BE NOT AFRAID

[StingyParrot 1603]

Spoiler

 

 

 

BE NOT AFRAID

 

A chill wind, rising off of a small lake bordered by tall trees - it swept past the well-kept courtyard of a mountain manor, and briefly caused Capric’s hair, worn long, to blow into his face, prompting him to brush it aside with a gloved hand. He was crouched atop the black tiles of the manor’s roof, gazing down into the yard. It was still, save for the small movements of windswept grass and small shrubs. With almost exaggerated care, the young Reinhold dropped with a soft scuff of treated leather onto a small ledge, jutting out from the manor’s wall. He took a moment to steady himself and embrace his otherworldly connection to the force that he still hadn’t quite grasped yet, Voidal energies flooding his mind and sparking his stellar-lightning aura to life.

 

It was only then did he notice the other presence - a mockery of a mali’ker, adorned with skeletal spikes and followed by a scaled tail. Capric recognised it in an instant for what it was, and one of his axes seemed to find its way into his hand unbidden as he shifts his arm back and sends it hurtling towards the demon. A light rain had begun to fall, and droplets of water sprayed in an arc around the spinning axe, flung away by the swift passage of Petrine steel. Mutterings from the Inferi were cut off in the space of a heartbeat as, with uncanny reflexes, it jumped back and twisted, allowing the small axe to clatter to the ground, where it was snatched up by the corrupted ‘ker.

 

A challenge was issued from Capric’s opponent then, met by stony, unbroken silence from the Reinhold as he dropped lightly down to the ground proper, followed by a haze of silver lightning, which sparked off of the ground where he crouched, absorbing the impact as he affixed a metal buckler to his arm, and a heirloom hatchet unsheathed and held in his other hand. A mocking groan from the Inferi follows, and it threw another challenge over its shoulder as it shifted away from Capric, into a garden shadowed by a leafless tree. 

 

The Inferi’s chatter was answered by the Reinhold moving forth after his opponent, his mind working to bridge a connection between - there. A lake was nearby. Lakes are often fed by rivers. Rivers smooth stones. . . stones. At the thought, a shiny, smoothed rock formed over his shoulder as a small ring on his left-hand glowed, obscured by the shield there. For the moment, he couldn’t see the demon, and he frowned - his spell-casting had cost him his concentration and battle-awareness. Uncertain, and wary, he continued to step forwards as his conjured stone became an earthen spike. . .

 

Movement! With a blur - or so it seemed to Capric - the Inferi came back into view, stepping around the garden’s gate, a massive blade springing into its hands as it rushed forth, greatsword already moving in a vicious arc. Metal shrieked and incredible force jarred his shield-bearing arm as he met the incoming blade with his buckler - combining that with a quick step to follow the arc of the weapon and intercept when it had begun to lose force. Taunts from the Inferi fell limp as the beast mocked his silence, then delivered a barbed compliment comparing him to its previous prey. Comparing! 

 

Another dent joined the first, Capric’s buckler now practically caved in despite his efforts to reduce the greatsword’s force. A second spike of smooth Petran riverstone formed as Capric’s aura wavered, his left hand - and much of the forearm - going numb from the battering it had received. All thought of launching a proper counterattack were lost as he made to shove the demon away, staggering backwards in a haze of silver lightning.

 

He looked up, gathering himself - and blinked as the Inferi seemed to blur towards him, greatsword extended in a piercing lunge. For a moment, Capric was certain that he was done for - there was no way he could avoid the attack in time. Then, his mind picked back up, and time seemed to slow. Shield? Ruined. Axe? Nowhere near large enough to parry the attack, nor did he have the time to even attempt to deflect it away. Spell?

 

Capric straightened, then began to step to the side, twisting as he did - the Inferi’s greatsword smashed into his chainmail, sliding past after some brief resistance and piercing into his side as he staggered back from the force of the blow. Oddly, rather than the burning pain he expected from the impact, he only felt an icelike cold. Then he looked down, and saw his blood seeping out around the embedded blade. His Connection faltered and failed as the Inferi’s head snapped back twice in quick succession, struck by the twin spikes of stone that had blurred forwards just before Capric had been impaled. 

 

Shards of bone splintered from the demon’s mask from the first impact, and the second spike struck with the force of a hammer, concussing the Inferi and sending rivulets of fell blood pouring down its ruined face. A hideous shriek left its throat as it wrenched the blade free. Capric dove over the beasts’ lashing tail, then watched it retreat as he began to feel the first pulsing throbs of pain from his injury. In truth, it was the first proper injury he’d received in combat. He’d always harbored a ridiculous notion that he’d be able to simply push past the pain, yet his entire left side seemed aflame with agony.

 

His training reasserted itself then, and he flips his grasp on his hatchet, limping towards the fleeing Zar’ei, relishing the creature’s panicked pleas, calling for its allies. With his left hand clutching at his bleeding side, blood seeping out through his fingers, Capric raised his weapon, rounding a small pillar towards the Inferi. Arm cocked back, he heaved in a breath before throwing, whipping his limb downwards as the axe went spinning through the air. This time, it wouldn’t miss, given that the concussed demon was facing away from him.

 

The Inferi called out once more, pleading for someone, anyone, to come and help. None came, and the axe struck home with a thunk. It swayed, and collapsed to the ground after a last statement towards Capric.

 

---

 

The wolf’s lips curled back in a snarl as it emerged from the underbrush. Capric heard shouts as the hunting party, spread in a small line, bore witness to the group of predators seeming to rise out of the ground. There were perhaps four in all, and two approached him, stepping slowly, their muscles visibly bunching up as they prepared to pounce. 

 

Capric beat them to it. With a controlled, agile movement, he darted forwards, essaying a few quick thrusts with his war spear at the closest wolf’s muzzle, bloodying it and causing the beast to leap back with a yelp. Withdrawing, the Reinhold heard soft steps behind him, and glanced back briefly to see Caz standing just to his side, bastard sword held in their hands and slashed forwards, a clear threat to any wolves who would approach. He’d have offered thanks if the wolf hadn’t then launched itself forwards at his Highlander ally.

 

---

 

The axe he had thrown clattered to the ground beside the fallen Inferi. It wasn’t dead - the hatchet had struck it with its pommel. Capric swayed, uncertain, then limped forwards, gathering up his weapon. He raised it above his head, and looked up at the axe as he did so. It was an heirloom of sorts, one of three items that his grandfather had purportedly made or owned. He almost never threw it - he was far too scared of losing it, losing the feeling of wielding a weapon his blood relative had made. Then, almost unwillingly, he caught sight of the Inferi’s face, which had once been covered by its mask of bone.

 

“N-no. . . Don’t put me back there. . .” It rasped before its four yellow eyes drew shut. Its face was marred and burnt, evidence of old battles won or lost. The burns, in particular, drew Capric’s attention, and his blood-slicked left hand briefly made towards his right arm, where similar scars lay. It was not pity that caused him to finally bring the axe down. It was a strange sense of familiarity.

 

---

 

Caz cursed as the wolf sank its fangs into their forearm. Unable to maneuver their sword arm without tearing flesh further, they launched a kick at the furred beast, sending it flying back. It had not even hit the ground before it was impaled brutally on the point of Capric’s spear - he’d spun counterclockwise to gather force before driving it cruelly into the ground, twisting his weapon before wrenching it free from the shocked, stricken wolf. The ferocity of his attack was not lost on Caz, who managed a quick “Thanks - “ before they rushed forth to impale another wolf’s foreleg.

 

Blood arcing off of his spearblade, Capric rushed forwards and fractured the wolf’s skull with a jab of his weapon.

With a whimper, it tore loose of Caz’s sword and limped backwards away from its comrade, who had succumbed to its brutal wound.

 

It made it about four metres from the group before its skull was pierced through with a clean shot, the conjured earth-spike burrowing through the wolf’s head and shooting out the other side to thump into the ground, a second before its target did.

 

---

 

Capric limped away from the structure, a makeshift bandage staunching the flow of blood from his wound. He’d cleaned his axe, as any good soldier might, and it sat as always in its leather-loop sheath at his waist. Mentally, he was divided. Killing had been easy in his past battles. A great stone-burrowing reptile, felled on his coming-of-age hunt. Two wolves, threatening an isolated village. But this was different. The Inferi had looked altogether too human for him, and his weapon had faltered briefly. He continued his slow walk to where his gray was tethered, and it nosed at his arm, snuffling. He managed a wan smile, bringing his hand up to pat its muzzle. Then he was off.

 

---

 

“No. . .” The Inferi woke, scrambling to the edge of a small pond and peering into its reflective depths. “That . . . boy. . . He didn’t kill me. He. . .” It glared at its ruined, once-mortal face, the face that it had tried to hide with its mask of bone. Clawed hands reached up to obscure its features, to no avail. It went to its knees, and began to weep.

 

[Hom 1988]

Caz drums their fingers anxiously against the bartop of the Fairweather, as a soft rain falls over the Vallagne square outside. An over-full page of notes sits open in the notebook before them, but their attention has turned from their pen long ago, now staring worriedly out at the oncoming storm. It was later than Capric would usually arrive to meet them- Much later. Maybe he was busy, but for some reason, it set them on edge. He was rarely ever late.