Hedge Knight

A weight pressed against Marcus’s shoulders as he ran through the streets. Sophia and Elly ran in front of him, something that he was grateful for in that moment, for at the very least they could not see the weariness that he knew he carried in his eyes.

The Child’s fearful expression haunted the corners of his mind, his eyes staring at him in confusion, in pain that he could barely register the cause of. Marcus’s hands felt wet, and he could feel the viscous Troll blood seeping through his closed fingers. He knew that there was no actual blood, that all of it was in his mind, but the warmth that spread across his skin felt real to him. The knife that stabbed his heart every passing moment felt real, and here he was, running towards a battle that he knew he would make no difference in. Those that would ran in front of him, their eyes full of determination, knowing exactly what they were going to do.

And him? What would he do?

It was a foolish notion for him to believe that conflict in front of him was his fault, and yet he felt it all the same. Had he been stronger… had he been able to help Helbram and his companions restrain the Child, then he would not be feeling the blood dripping from his hands.

He would not be seeing people he knew staring up at him, their eyes empty as their bodies lay mangled in the streets.

He shook his head. These thoughts were not going to be helping the others needing help.

“Have the Trolls made it through the gate?” Sophia asked as they ran, but Marcus could see her gaze drift towards the Shrine. There was a pressure that permeated the air after that pillar of light speared the sky, but even then the Maiden was unsure if the Sword had been drawn.

“I don’t know,” Elly said, “Leaf and Jahora went to assist the others, but-”

Her words were cut off as they entered the town square and were greeted by the sight of Marjorie speeding towards the town’s gate. A silver aura bled from her body, and half of her hair had shifted color to match the energy that came off of her in waves as she passed them by without a glance.

The Sword was in her hands, its blade flaring with that same silver power.

Sophia stopped, her gaze following the Hawk as she disappeared into the streets. The Maiden’s expression was one of shock, but she quickly shook herself out of her stupor and ran after Marjorie. An aura exuded from her body as well, steadily growing in strength as she ran towards the gate.

Marcus ran after her, but not before seeing a flash of panic in Elly’s eyes as she looked towards the Shrine. He followed her gaze, and saw the Weaver’s shoulders relax as Helbram sprinted into the square, now adorned in a breastplate and sporting a damaged shield. He looked to them, his expression unreadable behind his helmet. Without saying a word to one another, he and Elly shared a brief nod before running towards the gate themselves. Though he was ahead of them, the two quickly passed by Marcus as they barreled ahead.

He could hear the heaviness to their breaths, the heaving of their backs as they continued to press on. He did not know how they were able to continue pushing themselves forward despite such exhaustion. Only the barest traces of Aether trailed behind Elly as she allowed the wind to carry her steps, and Marcus knew that there was little energy that the Weaver could muster after her duel with Geren, yet she continued to run all the same, breaking away from Helbram and closing in on Sophia, who maintained her charge towards the front gate.

Marcus’s gaze fell upon Helbram’s back, the man’s armor minimizing the amount that his chest and back swelled as he took in each breath. Marcus did not know what battles the man had been through, nor did he know how he could have possibly survived against Marjorie, but whatever occurred had not deterred his pace, and instead only galvanized him to go faster. Marcus felt himself falling behind as the gap between them widened, and a single question plagued the young man’s mind as he watched the armored man speed ahead.

Why?

He was powerless, a man that possessed neither Ether nor Aether to aid him in the coming conflict. He did not possess the strength to turn the tide, nor to even stay its course for a fraction of a moment. Yet still did he press on.

Why?

There was an urge, a need to tell the man that it was hopeless, that there was no difference that either of them could make.

Why?

The people shamed him, cursed him, embraced the lie of another so that they may have a convenient target to hate, to blame for all of their woes. And Marcus was there, doing nothing as an innocent man was blamed for troubles that he tried to prevent.

Why?

Marcus let it happen, doing nothing to restore Helbram’s reputation. The man had told him not to, but he agreed so readily, so easily to the request.

Why?

Why was he still running to the gate?

The young man slapped himself. He grit his teeth as he pressed on, following after the warrior. If he was going to know, it would not be when he was distracted by such questions. He pushed himself forward, feeling his own breaths get heavier as they closed in on the gate. The smell of burnt fur and flesh became more pungent as he closed in on the town’s entrance, sticking to the inside of his nose as it wrinkled from the odor. Bodies of guards, adventures, and animals lay scattered around the gate.

More faces of friends stared up at him, their faces frozen in horror.

He did not have time to dwell on that, however, for as soon as the realization struck him a shock surged throughout the air and he felt it rock his body as he stumbled back, eyes cutting to source. Marjorie and a larger Troll had clashed, the Sword embedded into the larger creature’s arm.

THIS CORRUPTION… IT WAS YOU.

The Troll struck Marjorie with his fist, and he watched as the woman tumbled through the air, her arm bent at an obscene angle that brought bile to the back of Marcus’s throat. She hit the ground in a heap, dirt and dust scattering as the Hawk bounced off the ground, eventually falling still. She rose only a moment later, her aura flaring as it wrapped around her broken arm.

He could hear the snaps and pops that followed as if they were right next to him.

Marcus felt his stomach rise from the sound, from the sight of her arm twisting back into place. He did not have time to dwell on such a sight, for soon after another Troll, this one smaller than the one that had struck Marjorie, raised their arms to the sky, fists brimming with yellow Aether and screamed.

MURDERER!

Time seemed to stop as the word rang throughout the air. He knew the Troll’s voice was not directed at him, knew that all its hostility was focused upon Marjorie, but that did not stop him from hearing the sorrow beneath it all, from seeing the face of the Child once again, the tears that ran down his face.

It was him, he was-

“Marcus!”

And hand grasped his shoulder and shook him. The young man looked to the one who had touched him, realizing that it was Helbram that broke him from his trance. Still, his eyes could not help but wander back towards the battle that raged beyond the gate, but before he could see anything further Helbram grabbed both of his shoulders and turned Marcus towards the edges of the conflict, directing his gaze towards a pair of people that were stumbling towards the gate. He recognized Leaf as one of them. A man hung from the archer’s shoulder, trudging forward as Leaf urged him on.

“We have injured people out in the field,” he said, “Sophia and the others are tending to the wounded here, but those people need our help. Are you with me?”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but a roar from the ongoing conflict stopped the words at his throat. His head turned towards the battle again, but Helbram turned him back. The warrior lifted his visor and met Marcus’s eyes. Marcus expected the gaze of a hero, the steely eyed look of one unfazed by the chaos of battle, but what he saw instead was the shake to Helbram’s eyes, the dilation to his pupils that told Marcus of the fear that lay within. Still, despite all of that his stare was resolute, unmoving.

“I know things are dire,” he said in a soft tone, “but it is in times like this that we must find purpose, lest we let indecision give way to further tragedy,” his grip on Marcus’s shoulders grew tighter, “Are you with me?”

After a moment, Marcus nodded.

Helbram patted his shoulders and smiled at him, “I am glad you are. Now let us move, I am not sure how much time we have.”

The two men ran out into the field with renewed vigor. Helbram and Leaf shared a brief nod as they passed by one another, and the archer kept pressing the man on his shoulder to continue forward. As they ran, Marcus noted that Helbram had replaced his weapons with two bundles of cloth and what appeared to to be two halves of a broken spear. Once they had reached further into the field, Marcus could hear the cries of pain from the wounded soldiers, allowing them to locate them through the tall grass. When Helbram located a wounded man, he unfurled one of the bundles of cloth, revealing it to be a cloak. Rather than draping it on the fallen man, Helbram rolled one end of the cloth around one of the spear halves and set it down before pulling the man on top of it, taking care to minimize the movements of the man’s head. As soon as the wounded man was situated, Helbram motioned for Marcus to come closer. The younger man did, the nature of Helbram’s plan dawning on him.

“Take hold,” he said as he lifted the wrapped piece of wood up.

Marcus grabbed the improvised handle and knelt down.

“Pull with your legs, but keep movement of his head at a minimum,” Helbram shifted the cloak around to make sure it was entirely underneath the man.

A roar cut through the sky once again. Marcus did not look towards it.

“Get him to the gate, the guards will take care of the rest,” Helbram said as he looked towards the other injured.

Marcus squeezed the handle tighter, “I understand.”

“Good, now move.”

Marcus pulled, feeling the strain against his legs as he pulled the injured man towards Southsheer’s gate. With the assistance of the cloak, the injured man glided across the grass as Marcus kept walking backwards. He took only fleeting glances at the conflict in the distance, making sure that it was not getting closer to him, but most of his attention was focused on keeping the man’s head from turning as he pulled. A steady burn began to build at his legs, unused to the pressure and strain that was placed upon them, and his back soon started to follow. Despite this, Marcus did not slow his pace.

He had to do something, anything.

He grit his teeth and kept pulling, the cries of the wounded man spurring him to go faster. The burn in his legs soon turned to fire, but still he pressed on.

“One more…” he said, repeating it over and over with each step as he felt the strain across the entirety of his body. His hands shook as the man grew heavier by the second, and Marcus had to stop himself from looking back towards the town, an irrational fear in his mind telling him that maybe he made no progress at all.

He kept pulling, kept his legs moving for seemed like an eternity. His breaths turned to wheezes, face turned a faint shade of scarlet and he pulled with all of his might. Darkness clawed at the corners of his vision, telling him that he had been holding a breath for far too long, an ignorant impulse that he believed would grant him some form of strength to keep pressing on.

Was this all he was capable of?

He had so many dreams, so many ambitions, yet what had he done to fulfill them?

Stand in a line to pull a sword? Strike at a dummy with no form or reason? Sit and listen to adventurers in envy, yet never taking the step to follow after them?

What had he been doing all this time?

Surpass his father? How could he when he could not even save one man?

His vision was almost black by the time that he felt his back press against something. He turned, finally taking a breath and allowing his vision to clear. He was looking up at a guard, at Darin, one of the regulars of The Salty Breeze.

“Are you alright?” the man asked him, eyes full of concern.

Marcus motioned to the injured man, “Don’t pay mind to me, take care of him.”

Darin’s gaze was uncertain, but he let go of Marcus and looked to the other guards around them, ones that Marcus did not even realize had been standing there.

“Let's get him to the Maiden,” Darin said. He looked to Marcus, “You did good lad.”

Marcus was too busy catching his breath to respond. His entire body felt heavy, and he could feel sweat dripping off of his face. The guards lifted the injured man off of the cloak and moved him back. Marcus followed them with his eyes, eventually settling his eyes upon Sophia, who presided over a row of wounded soldiers and adventurers. Her eyes were closed as Aether flowed from her hands, covering the wounded with a silver aura as he saw pained expressions grow calmer, wounds starting to close as energy continued to flow from the Maiden. Marcus could not help but be shocked by the sight. He knew Sophia’s healing magicks were potent, but they were never this strong. She was precise with her magic previously, focusing just a small bit of her Aether into the wound itself, yet here she was able to heal multiple people at once with such imprecise applications of her power. Elly and Jahora, who stood close by, also looked upon the Maiden with eyes full of shock. Marcus could see the twitch to Sophia’s eyebrow, the shake to her arms as she maintained the flow of Aether, expelling more as the man he pulled to safety was added to the line. He grit his teeth.

Sophia was giving it everything she had. How could he not do the same?

Marcus pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain that flared in his thighs as he righted himself up. He turned back to the field, noticing the Helbram had already dropped off another man before rushing back out. Leaf had joined the effort as well, an energy behind his steps that Marcus knew was due to Sophia’s work. He followed after them, rolling up the cloak and handle as he rushed out to the field.

It was strange, the second man he pulled did not feel nearly as heavy as the first, and the third he found even easier than that. His body ached to be sure, but despite that he was still able to find the energy to keep moving. He did not question it, and kept moving, and with the efforts of him, Helbram, and Leaf, they managed to retrieve the soldiers from the field. However, with each person saved the strain on Sophia grew. Sweat was visible on her bow as the final soldier was added to the line, and she could no longer hold her strained expression back. Still, she kept pressing on, forcing the energy from her fingertips while Elly, Jahora and the other Mages started to check on the individual members of the wounded. It was chaotic, but things were starting to look brighter.

They had done -

A roar shook the very heaven above them, its sound filled with a despair unlike anything he had ever felt before. Marcus followed the sound, looking back towards where the battle was taking place. The Mother had fallen, her body wrapped in the one remaining arm of the Father as his body quaked with sobs. The larger Troll set the body down gently, pressing his forehead against the Mother’s, and Marcus could feel the air grow cold soon after. The Father lunged at Marjorie who only stood a breath away, his first surging with raw power as it struck a barrier of silver light. The blow was only paused for a brief moment before the sound of glass shattering filled the air, followed by absolute silence.

None spoke for fear of breaking it, for fear of drawing the attention of the Father, who’s shoulder still shook from sobs that Marcus could not hear. Then, the shaking stopped.

It was for a fleeting moment, but he saw a brief flash of silver light.

The Father stood up, his body moving as if ignorant of its missing arm, of the blood that poured from such a wound. He turned around, and there was a vacant expression on his face.

The same that his Child had just days ago.

Helbram was the first to move, drawing his sword and shield as he made way to the field. His companions followed after him, with Leaf having stowed his bow and picking up a shield for himself. Another man followed after them, the one that Leaf had rescued first.

Helbram turned back to the man, “Are you certain you are able to fight, August?”

The man shook his head, “Not a chance in hell, but someone has to do something.”

“We’re glad to have you,” he looked to his companions, “We need to buy time for the guards and Sophia to get everyone out of here. Elly, Jahora, how much more magic can you tolerate for today?”

They both stood upright and met his gaze, “Enough.”

A nod was shared between the group, and they moved out into the field.

The Father had not moved, but Marcus could see stones gathering where his arm once was, cobbling together the semblance of a limb as yellow Aether bled from the rocks. Dread made his stomach go hollow as he watched the party march forward. Their jaws were set, gazes unflinching as they all took a defensive stance, with Helbram, Leaf, and August taking point, their shields at the ready.

They couldn’t win.

Even if the party were without the exhaustion of battle, there was no way for them to be victorious over such a foe. Marcus knew that they were not foolish people, that they were most likely well aware of the futility of their actions.

Yet they stood resolute just the same.

He wanted to join them, to prove that he had the same conviction as them, but felt his legs freeze as he looked back to the Father.

At the rage that had twisted the Troll’s face.

The Father charged, his steps wild, almost stumbling as he barreled forward, eyes white with a feral anger. Marcus could feel his legs tremble at the sight, yet the party stood firm. Elly and Jahora held their hands out towards the men that had formed a small shield wall, falling to their knees as Aether spooled from their hands, channeling through the men and into a large barrier that spread out in front of the group. The Father raised his stone fist and slammed it against the barrier.

The air around Marcus shook when the blow landed, cracking the barrier in one strike and forcing the men to one knee as they maintained the defense. Their legs shook as the Father continued his blind assault, generating more cracks against the barrier as his blows grew more and more violent.

Marcus looked towards Sophia, who was helping the guards get the injured to safety. She stood at the back of the group, urging them to move faster as she looked back at the faltering defense.

Still, Marcus remained still.

“Move damn you,” he said, his voice weakening as he heard the barrier crack more and more, “Please… move…”

The barrier shattered, its destruction triggering a wave of force that knocked him from his feet. His vision blurred as his head struck the ground, but he remained conscious, forcing himself up as adrenaline surged through him. He looked to the barrier, seeing Helbram’s group knocked aside as the Father continued to charge forward.

Right at Sophia.

“No… No!”

The Maiden turned, her eyes wide with horror as the Father closed in on her, arm of stone raised and ready to bring down upon her. Marcus could only raise a hand to her, crying out in futility.

“Stop!”

Time slowed then, grinding to a halt as everything seemed to freeze around him. He did not know if this was due to magic, or a hallucination of his own mind, doing its best to prevent him from seeing the horror of what was to come, but he could still feel his body tremble with panic, with fear. It was then that a voice spoke to him.

“The desire to protect… tis not ideal, but potent none the same.”

The voice was metallic, sliding through Marcus’s mind and causing a shiver across his back.

“Tell me Marcus, do you wish to save her?”

“Yes,” he said, “More than anything.”

“Do you swear to do all that I require?”

“Yes, yes! Just give me the strength to save her.”

“Very well, then hold your hand out, protector.”

Marcus obeyed, and a weapon materialized in his hand.

The Sword had come to him.

Author's Note: I am back! Apologies for the delay again, but I needed that mental break for sure, it's been quite busy and I needed a quick reset.

This is definitely one of those chapters where I originally planned to go through a bunch more events, but I felt that it was rushing things so I fleshed out Marcus's perspective a bit more here to give a reference to his state of mind. I also wanted to include the rescuing scene to make the battle itself feel more real, like there were multiple things happening beyond just fighting like we've seen. Such acts usually require as much bravery as fighting itself, and I wanted to showcase a little bit of that here along with some character development for Marcus. Let me know how I did!

Till next time, have yourselves a wonderful day! :)