Chapter 58

When Philander made his move Helsket was still frozen in place. He tried to wince as he saw the staff whistling for his head, but he didn’t need to. The blow meant for him would never connect - instead a tremendous crash rang out as the warrior in red slipped between Helsket and Philander.

The crimson blade turned the metal staff aside as easily as if the rod were made of wood.

The warrior then turned and shoved Philander away with a rough shoulder strike, followed by a distancing slash with the sword.

Philander was fast enough and dodged back as the warrior pursued with steady steps, each metal-booted step kicking up moondust.

“You! You shouldn’t be here,” Philander yelled, “You’ll get your turn, but I want to deal with the old one first. You might have dealt the finishing blow - but he was the one who wore me out.”

“One more minute and I would have had you!” Helsket called, suddenly re-energized, “You’re lucky your friend got the hit off on me, otherwise you would have been dust… Oh wait - that happened anyway.”

Helsket shot a glance first at Metrike, then Achos to ensure they were still where he’d left them, and then a glance over to where Mikel had lain.

There was no sign of Achos and Helsket had thought he'd gone to see to Metrike as he had Philander - but that wasn't the case.

Helsket was brought back to combat as Philander and the red warrior crossed blades once more and then the battle shifted into a blurred brawl as both men launched mad attack after mad attack at one another.

Philander swung in from across the warrior's body only to have the warrior block the staff with his left forearm before grabbing the pole and pulling it towards him. This caused Philander to stumble and almost get impaled on the tip of the red sword wielded by the red swordsman.

Only a dip at the last second saved him as he released his staff and darted to the side.

He raised his hand and shot off the black Skill which had injured Mikel earlier, and Helsket winced as it hit the red warrior dead center in the chest.

If it had the same effect on the warrior it had on the Mikle, everything was over. He might even vanish as Mikel had - Helsket had no idea what the Skill did, but it wasn't going to be pretty.

The swordsman shrugged off the Skill off as easily as he might have shrugged off a glancing blow from a child. The Skill still hit, but fizzled once it tried to burrow its way past the blood-red armor.

Without breaking his stride the warrior strode forward and slashed down from the right with his longsword, the edge catching cloth as Philander moved, but nothing more. The warrior swung with the stolen staff in his left hand, missing again as Philander dodged, and then he did the unexpected.

With the precision of a world-class athlete, the warrior in red hauled back on his left arm and let loose the staff like a javelin.

The missile flew true to its course and although it connected with Philander, the blunt end of the staff just didn’t have the stopping power to hurt the assassin or even slow him down.

Instead, Philander grabbed the staff, whirled it back around in one smooth motion, and slammed it into the warrior in red’s shoulder guard.

A sharp metallic bang rang out and Helsket knew the warrior had been injured. Even with armor, a staff blow like that could break bones.

To his astonishment, nothing visibly occurred and the warrior swung his sword again - this time catching flesh.

Philander’s left pinky flew clean off of his hand amid an arc of blood and he fell back yelling.

Achos came onto the scene then.

“Wait -” The man said from within his hood and he held up the hand he’d used to heal Philander, “Wait.”

“Don’t wait!” Helsket bellowed! “It’s a trick! Remember what he did to Philander! Remember the goo he shot at me!”

Achos paid no heed to the words and focused on the warrior in red instead, “Young Raithson - I never thought to see you like this - tied to a goddess so tightly that she granted you Knighthood. Tsk, tsk. I thought you were better than this.”

Helsket’s stomach dropped and his eyes went wide as his exhausted and confused mind finally clicked - The warrior in red was Mikel.

Somehow, someway the boy had acquired a strange power and it appeared to be enough to push back on the assault which had very nearly killed both of them. He hadn't been dissolved by the black Skill Philander had used - he had done something to earn a goddess's favor... Helsket could guess which goddess - but didn't want to.

Mikel didn’t acknowledge anything - he simply strode forward and slashed to the side across Achos’ face.

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

The blow was well struck and Helsket expected to see blood or even a head to roll - but what he got chilled him to the core.

The hood fell away to reveal a face he’d often seen in his nightmares - one that haunted him and the Raithsons for nearly twenty years.

A perfect replica of the Time Demon stood before Mikel - the upper half of its face hooded and teeth jagged and broken below. Pallid, wrinkled skin like a corpse left in water too long covered what visible flesh there was. The cut had been placed to slice into Achos’ face - but nothing seemed amiss in the cruel visage of The Time Demon.

For the first time since he’d joined the second half of the battle, Helsket saw the warrior in red; Mikle, flinch back and raise his sword defensively.

“That’s right, Young Raithson, it is I - or rather a remnant of my “I.” I must thank you for getting this far - you’ve revealed,” The Demon glanced up and down Mikel’s body from behind its cloaked gaze, “So much about the goings ons of the higher ups. I’m glad to see Callisto has finally made her appearance - I was wondering what it would take to flush her out.”

Mikel said nothing as Achos cackled wildly, “You’re probably wondering what happened in Farraway, but I don’t have answers for you. You were supposed to die that day - but not by my hand. Metrike failed,” The Demon spat to the side, “And now you’ve allied yourself with the bitch we all thought dead or locked up.” He spat again, “There’s little left in this world I care for - but now, I care for one more. Seeing you dead and embarrassing your Blood Goddess”

He pointed at Mikel who raised his sword in both hands in a stance that was all too familiar to Helsket and readied for combat.

It was the style Erik Raithson favored when using the Crest of Evening - a style which relied not only on the user's ability to manipulate their body but also to manipulate the world around them with carefully crafted Skills.

Seeing it sent Helsket’s heart racing.

He’d never thought to see the form in the flesh again.

Achos dropped his hand and grinned at Helsket as if hearing his thoughts before turning back to Mikel, “I’m going to take my leave now - Philander comes with me - but that bitch can stay for all I care. Kill her. Fuck her. Do what you will. She’s useless to me. I should have left her in the warren I found her in.”

Mikel lunged at Achos with all the immense speed the knight form supplied him with, and Helsket watched in strange fascination as the sword, moving faster than any except for Erik Raithson’s blade when wielded by its master, whiffed air - Achos and Philander vanished as if they had never been.

The warrior in red looked all around for several seconds before shaking his head and turning back to Helsket.

Instead of sheathing his weapon, Mikel held his blood-red sword into the air and it vanished in a glare of effulgent light. A moment later the warrior strode to Helsket and dropped to his knees so they sat more or less face to face. He was still taller than Helsket - taller than Mikel had any right to be and yet Helsket didn’t question it.

He could feel the familiar energy of his young friend vibrating within the armor.

“Mikel… Is that really you?”

The warrior nodded and went to remove his helmet - but before he could the entirety of the solid armor began to shift and bulge.

In a flash, it vanished in the same light the sword had, leaving a much shorter and much more tired-looking Mikel Raithson with the glowing Callisto Jewel at his throat, pulsing in time to what Helsket guessed was his young friend’s heartbeat.

“Hey,” Mikel said with a goofy grin only one with innocent use left to spend could muster up, “Hel of a fight. Sorry, I was late.”

Helsket barked a rough laugh, “You weren't late - you were right on -”

He never got to finish as Mikel collapsed forward into Helsket’s shoulder, causing the old warrior to drop his mace and gently lower his young ward to the ground.

Helsket thought at first he might have died from exhaustion but was relieved to see the gentle in and out of a deep sleep. The Callisto Jewel still throbbed at his throat, but slower and steadier, as if the heart it tracked was slowing down to sleep.

He looked up at the sky as full darkness sank over the land and he grimaced.

An inhuman roar echoed from within Kar’Xet and Helsket shook his head.

They were trapped outside of the city, without a safe house. One man wounded and another out cold - Metrike was a wild card, but not one Helsket wanted to deal with at the moment. She lay where the red cord had wrapped her and crushed her - he didn’t know if she was still alive but he didn’t care.

Mikel was in danger, after doing something… Absurd to save his life. He had to keep the young pup safe - or what good as a retainer would he be?

Another roar came - this one higher pitched and much closer.

They didn’t have long.

“I don’t know if you’re injured, you dumb pup, but I’ve got to move you.”

Helsket stood, dusted his legs off, and hoisted Mikel up as easily as if he were a doll. He glanced at Metrike and then at the two packs he’d have to carry with him.

“The nearest safe house is only just inside the city,” He mumbled as he walked to the bags and with two quick lifts situated them off his right shoulder while Mikel took up the left, head lolling along Helsket’s back like an oversized rag doll.

The weight of all three of his burdens bore him down, but he kept upright as he turned.

Another cry came from within the city - but this time, it wasn’t a beast, it was the sound of something hunting and it used a human voice as its lure.

“Come help me!” It pleaded, “Please! I’m injured! It got me - Oh gods it’s eating me! It's eating me and I'm still alive!”

“Shut up!” He snarled into the night, “You won’t be getting me with that trick.”

Another voice matched the first further away, calling for help.

Then eerie silence descended over the scene.

Helsket walked up to Metrike and glowered - She was still alive but out cold.

Ligature marks adorned her exposed skin and her right arm, hand still clutching the Cat’s Claw, was disfigured beyond belief. Helsket knew if she ever woke up she’d be lucky to keep the arm - let alone use it.

He spat at the Cat’s Claw and kicked it out of the way.

He could still feel the biting pain in his shoulder from where she’d snagged him with it.

“I should leave you here,” he said to the body, “But… I don’t think Mikel would do that.” He looked at what he could see of his friend slung over his shoulder and sighed, realizing that of course, Mikel would bring her along.

Of course.

“What would Mikel do?”

The girl looked light and really - What were one hundred more pounds over the three hundred he already had slung over his shoulders?

“If this wasn’t your adventure,” Helsket said out of the side of his mouth to Mikle, “If this was mine - I’d leave this girl to rot. She’s dangerous. She’ll get us killed.”

He could practically hear Mikle say the words - “But whatever is in the city WILL get her - and where does that leave us? We’d be murderers. Not that I’m not already.”

The thought disturbed Helsket a bit, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d killed many times and would kill again and again before someone eventually got him.

What was the point of saving this girl if she was just going to die anyway?

He sighed, realizing the point was moot.

The girl was there and he couldn’t leave her - even if every instinct he had said to do so.

“Fine. Fine, you dumb boy,” Helsket glowered at Mikel’s side, “I’ll bring her dammit. If anyone ever says you aren’t a clone of your father again, I’ll hit them. You two are cut from the same cloth.”

With a final quick shift, he dropped to one knee and scooped Metrike up, tossed her over Mikel on his shoulder, and set off through the shattered gates before him to try and find a safehouse for the night.