IV. Endless Cycle

Aichlan placed a small spyglass to his eye, one of the few pieces of remaining gear he had not lost in the doomed fort or that accursed river. The coastal city of Nole, several miles distant suddenly appeared as if he were mere meters away. The streets were littered with both bodies and debris; it had been ransacked. He swore under his breath and collapsed the pocket scope, and returned it to his satchel. Nole had been his last hope.

Chartering a ship would have been the timeliest way to get to Duvachellé, or even go back to Aes Sidhe, while still avoiding the Xanavene Army. Aichlan had already wasted around a month travelling with the elves, and in the wrong direction. During which time, the woman he was sworn to protect-and one that he supposedly loved- had likely died already.

After staring wistfully at the city, hoping for his situation to change, Aichlan withdrew his spyglass once more. There were no obvious signs of siege or conventional warfare, effectively ruling out Xanavene. Yet someone had ransacked that town, a city of that size should be bustling with activity. Wartime or not.

Aichlan turned his gaze to the sky. If ever there was a time for a visit from his late father, now was it. Assuming of course that the man was truly invested in the success of this mission. After several moments of staring at the slow passing clouds, Aichlan closed his eyes and basked in the warm sunlight, more convinced than ever that his meeting with Garrick had been a delusion.

“Gods damn it!” Aichlan cursed as he flung the scope at the city. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“We’re heading out lad.”

Aichlan whipped around to find Kielan standing several paces away. As usual, he hadn’t heard him approach, a trait he was finding more and more aggravating.

“Go on ahead without me.” Aichlan replied brusquely as he gathered a sack with his few meager belongings.

His uniform and armor was no longer riddled with holes, yet he was still far from presentable. In addition to his unsatisfactory appearance, he was broke and had only enough food for two days at most. Still, it was better than the alternative.

“Oh?” Kielan folded his arms over his bare chest. “And where’ll ye be goin’ then?”

“Not to Rhode.” Aichlan muttered as he made his way down the hill.

Much to his annoyance, Kielan followed him. While thankful for all he and his companions had done for him, Aichlan’s goals and destination differed too greatly from the Elves. Even if it meant striking out into hostile territory alone, he couldn’t afford to continue with them any longer.

“I’d nae go thata wey if’n I were ye.” Kielan said.

Aichlan stopped and adjusted his back. He didn’t have time for this, for them, for any of it.

“Looks like bandits got to ‘em.” Kielan said, anticipating Aichlan’s question.

Aichlan gave him a puzzled look. There was no way for him to know that, least of all with any real certainty.

Kielan shrugged. “Scouts.”

Aichlan nodded, not entirely convinced. “Ahh. I’ll just have to be extra cautious then.”

“By yourself then?” Kielan persisted, jogging to catch up with Aichlan.

“I can handle bandits. It’s the other thing that concerns me.”

“Aye, me too.” Kielan said as he clasped a heavy hand on Aichlan’s shoulder. “Which is why I can’t let ye run off on yer own like this.”

Aichlan shrugged off Kielan’s hand and turned to face the elf. He was almost a full head taller than Aichlan was, and he begrudgingly tilted his head so he could look Kielan in the eyes. Even if Kielan’s intentions were nothing but good, he wasn’t about to get ordered around by some civilian.

“Look, I am most grateful for your assistance, however, I am on a mission of upmost importance.” Aichlan crossed his left hand across his chest and delivered a polite bow. “I do not have the luxury of a detour through your country, as lovely as it may be.”

Kielan nodded. “Right, mission. Tae find yer lover, right?”

Aichlan bit his tongue and cleared his throat, suppressing the urge to deck the elf. Kielan scratched his head with a tattooed hand, a deceptive dopey grin on his face. While Aichlan didn’t know his angle, it seemed Kielan was intentionally goading him.

“I am afraid this is where we part ways Kielan.” Aichlan managed in an even tone.

Kielan chased after him as he descended the hill once more. The man’s persistence was baffling. If anything, Kielan should have been glad to see him go, it wasn’t like Aichlan contributed anything to their group.

“Ye know, there aren’t any rivers oot this way, I doubt ye’ll be so lucky the second time ‘round.”

Aichlan rolled his eyes. “If only…”

“Ashe’ll be upset, ye know?”

Aichlan stopped again, it would be lying if he said she didn’t factor into his decision to leave.

“She likes ye.” Kielan continued.

“All the better for me to leave now.” Aichlan muttered.

“Eh?”

Aichlan forced a smile, thoroughly annoyed with the entire confrontation. “I do appreciate the concern, but we have very different destinations.”

Kielan pointed towards the city. “There’s nothing there lad.”

“Then I’ll make my way to Aglaë!” Aichlan snapped. “I refuse to skirt around civilization like some scared dog!”

Kielan placed his hand over his heart. “Oi, that stings lad.”

Aichlan snorted and walked away, aware his barb may have cut too deep yet unwilling to concede. “No offense, but I am done here.”

“What about Ashe?” Kielan persisted.

“What about her?” Aichlan called over his shoulder. “I’ve got my own fuckin’ problems to worry about.”

Kielan jogged in front of Aichlan and blocked his path. Aichlan instinctively dropped his pack and put his hand on his sword. Kielan put up his fist and took a startled step back. With a resigned sigh, Aichlan dropped his sword back into its scabbard and picked up his pack, pushing past Kielan down the hill again. Unsurprisingly, Kielan followed.

Aichlan opened up his stride and attempted to ignore his follower. The elves were traders, Kielan stood to gain nothing by keeping him around. He wasn’t even one of them.

“She’ll follow ye.” Kielan implored.

Aichlan snorted and quickened his pace. “Who?”

“Ye know bloody well who!”

Aichlan stopped again, hoping it was the last time. “Then don’t-“

“She’ll go looking.” Kielan said with a shake of his head. “And if she goes, we all do. I can’t very well just show up at home without her. Hratchouhi will have my ass.”

Aichlan smirked, they had finally reached the heart of the matter. While he was flattered that she thought so much of him, particularly since they’d only just met, he simply couldn’t stay. He certainly hadn’t tried to foster such feelings, though admittedly, he didn’t do nearly enough as he should have to discourage them. Still, he felt the sinking feeling of guilt gnawing on his conscience.

Kielan threw up his hands in exasperation. “Why d’ye wanna go anyhow?”

Aichlan paused, the words were on his tongue, but he dare not say them. He didn’t want to risk staying, to risk throwing away all he ever had in life. He had done that once before with Renata, and couldn’t risk doing it again.

“I need information. I don’t like being in the dark,” Aichlan aimed his finger at the city on the coast behind him. “I need to know if Sorn engaged the enemy or not, and why this city was allowed to be ransacked.”

Kielan snorted. “That’s-“

“It is reason enough.” Aichlan said flatly.

Kielan stared Aichlan in the eyes for several moments. While they weren’t lies, they weren’t his primary motivation. Aichlan couldn’t be certain what his primary motivation was for anything anymore. It all seemed so inconsequential, so random, futile.

“This part of the continent is swarming with bandits.” Kielan said with a dismissive shrug. “Ye should know this better’n anyone.”

Aichlan slowly nodded and turned his gaze back to the city. Much of Sorn was uninhabited, and as such had gained the reputation as the go to place for criminals and fugitives in the region. The cities were always well garrisoned however, at least, as well as a kingdom like Sorn could muster.

“There are but two ports in this entire kingdom.” Aichlan clarified. “One of them is deserted, and I aim to find out why.”

“By yerself?”

“If I must.”

Kielan sighed and ran his hand through his hair, muddling over his options. As he thought, Aichlan nodded in farewell and continued down the hill.

“Now wait a minute!” Kielan called after him.

Aichlan waved and continued on his way. He still didn’t know exactly what Garrick wanted of him, but it certainly didn’t lie in Rhode. With any luck, he would be able to find something out, even if it was just from some bandit pleading for his life. The stables were still likely to have a good horse or two as well. As much as he was loath to admit it, getting to Laelianis was likely his best bet for completing his mission. Whatever that may be.

“Oi!” Kielan called out again.

“I’m done discussing the matter.”

“I can see that!” Kielan shouted as he jogged to catch up. “Which is why we are goin’ with ye.”

“We?” Aichlan asked incredulous and weary of delay.

“Aye, we. Ye daen’t think fer a second that I put up with Lillea’s shite to fish ye oota her waters just so ye could march off tae yer death nae even a month later, do ye?”

As much as Aichlan wished to accept the generous offer, he still wasn’t sure of Kielan’s motivations. Ashe was easy enough, sure, but Kielan was still a mystery to him. Rarely in life did he come across a person who acted purely out of charity and compassion. Everyone wanted something from someone.

Aichlan smirked and resumed walking. “As much as I appreciate the gesture—“

“Bullshit.” Kielan snapped. “We’re goin’, but on one condition.”

Aichlan slowed his pace. “Being?”

“After we get down there and find naught but corpses, you tag along with us tae Eefrit. From there, I daen’t bloody care where ye go.”

“Eefrit?”

“Aye, a city on the edge o’ the marsh. Sees a lotta traffic from those wishin’ tae unload their goods before hittin’ the sorra. Being an Aes Sidhean as ye are, I’m sure it’ll be nae problem at all tae get someone ta ferry ya wherever ye need tae go.”

Aichlan turned his gaze back to the city, still as it was five minutes ago. Kielan’s offer was certainly a better alternative to waltzing in alone. Especially since Aichlan was sure they would find more than just corpses to contend with. Still, he didn’t like the idea of being beholden to the elves.

“Daen’t think too long, nae like I’m givin’ ye a choice here lad.”

Aichlan laughed and dropped his bag. “Very well Kielan. I will allow you to accompany me to Nole and then this Eefrit of yours. After that, we part ways.”

Kielan grinned and clasped him on the shoulder. “Right lad, now let’s go round up the others.”

“You misunderstand.” Aichlan said as he removed Kielan’s hand with a smile. “You are all following me, therefore I shall await you here.”

Kielan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why?”

Aichlan shrugged. “This is a suitable enough staging area.”

“Ye aren’t just tryin’ tae take off without us are ye?”

“I am a knight sir.” Aichlan said with indignation.

To be fair to Kielan however, the idea had crossed Aichlan’s mind.

“Fine, fine.” Kielan said as he backed up towards camp. “Daen’t go anywhere, be back in a flash.”

* * *

Huddled behind an overturned table in the living room of some poor family’s apartment, a young knight of Sorn shook with fear as she cursed her luck. With Sorn’s army rushing to the aid of Elysia, bandits had seized the opportunity to practice their trade. It had taken less than a day for them to rout the small company of knights stationed for the town’s defense. The remnants of Nole’s citizenry that survived the initial raid had either fled or been captured.

They summarily slaughtered men, and pressed the women into an unspeakable service. Her captain had given his life so that she could get word to the capital, or at least the neighboring city. She closed her eyes and tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, it would do her little good to think on how this all went to dusk.

She bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes, as she just could not seem to shake the guilt of her shame and failure. She had spent the last two days in hiding, venturing out only to scavenge for food and scout a way out of Nole. She was no soldier, Fiora the coward or Fiora the Mouse maybe, but nothing worthy of the emblem she wore upon her breastplate. She struck her fist into her thigh and cursed again.

They spotted her earlier that morning at the grain silos, while one guard had feigned sleep in front of the town storehouses, another hid in waiting. She had severely underestimated the bandits’ intelligence, no doubt they themselves were former soldiers laid off when there were no wars to fight.

Unfortunately, she would not be the only one to suffer if found. She gazed regretfully to a door half off its hinges on the other side of the room. She had run into another fugitive amidst the ruin, a young mage named Alice, fresh out of the academy at Asketill. Following their in-class education, the young mages are sent out into the world to gain real world experience and practice with their craft before returning for their titles. Or so she had said. In the short time they had known each other, she got the impression that Alice had a penchant for over-emphasizing the mundane. Regardless, she had just set out on the ten-year journey, but instead of gaining employment or touring the continent, she lay hidden beneath a bed.

The house was eerily silent; save for the buzzing of flies as they circled the home’s former occupants. Fiora wiped the sweat and grime from her brow, the heat was unbearable, and her cotton tunic was drenched in perspiration. The house had already been ransacked, and she hoped that the bandits would not think to check again. If they could last until nightfall, they might be able to make a break for it again. She couldn’t be sure what awaited them outside the city walls, but was certain it was better than this.

What little color was left in her face quickly drained however, as the heavy-booted footsteps of the bandits mounted the stairs.

“Please don’t come in here. Please don’t come in here,” she mouthed silently as the bandits reached the top of the stairs.

She jumped and nearly screamed as the door exploded inward under the impact of a heavy kick. She clamped her hand over her mouth as she tried to estimate their numbers based on the footfalls that filtered into the room. Three, four maybe? She could not be sure. One of the bandits audibly sniffed the air, the sound made her queasy.

“Aahhhh! You lads recognize that smell?” He asked in a booming voice.

“Death?” Asked one as he pinched his nose.

“Fear?” Chirped the other.

“No, laddies,” said the first again, (so there were three of them). “That’s the smell of a moist li’l peach ripe fer the takin’!”

Fiora gritted her teeth in anger and hoped they would not hear as she tried to control her breathing. If they didn’t hear her hyperventilating, she was certain they heard her heart drumming in her chest.

“Come on out, lass. Don’ make us hafta come after ya, you’ll jus’ be makin thin’s more difficult fer ye.” The second man taunted in a singsong voice.

“What’s he talkin' bout? I don’ smell no peaches,” remarked the third man.

“He means twat, ya bloody ijeet,” snapped the second bandit as he smacked the third with his cap.

Fiora remained in hiding, hoping against hope that they were bluffing. She shifted her weight and searched for a way out of the room. She looked up and noticed her own reflection in the broken mirror behind her and that of the big bandit as he glowered at her with a lascivious glint in his eyes.

She jumped back and tried to draw her sword, but the bandit was on her in seconds, and pinned her roughly to the wall. He clutched her wrist and hoisted her up by the shoulder strap of her breastplate. She squirmed and kicked, but the big man only laughed. He sniffed her oily brown hair and licked her grimy, tear-stained cheek. As he blew his hot fetid breath into her face, it took all of her might not to vomit. She groaned and looked away in disgust as he pressed his face close to hers revealing his rotten, crooked teeth, bulbous nose, pockmarked skin, and his greasy, thinning hair.

The sense of revulsion gave her newfound strength and she randomly struck out at him. Growing enraged at her defiance, the bandit slammed her against the wall, knocking down the mirror and several other paintings, before viciously head butting her. She went limp; her ears rang incessantly as she tried to remain conscious. The brigand laughed again and grotesquely fingered the emblem of a ram upon her breastplate.

“So our li’l poppet’s a souljar is she? All prim an’ proper in ‘er shiny new armor!” The bandits laughed as their leader continued to fondle her armor.

“But it must be stifflin,' luv! It’s a real scorcher out there.” He shoved his bulk into her again as she struggled anew. “Ain’t it, lads?”

The men snickered and nodded. Her head was spinning from both the blow she had suffered and the heat. She felt the strength ebb from her limbs, despite the nagging fear. She wanted this man dead by any means, and prayed that the Eloi would descend from the heavens and deliver justice. The defeatist attitude and sense of helplessness made her sicker than the bandit did.

“One for the record books it is,” said the second matter-of-factly.

The leader pinned her with his forearm; she grimaced as she felt his erection against her thigh. She had never known a man before, and hadn’t any real desire to change that, least of all like this. Least of all with him. He released her breastplate and drew a knife with his free hand, and began sawing through the leather straps.

“Now don’ be makin’ such a nasty face, luv.” He kissed her, forcing his filthy tongue into her mouth.

He tasted of cheap ale and rotten meat. She felt the bile rise hot in her throat, and willed it to come; maybe he would see how it felt. She struggled anew, but his grip was too tight, and his bulk too massive for her to move alone. She was tired, and her efforts had proven futile, but she refused to give up. If it were to happen, it would not come easy.

“Yeah! It won’t last but a moment!” Joked one of his lackeys.

“Shut it, you!” The big man snapped as he cut through the leather strap.

When it would not come off, he swore and ripped out the lacing along the side and slid the armor off her other arm. Her white tunic was drenched in sweat and dirty, and her nipples protruded, which only furthered his lust. The brigand tugged at her laces on her top, freeing a view of her cleavage as sweat ran down her neck. She struggled to break free as the bandit lifted her top and slobbered on her breasts. His lackeys whooped and cheered their depraved leader on.

“Gods damn! She’s got some big ol’ titties, eh?”

A crack of lightning, the smell of ozone, and the tingling sensation of electricity filled the room. The leader abruptly ceased his molestation to seek out the source. Alice stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her curly blonde hair wild and unruly, her black pinafore dress badly creased and white blouse filthy. Her arm was outstretched and residual lightning danced across her fingertips.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?” The brigand spat, still gripping Fiora’s breast.

Alice drew a glowing red rune in the air with one hand and rolled up her wide sleeves with the other. She muttered an incantation and launched several spiraling fireballs at the leader. One went wide and out the door, the other found its mark in the crotch of one of his lackeys.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Fiora boxed the big man in the ear, as he relaxed his grip she kicked his kneecap. He yelped in pain as he collapsed and released his grasp upon her. She wasted no time and raced to grab Alice, who she half dragged out of the flat, taking the narrow steps two and three at a time. Two more bandits waited at the foot of the stairs, Alice hastily drew a bright glowing symbol and cast another arc of lightning at them as Fiora barreled past.

* * *

"What the hell’re you dolts standin’ ‘round fer!? After them!” The big bandit bellowed, spraying phlegm and saliva across the room.

“Uh, sorry boss, but we gotta sit-chi-ation o’ sorts.” Called out one of the bandits as he breathlessly mounted the stairs.

“What kind of situation?”

“We think someone got word to the fire bastards out west, about thirty of ‘em jus’ waltzed inta town a few minutes ago.”

“Well don’t tell me you bloomin,’ ijeet!” Screamed the now purple-faced leader. “Kill ‘em! KILL ‘EM ALL!”

The men stood with mouths ajar as they tried to place blame upon the other, only to move when their leader screamed in frustration and charged after them. They bumbled and collided into each other in their haste as they descended the stairs after Fiora and Alice.