Chapter 21.2

Author's Notes: 3,603 words.  A bit long.

"You did it! You stopped their fighting!" Jonathan shouted through the wind that buffeted him, pointing towards a point in the sky. Eremia squinted at it until she could see the figures of two birds; one was soaring far above the ground, and the other appeared to be hovering closer to it. They dodged the scattered arrows that flew towards them, seeming graceful. As the dust lashed at Eremia's eyes, the wind wiping away her tears, her eyes shot down to what she recognized as the target.

Indeed, it was a tiny village, not unlike the one where she'd found Iasquam. Most of the raiders were racing about the houses, having breached the small earthen wall surrounding the town. Brandishing what appeared to be torches, they were hardly distinguishable in their own carnage. Smoke billowed from houses, and Eremia could see that a few of the shacks in the countryside had been reduced to smoldering heaps.

Jonathan snapped the reins, pulling his head down as the horse complied and went even faster. Tightening her grip, Eremia tried to clear out her head. She needed all the concentration she could muster to conjure spells, and it wouldn't work if her conscience was buried by the sounds of war. "Get ready!" Jonathan shouted as the gap between them and the raiders closed. Eremia was tempted to roll her eyes, but the sight of arrows shooting overhead stifled the idea.

Considering the second confrontation of Ailean and the fight against the creature, Eremia guessed this was her third battle. They hadn't stopped feeling any less confusing, nerve-wracking, or chaotic. Some of The Doves' cavalrymen broke from the ground, chasing down the raiders circling the village outside of the wall. Others slipped through a collapsed portion of the wall, horses jumping and coming down on the heads of hapless raider. Raising an open palm towards the axe-wielding barbarian that appeared at the side of the entrance, Eremia slammed a gust of wind into their face.

It worked like a charm - the raider flew back, though Eremia nearly yanked Jonathan away from his reins by the force. Nevertheless, he threw himself forward, lowering himself as the horse leaped over the pile of debris and landed amid the fighting.

The sounds were even worse than they had been before, if only because they were mixed with the screaming of the dying, townsfolk or otherwise. Eremia couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her at best. Nevertheless, she could admire the way that Jonathan, despite his fast speed, weaved among the cavalry from both sides. She knew that summoning any further gusts of wind would destabilize him too much, and she didn’t want to fall here.

She realized Jonathan was traveling in a circle, following the edge of the cobblestones. The stones led her to believe that this had to be the village center. No other part of the village could have such a luxury; admittedly, it was odd that there would even be stone here. Eremia briefly wondered if this used to be an outpost. She threw that thought aside as she captured an enthralling sight.

A girl, about as old as Eremia, appeared out of the dust. Dressed in a tan shirt and shorts, a green and red bandana covered part of her mass of brown hair. A blood-covered and rusted scythe cut its way into an offending raider, who leaped back and clutched their stomach. The girl had an expression of extreme concentration. She betrayed no fear. When the raider leaped for her once again, sword in hand, she jammed the scythe into his face. The scene vanished into the dust before Eremia could see the results.

Naturally, Jonathan chose this moment to stand up. Eremia's arms slipped down to his legs as her grip tightened. She was too panicked to blush - now it would be all that easier for the two of them fly off. Still, he yanked out his bow from where it was slung along his back, removed an arrow in the same way, and fired at a figure in the dust. That figure slumped over, vanishing in the carnage.

Jonathan fired a few arrows in quick succession. Eremia couldn't help but wonder, as she saw his targets fall, if he could tell friend from foe in this chaos. She hoped so, because the other possibility disturbed her stomach almost as much as the smell of blood.

Another figure leaped out from the dust. She realized, in horror, that it was the girl with the scythe. The blade cut an arc through the air, cutting away Eremia's breath. The horse dodged at the last second; it made no apparent sound as the scythe slashed the air by its side. Eremia, though impressed the horse didn't even need a command, blanched when she looked up to see Jonathan instinctively prepare another arrow and fire into the cloud. She hadn't had the time to react, nor could she have even said a word.

She tried, but any words stuck in her throat. Eremia just had to hope the girl with the scythe hadn't been hit.

Now Jonathan had, if Eremia’s count was right, only three arrows. The next one embedded itself in the leg of a passing warrior. Jonathan’s stoic expression contrasted with the pain and terrified faces appearing in all directions, granting him an almost inhuman energy. It made Eremia hold onto him tighter. She knew, based on the girl with the scythe, that even the villagers were attacking her allies. Perhaps the villagers assumed that the Doves were part of the raiders? In any case, she wanted to believe that the Doves didn't assume the same of the villagers. There would be no point in saving the village if innocent lives had to die under friendly fire.

Eremia's heart stopped. Across the square, she could see the unmistakable shape of Katerina, firing shards of ice into the air. The latter didn't notice the burly man raise his axe and charge towards her. Eremia screamed for Katerina's attention, but Katerina was too far away to see, much less hear, her shouts. An idea popped into Eremia's head. She tugged at Jonathan's leg; as Jonathan looked down, face still grim, she pointed in the direction where Katerina had last been.

Reaching down to grab the reins of the horse, Jonathan pulled. The horse whinned in frustration, but ultimately stopped. Eremia was almost bucked off by the force of the horse stopping from its gallop; her hair flew around wildly, temporarily obscuring her vision. Even Jonathan almost toppled over, though he held firmly onto the reins to avoid this. Still, without any other thought, Eremia leaped off from the horse, sprinting across the square. One goal crossed her mind - find Katerina and keep her alive.

The only sound she could hear was her heartbeat. An attacker - villager or raider, Eremia couldn't tell, they were moving too fast - thrust their pitchfork at her. Definitely a villager. She ducked, thrusting a leg to the side to catch them in the shin. It appeared to work, as she had to dodge a pitchfork that clattered onto the ground. She got up and ran again.

And then there was Katerina. Eremia halted as she captured the scene. Katerina still fired into the air, body shaking uncontrollably. The shards of ice leaped wildly, though it appeared she was attempting to target something in the air. Scanning the scene for the would-be attacker, Eremia caught him fighting against the girl with the scythe. The girl had an arrow stuck to her shoulder, but used her other arm to jab at her foe. Understandably, she looked to be in intense pain.

Eremia dashed towards Katerina. At this point, Katerina decided to notice her surroundings, doing so poorly enough to shoot right at Eremia. The latter dodged to the side. As the girl caught the man's chin by the tip of her scythe and kicked him in the stomach, Eremia ran to and embraced Katerina.

"You're alive!" Katerina shouted, stammering as she hugged Eremia with one arm and continued to fire ice with the other.

Letting go, Eremia summoned balls of wind in each hand, smirking. "You had any doubts?"

The girl holding the scythe whirled around as Eremia slammed a gust into the stomach of the burly man. Raising her weapon menacingly, the girl shouted something incoherent. Before Eremia could respond, Katerina moved past her and held a palm out. "Why wouldn't I be?" Katerina shouted. The confidence seeped into her firm voice and straight posture.

The girl seemed to accept the gesture. She moved closer towards them, and Eremia could now see the blood seeping from the wound. Impulsively reaching for the arrow shaft, Eremia found herself at the receiving end of a fierce glare. "You the good guys?" the girl shouted in a slightly scratchy accent, pointing her scythe to the other two.

"Trying to be!" Katerina firmly pointed up to the sky and lobbed a huge piece of ice into the air. Eremia watched as it ran into one of the specks waving about above. The speck plummeted - a few second's observation told her that the black-feathered figure couldn't have been anyone she knew. Emboldened, she threw up a blast of air. It collided with the speck, forcing back its wings and breaking its attempts at a graceful fall. The speck vanished among the dust.

The sounds of war began to fade. Groans and whimpers accompanied the cries of fleeing horses. The cacophony was grating to Eremia's ears, but at least it started to ease the knot in her stomach. In the meantime, the trio formed a triangle, backs to each other as they tried to find enemies in the dust. Three pairs of eyes scanned their surroundings patiently, but nothing approached. Eremia breathed a sigh of relief, cut off by the sound of shouting behind her.

She spun around in time to catch Katerina jump in between the girl with the scythe and Jonathan, who yanked back on his horse again. He didn't appear to have any arrows in his quiver, and his face looked tired and haggard. The girl with the scythe glanced at her limp, useless arm, dangling at her side. She screamed and threw herself towards Jonathan, blade raised. It took the effort of Katerina colliding into her and pushing her back to give Jonathan the chance to ride away, vanishing in a plume of dust.

“Marisol, why?” Katerina said, pulling herself off Marisol so they could both stand up.

"He was here to assist us!" Eremia shouted as she saw Jonathan ride off. She ran over to where Katerina blocked Marisol with outstretched palms.

"He fucking shot me in the arm!" Marisol replied after turning around to face Eremia, throwing her scythe on the ground and reaching up to her wounded shoulder. Both Marisol and Eremia winced.

Katerina pointed past Marisol's shoulder. "They can fix that," Katerina said matter-of-factly. Marisol turned around, as did Eremia.

The dust had cleared. The square was littered with piles of dead bodies, the groans of the wounded, and pieces of the razed buildings. Soldiers poured from the openings in the walls, casting aside their weapons in front of the villagers, who clustered together in a fearful little mass. The soldiers parted, letting a procession of healers march into the square. Katerina and Eremia grabbed Marisol by each arm and pushed her forward as the healers did their work, casting bright beams of white and green light into the survivors.

Marisol resisted, but weakly. Eremia couldn't help but notice Marisol's face was pale. Whatever bloodlust had brought her this far was burning away, leaving behind someone who had still been shot in the arm. Marisol's legs wobbled, and she began to slump. The other two held her up, pulling her over the bodies and heading towards the familiar figure of Madeleine.

"Oh, by the Creator, you're still alive!" Madeleine said on looking up from the body of one of the raiders and spotting them. She dashed over, nearly tripping a few times.

"Yep!" said Katerina, smile instantly destroyed as she turned to look at Marisol.

Madeleine's eyes followed. Something clicked in her brain, as she instinctively reached for the arrow in Marisol and pulled it out. Blood spurted from the open wound, which Madeleine dodged in time. Marisol screamed, flaling wildly as Madeleine leaped back and sent forth a stream of light from her hands. Eremia held her head back while she watched Marisol's wound, embraced in light, slowly begin to slow. The sinews reconstructed themselves, layers of blood vessels interspersed among the muscles, and soon were covered by skin.

Marisol stopped struggling, peering down at her injury in surprise. No one could response before, from the opposite end of the village, came the sound of metal boots.

Eremia let Marisol free. The former watched as Alarick strode into the battleground. "We do not mean you any harm!" he said as he came to the assembled villagers, now covering by the largest-looking building. Its interior had been burned out, but terrified faces poked from the windows.

The injury closed. Madeleine walked away as Marisol set herself gently on the ground, still looking at her shoulder as though she were expecting the wound to come back. "Guess I can trust ya," she mumbled in fascination.

Eremia looked down on Marisol. Katerina squatted and placed a hand on Marisol's once-injured shoulder. "You didn't?"

Scowling, Marisol shoved aside the hand. "You can't trust outsiders here," she said, stretching out her legs while avoiding any limbs or blood. Eremia could see Marisol's eyes flicker to the building. "Not since they abandoned us."

While Eremia's eyes scanned the husk of a building, Katerina kept up the conversation. "From whom?"

"Kings," Marisol said, venom in her voice. "Fuck all of them."

Alarick now talked to two people - a man and a woman - at the building's entrance. Each of them shot glances towards Marisol at random intervals. Whatever they were talking about, it was enough for them to nod in agreement. Eremia didn't feel like jumping into her own conversation, mostly because she didn't want to know how Marisol would respond to finding out Eremia was a princess.

"Which ones?" Katerina's voice was strained, but she made her best effort to sound as friendly as possible.

Marisol sighed. "Can't remember the name. All I know is they left us, and that means I've had to keep an eye on the town. Ain’t like I got anything else; I’ve been here my whole life."

Katerina sounded interested. "Have you ever wanted to go anywhere else?"

Over by the building, Alarick said a few words and then waved a goodbye. He made a beeline for the trio just as Marisol commented, "Yeah, I thought about it."

"Well then, I believe you're in luck," Alarick's voice boomed. Marisol and Katerina's eyes shot towards him as Eremia saw Alarick looking at her. His eye twitched, but he didn't say anything about why. Eremia could guess on her own.

Marisol's eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh?"

Alarick stopped, bent down, and held out a hand. "I've talked with your parents, and it seems you could be a fine member of our group."

Standing up, Marisol balled her hands into fists. "Of course they would," she said. "Right when I want to stay and keep them alive, the shits."

That Alarick appeared completely unbothered by this led Eremia to wonder how many invitations he'd make just like this one. Did they often fail? Naturally, she felt that his not bothering to ask Marisol herself was contemptuous. Marisol wasn't in any position of danger, nor did she appear to particularly need safety. Of course, at that moment, those didn't seem like big concerns of Marisol's.

"I promised that, after we reach our goal, we would send some soldiers from Exedor to this place. On its lady's approval, of course." Alarick bowed briefly to Eremia, who raised an eyebrow. He pulled his head up to glare at her. She nodded.

"What does he mean by that?" Marisol said, wheeling around to face Eremia. Marisol's expression looked like she'd been chewing on a lemon.

"Is it not important," Eremia said calmly, stepping backwards. She nearly fell over one of the bodies, but Katerina quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back up.

Marisol stamped a foot and picked up her scythe. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, waving her scythe at Alarick. "Nobody else in this town knows how to fight, and I will not let my parents die because of they were stupid enough to let me go."

"How often do you get attacked?" Alarick replied, still unfazed by the tip of the scythe hovering inches from his forehead. He casually pushed it out of the way using his finger.

"A couple of months?" Marisol said after a minute of thought, as shown by her furrowing her brow. "The king of the desert's probably found some other people to pick on."

"We would be able to go to Wyandanch, solve its issues, and return within a month," Alarick said, expression stiff as the scythe hovered back to his chin. "And then we can bring you the soldiers you wish."

Marisol scowled. "Wait a minute, those guys left us to rot. Why should I care?"

"We could've left this place alone," Alarick replied. Eremia found herself surprised that Alarick remained unbothered by the scythe. She looked around. A few of the soldiers in the crowd had their bows out. All aimed at Marisol. Eremia decided to look away, feeling ice in her veins. Eremia believed that she could even see Jonathan for a second, but he vanished in the mass of the crowd. Was he avoiding her? In any case, Marisol had spent much of her energy in the fight; she lacked the strength to dare harm Alarick before she could be shot. That explained things.

Originally opening her mouth to come up with a counterpoint, Marisol could only narrow her eyes to slits and nod. "Yes," she said slowly.

Alarick held out his hand again. "I think you'll find we're better at keeping our word," he said. "And your parents feel it best if you were to leave. You may try to threaten me with that weapon of yours, but a simple “yes” or “no” would be better."

Silence. The hairs on the back of Eremia's neck stood up as she looked between Alarick and Marisol. They appeared frozen as statues. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to move as they waged a war through their eyes - Alarick's calculating stare versus Marisol's fiery gaze. The strings of bows being pulled back emanated in the corners of the square.

Suddenly, Marisol pulled her scythe back. She raised her once-injured arm unsteadily, shaking Alarick's hand. "Fine," she said. "I guess this's a better way to die."

"I've said that a few times myself," Alarick said as he let go and stepped aside. "Twenty years and I'm still alive. Somehow."

Now he glared into Eremia's eyes. She warily took a step back, but returned the glare. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Katerina standing behind and to the side of her. Marisol watched in total disinterest, which Eremia assumed from Marisol's long frown. Or perhaps Marisol was just starting to realize what she’d agreed to. "I suppose you didn't come here after the fighting?" Alarick said in a surprising quietness.

Eremia shook her head.

"Whose idea was this?" Alarick continued, voice still a whisper.

Katerina piped up. "It was Jonathan," she said. Though she tripped over her words at first, she recovered and blushed, speaking faster. "He told me to keep it a secret until now. And he's my friend, so-"

Eremia blinked, Katerina’s past nervousness reappearing in her head, but in a new light. Lyness hadn’t been the person to watch out for – it had been Alarick.

Lips tight, Alarick smiled. "Wonderful," he said through gritted teeth. "Well, I'll leave you ladies to head back to camp. I have someone to speak to."

He departed in firm steps. On pushing his way into the crowd, it seemed everyone else came back to life. Bows unstretched, people poured into the square, and a mass of conversations ran over each other in Eremia's ears. She moved closer to Marisol and Katerina as they found themselves surrounded by countless faces. Nobody looked at them in particular, nor seemed to give them much heed - instead, all they were concerned about, from what Eremia could hear, was repairs, damage control, and food supplies.

"Just great," Marisol said, sitting back down again. "I'm going to join an army to fight in a war I don't care about so they can 'help' me in a problem I don't think they care about. And The Creator knows my parents’d just kick me out if I said no, ‘cause they’re stubborn and it looks like they want me gone. Does anybody know what it feels like to get pushed into something like this?"

Eremia didn't mean to, but she started laughing. The past few weeks of escapes, evil brothers, injuries, shouting matches, friendly banter, and weariness flooded into her all at once, flashing before her eyes. She'd just survived yet another battle, and so still rode on the euphoria that carried itself in her smiling down at Marisol.

"What's your problem?" Marisol growled.

"Wow, do I have a story for you," Eremia said, wiping a tear from her eye.