XII.

Counterattack

Twelfth of Dectis [5], 207th Year of The Calamonian Age

"Quickly. Don't forget—quickly." Faunia emphasized.

“I know.”

So it's come to this.

It was dark in that cramped kitchen, especially with the clumsily constructed table planted directly in the center of the room. There was but a single candlelight upon it to illuminate her and Cedric while they armed themselves and prepared for the night ahead.

Our first step toward Dyosius. Toward Evra. Just as Llestren'vatis wanted. Just as I need.

Our first steps at interrupting their invasion of Kylinstrom—if it isn't already too late.

We'll stop these unhinged bastards before the damage is too severe. As if it isn't already...

"Once we figure out where their armies are assembled from, we'll strike there as well, using what little force we can muster from Thelani. Let's just hope they haven't devastated Kylinstrom yet."

“The Hunters should manage. The Sylvet, too… They’ll feel sworn to protect their homeland, especially after what happened in Dreslon.”

“We hope.”

He nodded. There was a dull moment where Faunia was getting herself dressed in black robes over her familiar Hunters’ plate, and Cedric stared longingly at the table. It was silent for a long while, as they both carefully assessed and retraced every step of their careful plan.

Is it careful enough? Faunia wondered. Is there anything we missed?

"Faunia, I don't think I told you about my past. Have I?" Cedric asked suddenly. "In the time that I don't remember, I mean."

She was tying her hair above her head when she answered, "About Lorik? Yeah. I'm familiar. Vaguely, at least."

"I trusted you enough to tell you that, huh?"

"It wasn't all told. Some of it was learned from Akvum, or learned from Rog."

Cedric's heart sank at the second name.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing."

Faunia shrugged and grabbed her shining new rapier from the umbrella rack by the eastward front door. Then she grabbed the sheathed bastard sword beside it and tossed it to Cedric carelessly.

He caught it as he stood from his stool. It was more fitting for his hands than many others he'd found, and more comforting than his Sylvet shortsword.

"You ready?"

"Wait. Before we go…"

She turned to him with sternness on her face, expecting his too-familiar beratement.

"I'll allow you to lean on me when you need help. So long as I can lean on you, too."

Her world shifted—she was back in Vehk, in those browned and grayed stone mountains that towered up and enveloped their world except for the gap overhead that acted as their skylight. The light was golden in that valley, the light that once again shone on her ally—the person that, at that point, had become her friend.

She smiled. She nodded. "You've got yourself a deal, you bastard."

Faunia was out the door after that. Cedric lingered behind just a moment longer, humoring that passing memory of someone else he'd since forgotten: "Just where have I heard those words before…?"

X

They had waited until the cover of night to act. The day had been spent planning backups and contingencies. They would need everything to be perfect for their plan. One slip-up would cost a life. Cedric knew the weight. Faunia knew it, too.

She watched him in the blue magelight of the city's streets as he stood waiting, with his brown robes draped over himself.

"We're going to make a commotion." he declared. Indeed, many people still milled about—even at that late hour. Even in the dark, it was bustling. Quieter, but bustling nonetheless as the habitual closing of buildings and shops called people to retire to their homes once again.

Faunia’s robes kept her hidden, too. Her silver hair would have stood out if not for the black padded coif she had bundled it up in. Her pale skin still shone like the moon in that magelight.

"She's coming." he said. The crowd was scattered enough that they'd have an opening, but they'd need to escape just as quickly. There were no alleyways beside the marble-pillared Diplomats' Hall to hide in. There was no better place to strike, either, as they couldn't verify her routes in the weeks leading up to their cumulative plan. Not even Rithi could get close enough without feeling her mind penetrating his own.

Mind control. That's what he said her power was. So they had to be faster, they had to strike before she even realized. Tirolith was integral to the plan this time.

"Go." he commanded and stepped back to her side. He placed a red-glowing hand on her shoulder.

A black-haired woman stepped out of the great door marking the hall. The woman from The Twelve.

Our prey, she thought.

She raised her arms and her icy bow crackled to life from the air. The air became cold.

The arrowhead lit up in Serkukan's color.

Life and death in my hands—never did I expect to become a fill-in assassin.

Don't miss.

Thwip!

The air shouted out with the release of her bowstring. Tirolith was monitoring the timestream; they'd know if she noticed.

{She's about to look this way!}

Is she dodging?

The arrow struck the woman in the shoulder. They both knew it wouldn't be enough to take her down. They knew…

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

blink

The red-beating arrow was her portal. Faunia appeared from the blood spray of its hit, and stumbled into an advantageous position behind the woman. Faunia threw her arms around her, and grabbed her hands tightly.

"Aaaaagh! Nooooooo!" the woman screamed out, crying. The sparse crowd turned.

Cedric watched intently from his distance. He wouldn't know until it was too late—he had to trust her.

"Let go of me!"

Faunia looked at the woman. She got close to her face and inspected her carefully. Even in the darkness, what she saw soon filled her eyes with terror.

"Cedric! Wrong woman!" she shouted.

Some of the passerbys had drawn swords in the confusion. Cedric placed his hand onto his hilt.

"Behind you." hissed a low growl.

He glanced back—a man with blackened eyes and brown dreads down his head stood there. A green respirator was stapled to his tan face to match the loose buckles hanging sporadically down all across his heavy black and green coat.

Serkukan!

He called out as he staggered away for distance.

But there was no fire in response.

The confusion was enough for Faunia to release her grasp just slightly—enough so that when the black-haired woman turned her arm into a blade, it plunged easily into Faunia's stomach.

She screamed out. But Cedric couldn't lose focus. They'd been flanked, unexpectedly. They'd been outmatched.

He drew his sword.

But the green-masked man only had to reach a hand out. That would be enough to end the fight.

"Tirolith!" Faunia gasped as the blade came free from her stomach. The woman swung again. It was all she could do to fall to the ground to avoid the blow. The blood, there at her feet, shimmered as brightly as her moonlit skin.

The black-haired woman screamed a sudden, violent roar. She clutched her head. Something had snapped.

She turned her arm back to flesh and sprinted away into the night. Faunia would live, if barely. She turned her eyes back to Cedric.

Cedric, at his knees, turned his gaze to the fleeing woman.

No—this plan can't fail! Serkukan! Serkukan!

He imagined the ground beneath her turning to magma and sucking her in down to her waist, imagined Faunia freezing the magma back to stone and trapping the woman in place. Just long enough. Just long enough…

But the woman ran. There was no fire, nor ice. There was no snare for their plan.

Their third plan, then, would have to make do.

If they lived.

He was clutching his chest by that point. Poison riddled his whole body from head to toe. Venom. Sickness. Illness. His mind was fast becoming muddled and dull. Soon, he wouldn't have even a passing thought.

Cedric's body temperature shot up into the realm where he should have died. It would purge his illness—it would buy him time.

"F-Faun…"

He felt his body cool with Tirolith's magic. One glance back—Faunia was down. Collapsed.

How long until he draws his… It had already happened. Something shimmered in Throkos' hand.

"You'll resist me no longer."

One more ally… if there was just one more ally to cover our backs…

Faunia hadn't been in enough battles to know how quickly they were decided. She knew well enough that one mistake would spell an ending, but as far as what constituted a mistake…

He looked to the ground. But then, did he want his final memory to be of the cobbles at his feet?

Cedric lifted his eyes to meet those of his executioner. He glared. He was ready.

Throkos met his gaze. His obscured weapon came aloft.

There's no way to get us both out of here… it's over.

He gasped. The weapon swung.

An ally. An ally!

Thud!

The blade slammed down hard into his shoulder. It was stopped from cleaving him wholly only by his own sword.

"I'm not… done yet!"

They all felt that horrific pull on the leylines—such a significant change of reality and fate could kill Cedric in his current form, could wither Serkukan into ash without his birthright strength.

But it was their last chance. Let there be an ally… let there be—

"Aka!" a woman's voice belted out.

KRBOOOOM!

The wall behind Throkos exploded. He winced and slammed his eyes tightly shut. The parts of him touched by the blast turned to green mist. Is he evading the damage?

Cedric slumped to the ground.

It's up to you now, Marisol.

4E157

"He's Sylvet, that one."

"No, he's not!"

"Yeah, look at the black leather!"

"No tattoos. I bet you lift up his gambeson and still find none."

"Well I ain't touching a body." A short and brutish silhouette shook his head.

A silhouette of a woman in shining armor appeared over his shoulder. Since her arrival, she had not ceased to argue with the other, especially when they came across an amber-leaved clearing, with a stump and two rotting corpses.

Cedric had shuffled slightly away from the party of shadows. The scene was all too familiar. A scene he had perpetrated, though not of his own volition.

Why has it come back? He asked himself. But he had no answer, nor did the Etherian within him. Why am I here again?

Until he remembered Akvum. And he remembered Faunia. I’m with the Hunters. I’m in Kylinstrom, in Siln…

He looked down. His body was covered in brown Hunter’s armor. The low-ranking armor of Azar’kara.

I… I joined them?

He shuddered at the thought, and then shuddered again when a gentle hand brushed his back.

"You okay?" asked the woman behind him, with softness in her dark-eyed gaze. She was a deep tan, with short black hair atop her rounded face. Even in the unwelcoming winter sunlight, there was an aura of warmth to her. A feeling of home...

"I'm fine. It's just…"

"I never get used to seeing bodies, either. Sometimes I think I was never meant to be a Hunter."

"No, it's—uh, I must have eaten something sour yesterday." he said. Why did I lie?

"Oh!" She laughed. "Then I'll be the only one outing my insecurities today. Take your time, don't be afraid to ask if you need a shoulder to lean on. Literally, even"

He didn't say anything. After a moment, she shuffled away awkwardly but with a smile.

Cedric sighed once he was alone again. With one last glance to the bile he had left amongst the leaves, he crossed the clearing back to the party.

*