Is our struggle futile? Are we simply destined to repeat this cycle? Doomed by it?

ARC 5 - PARACLETE

CHAPTER 15 - TOMORROW COMES

Tanis had spoken true. The tunnel under the collapsed smithy had been filled with cobwebs and was rank with mold, but a torch burned away the worst of the sticky netting and a cloth over the nose and mouth got Victoria through without much coughing. At its exit, they were treated to Shaktika’s walls at their back and the mountains to the east as their next goal. The Princess had carried some vigor from their meeting with the rebellion even after they’d left Tanis to marshal what was left of her forces. As the sun began to bask the far side of the mountains in a warm glow, however, Raegn noticed her yawns become more frequent.

It had been a long night. His eyes and lungs burned from smoke despite the fresh air and, so long as he moved, his body demanded a slow pant like that of an overworked dog. Tanis had promised them supplies along with horses to carry them home. Raegn simply prayed that water was an implied inclusion in the offering.

They crept along, paralleling the dirt path that snaked its way around rocks and through dense patches of dry bushes taller than a man, but never actually setting foot on it. An overabundance of precaution, perhaps, but the Emperor had demonstrated no small amount of cunning and, without Nora at his side, protecting the Princess would be challenging enough without surprises. Brazenly walking about was asking to be ambushed - and he'd had quite enough of that for one journey.

When the sandstone walls were far behind them and visibility of that sandstone prison of a city only afforded because of the steady incline they’d traversed, Raegn heard the first sign of their salvation: the snort of a bored horse, its reigns and those of three others lashed around a clump of sinewy trees. A single man wearing the bright and flowing clothing of a merchant stood nearby, idly kicking at the pebbles amongst the hard-packed sand.

Raegn stopped and lifted an arm that Victoria lazily bumped into. She shook herself of her tired daze, then copied the crouch he took behind a bush.

“Listen,” he whispered, and she leaned in to better hear. “Go directly to the horses. Untie all of them, don’t wait for his permission.”

Victoria swept a loose strand of flaxen hair behind her ear, revealing her frown. “Why?”

“Because whether I like his answer or not, we’re leaving.”

He rose and stepped out from behind their cover, not affording the princess any more chances to question his decisions. Recent fervor aside, she’d been utterly useless outside of moving her own legs, and sometimes even that had been too much to ask. There wasn’t any point in explaining that the time for manners and polite appearances was over. It didn’t matter if this man was Tanis’s most prized servant or a hero of the rebellion, the plan was simple at this point.

“Good morning, Ser,” Raegn said.

The man jumped at the sound, his eyes darting over to them faster than a spooked jackrabbit.

“Oh, well good morning to you,” the man chuckled. “You must have me mistaken, though, for I’m certainly no ser. Just a simple seller of fine wares.” He rolled a tip of his oiled mustache between plump fingers and gave a nervous laugh when Raegn failed to respond.

Victoria stood frozen next to him and Raegn gave an irritated jab of his elbow into her arm. She glared up at him, then remembered her part of things and shuffled over to the horses.

“Fine mounts, no?” the man asked, watching Victoria warily.

Raegn kept his eyes on the merchant. “Indeed.”

“Oh, easy now,” the man said. He reached out hesitantly towards the princess, but didn’t move from where he stood. “I’m saving those for someone.”

“And who might that be?” Raegn asked. He took to a slow walk in the general direction of Victoria, peering over the horses. There was nothing but dry brush and sand-blasted boulders all around them.

The merchant continued to fiddle with his whiskers while his eyes twitched between the princes and wherever Raegn moved.

“W-well, I’m not quite sure, I suppose. I was told they would let me know. Are you them?”

Raegn paused and studied the man again through narrowed eyes. Loose clothes flowed in the wind. A sash that held up the merchant's gut, but no knives were in it. He couldn’t see the man’s back, but he doubted any weapons could be fastened there either, not without any belts or straps. The merchant brought his hand away from his whiskers under Raegn’s scrutinous gaze and wrung them together nervously.

“When the sun sleeps."

The merchant gulped, then shakily gave the reply. “The moon is free to rise.”

The Light had already been called for - held gently, like a delicate strand of silk. Nerves were to be expected. The merchant might have feared him to be a servant of the Emperor. But even if the words had been right, the man’s resolute desire to hold his position gave him away. So long as the merchant stood still, his odds of survival rose. That was, until Raegn put a lance of Light through him.

The plump man toppled to the ground in a small cloud of dust the same moment streams of fire roared from behind several of the boulders, igniting the dry brush along their path. Raegn dove towards the horses, rolling at the end and coming up with a barrier projected from either arm. The mounts were their only way out. They had to be protected as much as Victoria herself.

“Get them free!” he shouted over the deafening air. “And hold them tight!”

The horses reared in fear of the flames, but Victoria managed to lash the reigns together so the horses were in pairs of two. The moment the torrents of fire cut, Raegn retaliated. Aiming for where the attacks had come, he let loose four lances of crackling white in a vicious sequence, then turned and hoisted Victoria onto the nearest horse. With one hand tight around the lead, he held the horse in place as he raised another barrier. Another swirling blaze lapped at the edges of the shimmering gold, but failed to overwhelm it. Fortunately, the attack came from a single side, making it much easier to retaliate. Raegn envisioned a mighty river, the power pouring from his hand fed by many tributaries, and swung a humming beam over the shrubs and boulders in the direction the fire had come.

If anyone were still alive, he didn’t plan to stay and find out. He swung himself atop the other lead horse and dug his heels hard into its sides, slapping the rear of the mare Victoria sat on top of as he thundered by. They fled into the rising sun, leaving everything. and everyone they’d arrived with, behind them.

Not until their mounts had been worked into a sweat did Raegn plan on stopping. Even then, a swig of water, a redistribution of their supplies, and a swap between horses to the fresher beast and they would take to a hard gallop once more. Only when the evening was firmly set would he consider resting. Victoria could complain all she wanted. They were free - the sole requirement to see this cursed assignment done. He would see the princess safe in Elysium with all the haste as he could muster, then bring the whole Order back for Nora if that’s what it took. The journey ahead would certainly afford him the time needed to prepare an argument for the Highlord and Low Council.

Today had arrived, steady and inevitable as always, yet he longed for the tomorrow yet to come. The tomorrow without the weariness that plagued him. A far off tomorrow that saw him with friends 'round a bountiful table. A calm tomorrow bearing the banner of unity. He had no doubt tomorrow would come, if only they could survive the day.

Raegn leaned forward onto the neck of his horse, spurring it into the dawn.

Nora rolled out from behind her shield, leaving it to be consumed by the flame. She recovered into a crouch and threw herself into a sprint in the same motion. The mage cut the stream of fire, realizing she hadn’t been consumed by it. Noteworthy, she thought, that they couldn’t throw their pillars of flame about. Was there some similarity between the mages attacks and normal affinity? Those more experienced with the Light could channel lances into beams and move them, though. It would be too much of a risk to assume that at least some mages couldn’t do the same.

Her foe, a shorter figure wrapped head-to-toe in sand-colored robes, pivoted to face her new angle of attack. Nora kept pace, heading directly at the mage. She ducked under and across a new roar of fire only a few strides away, sliding past the target. Her foot found traction against the hard-packed ground, bringing her to an abrupt stop and allowing for another lunge. Her sword came to the mage’s neck just as he tried to break away while turning to face her, the fire still spewing from his hand in the wrong direction.

On the edge between the path of life and death's door, Nora's sword found pause. The hood had fallen, revealing a face full of fear and a trembling lip scantily lined by peach fuzz.

Such youth.

The flame sputtered and died as the boy stayed frozen, his eyes frantically searching across her bits of charred armor and singed clothing before locking into her gaze.

“There! Make ready!” Nora heard a shout nearby. “Loose!”

She grabbed the boy by the back of his collar and heaved him away. A volley of arrows chased her down the street, the Light in her legs propelling her just in front of what the archers would have expected, but not enough to reveal her gift. No fire followed, thankfully. The boy must have been grateful to be spared. Or stunned, she reasoned, given the inexperience that would come with his age. The Emperor had no qualms in using mere children in combat, it seemed. Nora cursed Khada Tsurat not for the first time that night, wishing that she might bring justice upon him rather than be chased about like a stray dog.

Round the next corner, she barreled into a group of soldiers trotting their way down the street. Shouts of surprise rang out from the ranks as she crashed into their shields, unable to stop for the suddenness of their meeting. These men were partially armored, though not nearly as well as Sunstriders and also without any archers. A different company than the one that had been behind the mage, she figured. They were surrounding her now; methodically closing in from multiple angles.

Thankfully, the rank-and-file soldiers were more surprised than she and, for the stray dog they expected, she had more than enough fight. Nora put a gauntleted fist into the face of the nearest and drew her blade up into the thigh of another. A duck under a halberd’s wide swing saw the weapon hack through the arm of a friend and bury into the man’s side. She put her sword through the chest of its user and left it there. Thick leather like that the Shaktikans wore had a habit of biting down on blades - it was faster to commandeer another. She’d stashed The Mourning Blade in the bank of the dry moat cut through the city where it might never be found and she wasn’t exactly attached to the piece of common steel she’d already stolen and returned, albeit to a different user and not exactly to a proper sheath.

As the soldier slumped she stepped past, drawing the sword fastened on his hip in time to deflect another. Still heavily outnumbered, she danced out of the center of the group and took off down a side street, leaving them to deal with the fallout of their unexpected encounter. Every second she occupied this large of a force was a moment that Raegn could use to create distance. No matter how she turned, though, she ran into another band of Shaktikans. She disengaged each time, breaking contact in search of another way out, but mages held down the main streets. They cut off her routes with streams of fire while entire companies began to cram into the parallel avenues, affording her no chance to slip by. Eventually, just as the morning sun began to peer over the walls of the city, she found herself backed into a corner.

A few soldiers took their chances. Some were even smart enough to come in pairs. Nora kept the Light burning in her lungs to save herself from the smoke and cut them down all the same. When a dozen bodies lay at her feet, the rest began to falter in their courage. Before they could decide between a chance at death or holding a stalemate, an officer with brilliant red feathers decorating his helmet shouldered his way through the formation.

“Enough of this, Crownguard,” he growled. “Where is the princess?”

An officer, but not all that intelligent. Nora could've chuckled at his ignorance. They didn’t have her. With any luck, Victoria was out of the city by now. One day Raegn would forgive her for forcing the princess upon him. Until then, their escape was victory enough.

“Dead, probably,” she lied.

“Then why do you still fight?”

Nora kept her sword up. “Because I’m still being attacked.”

The commander scowled, the lines around his eyes creasing with difficulty given his leathery skin. “You are surrounded. Any further lives taken will be levied as crimes against the Elysian throne. Surrender and have your life spared, or die. The choice is yours.”

He raised a hand in emphasis of his point and the groan of sinewy bowstrings peaked Nora’s attention. She glanced up to see a dozen archers and a few robed mages on the rooftops around her. She didn’t doubt they’d do it - they hadn’t exactly been restraining themselves thus far. The question was whether or not she would allow them to. A barrier above would block their initial attack. A beam or shockwave would kill or incapacitate everyone in the alley. She could be out of the area in moments.

But then? Her mind raced through the options. If Victoria truly had escaped, revealing her affinity undermined any high ground Elysia came away with. The Emperor had tried to kill the princess, but the fictions he could paint were Nora to save herself? Khada would rave of Elysia's lies and deceit, sending false Crownguard as agents to infiltrate his palace. Undermining the trust and relationships held by the Melrose name. Seven sins, even the Order would be drug into the quarrel once they discovered she was a Justicar. Any hope at a diplomatic resolution would be messier than a tavern brawl.

Was the priority her freedom or protecting the narrative? Would the latter grant her the former? What would Cenric want of her? She imagined how that rigid face would desire her to safeguard the status of the Justicar he commanded, but hoped that perhaps his eyes would soften as they did only for her, longing for her to save herself. Light, what would her father, the noble Eagle of the Order, have done?

Heavens give me strength, she prayed.

Her sword clattered to the ground and she gently went to her knees. The formation advanced. Speartips were kept on her neck as her wrists were bound and a cautionary band tied around her arm to sever her connection to the Light. The soldiers jeered and spat, flaunting their victory as she was violently drug through the city and back towards the palace.

Nora endured, choosing to keep her eyes on the sky rather than the cruel faces of an evergrowing crowd leering at her. Father, are you watching? The rising sun was far too bright to see the stars, yet she prayed to them regardless. Have I chosen wrong? Please, help me. Give me the strength to see this through. Please.

Their horses ambled along, the final bits of daylight failing to catch their ever-growing shadows. Were it not for the saddle and stirrups, Raegn doubted he would be able to stay upright. Even with the leather-bound seat, he lolled about, watching the world sway with the stride of his steed. Every part of him was exhausted, his thighs and hips too weak to squeeze around the horse’s sides and still softly panting despite the effort of a hard ride an hour or more behind them.

“Are you alright?” Victoria asked.

“Just tired,” he answered and forced his back straighter in the saddle.

It was too early in the journey to be tired, Raegn scolded himself. He took the hand that clutched his chest and forced it to hold the reigns. They’d traveled well despite the tumultuous night prior and hadn’t been followed. Not that they’d seen, at least. He was sure the Emperor would send a party in pursuit if he hadn't already, it was simply a matter of pace and routes that they might avoid them. There were few paths through the foothills of the mountains, but with that short leg of the journey behind them, their opportunities widened. And flattened.

After a short night’s rest, another day of hard riding would bring them upon the Great Plain; fields of grasses that sprawled farther than the eye could see in every direction with not so much as a rolling hill to ruin their vast scape. Some riders of the Khanate wandered them their entire lives, shepherding their herds to ever-finer pastures. There were few who ever crossed the Plain in a direct route. Not but for traders and in times of war would there ever have been a need.

Were they to reach the far side, Raegn wondered if it would be faster to continue east and take a ship across the Shimmering Sea or to turn northward and hope for assistance at the border. The Motuan Islanders would control the ports in Bronzetide and the surrounding towns; their ships fast and their welcome neutral. Racing north towards Elysian territory gave the best chance of encountering a friendly patrol, but also exposed them to any potential pursuers. Staying east and straight away from Shaktika lowered the chance of being caught, yet, there was no way of knowing which side the guards at Bronzetide would take were he and Victoria to arrive with said pursuers on their tail. No way to know if they’d take a side at all, in fact.

A jolt from his horse made him curse and wheeze for several breaths. He glared at the darkening horizon, searching for anger or frustration to help steel himself against exhaustion. Whatever the route, there were too many tomorrow's to be tired already.