...Two days passed with little more than a few howls from wolves.
His muscles didn't ache, nor did his head, and he felt as if he could've lasted another bout against the bastard rival of his.
Though his flail and shield were of no use, he wrapped the fragments of the latter in his cloak. After slinging everything over himself, he led Larosa along the cliffsides.
A few dozen paces away, the abyss spoke to him. Much like it did before, he knew there was something down there. Larosa laid a hand on him, and there was a slight warmth within his chest. He looked at her, praying upon a cross beneath her collar.
No matter what winds whispered, the ruler of death and destruction trying to get him to pass over, her prayers kept him forward.
As the day ended, they came upon the bridge, what was left of it.
Another hour on a muddy trail led them to torch light, and fires within straw thatched huts.
The village appeared a bit larger, one hut large enough to be a tavern, and citizens smiled or laughed. Some had scabbards strapped to their waists, silver hilts, and crosses hanging from them.
The first to lay eyes on him was the smith, cheerful, yet puzzled.
"Friend, you need to be taking care of such weapons," the smith said, hand on the chin, examining his flail. "Gods' black earth, how have ya' been? The hunters'll be thrilled to see ya' back, 'specially your lad."
"Hunters?" He asked, though Smith's eyes widened.
"Is-is that Ironite? Why, that's worth almost the entirety of Creahllachia!"
He gave a stern look, and Smith's head shook.
"Aye, aye, of course. Ya' must know, those, er, what did they call themselves? Those three who came for ye' from the battlefield."
"Embers."
"Yes! They along with Nathaniel have led a defense against the vampyrium. Must've slaughtered over a hundred by now, making this village safer than its been in centruies."
"Nathaniel?" Larosa asked, raising her voice. "Nathaniel who? From where?"
Smith, a hand on the chin, pondered. "Can't say I recall, but a young lad. Thin with sharp green eyes and dirt brown hair."
Hands over her mouth, Larosa's eyes filled with tears.
He didn't know what it meant until light beamed from the woods.
Al at the front, Dany and Arthur close behind, and the child priest whose name he couldn't recall beside Nathan, arrived. Blood on their weapons, their eyes were heavy, though the smiled as villagers greeted them.
The priest's cross-star glowed, as did Nathan's, who froze upon sight of Larosa.
His lad, who he once deemed unfit even to be a lowly squire, embraced the greatest mind from the capital. The two didn't let go of one another for over a minute.
Al approached him, a tight face with her dagger out.
"Fancy sword," she said, twirling her blade. "Gift from Alrieon?"
"From his cold dead corpse," he said, touching the hilt. "Among others as well."
"I see," she said, pressing the dagger against his throat.
Villagers looked on, some a bit concerned.
Al smiled, as did he, the bitch's wit starting to grow on him.
"You made the right choice," she sighed, sheathing her dagger. "I'm guilty of letting my sense of duty cloud my judgement. Still, at least the warzone's one less dragon rider capable of razing an army to the ground."
"War's still war," he muttered, shaking his head. "There'll be plenty more of it, in that place for years to come."
Allison wanted to say more, he could see it on her tight face, but she shrugged.
He left it at that, and greeted Dany, who appeared a bit taller.
Her armor was thicker, black iron with weighted gauntlets. Her sword was larger, a two handed blade she held easy enough, though she was still a lass of few words.
"I knew you'd come back," she said, making a small bow. "There's, plenty of ale…"
On such a note, he left the rest of the formalities to the hours of the night.
Within the large wooden building, which was a hall with barrels of ale, close enough to being a tavern, the Embers and Friarville natives drank.
Long into the night, he drank alone with Nathan and Dany, the only two capable of staying awake.
"Isaac Pyr's a cunt," Nathan said, red in the face from black ale. "He raped her, then he let that bastard Phoenix mercenary do the same for hours. And his majesty just 'did his best' to keep her away from them."
He knew which Phoenix Nathan spoke of, and knew Paracles as one not to be cruel.
Nathan was still a breath away from being bones, but was colder, darker in the skin, and had bit more arm muscle. Still the lad with a sense of duty, there was something much greater about the latest descendant from a line of kingsguards.
"We grew up together in the valley," Nathan said, teary eyed. "She's still beautiful, but she's so much older. Probably gained another dozen or so years working for those cunts!"
A hand on Nathan's shoulder, he promised, "Soon as we slay the First Sword, we'll make for the Burning Lands. I'll hold him for you, and you carve him out however you like."
Nathan stared at him, wiping tears away. "Killing a king is unforgivable, but not Isaac. He's the reason the war was escalated. He's always behind it, always scheming, always with a way around anything."
"There'll be no way out for him, once I get my hands on him. And anyone who stands between us."
"Were he as good with a sword as he were with words, he'd be a master swordsman," Nathan muttered, spitting into his empty mug.
"He's clever. I get it. But he ain't clever enough, believing we're friends just because of a few encounters. I'll remind him the Brute and Bane of Monsters is one of his own accord."
Nathan nodded, pouring himself another round. "I'll look forward to *hic* it...."
The poor lad drank himself asleep, passing out on the floor.
He laid Nathan upon a table, then threw a cloak on top, before rejoining Dany at the bar.
Her hair was longer, down to her shoulder, and despite spending so much time in the woods it appeared smooth. Muscles were on her neck, and despite wearing tight leather he could see the size in her arms and shoulders.
Though still one for few words, she didn't stutter so much.
"I knew you'd return," she said, a hand on her hilt. "Allison believed you'd have abandoned Nathan, if it meant you didn't have to uphold your bargain."
"She's an arse," he said, sipping from his mug.
She cracked a small grin. "She can be."
He laughed, cursing the bowstring bitch, and though Dany tried to hold herself together, she laughed as well.
They were silent for another few minutes, enjoying the cool crisp bitter brew which warmed them for hours. It was the best he'd drank in months and wasn't in a rush to go into the fabled woods.
A far more dangerous place than the Graves, it was once the oversight of the battlefield. A command, Dany explained to him, where the First Sword and child of the Lord of Combat sent an army of vampyres to dispose the armies of men.
"The First Sword," Dany explained, a firm sword hand, "lives in the palace. She's believed to be unkillable, and old as time itself. Once there were several swords, the best warriors chosen by the gods, and she's one of two believed to still be alive."
She took a long chug of ale, more than he would've guessed one so small could do.
After pouring herself another round she went on. "She and her kin made a pact with demons, followers of the fallen lords, and their own gods cursed them, forever giving them a thirst for blood and darkness."
"Sounds good," he said, pouring them both another round.
She was nervous, tightening her grip on her hilt. "One of the scouts we tied to a tree said she possesses a weapon capable of killing a soulless. For good."
He stopped, a mug halfway to his mouth.
While touching Alrieon's hilt, he felt a sudden sting within his left eye, then cursed removing his hand.
"I survived the Burning Lands with little more than scraps for armor and shield, and my flail was a hunk of near useless steel. A few nights with the smith, and I'll put down the bitch for good."
Dany took a long chug of ale, then held out her hand. "I'm with you. Even if the others are afraid, I'll fight by your side again, my lord."
"Nathan tried calling me my lord once," he said, grasping her hand. "He calls me brother. I've yet to have a sister."
"Alright," she said, lowering her face, hiding her blush, "brother. I'm with you."
They drank until dawn, he and his newfound sister.