Seamus thrusted his sword at Hugo’s side, his blade bouncing off of the knight’s armor.
“Dammit!” Seamus quickly backed away from another one of Hugo’s counters, his halberd’s edge grazing against the young man’s cheek. The young man staggered back, his eyes widening as he watched Hugo move in for another strike, the halberd’s ax raised for a downward swing. Lilith interrupted before the knight could attack, the berserker slamming her shoulder against the giant. Hugo barely stumbled, but the distraction was enough for him to focus on Lilith, the blunt end of his staff coming down the berserker.
Lilith was still recovering from her attempted tackle, which left her open to the strike. Seamus watched as a spear suddenly parried the staff’s blunt end, its owner redirecting the attack to the ground. Helen stepped in to defend the berserker, her spear raising to strike against Hugo. The knight blocked with his arm, deflecting the spearhead with his bracer. This left the heavy man open to Seamus, who moved in with his sword. The young man could see his target, a small space in between Hugo’s steel plates, a strike that would be major in this fight.
In that small window of opportunity, however, Seamus hesitated. This small moment of weakness was enough to throw off his stab, which resulted in his sword’s edge bouncing off steel. Hugo was quick to react, his armored backhand coming at Seamus at great speed. The young man raised his round shield just in time, his body thrown back from the impact of Hugo’s strike against the wooden piece of protection. Seamus felt his back hit the hull, his breathing heavy as he regained his composure. He was scared shitless, yet felt as if his body was moving on its own. Like it was going through the motions.
‘What the hel is happening?’
Seamus wasn’t sure how he was to continue with this fight, especially since his body was shaking from the entire experience.
‘You have to keep fighting, keep trying.’
Seamus looked up at Hugo, who was still trying to fend off the advances from Helen and Lilith, both of whom were seriously injured. Yet here was Seamus, who only had a couple of scratches and bruises on him.
‘Are you really going to let them risk themselves for you, coward?’
Seamus swallowed, his hand clenching onto his sword’s hilt.
‘But I can’t do it! I can’t risk my life! I don’t want to die!’
It terrified him, a fear that had haunted the young man for years. It was already enough that he had gambled his life multiple times in these past weeks.
> "You cannot run away from all your fears."
His father’s voice echoed in his mind.
> "There will always be times when you must step up and choose the ones you care about over those who wish to harm them. There is no place for fear."
The words were years old, taken from when Seamus was still a child, training to become like his father.
‘No… Not like him.’
Seamus recalled the words his father had said to him, the ones that were in response to a certain question.
> “Will I ever become you?”
>
> “Gods no. You will never become me.” Yorn placed a hand on little Seamus’ shoulder. “You will be someone else. Your own man. Perhaps similar to your mother. Perhaps similar to me. But you will be your own man. And I pray you will be a better man than I. A stronger man than I.”
Seamus felt his jaw clench tightly, his eyes focusing on the sword he held. It was a bloodied sword he had taken from a dead man, its edge battered and blunted from multiple strikes against Hugo’s armor. He looked up, focusing on the familiar scabbard across the deck, this particular sword being the one that was given to him by Kate Rowan. An idea slowly formed in his head. It revolved around a simple maneuver that he had been trained in. Seamus took a deep breath, his father’s voice in his head now.
‘Your attacks must have conviction. Your reactions must be instinctual. Your speed must be blinding.’
“No holding back,” Seamus muttered. He dropped his shield, his hands clenching onto the bloodied sword. He took one more deep breath, focusing on the armored giant in front of him, who was about to advance on Helen and Lilith.
“No hesitation.” Seamus rushed forward, his legs propelling him towards his target. Hugo turned to the young man, his body already moving to attack. Unfortunately for him, Seamus was quicker. Hugo’s halberd struck the air, its edge clipping off a couple of hairs from the young man’s head. Seamus had thrust his sword forward, its bloodied tip sinking into a small gap in the giant’s plates. He let go of the hilt, leaving the weapon inside as Hugo tried for another backhand at the young man.
Seamus quickly turned to grab his sheathed sword, his hand grabbing at its silver hilt and embroidered scabbard. He spun around, unsheathing his sword while still in motion. Hugo came into sight, his hands pulling out the sword still inside him. Without delay, Seamus rushed toward him. Hugo locked his gaze on the rushing man, his lips forming into a scowl as he quickly moved to counter the incoming attack. Seamus was about to have second thoughts until Helen stepped in, her spear stabbing at the knight’s arm. Her lunge struck true, her spear’s tip piercing through the small gap in his bracers.
Hugo roared in pain, his rage-filled eyes focusing on the grinning ex-marauder. Before he could do anything, however, Seamus was already on him. His sword slashed at the exposed crevice in Hugo’s armor once more, the young man putting all of his strength and speed into the attack. Blood speckled everywhere, and the attack caused Hugo to stumble back from shock. Hugo immediately pulled his skewered arm away from Helen, the sound of ripping flesh audible as he tore away from the spear.
Clutching his gut wound, Hugo swung his halberd at Seamus, who instinctively dodged to the side and avoided the grisly fate. Seamus swung his sword at Hugo’s wrist, the strike cutting through the small area in between his gauntlet and bracer. Another hit.
“Agh!” Hugo recoiled in pain, the halberd dropping to the ground. He tried to grab at it, but Helen’s spear suddenly pinned his arm to the floor, the ex-marauder exerting herself as she ran the man’s arm through.
“He’s open!” Helen shouted.
Seamus raised his sword and aimed its tip at Hugo’s exposed head. With a breath, he lunged forth, ready to end this. Hugo raised his free arm at the last possible second, barely blocking the attempted stab. The sword scraped against steel and hit nothing but air, missing the knight completely. Before anyone could react, Hugo grabbed at the sword, his gauntlet snapping the blade in half.
Seamus blinked as he watched the man effortlessly break the weapon, his eyes widening in shock. It broke him out of his focus. He could only stare at the broken sword dumbly, his focus solely on the precious weapon. He never saw Hugo’s punch.
The blow threw Seamus back, the taste of blood making itself present on his tongue. He fell to the ground, vision blurred and doubled as he tried to regain his composure. He slowly sat up, hand still clenching at the broken sword. Seamus forced himself to look up, only to watch helplessly as Hugo punched Helen away. With little to no effort, Hugo pulled the spear out of his arm with a sickening noise, his blood spattering all over his arm and torso. He spat onto the ground, his red eyes focusing on Seamus.
‘Am I going to die?’
Seamus’ fear returned to grip his heart, and hopelessness clouded his mind as he watched the behemoth slowly stand.
Suddenly, a blur of rage and steel came out of nowhere, its ax burying itself on Hugo’s side and finally landing a meaningful hit. The knight reacted violently, his fist coming down on the quick berserker. She dodged, her other hand shoving what looked to be James’ own short sword into another exposed area in the giant’s armor. Lilith dodged another attack, grabbing at the ax she had stuck into the knight earlier.
‘She’s going to get herself killed.’
Seamus tried to stand, his sleeve wiping the blood from his broken nose and bruised lips. Lilith wrenched the short sword out of the giant’s side, which caused the affected man to yell out in anger,
“I’M GOING TO HANG YOUR CORPSES OFF THE MAST OF MY SHIP AND—!”
“Just SHUT the FUCK up!!” Helen yelled, her spear running through Hugo’s leg, forcing him to fall to his knees.
Lilith screamed as she hacked and slammed her ax’s edge against Hugo’s shoulder before dodging another swipe from the knight. Hugo tried to grab at his fallen halberd, which Seamus scrambled to get, his hands snatching the weapon away from the knight. The berserker rammed James’ short sword into the knight’s extended hand, drawing another pained scream from Hugo,
“YOU’RE ALL DEAD!!”
The ex-marauder struggled behind the giant, her spear wrenching out of the man’s leg and piercing into his other arm to prevent him from striking her as well.
“Seamus! DO IT!” Helen screamed at Seamus, her eyes wide with desperation and adrenaline.
The young man wasted no time. He screamed out of exertion and adrenaline as he raised the heavy halberd, his arms bringing it down on the Lumen Knight’s exposed head. Seamus’s strike flew in a blur and buried the halberd’s edge into Hugo’s skull with a violent thwack, specks of blood flying everywhere before the knight’s body went limp.
The giant’s corpse twitched a bit, his eyes staring at Seamus with glaring conviction. Still, he was far from alive, judging from how his soulless windows displayed no life. Everyone around stayed standing for a good few seconds, all out of breath and adrenaline as they stared at the grisly sight. Seamus didn’t even know what to say or do. Other than to stare at the man he had just killed.
Helen was the first to fall, her body laid out on the deck as she panted. Lilith was second, the berserker stumbling back against the hull before she slowly slid down. She was breathing rapidly, her red hair in a wild mess. Seamus was the last one standing, his eyes staring at the dead body of Hugo of House Ardel. The young man collapsed, wheezing, as he looked down at his calloused hands, which shook slightly.
Seamus suddenly did something strange. He chuckled despite the grim situation. Maybe it was the pain or the stress; he didn’t know. His chuckling slowly developed into laughing, his hands shaking even more as he tried to cover his mouth. The young man’s laughing attracted everyone else’s attention, their eyes looking at the young man in confusion. Helen joined in, her head shaking slightly as she laughed along with Seamus, taking rasping breaths now and then. Even Lilith started to awkwardly chuckle before she, too, joined in on the laugh fest. Slowly at first, Seamus’ laughs soon devolved, tears running down his cheeks as his seemingly joyous laughing slowly turned to sobbing.
Only then did he fully allow his emotions to run free.
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Ringing filled James’ ears, his eyes blinking as a white screen obscured his vision. He blinked quickly, doing his best to regain sight. Dahlia’s Flare spell might have disoriented him, but his resolve was still there. Through squinted eyes, he could see Gryff, the knight covering his face, as he stumbled around. James stepped forward, squinting as his vision finally returned. Dahlia was currently regaining her footing, her eyes visibly blinking. Silas was doing the same, the orc stepping back from the knight and the bodies that surrounded him.
‘James, we only have one chance at this,’ Faust suddenly communicated, the spirit’s voice filling the young man’s ears. ‘Get this bastard for everything he’s done.’
Taking a deep breath, James prepared himself, his feet suddenly kicking off the ice as he rushed at the recovering Lumen Knight. Gryff had barely enough time to notice James, let alone defend himself before they both clashed. James tackled Gryff onto the ice, his hand reaching for the shaman’s stolen dagger.
Both men struggled on the ice, with James securing the ornate dagger from the spellcaster’s hand. The knight tried to grab at the blond man’s face, his hand glowing a dangerous blue. James slashed at the open palm, not wanting the same fate as Fero. Gryff instantly recoiled back, his blue eyes wild with anger and surprise. James tried to go for a stab at the cryomancer’s open throat but was quickly kicked back by the knight’s boot.
Gryff formed a rune in his hand, his fingers directed at James. “Ice Lance!”
James felt his body burn with effort as Faust forced his body to react in time, the ice shard missing his head by a couple of inches. Gryff tried for another rune but was interrupted by Silas, who swung his club at the knight. The orc was slower than the knight and missing his attacks, but James knew Silas was trying to buy him time. The young man tried to get back up, his breathing heavy.
‘I need to use it again. Carapace.’
‘What? You’ll cook yourself to death!’ Faust protested.
‘He’s going to kill us if I don’t use it!’ James shot back. It was their only line of defense.
‘Are you really going to take that chance?’ The spirit muttered.
‘I’m going to die either way. At least, this way, we have a chance of killing him.’
‘If you do this, I won’t be able to force your body to dodge. You’ll be on your own.’
‘I’m fine with that. Let’s do it.’
As James readied himself to cast the spell, he noticed Dahlia nearby. The shaman was catching her breath as she tried to get up.
‘Good, she’s still in the fight.’
James took a deep breath, doing his best to cool his body down. He could see the fight between the orc and the knight ahead, Silas visibly losing as Gryff landed a fist against the orc’s gut, drawing out a breath. James realized that Gryff was attempting to use Deep Freeze on Silas, the same way he did to Fero.
“Gryff!” James shouted, interrupting the knight’s spell. It was enough for the cryomancer to lose his focus, which allowed James a small window of time to save Silas.
The young man kicked off the ice once more, brandishing Dahlia’s dagger as he focused on his will.
“Carapace!”
A sudden heat coursed through his body, something unfamiliar compared to the first couple of times he had used the spell. Instead of a snug feeling, James was hit by a heat that rivaled a furnace, the taste of burnt berries suddenly making itself known on his tongue. His vision even blurred, his feet nearly stumbling as he ran. Still, James soldiered on, his sights focused on the dumbfounded knight. The young man made a motion that resembled a stab, his eyes watching the blurry image of Gryff moving to block. At the last moment, James turned his attempted stab into open arms as if he was going to hug the cryomancer.
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He braced himself before they finally clashed, his teeth clenching as he waited for the pain. Then, just as James embraced Gryff, he felt the punch. The taste of blackberries turned overwhelming, letting the young man know that the strike was enough to nearly break his ribs had it not been for the spell protecting him. Thankfully, Carapace prevented James from recoiling in pain; his mind was now focused enough to enact the next part of his suicidal plan. James plunged the dagger into the exposed gap in Gryff’s breastplate, a gap that was too small for most to hit precisely. Unless you were practically hugging the knight.
Gryff’s eyes widened as James forced the dagger into his chest, the young man’s act drawing a pained gasp from the knight.
“Infirmus…” James suddenly spoke out, Faust’s own words leaking out into the real world.
Gryff responded to James with words of his own.
“Ice Lance.”
James’ eyes widened as he felt the sharp, unbearably freezing piece of ice pierce into his gut, Carapace reacting in a way that made his body overheat to a dangerous level. The magical spell eventually broke, shards of magic flying away from his body as the taste of blood and berries mixed in his mouth. James stumbled back, his hand pulling the dagger out of Gryff, the act making the knight recoil in pain before he went down on a knee. James joined him, his hand clenching on the ornate dagger as he watched Gryff slowly recover.
‘He’s going for a potion!’ Faust suddenly shouted. James blinked and focused on the knight. He could see how Gryff’s hand reached for a pouch on his belt. ‘James! Stop him!’
James moved to the Ice Lance still stuck inside his body. The sharp piece of ice was thankfully only a quarter of the way in, thanks to Carapace. James wrenched the piece of ice out, yelling as sharp jolts of pain coursed through his abdomen. He looked up to see Gryff holding a gold vial, his teeth breaking the wax seal.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Dahlia suddenly came in, the shaman tackling the knight before he could drink the potion.
“James! Hurry!” The young man didn’t stop to ask nor hesitate, his feet forcing him forward. James raised the dagger above his head, aiming to stab at Gryff once more.
The knight revolted, his efforts pushing the shaman back as he went after James. James felt time stop. His eyes focused on Gryff as the man formed his right hand into a rune. Thinking fast, James kicked at the knight’s open hand, canceling out the spell and causing Gryff to shout out in pain,
“Delphine’s f—!”
The ornate dagger sunk into his collar, interrupting the knight’s shout. Blood speckled and spurted, the cryomancer wincing in pain as James forced him onto a knee.
“Agh! Who are you?!” Gryff shouted. His rage-filled eyes looked up at James, who stared back with a fury he had never felt before.
“I’m the fucking Draugr.” James seethed. With that, he grabbed at Gryff’s exposed head with a grip that could bend steel. Just as he expected, he felt their minds clash. Heat coursed through both parties, and James’ body suddenly rejuvenated with newfound stamina, adrenaline running through his veins.
Both minds clashed a second time, making the young man recoil back physically and temporarily let go of Gryff’s head. His mental fortitude was insane, but James couldn’t stop. He couldn’t afford to. Yelling, James grabbed at the cryomancer’s head once more, forcing another clash with Gryff as Faust joined in, now assisting to help.
‘Don’t let go!’
The Centurion’s own spirit helped James as both of their minds clashed with Gryff’s. Despite the blinding white in front of his eyes, James could vaguely make out what was happening. He could see how Dahlia stared in confusion and fear, watching the whole ordeal as both men’s eyes glowed a fiery blue.
Images soon replaced the white screen in front of his eyes. They depicted distant shores, tall structures, fellow Lumen Knights, grand Wizards, and Kings.
James could see the city Gryff came from, the place he had called home. Libraries full of endless books that he had read in his spare time. The sprawling city of Lumen and its many inhabitants. The images showed his fellow knights, Wizards, and superiors. Names he had never heard of before. They showed his time in the wars, the frozen bodies of barbarians and orcs, and the lifeless eyes of a young boy in armor. He could see both Gryff and Hugo fighting together, both men virtually unstoppable when working together.
James pushed through and felt Gryff’s ley lines through the clashing, seeing the gaping difference in magical power between both men. To say Gryff’s magical structure was superior to James’ was a criminal understatement. The cryomancer’s reserves seemed to be damn near bottomless, and James knew he wouldn’t be able to drain them like he had planned.
‘But, we might not have to…’ Faust’s strained voice managed out. James was about to ask but soon caught on to what the Centurion was suggesting.
‘I hope this works!’
If it didn’t, it would result in James becoming nothing more than a drained corpse.
In that split second, both the young man and Centurion made their decision, their spirits flaring with heat as they overflowed the cryomancer’s ley lines. James could feel how the sudden fluctuation of magical power strained Gryff’s natural ley lines. The pain between the two grew, screams coming from both parties as the young man put in everything he had in him.
‘Just… a little more…’
Before he could continue, however, James felt Gryff’s fingers on his left hand, the spellcaster shouting out in desperation as he weakly tried to pull James away.
“Deep Freeze! Deep Freeze, dammit!”
James felt his left hand suddenly stabbed by the freezing cold spell. The heat from the clash mixed in with the unbearably cold spell caused interference between both men. James could feel his hand lose and regain feeling throughout the clashing. Still, the young man persisted, feeling blood run down his nose as he screamed in effort. Thankfully, the Deep Freeze spell would not be completed as Dahlia quickly moved in to pull the cryomancer’s arms back, careful enough not to get affected by the spell.
James would continue to hold on to Gryff’s skull for what felt like years, forcing all of his energy into the attack. The spellcaster’s ley lines overflowed and strained against James and Faust’s spirit, reaching their limit before they suddenly burst. There was a sudden feedback of magic, temporarily engulfing the surrounding area in a blinding light. Burning sensations engulfed James’ hands, making the young man feel as if he had stuck both appendages into a raging bonfire. He gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain as Gryff’s screams filled his ears. Then, silence.
James blinked, the white screen in front of his eyes gone and his mind free of the sharp, unbearable pains. His body radiated heat like he was on fire, his muscles unresponsive as he tried to move himself away from the sight in front of him. Gryff was now limp, his eyes and mouth slowly burning with what looked to be blue flames. The spellcaster’s corpse slumped forward, his kneeling body resting as smoldering viscera dripped from his burnt sockets and gaping mouth.
The otherworldly man slowly lifted his hands away from the cadaver, his eyes focusing on his arm. His left hand, to his forearm, was now blackened and covered in a thin layer of frost. It looked like frostbite, not too dissimilar to the eerie way the abominations had looked like. He stared at the sight, mesmerized. James soon collapsed onto the ice before he finally blacked out.
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Miles kicked at the body of the last dead orc, his eyes looking up to Haggard, the drifter giving him a tired grin.
“What now?” Miles breathed out, feeling the icy wind brush through his sweat-dampened hair.
“Now we deal with the rest of the Lumen bastards,” Haggard spat out of the longship.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dimitri managed out, the shipmaster slowly regaining his breath.
“No. Gryff and Hugo are most definitely alive. We will have to help James and–” Haggard was interrupted by the loud voice of Liam, who shouted over to the men in the longship.
“Hey! It’s over!”
“What?” Miles turned to the ginger man, watching as Liam gestured towards the other side of Frostbite.
“It’s done! Those Lumen bastards are dead! We won! Freyja’s tits, we won!”
Haggard blinked in confusion, the drifter looking as if he didn’t hear Liam right. Miles heard him, however, and he still couldn’t believe it.
“That’s… Insane,” Haggard muttered, the older man looking over at Miles with a look of disbelief.
Miles only had one question, his eyes turning to Liam.
“Where are they?”
----------------------------------------
Felix rested quietly on a nearby crate, panting as he looked upon the captured men. A good number of them were the ones in green tunics, the count on them summing up to six. As for the Lumen soldiers, only four remained. Most of them had wanted to die rather than be captured. At least, that was what Harald had said. Felix turned to the remaining guardsmen, most of whom were resting nearby.
At the beginning of the fight, the new guardsmen numbered twelve men and women. Now, they were down to seven. Kate Rowan was nearby, the young woman sporting a small scar on her cheek and hand, blood staining her armor and blue sash. Dirk Andal was sitting nearby, the young man’s eyes like glass as they looked down at his sword. Felix knew well that these kids would never forget this day.
“Are any of the injured going to survive?” Felix asked, turning to the old man nearby. He was the surgeon who had treated Felix weeks prior, back when the marauders had raided Yorktown. The elderly healer sighed as he cleaned his bloodied hands with a wet rag, his eyes glancing back at the injured.
“Your guards will be fine. Jonas Harris lost a lot of blood, but he will be fine. Without a hand, of course, but alive. Elena won’t be able to walk for a few weeks, but she will be fine in a month’s time. Oscor’s wounds seem to be nonfatal, so he’s fine…. As for our prisoners, starting with the men in armor, well, they refused any help. The ones in green tunics, however, accepted my help. Mainly bruises and some bleeding cuts, but they’re fine,” the surgeon explained.
Felix nodded, cupping his chin as he listened. The older man sighed after his report, his clean hand pushing up his spectacles.
“Can I ask you something, Felix?”
“What is it?”
“Are you sure that you got all of them? The townsfolk are nervous that a couple might’ve gotten away and want you to be sure.”
Felix sighed in response, his eyes moving to where he had last seen Harald.
“Their ship, Talon, sailed off during the confusion. I’m not sure how many left, but my guess is as good as yours. As for ones caught in the ambush, Harald went off to weed out any potential survivors… I’m not sure when he’ll be back.” Then, just as Felix had said those words, a young guard came out from a path, panting as he reached the courtyard where they were resting.
“Felix, sir! Harald wants you to come to the harbor now! It’s urgent!”
“Calm down, Gene… What do you mean, urgent?”
“The harbor, sir! It’s a god-damned bloodbath!”
----------------------------------------
“James!”
Everything was dark, not a single ray of light piercing it.
“Wake up, dammit!”
James could still hear a voice, however, calling to him beyond the void. He could barely make it out, but he knew full well who it belonged to.
‘Dahlia…’
“Don’t you die! Fuck!”
He forced every fiber of his body to move, his heavy eyelids slowly opening to let in the light of the outside world. Despite seeing the world, he couldn’t make out much. He could only see the distressed shaman, who was shaking him. Her hair was tied up into multiple buns behind her head, and her tanned skin was flawless and without a scar. James could see snowflakes fall around her as two moons shone in the night sky, looking down at him like the eyes of some celestial being.
He blinked and was treated to a different sight. Blood now ran down the shaman’s forehead, bleeding cuts and fresh scars riddling her arms and face. Her now short hair was wild and lopsided, giving her a rugged look. The sky above was an ugly gray, darkening little by little as the day ended. She looked so different from the last time they had been in this position before, which somehow was amusing to the young man.
James forced out a chuckle, soon regretting the act as his lungs suddenly coughed. The taste of copper filled his mouth, a feeling now all too common for the young man.
“Oh, thank Freyja!” Dahlia’s expression turned from desperation to clear relief, a small smile on her lips as she tried to sit James up. The pain was too much for the young man, and he blacked out temporarily.
When he came to, he was sitting on the ice. Dahlia was bringing up the gold vial Gryff had held earlier, her soft voice soothing to the young man.
“There’s not much left, but it should heal you enough,” the shaman muttered as she brought the vial to his lips, the sickeningly sweet taste of cherries and cinnamon suddenly replacing the one of copper and blood in his mouth. Normally, James would have spat out the drink because of its overwhelming sweetness, but he was too drained to react. The potion did its job soon, his body suddenly regaining a bit of vigor. Granted, not enough to fully heal the man, but enough to keep him alive and awake.
The events after he drank the potion became blurry, the young man having no clue what was happening other than that he was being dragged across the ice, his arms being supported by two people at his side.
“Stay with me, friend. We’re almost home.”
‘Home…’
James watched the ice below him, his body too tired to even move.
‘Home…’
It repeated in his head. He closed his eyes, visualizing the all too familiar image of the black lake, the one his father had taken him to. Despite only being there twice, it always popped up in his head whenever he thought of home.
‘I promise,’ His father’s words echoed throughout his memories.
‘My little Kvitravn. I will always be there with you,’ His mother’s voice now rang in his thoughts, her soothing voice giving the young man enough strength to lift his head. His tired eyes opened to see the harbor of Yorktown, the ice from Gryff’s spell reaching its edge.
James blinked, and he was suddenly on the harbor, the two people supporting him finally coming into view. He recognized one as being the man he had saved on the island, a blond man with a scar running down his face. The other person was a face he did not expect to see again.
Haggard gave James a small grin, his hands helping the young man up into a walking motion. “Do not worry, my friend. I won’t be going anytime soon.”
“You guys actually came back,” James slightly chuckled, watching as Haggard helped him across the stone ground. “Where’s Dahlia? Is she alright?”
“She’s alright. Liam and Miles are helping her walk back here.”
“What about Bjorn? Edmund? Archibald?” James watched as Haggard hesitated, his eyes avoiding James.
“Right now, we need to get you to a doctor.”
‘No…’
James recalled how the mercenaries had jumped in to fight to back up him and Dahlia. Even the orcs he had barely known had risked and paid with their lives. James winced as he tried to support himself to walk straight, his head turning to look behind him. Miles and Dimitri were there, helping Dahlia into the harbor. He could see the frozen sea behind them, displaying Frostbite and the other ships that surrounded her. The freezing spell had solidified a good chunk of the sea, the ice extending all the way to the harbor. James blinked, his heart dropping as he saw the mess of red and black around the half-sunken ship, his eyes focusing on what looked to be the crew as they tended to the bodies.
“Halt! Who goes–Holy shit…” James turned to see a couple of young men in guard clothes, their blue sashes stained with dirt and blood.
“Go notify Felix and Harald now!” One of them shouted at the other, who nodded without hesitation before he ran off into the town. James moved to speak, to say anything, but his exhausted body wouldn’t let him. Instead, James opted to stay silent, his eyes tiredly watching as the men helped him and Dahlia into town.
As he was guided through the cobbled streets, James noted the signs of battle. Blood now stained the cobbled stone, and the acrid smell of smoke permeated the air.
‘What the hell happened here?’
They soon entered the courtyard, where James could see the aftermath of what had happened in town. Guardsmen were sitting nearby, most of them wrapped with bandages. They all perked up at the sight of James, who could only watch as they guided him into the tavern, where he could see more bloodstains and signs of a struggle. They rested him against a barrel, Haggard calling out for someone to bring a doctor. James couldn’t make out some words but knew that’s what the drifter had meant.
Soon enough, Dahlia joined in, the shaman seated next to him. She looked like hell, her short hair dripping wet, either from sweat or the snow she had been tumbling in for the last hour. Still, she looked better than James, who was currently trying his hardest not to pass out. Before any of the two could speak, a man came into view. Yorktown’s doctor, James recognized. He went to tend James and Dahlia, his hands moving to examine their wounds.
“Are there any other injured people?” he called out to Haggard, who nodded.
“Several, back at the ship. Our medic advised us not to move them. He’s currently treating them, but I think he’s going to need help.”
“Alright. Mathis! Come here and tend to these two. I will treat the ones back on the ice.” The elderly man stood up, waving over another man to come and help. James watched as the new medic came in, his hands bringing in what looked to be a doctor’s bag. After some speaking, the old man departed with Haggard, leaving James with Dahlia as the other medic came in to check up on the both of them.
James couldn’t hear what he was saying or asking, for that matter. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing, which was still as ragged as before. He could also feel how his abdomen hurt, a pain that would probably rank third. His arm, weirdly enough, still had some feeling in it despite the unbearable pain it brought whenever he tried to move it. With all of this going on, plus more, James was certain that he could easily die. Still, for some reason, he wasn’t focused on his own mortality. He thought about Seamus, who was probably injured or dead. Helen had probably shared that fate, along with anyone beneath that deck.
‘I hope they made it out alright.’
His thoughts soon wandered to Dahlia, who was resting against the barrel beside his.
James looked toward the shaman, recalling their fight with Gryff and how he had nearly killed her. The thought had never terrified him as much as it did then. The simple fact of losing her was a fear he had never truly recognized until today.
‘Please don’t die.’
James could feel his eyes closing, his vision slowly blurring as it darkened. He could feel his hand move to Dahlia’s, his numb fingers gently squeezing her palm. Before he lost consciousness, James felt her squeeze back.