it's not by bone, but yet by blade
Edited by board administrator December 17, 2019, 11:11 am
Mace knew Thoth’s power was formidable – he’d been the one to divine his ren, after all – but it was a different thing seeing it in action. Creative, he thought with a shade of admiration, seeing the boy deftly incapacitating their enemies with water and ice, but too soft. It did not escape him that Thoth avoiding killing, despite the obvious intentions of Mordred’s men. And Thoth wasn’t the only one. Mace’s expression was hard as he watched his King strap their attackers to trees with grasping vines. Tristan’s rebels were dying around them; now was not the time for mercy. “He’s not,” the soldier answered through gritted teeth, speaking between sword swings as he turned back toward the battle. “Can take care of himself.” His sword rang with parrying force as he drove a cluster of invaders back, blood leaking down his forearm from a slash he couldn’t block. Tristan still hadn’t fled…and he still hadn’t killed, either. Frustration spiked through him. “Less talking, more retreating!” But the King wasn’t listening. Mace followed his gaze back toward the clearing, where an enormous beast was standing where Thoth had been, devouring one of their boys. Realization turned his stomach. There was no way Thoth would have hurt one of their own…not if he was still himself. The wolf howled. “Fall back!” Mace shouted over the renewed din of weapons and screams. “To me! Fall back!” The remaining rebels scrambled to reach them as wolves began to flood the clearing from every angle, their manner crazed, their eyes wild. Mordred’s fire squad were already rushing forward to block their escape, but the wolves provided a convenient obstacle between them, and Thoth was…Mace clenched his jaw. Thoth was a monster on a rampage, tearing into anyone that came close. He could only hope their two adversaries would distract each other long enough for the rest to escape. As he, Tristan and the Agent covered their retreat, trading forcefields to conserve energy, Mace could just make out Thoth bounding away into the distant trees. The clearing erupted behind him into flames that stretched skyward. God, let that boy run far away from here. The glow from the fires continued to cast their shadows before them for miles, in spite of the forest bending to their aid. Mace wondered how many of their friends were burning there, allowed himself the far-flung hope that some managed to escape and would regroup with them at the sanctuary. They were fortunate that only a few of Mordred’s men were able to tail them – he and the agent dispatched these quickly, taking one flank while Tristan and a few others guarded the other. Mace hoped his friends, at least, would know to kill their pursuers, not merely tie them up. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to having with the King. It was Sabriel that spotted their destination first, a few hours before dawn. She slipped into the caverns behind the waterfall, checking it for any danger while Mace helped the injured into the nearly-inaccessible cave mouth. Some time later, they were all damp and shivering in their dim shelter, tending to each other’s wounds. Mace counted the survivors, feeling grim.
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