by The Ranger
Jira sighed as he turned to Edmund, focusing on him for a second before bringing his attention to the chest.
"Would you like a weapon better suited for the enemy we face, boy?" the old man asked. "A mace? Or perhaps a club?"
"I already have a weapon," Edmund replied, presenting his small axe.
"Yes, but do you have the strength to break one of these Seekers apart with it?"
Edmund hesitated, almost as if it were an honest question.
"Jira's right; I can hold onto your axe for now," Khora offered, extending her hand towards him.
His expression seemed reluctant, but he handed over his axe, and she reached towards her back to fasten it to her belt.
Jira then handed him a wooden club, which looked just as long as the young boy's arm and twice as wide. It might have been a humorous sight under different circumstances.
The old man kept his eyes on him for a moment before turning to scan Khora's waist. He pouted for a moment before proceeding to meet her eyes.
"I see you've misplaced the dagger I gave you."
Edmund had been examining the club but wavered when he heard Jira speak. He turned towards Khora, a knowing look in his eyes.
"I didn't misplace it," she finally answered. "I… I left it with a friend."
Jira shrugged and set his hands on his waist.
"Well, in any case, I doubt it would have been effective against these monsters. Though, I have something else that might suit you."
He stooped down and carefully reached into the chest. She could hear a light clatter as he swept his hand through what was left of the weapons, only to pull out a small flail.
He balanced it awkwardly between his two hands. Its shaft was maybe ten inches long, with a chain half that length. A fat, spiked ball the size of a cantaloupe sat at the end of the chain. Khora thought it looked a bit feeble but made no comment.
"Take it," Jira offered. "I doubt Andros would be against my loaning you this weapon, and it will be more useful to you than your spear."
Khora furrowed her brow as she looked at the old man's outstretched hands.
"I do not mean to offend you," she said, pausing slightly. "But, I don't think I'll be any more effective with that… weapon… than I would be with my spear."
The old man smiled and gripped the ball of the flail, his fingers careful to avoid its spikes. He stretched his hands apart until the chain was taut, then — when he continued to pull — a single rune flashed across the handle, and more links began to form in the chain. After a moment of stretching, it had tripled in size.
"Whoa!" Edmund exclaimed.
"An enchanted weapon…" Khora mumbled, her eyes fixed to the glowing rune.
"Andros called it 'the Viper' when he presented it to me," the old man revealed. "It is, to my knowledge, the only thing that has nearly managed to claim his life."
Jira closed his eyes for a moment, and the chain began to recede into itself until it returned to its previous size. He groaned as it finished and gestured again towards Khora. She took it without words, and upon her first touch, could feel the arcane energy pulsing within— rumbling and roaring as it demanded to be used.
"I can feel the magic surging within it. I've only held a weapon like this once before; they're rare among my people."
While the Norfolk put little effort into enchanting weapons for fear of them slipping into enemy hands, Khora knew the process by which it was done. Any skilled magic wielder had the ability to form an imprint: arcane power embedded in an inanimate object, usually accompanied by the purpose of its master. The standard imprint would fail after the first few uses, but advanced enchantments, backed by runemarkings, could restore their magic supply through ambient energy. However, laying a rune over an imprint was a delicate, and at times disastrous, process.
Khora knew little else of enchanted items but could tell that the weapon she held was of an exceptionally high quality. Besides Prince Lucian's blade, it may have been the most exquisite thing she had ever held.
The old man crossed his hands over his chest proudly as Khora continued to examine the flail. She had not noticed it before, but it was sapping her fatigue. She could slowly feel strength return to her while she held the Viper.
"I have no experience using enchanted weapons, but I welcome the opportunity to wield one," she admitted. "Even if the circumstances are… bleak."
"Can I see it?" Edmund approached, setting his club aside.
She glanced at her friend and then spared a look towards Jira. The old man nodded slightly when their eyes met.
"Be cautious," Khora suggested, passing the Viper into the young boy's hands. "And if you plan on swinging it around, do so outside."
He showed a half-smile as he trudged out into the cold, weapon in hand, and Ranger in tow.
She watched for a moment before reaching for her spear and taking it in both hands. Her fingers flew over the etchings in the wood as she looked upon it. While it felt quite thrilling to hold a magic item, it could never replace the sentiment behind the spear she had wielded since girlhood. The same one Kassandra had given her and taught her how to maintain.
Still, the flail felt damn good to the touch.
"That weapon… I felt an immense rush from just holding it…"
Jira smiled as he looked at her and the amazed expression she wore.
"It is Myonmaran-made; they are, without doubt, among the best enchanters the world has seen. Although their runemaking is still second to Summerstone," he explained pridefully. "You know, it's quite befitting that you come to use a weapon from Myonmara. You see, when we first met— I was convinced you were Myonmaran. I had been sure of it up until the moment you told me of your homeland."
Khora grinned slightly as the old man chuckled to himself.
"Why did you think that?"
"Well, because of your accent," he explained. "You sound almost exactly how they do."
Khora felt her blood run cold.
"What?" she whispered. "What do you mean?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but your accent is quite unique. It sounds remarkably similar to that of the Myonmarans. If I didn't know better— I'd have thought you were native to their island," Jira expanded.
She gripped her spear tightly in her hands; she could almost hear her heart pounding within her chest.
The Norva had a complicated and violent history. The northernmost quarter of her homeland carried a dark legacy— one filled with conquest. Invaders from beyond the sea had sailed south and overwhelmed them with their numbers. They claimed the northern edge and occupied it for decades. As a consequence of that action, even centuries after the intruders were finally expelled, those who lived in the north shared a different dialect than the rest of the Norfolk. A foreign dialect.
"Do you mean to say… Miaryn?" Khora interrogated, her arms beginning to tremble.
Jira looked at her nervously before answering.
"That is… that was the island's ancient name, it is… to my knowledge, it is no longer used and has not been in a hundred years."
Khora fought hard to suppress an outburst. As joyful as she felt, she knew it was selfish to cheer while Solton was besieged. However, very few things could have kept her from smiling wildly. Miaryn laid northwest of the Norva and, while a hostile place, was one she knew. If she could find her way there, she could find her way home.
Khora had been gripping her spear so tightly, the wood had begun to mark her hands. She set it aside tenderly as she took a step closer to Jira.
"Could you tell me how I-" she tried to ask.
She winced as an ear-splitting crash sounded above their heads.
"Khora!" Edmund called. "Come see this!"
She dashed out into the open and saw her friend standing, Viper in hand, with his attention on the sky above. She glanced upwards, only to see a sickening fissure had begun to take shape throughout the veil that stood over Solton.
"The veil is breaking!" she shouted, Jira joining her outside
.
"Should we try to do something?" Edmund asked, panic in his voice.
Khora whipped around to meet the old man's eyes.
"I'm going back to the pavilion," she declared. "Eren and Eilon might need help, and I will not let them go without it."
"I… perhaps you should-" Jira started to say, his mouth hanging open as he stared above. "Wait…"
She returned her eyes to the veil above and saw the jagged crack had begun to seal itself— Divine Light sewing it shut like thread through a tear.
"They haven't given up yet," the old man sighed. "Although, I'd wager this cannot go on for much longer. Eilon has his limits."
Roland strode up as they stared at the veil, his face a shade paler than it had been before. He said nothing, though, as he joined them— eyes on the sky.
"How are the rest doing?" the old man asked, turning his attention to him.
"They were shaken before," he murmured. "They're terrified now."
"If an attack comes, tell them to remain within," Jira commanded. "They must protect their charges first and foremost. The defense of Solton lies in other hands."
Silence clung to the air as Roland nodded and marched away, but it was quickly replaced by a quiet worry.
"Do you think the others will be… will be fine?" Edmund asked, his face warped by worry.
"Richard will do whatever he can to defend this place," she assured. "And I've learned Eren is not as much of a fool as he seems to be. They'll both return to us."
The young boy tilted his head a bit, remorse beginning to appear across his face.
"Should… should we have gone with them?"
Khora took the opportunity to watch him intently; he was sitting in the snow, with bits of frost caked onto his clothes and Ranger sitting at his back. He had his left leg crossed over his right as he looked up at her timidly, and she could see a tear in the sole of his shoe. She remembered the dozens, if not hundreds, of times he had sat in the same manner in front of her tent and gave her company when she felt alone.
"I feel we are… exactly where we need to be," she finally replied, lying through her teeth.
The moment Khora took the Viper into her hands, she knew her place was on the field. Any advantage they might be offered should have been put to use, and the enchanted weapon would surely have given them an edge against their enemies. However, she did not voice her thoughts as they shot through her mind. She knew that sowing doubt and regret would do little to change things. She felt foul lying to Edmund, but she was well aware of his feelings. All they could do was wait for whatever moment arrived and do their best to protect each other.
Khora spared a look towards Jira and noticed he had been watching her; he carried a quiet somberness in his eyes. It was then she remembered the exchange between the old man and his son as well as the look on his face when Kiri marched away.
"They will be victorious, I'm sure of it," she added. "We must have faith in our allies. They are skilled and determined."
"Yes," Jira agreed, turning away from her. "They will endure. They must."
Khora wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask him about Kiri when a chill swept down her spine. She was sure someone had crept up behind her.
"Giantess."
She quickly spun around to see who had spoken out, but there was nothing behind her other than wind and rain.
"Khora, did you hear that?" Edmund asked, wonder in his eyes. "He called me a little mouse… he sounded like Luc-"
"Oh no," Jira interrupted. "What is that?"
Her eyes widened as they fell upon the raging fire that burst across the skies. The rain smoked and sizzled as it found the flames, its warmth felt even by those on the ground.
Roland watched the magic sweep across the heavens as he approached them again.
"The sorcerer who created these creatures must be here," he murmured. "I'm not sure even Andros could… we're doomed."
"No," Khora denied. "Our friend told us that his flames appear black in color first— this cannot be his doing."
"It doesn't matter. Something strange is happening out there," the old man countered. "Khora, I'm beginning to think it would be sensible if you went to see Eilon. He might know what's caused this and how to end it."
She nodded and turned to Edmund.
"I'll take the flail," she requested. "Do exactly as they say, and be sure to keep Ranger out of the way."
"Got it!" the young boy nodded, a determined look on his face as he handed her the weapon.
Khora started to move towards the pavilion, but she had not taken more than four steps when a flurry of cracks pounded away behind them.
She swiveled around as she heard them, startled slightly by the volume of the sounds. Her eyes traced the veil until she found them— at least two dozen Seekers repeatedly slamming into the barrier. She felt a chill as they stared at her, jaws hanging open and fists flying erratically. There was no escaping fear when a split began to appear in the veil. It wouldn't dissolve, not so quickly, but it did not seem like it could withstand them for long.
"There are so many," Jira whispered. "They must have slipped past Andros' defense somehow… yet, why are they here? We are far from Eilon and his scroll."
"How and why don't matter now," she groaned, analyzing their enemies. "We have to stop them… Roland, are you with me?"
The archer nodded, fear present, yet suppressed, in his hazel eyes.
"Good," she muttered, resolve blooming in her heart. "Jira, you and Edmund should barricade the door with cots and whatever else you find. We'll stand our ground as long as we are needed."
"Khora, we can help," her friend whispered.
"You will be helping. Please, Ed. Do as I say."
He pouted and turned to Jira, likely waiting for the old man to argue on their behalf. However, he stood silently, his eyes on the ground as he took a shaky breath. He was still for a moment until his gaze shot up; there was a fierceness in his eyes as he clambered into the healing house. Roland and Edmund followed after him, with the latter taking a moment to look over his shoulder as if hoping he might be called back. She could hear Jira's panicked voice as he tried to rapidly explain what was happening to the women. She could hear the children begin to cry.
Ranger nestled against Khora's leg before following his master, but she ignored the dog. Instead, she gripped the flail and focused on the chain. After a few seconds of concentration, the Viper grew longer, and its spiked ball fell onto the snow. She lashed it through the empty air in front of her and realized its weight hadn't been affected by the change in size. That made what she would have to do that much easier.
"Close it up, boy," Jira ordered.
She turned back in time to see Edmund standing in the entrance of the healing house, a remorseful look in his eyes as he held back Ranger and shut the door. In front of her now stood Roland, with his longbow in hand, and Jira. The old man carried with him a long mace but still wore no armor. He looked more out-of-place and unprepared than anyone she had seen thus far.
"Roland, start pricking at them now; you might be able to slow them a bit. And, Khora, it might be time to let the Viper loose."
She looked back at him, an incredulous expression stretching across her face.
"You shouldn't be here. We can handle this, and if not, we can pull from the others nearby."
The old man shook his lightly head as she stared at him.
"No, they must be reserved for those under their protection. They have their own duties, just as I do," he rejected. "When I asked my king to found this settlement, I took on this responsibility. I was tasked with shepherding this village. I will not waver."
Khora turned to Roland, but he was no longer focusing on their squabble.
He nocked an arrow and pulled it back, bringing it close enough to his cheek that the fletching almost grazed his skin. However, unlike half the would-be archers she had known, his eyes were not on the arrow between his fingers; they were, instead, looking ahead. H
is fingers trembled as he held the bow taut, and the string slapped against his leather armguard when he let the arrow fly forward. He groaned, though, as it zipped past a Seeker harmlessly, embedding itself in a tree to the monsters' rear.
"It's been some time since…" the archer paused. "Since I've aimed for anything that wanted to kill me as much as I wanted to kill it. I just need a moment."
He took a quick breath and repeated the process, loosing an arrow before one of them could even think of replying. This time, it cracked through a Seeker's skull and forced the creature's body to break apart. It would still reform, but he had at least stopped one of them. However, Khora knew it was not enough, and even if it was, it would take too long.
"Conserve your arrows," she advised. "I want to see if this will do more than make them burst."
He took a step away from her as she lifted the flail and flicked the chain across the air. Khora had not even counted a second before it met the Seekers and tore a quarter of them apart; she learned, very quickly, how the Viper came to earn its name.
However, she was immediately disappointed when the Seekers' skulls remained, merely rolling through the sleet. As powerful as the weapon seemed, it did not possess the magic needed to permanently dispel them.
"I had hoped that might work, but it doesn't matter," Jira grumbled. "Delaying them is an acceptable alternative."
Khora groaned as she whipped the flail once more, allowing it to burst through another few at the forefront of the group.
"Roland, if you see any in the back begin to gather, I'd appreciate it if you loosed a few arrows at them," she grunted as she lashed out a third time. "They have a habit of melding into larger, more dangerous forms. If that happens, I don't know what kind of damage they could do to this barrier."
The archer turned to acknowledge her but hesitated when he did as much.
"Do you mean like… like that?"
Khora paused her attack and shifted her focus towards him. His attention was on a large Seeker approaching the veil and the handful of skulls at its feet. She noticed another of them roll into the pile and realized the Seekers she had been crushing were merely converging there to reform.
