The closer I get, the more I want to turn around.
The screaming had stopped at some point but that was short lived. Only a few seconds after the archer went quiet Thorpe yelled out "[Radiant Denial]!"
I grimace as the screams that echo out into the darkness make me want to throw up. Hard not to imagine that whatever wound Thorpe caused just caught fire just like it did on the Kite.
I know I am getting close because I can hear Thorpe slow down and call out "Did you think you could run?!" Before a deep thud and the sound of someone hitting the ground.
A few more thuds and grunts are heard after, silencing the agonizing cries.
Finally making it to where I see some light. Thorpe must have lit a new flash torch once he caught up with the guy.
I slow my approach, keeping myself behind one of the emperor trees. Hearing some labored breaths and struggling going on ahead of me. Which definitely doesn't sound good.
Taking a deep breath I lean around the tree to assess the scene. Seeing Thorpe standing over the Archer. The flash torches is thrown to the ground. The light barely enough to cut through the dark and it's odd angle casting deep shadows. The old man grasping onto his spear by its end. The weapon embedded into the other man's right shoulder. A large dark stain down the sleeve and side of his leather armor and tunic.
The spot where the spear is stuck is smoldering and the arm is mostly limp at the archers side. His face is partially covered by his hood and a cloth mask but it's not hard to see the lines of a fierce grimace in his eyes.
But even though the sight of another human being in such a state is already harrowing. It's Thorpe that is making me so uneasy. I don't think I've ever seen that kind of expression on his face before.
I've seen him angry plenty of times but this is far different. All the other times he's been angry it's been easily apparent on his face. But right now his expression is solid and stoney. Only his eyes are truly giving way to the quiet fury behind him.
Old Guard is looming over the archer, keeping him pinned to the ground with the spear. "I am going to ask simple questions and you are going to give clear answers." He states flatly. "If you don't…I'm gonna set you on fire again. Am I clear?"
The archer flinches and growls, his free hand grasped with white knuckles onto the end of the spear where the blade is embedded. "H-how…did you even know…agh..I was there?" He stammers out through gritted teeth, making his accent even more prounounced.
The archer's body jolts and he yells out from the pain as Thorpe twists the spear. The old man's face scrunching up in a scowl. "Are you an idiot?" Thorpe asks with a lift of his brow. "You've been testing the girls senses with [Hunter's Mark] or something for hours now. How else do you think?"
"Sh…she stopped reacting…I thought I got far enough away." The archer heaved out. Each breath sharp. The visible part of his face slick with sweat.
Old Guard grunts. "Guess that's fair." He admits before leaning in to further loom over the man. Pressing ever so slightly more down onto the spear. "Now how many others are there? The campfire we saw of yours this morning was much too big for 6 people."
The silence after that question even makes ME start to sweat. The wounded man deciding to keep his mouth shut. Which just makes Thorpe sigh, letting go of his spear and raising his right hand up.
The spear embedded in the archers shoulder vanishes in a flash of gold and reappears in Thorpes raised hand with the business end already aimed down.
And with a downward thrust as if the old man was spear fishing in the river, the blade is plunged down into the archers left thigh.
My body locks up. The already prevalent tightness in my chest somehow getting worse. Agonized screams returned, stabbing into my ears as sharp as Old Guards spear. Unable to look away as the archer struggles on the ground, digging the heel of his free leg into the dirt. Blood now pouring from his punctured thigh. But thankfully the gaping hole through his shoulder was cauterized by Thorpes skill.
Old Guard lets the man struggle for a moment before pulling his weight off the spear some. Just as stone faced as he was before. "I ain't playin around here. Answer the question. How many are there in your group?"
The archers erratic movements and labored breath shifted the cloth mask from his face and revealed the lightly stubbled face with scars over the right cheek. Blood drips from his chin as it appears that he must have bit into his lip. But even through all that pain he is still keeping quiet.
Thorpe narrows his eyes. "[Radian…"
The archers eyes go wild. "STOP STOP! It's 13!" He yells hoarsely. "There are 13 members including me!"
The old man relaxes his shoulders. "How long you been out here?"
"2…weeks…"
"Did you pass through any villages on your way here."
"Like Dreyfus said…we passed through LanercostAAAAAAGH!!" The archer goes rigid as Thorpe kicks the thigh his spear is stuck in.
"Don't bullshit me, you didn't pass through Lancercost. It's quarantined because of a plague." Thorpe growled.
The archer spits blood and bile from his mouth. A sob wracking his throat. "2 villages…we passed through them coming up northwest from Whital."
Thorpes stoney expression finally breaks as his teeth grit hard. "Are they still there…"
"Wh…what?"
"ARE THE VILLAGES STILL THERE?"
The archer grimaces, his face a mess with sweat, blood, and the contents of his own breakfast. "…no…"
Old Guards grip on his spear gets so tight I feel like I can hear the solid metal creak. His face…the face of a man I have come to regard almost like a second father…is twisted into an ugly fury. But the voice that comes out is leveled and clear. "What clan are you with?"
The old man commands with a tone that makes me feel small even from this distance. "Mogrin? Karga? Didn't think either of them would be lucky enough to catch a [Mage] and a Hascan [Druid]."
The archer shakes his head, coughing up blood. I think Thorpe might have broken his ribs before I caught up. "Neither…we were with Sar'kesh…"
Old Guards furious expression suddenly mixes with confusion, shaking his head. "Sar'Kesh is a [Highwayman] in the Deep South. His territory is even further than the Red Line. What the fuck are you doing all the way up here?"
The archer is tembling at this point, skin paling. "Sar'Kesh is dead…and most of the clan with him. We're the last ones…didn't you hear about what happened?" He asks with genuine confusion.
Old Guards grimace subsiding. "I thought I did. I heard their villages were being targeted by the Urka."
The archer shakes his head. "Those villages are already gone…and so is Whital…"
Thorpes eyes widen, leaning over the other man. "What do you mean Whital is gone?! Since when? How have I not heard about this!?"
The archers face suddenly looks as though he realizes something. "Oh…they've already started here too…"
Thorpe snarls, ripping his spear from the man's leg and wrenching him up by the collar of his leather jerkin. "EXPLAIN DAMNIT!"
The wounded man hands limply from Thorpes strong grasp. His breathing labored. He's lost a lot of blood. "The Urka…they have a new [Marauder]…named Alkwyn…whose been leading them on some kind of crusade." He hisses through his teeth and coughs up more blood that spatters onto Old Guards arm. "Their forcing all the other clans to integrate or die…our group was away on a raid and by the time we got back to camp the clan was decimated…"
The old man's fury has almost completely disappeared as he listens intently. The shock of this news evident on in his face. "And they attacked Whital?"
The archer wheezes, his head getting difficult to lift up. Blood dripping down from his boots and into the soil. "They had been planning it for years…pretty long haul stuff…first they'd cut off communications…intercepting messenger birds, couriers, mail caravans. Changing or destroyin messages and reports…replacing people…"
Thorpes eyes are widening again. But I don't get it. What is he talking about?
"Then they poison the food coming in to town. Wait until sickness starts spreading. Then they go after the villages…kill their crops with salt sand…" He was going to say more but Thorpe drops him. The archer hitting the ground with a thud. Eliciting a painful yell from the man.
Old Guard looks haunted, staring off into nothing. Gripping tightly onto his spear.
My mind finally tying together what was being said. A strong chill rolling down my spine.
The white soil in our fields.
The plague that's been hurting the nearby town for years.
The fact that Papa suddenly stopped sending letters…
Coughing. Labored breathing. I look up from my horrified stupor to see the archer lifting himself up. Tears rolling down his face. "Please…I told you what you want…don't let me die…"
I nod slowly. Feeling sick to my stomach looking at the state the man is in.
He might have been following us. Maybe even planning on hurting us. But we can't leave him like this. He could help us spread the word. He could…
SLICE
I flinch as a gust of light wind rushes past me.
Thorpes right arm is now suddenly extended out behind him. His spear held outwards as if at the end of a sweep.
"ugh…uuhhhh"
My eyes refocused on the archer. Watching his mouth open and close soundlessly like a fish gasping for air.
My heart beat slows.
And then his head falls back. Sliding off at the neck and falling into the grass. His hands grasping around momentarily as the clean cut takes a couple seconds to begin bleeding profusely. The body finally slumps to the ground.
For a moment I can't move. Unsure of what I'm really seeing. Eyes focused on the still twitching face of the man.
But finally my legs buckle beneath me, dropping me down to my knees.
I feel like I can't shut my eyes even as they are quickly drying.
Thorpe stands there quietly. Almost motionless. Like an ominous statue.
It takes a moment for me to remember how to speak. The voice that comes out of me is small and weak. "…Mr. Thorpe?"
The old man snaps his head in my direction, his eyes focused and sharp. But upon seeing me his expression softens greatly. Reverting back to the face of a caring mentor. Concern taking over.
I watch him blankly as he takes slow steps towards me.
He drops down to his knees in front of me. Letting his spear settle into the grass. His eyes searching my face.
"Liore…"
My face twitches. Tears start streaming quickly. Lip quivering uncontrollably. The only sound escaping my throat is a dry sob.
Old Guards arms wrap around me almost apprehensively. As if he'd frighten me away if he tried. But I lean in, clutching tightly onto his gambeson as if it's the sturdiest support in the world.
And I weep.