Crash had to walk slower than the Wolfies because of his wounds, so Sora fell into step next to him, an uneasy silence between them. She had saved his life twice now, but she still had mixed feelings about it; she was constantly shifting between disgust and fragile tolerance for the assassin, certainly not fondness. She didn't know what his feelings were about her, and she didn't truly care — or maybe she did and was too proud to ask. She wondered if she had proven herself yet, if he would ever take her seriously as an adventurer, or if he would always treat her like useless baggage. Maybe she was still new and inexperienced, but certainly not useless.
Each step they took away from the woods, Sora felt her heart lighten slightly. We made it, she finally thought in relief. The thought kept repeating itself over and over in her mind until a smile split across her face. She had survived her first journey; her first venture into peril. She couldn't believe how far she had come, how much she had learned. And what now? Would they let her walk free once they got to town? The thought was sudden, jolting her from her weariness. They didn't need her anymore, right? Not now that the swamp was behind them. Why not just let her go? She had never been this far from her manor — there was no chance that she would ever be found. Maybe she could finally begin her quest to find her mother.
Sora looked at the distant box-like shapes of the houses, the sloping roofs, barely a few lumps on the horizon. She could practically feel the soft feather mattress against her sore muscles. And fresh food! Warm bread, thick stew, vegetables, maybe even ripe fruit, apples dipped in sugar, oranges and cream.... She had never before appreciated true hunger. She was practically drooling on her shirt. She couldn't wait to stuff her face.
Sora sighed in longing, her mind full of warm butter and scones.
"Sora! Get down!"
Abruptly Crash tackled her to the ground. A black, flying shape whizzed past. Sora, who was lying face down in the tall grass, wrenched her head up in surprise. What-? At first she thought it was a large bird or something similar passing overhead. She searched the field desperately, trying to figure out what was going on. Why was Crash so alarmed?
Distantly, she could see a strange floating blob hurling toward the two Wolfies. At first she was confused, then she got a better look at the apparition, and all weariness was forgotten.
It looked human, except that it didn't have any legs. An insubstantial black cloak floated around the figure, blurring and blending with every breeze. She couldn't see it clearly no matter how long she stared — her eyes seemed to slide over it, unable to focus. It shifted and flickered, forever subtly different, changing form over and over again. The wind gusted strongly, and abruptly the figure shimmered and appeared in a new position. There was a glint of light. A blade of some kind emerged out of the mist-like clothing, long and thing, like a sword — no, narrower — a rapier. Sora squinted, trying to see clearly. Then the creature threw back its head and screamed into the twilight. It was a bone-chilling sound, racing over her skin, ice running down her spine.
Crash was up from the ground a second later, sprinting toward the Wolfies, his wound forgotten. Sora watched, dumbstruck, then she scrambled to her feet and dashed after him. Her Wolfy friends were several dozen yards ahead of her, but she knew that she had to reach them as fast as possible. Whatever this thing was, it was definitely no Catlin, and it definitely meant them harm. She was so tired though — exhausted — it felt like she was running through thick water.
Light glinted again as Burn drew his sword. There was another piercing scream, then the Wolfy and the wraith clashed together, tendrils of fire leaping up from the blades. Magic, it had to be, but no sound from her Cat's Eye, no alarm. Sora could see Dorian in the distance, his silver hair whipping back and forth. The wind was picking up, blowing stronger and stronger, as though engaging in the fight. The smaller Wolfy tried to take a knife to the creature, slashing at its cloak, but it seemed to have no effect. She wished she knew what was happening, but she couldn't see clearly at this distance.
Finally the Cat's Eye woke up. She heard a faint tinkling on the edge of her hearing, like wind chimes — but the necklace seemed confused. It was magic, but not entirely; Sora could feel it like a rock against sand, a dark cloud in an empty sky, or... or a drop of blood amidst water.
Blood.
Information flooded her, sudden knowledge. That's what the core of this magic was — blood. Only Wolfy's used blood. This wasn't the Catlins' work; this was Volcrian's creation. The very thought made her heart stop.
Suddenly Crash was on the scene, the assassin dodging out of the grass almost as suddenly as the wraith had. Sora stumbled to a halt some thirty feet away, no longer sure that her Cat's Eye would be of any use. She was too tired to fight, unskilled, hesitant. She watched as the assassin attacked from behind, his sword slashing through the air. The mercenary blocked from the front, meeting the phantom blow for blow... and yet... nothing was happening. The apparition seemed as inconsistent as air, fading and reappearing, moving like a sheet in the wind. Crash's blade swung left and right, striking nothing. The creature's sword, however, was solid and real, deadly sharp.
Burn blocked a blow aimed at his head and swung in riposte, coming from a direction the wraith hadn't expected. The Wolfy's giant blade plunged through the cloak and into the being, what would have been a killing blow — except that the sword split right through the phantom as though it made of fog. A creature of mist. Nothing more.
Sora was stunned. It was magic, it had to be — and yet it seemed a part of nature, a part of the environment, a figment of their minds. Why did it have to attack now, when her friends were so tired they could barely lift their own weapons?
There was an unearthly scream; it arose from the ground, shaking through the grass. Sora's mouth opened in horror. The creature struck out with its sword and some sort of energy force; it knocked Burn from his feet. Whooompphh! The giant Wolfy went stumbling backwards, finally falling over to land in the grass.
Crash dove to his side, seeking to shield the mercenary. But as the assassin moved, the wraith's sword swung down. It was perfectly aimed, too fast to dodge. Inescapable....
“No!” Dorian threw himself in front of Crash and Burn, taking the blow head on. His two daggers were crossed above his head to block the sword. It was suicide, for sure. Two puny daggers couldn't contend with a strike like that....
Sora felt like time had slowed; she was hit by a sickening feeling of unreality. The wraith's sword fell downward in a perfect arc, slicing Dorian's daggers in half as though they were made of paper. She couldn't look away. The sword pierced the thief, striking him clean across the chest. Blood sprayed the air.
Sora moved, though she didn't know it at the time. No sound reached her ears and she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet. She charged forward at top speed, an inhuman sound ripping from her throat; her Cat's Eye jingled madly in her ears, interrupted only by the oddly steady pounding of her heart. She sped across the grass in a blur, her staff forgotten, using the last of her strength in one desperate attempt to save her friend's life.
"Dorian!" she screamed a millisecond before she hit him. Her small body tackled the Wolfy with amazing force and sent him flying limply away from the wraith — she didn't know if he was alive or dead. Almost immediately there was a blinding flash. When Sora's eyes cleared, she found herself standing with arms outstretched, a dome of light around her, the Cat's Eye's shield. It engulfed both her body and her friends, who were lying in the grass at her back, unable to do anything.
This time, however, the shield wasn't perfect. The wraith screamed in rage and slammed its weapon down upon it. For now the blow was deflected, but she could feel her Cat's Eye tremble with the effort. Sora shook with every one of the wraith's enraged blows. It seemed like the Cat's Eye's shield was only partially solid, partially functioning. Her mind felt like it would break in two at any second; the only thing standing between the phantom and the destruction of her friends was pure concentration.
> Finally the wraith swung back, let out a terrifying scream, and brought the sword down in a two-handed plunge. The blade met the shield full force, pressing into it, denting it, and Sora could see the dome flicker around her dangerously. No!
The wraith kept attacking, beating mercilessly down on the dome of light. Sora was unable to do anything but stand there helplessly — she didn't know how she'd protect herself once the shield fell.
Clang! Clang! Clang! The wraith's sword rang out in the chill air. Every time the weapon collided, a flash of brilliant violet burst around them. The Cat's Eye made a static popping sound in response. Sweat poured down her face, her eyes watered, the only thing keeping her on her feet was her fear of what would happen if she fell....
Crack!
The shield popped. Popped — with the force of a tiny explosion.
Sora tried to throw herself out of the way — too late.
Her upper body exposed, the wraith's wild thrust jammed deep between her ribs. The air left her in a sudden rush. Pain. Silence. A horrible silence that seemed to last an eternity. Then a dull whining in her ears. An enraged ringing from the Cat's Eye....
The Cat's Eye's energy surged forward, shooting from her body up through the blade, then into this creature before her. The wraith shrieked, losing control. The power and rage of the necklace was so great that for an instant the sound of clanging bells was heard by all of her companions. Then the Cat's Eye erupted in a whirlwind of green and yellow light, sucking up the power of the wraith with the fury of a tempest. An ear-splitting scream ripped the air. Artificial wind whipped Sora's hair around her face, and the wraith flickered like a dying fire. It seemed to break apart, turning to dust in the wind, blown away piece by piece.
Finally there was nothing left but a stain of blood upon the grass.
Sora looked down at a larger and darker stain spreading fast across her shirt. Strangely, she hadn't felt any pain besides the initial pinch of the blade. She felt numb, removed, as though she was staring at someone else's body. She turned around to look down at her two companions, who appeared completely stunned. Crash was the first she saw, and he stared back at her, his eyes just as wide as hers. Burn, too, seemed frozen to the ground; his hands were wedged into the grass. Then her eyes slowly traveled to Dorian's still figure, a pool of blood around his body. His face was turned down towards the earth, his eyes open, sightless — vacant. Was he breathing? She already knew the answer. The sight would have unnerved her otherwise, but at the moment she seemed incapable of feeling anything.
A small stream of fluid entered her mouth, and a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her lip. She tried to swallow but her throat wouldn't work. She felt like her body was slowly solidifying, becoming stiff and useless.
Suddenly she was afraid. She looked back at Crash and Burn and realized what was written on both their faces, in their grim eyes. A wave of nausea hit and suddenly she knew this was not a wound she would be recovering from.
Slowly Sora took a step towards her companions, unable to look away from Crash's all-knowing gaze. Her boot bumped against Dorian's still hand. Her own hands wrapped around the blade of the sword that protruded from her lower ribs, just to assure herself that it was really there and she wasn't imagining it.
Her movement snapped them into action. With her next step, Crash was up from the ground and he grabbed the hilt of the blade, giving it a fierce tug. Sora felt like the air was being sucked out of her, and a scream found its way out of her throat — the pain was consuming, intense, unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was like her body was splitting in two.
As soon as the blade was fully out it, it flickered in the air, wavering before Sora's eyes, then suddenly disintegrated in the wind, blowing away just as the wraith had, leaving only the black hilt behind.
Sora stared at the handle in Crash's grip, struggling to breathe, to stay on her feet, to think coherently. Dizziness overcame her, and she collapsed forward with a shudder. The assassin caught her.
"Are you both okay?" she managed to whisper. It was barely audible. Crash lowered her to the ground and laid her out, his expression darker than she had ever seen before. He wiped the blood from her mouth with his black sleeve and allowed her eyes to rove over his face, studying his cunning, sharp features, following the scar into his shirt.
"Idiot girl...." he murmured. "You should have stayed put."
"But you would have died," Sora whispered. You all would have died.
Crash continued to gaze at her, his mouth slightly open. No words came. Was he surprised?
It was too late to wonder. His face swam before her. Slowly her vision blurred, her ears dimmed.
Darkness.
Chapter 12
Crash's mouth was open, and he felt like his heart had just stopped. What had she said? What were her last words? Not a heroic speech or the promises of a fading friend, as he had heard so many times before. No, she had said her thoughts plainly, directly, and yet they changed everything. This girl — this spoiled, rich, infuriating girl — had given her life for his. She had saved him.
Crash had never felt anything like this before.
He watched her go limp on the ground, and suddenly his heart was hammering against his ribs, his lungs seizing. He felt like he was choking on air. Ice flowed through him. His hands gripped Sora's shoulders in an effort to regain himself. What is happening to me? he thought furiously. Why am I suddenly so- so- abruptly the assassin blinked. Could this be... fear?
Fear. Terror. He had never known it before. Since a child, he had been trained in the ways of his people: assassins were taught to think beyond death, to live with a removed indifference, to see the world through eyes of stone. He had first killed at the age of thirteen. He had known violence his entire life. Fear was not even a word in his original tongue.
But there was no other explanation. He had never experienced such helplessness, the way his blood raced and his stomach clenched — it couldn't be anything else. Couldn't be, and yet.... He closed his eyes in pain, touching the girl's golden hair. Why now? he wondered. Why do I feel this now?
It was a question left to be answered. Sora was nothing but an rich brat, kidnapped out of precaution, kept only because of her necklace. She was an asset as long as she had the Cat's Eye — otherwise she was expendable, nothing more than excess weight. How many times had he looked upon her in disgust? Had he watched her smooth hands grip the staff, butter soft and free of callouses? They were hands for needlework and writing letters, not the hands of a warrior. He had grimaced many times at her naivete, at her senseless ideas, assumptions about the world that only a sheltered child would have. He didn't like a shred about her — did he? No, of course not. There was no reason for him to be so emotional now, and yet... yet....
And yet — her courage.
Crash's eyes turned from the girl's soft face to the mage's dead body, lying crumpled and lifeless not a yard away. The Wolfy mage wasn't moving, and Crash knew that he never would again. It was easy to accept Dorian's death. He had seen countless others die, engaged in battle or sleeping in their beds, unaware. Different races, different people. It wasn't in his nature to grow attached or to think in terms of friends or enemies, to hold onto bodies, spirits. All beings were momentarily animated, but ultimately impermanent, destined to return to their original state. The living are meant to die, his mentor had once said. They are specks of dust, momentary flashes of light. In this way, you must understand — what is alive now is already dead.
But... but the fields, the birds, the forest....
It is an illusion. Everything is Death.
Crash shook his head — words from a long time ago, another lifetime. He had escaped that world, that realm of emptiness, but he knew that it would never leave him. It crept out of him, the indifference, the gaping disconnect between himself and those around him. Sometimes he truly did feel like a stone; more like the ground beneath them than the people who walked on it. He didn't think he had changed ?
?? no, it was impossible to outgrow one's true nature – but for some reason, this girl was different. He didn't know why, but he cared. He was stricken, entranced by her silent body. Look away, he told himself. But he couldn't even do that.
He wasn't responsible for her, hadn't made any pretense of being so — hadn't made any promises.
I owe her my life. We all owe her our lives....
Crash's hand went to her face and cupped one cheek. She really was a pretty girl; a shame to waste such beauty. His eyes traveled over her face, her pale cheeks, the delicate bone structure. He was just about to say a blessing over her body when slight movement caught his attention. He paused. Looked. Was that... was that air passing through her lips? Not daring to hope, he tore off his glove and rested his fingers against her mouth, and felt the constriction in his chest begin to loosen. Yes, she was still breathing — and by the gods, he would keep her that way!
"Burn, quick! To the town!" he shouted in urgency. "We need to get her to a Healer. Hurry!"
Burn, who had been staring at Dorian's body in sorrow, shot to his feet. "She's not dead?" he asked in disbelief.
"She's not dead, but we don't have much time." The assassin's green eyes were hard with determination. "Go!"
The Wolfy nodded, turned, and ran off toward town, moving swiftly through the grass. Within minutes, he was no more than a bulky shadow in the night, and then he was completely swallowed by the darkness. Once he was gone, Crash turned back to Sora's body and took out a knife. His hands hovered for just a moment, hesitating. He stared at her bloodstained shirt... then he began cutting the material, ripping open the front of the shirt. He needed to see the wound.