, in an effort to make him stop.

"You two remind me of my younger days. Especially you, Private Julien," the Captain said mirthfully, watching their antics with amusement as they walked down a quiet street in the south-western part of town.

"I do?" asked Julien, suddenly curious about the older man's youth.

"Indeed. Cherish these moments, for they might not last," Reid concluded in a more serious tone, and they fell silent at the sudden weighty atmosphere. Varen cast his eyes on the cobblestones beneath his feet, knowing all too well the truth of the statement.

They turned off the street into a residential area, lined with colourful cottages. The road was wider than the town's usual streets, and each cottage even had a small front yard. It was spacious compared to the boarding houses and shophouses that most of the townsfolk lived in, and Varen guessed it was the part of town where the more privileged resided. They stopped at a particular cottage a few houses down the row, uniquely characterised by its unkempt garden.

"Welcome to my humble abode. Don't mind the grass, I haven't had time to get round to cutting it," Captain Reid said, leading them up a small footpath to the front door. "Come, the rest are inside."

He ushered them in, and Varen was surprised when the first thing he saw was the scarred mercenary from before, leaning on the wall in the hallway. The man wore a funereal expression, and Varen's heart sank as he began to imagine the worst.

"Did something happen to Kleven?" he blurted out worriedly.

"…Not exactly," the man replied, scratching his bald head. "They're in the room at the end, it's better if you see it for yourself."

The small room was dimly lit by a solitary lamp on a dresser table, but the poor light was more than enough for Varen to clearly see the bedroom's occupants. His gaze was especially drawn to the unmoving figure on the bed in the centre of the room, and he froze as he immediately recognised who it was. She'd been stripped of her usual grey robes and now wore a clean plain white gown. Behind him, Julien clutched the doorway, the strength leaving the boy's legs as he too took in the scene.

"What… what happened to Caelie? H-how? …Kleven?" Varen stammered, his eyes flitting to the other blond twin who was seated by the bed with his eyes downcast. Kleven gave no answer, and Varen panned his gaze desperately around the room at the others. "Magnar? Captain Reid…?"

The two men exchanged looks, and Magnar gave the subtlest of nods, as if he was a superior giving his subordinate the go-ahead to speak. Varen would have found it strange, but he was much too distracted under the current circumstances to even notice it.

Clearing his throat, Reid recited, "Blunt force trauma to the base of her skull rendering her comatose. It was a simple pebble missile, but flung with much greater force, courtesy of a hobgoblin. Other injuries are superficial – bruises, minor lacerations and the like. The doctors are hopeful that she'll come to within a month, and there's no signs showing that she won't either, which is good news."

Varen blubbered like a fish as he tried to think of something appropriate to say. "D-did she head out on her own?" he asked redundantly, and morose silence told him all he needed. "I'm so, so sorry, Kleven…"

Caelie's features were so serene as she laid with her arms by her side, starkly juxtaposing with what had happened, along with its mournful aftermath. It really didn't suit her, Varen thought. She was supposed to be bubbly and full of emotion and energy, not lying unconscious in bed. It reminded him of his mum on her deathbed, quiet and still, and he pushed back a wave of sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. Stepping forward to the bed, Varen reached out for Caelie's hands.

"You know," Kleven finally spoke without looking up, startling Varen just before he was able to touch Caelie. The blond's voice was emotionless and faint, but Varen heard every word clearly. "Everything, all of this, was her idea. We were homeschooled, and she wanted to experience studying with others when we made it to Ivolas. So we did. We would have been fine on our own, but it was what she wanted. Anything she wanted to do, we did – as long as we were safe, I was fine with it. When we approached you in the Archives, it was because she finally decided she wanted to get to know you better, after seeing you around in classes and at work all those years."

He paused to take a breath, raising his head to reveal bloodshot eyes. "I was very much against it when the Head Majstor assigned us on this mission. She spent the entire night convincing me, you know. It's why she was so tired that morning. She wanted to see the world, to head out into the Unknown and become a proper Archivist. I relented after I made her promise to stay safe, to stay behind me if and when we encountered any danger. I…" he faltered for the first time in his long speech, "I… thought she understood."

"I regret it all, Varen," Kleven continued with a weary smile. Gone was the dependable image of his broad back and shoulders as he hunched over tiredly. "If only I'd been more resolute with my stance, then none of this would have happened. I—No, we. We won't be joining you for your mission any longer. Perhaps we could have been the best of friends if we'd gotten to know each other in a different manner, but right now? Right now, I don't want to see your face ever again…"

"I… I understand," Varen heard himself say, though he wasn't exactly sure if he did. It was as if a switch had been flicked in his mind at Kleven's last sentence, and nothing made sense anymore. The blond averted his eyes as he stared, and the words finally hit Varen like a ton of bricks. He staggered back unwittingly as he was reminded of unwanted memories, then caught himself. It's different this time, Varen told himself. There was no animosity in Kleven's voice, despite the message it conveyed.

"I am sorry, Varen," said Kleven, his voice cracking slightly. "Please, go."

That's right, it's different. It was Crowen doctrine never to give apologies freely, and Kleven was not one of them. Though, it didn't stop Varen's chest from hurting any less. Reaching out to do what he'd meant to do earlier, he clasped Caelie's hand tightly.

"Take care of her," he croaked. Then, without another word, Varen spun on his heels and walked out the door, gently pushing past a still stunned Julien.

The front door opened and shut audibly as Varen left, returning the room to silence.

"I suppose it's time we all get some rest," said Reid after a moment.

"Before we do that, I need to speak with you, Captain," Magnar spoke up, addressing the slightly younger officer. "Outside."

"Understood," answered Reid without a second's hesitation. Turning to Orval, he said, "Mr Farridge, would you mind escorting Private Julien here back to the barracks? I don't think he's in much condition to do so on his own."

"Can do. Come on, lad. I'm not about to haul you over my shoulders, so let's move those feet."

"Wait, mercenary. Mind keeping an eye out on the Archivist boy as well?" queried Magnar, tilting his head in the direction of the exit.

Orval shrugged. "You realise what you're asking, old man? Will I get paid?"

The older soldier nodded in Reid's direction, and the Captain sighed, "Yes, you'll get paid. Out of my own coffers if need be, it seems."

"Fine then, consider it done," the mercenary chuckled softly. "Where do I find him? When does he leave? I need details."

"Meet me at The Jilted Hare tomorrow afternoon, you'll get them there. Come, it's almost daybreak," Captain Reid said, ushering everyone them out of the room. Glancing back at Kleven, he added, "I'll drop by sometime later. There's food in the pantry, though nothing too fresh. Rest well."

The blond nodded his acknowledgement almost imperceptibly, and the Captain left without further fuss. He sat still for a while, waiting. Waiting numbly for someone, Caelie perhaps, to sit up and tell him that it was all an elaborate joke. Nothing happened, and he fought back tears for the umpteenth time that night. Grasping his sister's hand, he entwined his fingers with hers, then buried his face into the sheets by her side.