24th day of Zun’s Rest, twelfth month of the year, 983

  Having reached the middle ring of Bonfire, Andras and Albestus bid farewell to the paladin, who quickly got lost amidst the roads and peoples. Sighing, Albestus got his eyes out of the copy of the spell and started to walk towards the Guild, followed closely by Andras. Casting a silencing spell, he started to share what he had found.

  “That was indeed a grey mana spell circle, so you know the drill. A water spell if I am precise.” His eyes keep looking forward, unbothered, thanks to the discipline he had collected along the years. “The problem is that the spell had some parts that could only work with blue mana. Feeder circles that converted lifeforce into grey mana. That means that it was a combat spell as that forest would not have stood quietly as it was drained. My end belief is that we found the army. And that army may come back as undead next time.”

  Nodding, Andras did not look behind. “So the man we just escorted here…?”

  “A normal man. Cursed, but normal.” Said without a doubt Albestus. Seeing the look of doubt on Andras’ eyes, he added, “When I touched his shoulder earlier I sent through him a wave of holy magic. It reacted but he didn’t even flinch so it's impossible that he is an undead. But he holds a great quantity of grey mana. A paladin cursed by whatever fits both his exile from the lands he so likes and the unholy amounts of grey mana he holds. I give him a year before he dies from exposure.” He returned his gaze forward. “I know your commander senses are saying that it doesn’t feel right yet, sometimes, coincidences do happen.”

  “....I see.” Pitying the sapient they had just met, Andras refocused on the spell. ”Is it dangerous?”

  “From what I saw is just a common water spell that grants control over liquids. It appears to be heavily customised, hence I can’t really pinpoint the use. But I can make a guess.” Lifting a finger into the air theatrically, he exclaimed, “I bet it’s a water cutter or something like that. Unorthodox, doubles as a shield, very difficult to defend from and it is regenerable in the middle of combat, right?”

  “But there wasn’t any river near the spell, wouldn’t it need water?”

  “Oh, right. Well, the quick explanation is that the name ‘water spells’ is a colloquialism. While it is true most of those spells use water, the spells themselves can target any liquid. Mercury, lava, blood, letting somebody as broody as our dark regent of the blackest armour cast ‘blood cutters’ instead of ones made of water, turning the blood of your enemies into your ammunition.” As Andras had started to laugh, Albestus swallowed the dark implications of that joke. Vampires had been known to rely heavily on those types of spells. Not wanting to reveal his fears, he continued with the joke with token cursing and a soft whisper, “Do not tell him what I said today.”

  “Granted.” Returning to seriousness, “A spell befitting of an undead. The disadvantages?”

  Albestus nodded, impressed, as Andras addressed the underlying problem. “They lack force and cutting power. Completely useless against anything remotely armoured. They are the spells novices try to master because they look cool.” Remembering something, he added, “Against anything remotely armoured with magic. It will cut through normal steel like any other spell but it will crash and disperse against weak magic barriers.”

  Andras nodded. “So, the parts you can’t translate are the ones that are the true danger.”

  “Litio! You should come to my guild, you have enough quick wits to be a mage. Some mediocre mages tried to complicate the spell, none succeeded. It is unachievable to get it to both defend against magic and be able to destroy magical defences and not turn it into a waste of mana. Two separate spells would have ten times the efficiency. Their only use could be to reap unarmoured targets as flies, not that there aren’t hundreds of cheaper spells that can do that. Nonetheless, here we have a finished product that an undead themself is using, and undead are not as foolish to just try to appear cool so, either it has been refined or...”

  “They have the power to make it work against an army…Decipher it as soon as possible.”

  “I will tell you when it is done.”

  Separating in front of the castle. Andras went to the throne room and addressed that day's matters. A few hours later a guard handed him a letter without a seal. Putting it out of his mind, worry eating at him over the grey spell circle, he finished his work and left the castle after nightfall. For a few days he maintained that routine while he was waiting for Ablestus’ research to complete.

  …….

  A snow storm was raging outside on the way to his home. Thinking absent minded about the difficulties of the journey Soral was on, he entered his house and sat in the kitchen. His daughter had made him dinner before going to sleep as he had been forgetting to properly eat these past days. Still, he was growing more and more uneasy with the slow research of Albestus and, trying to ease his mind, he started to eat.

  Not calming down with only eating, his hand searched inside his pocket for something to do. It found the forgotten letter from a few days ago and, curiosity winning, he opened it to read it, having thought of it as the usual joke as it lacked a seal and having properly forgotten about it.

  “To our illustrious Count of Alpin, Lord Noct of the Ashen Household

  We are regretfully communicating the passing of your sister by writing. The Stars weep from her passing and the realm of the Empire today lost a capable person. She was attacked on the road by a bandit group and soon died to the sword.

  But her passing marks a new beginning for your Baronny, Lord Noct. No longer constrained by her authority, you are to rule as you see fit. May the Empire prosper.

  A fellow noble.”

  The sounds of crunching paper could be heard in the kitchen as the worst fears of Andras resurfaced with the force of a geyser. Looking at the clock, it had been four days since they had left, not enough time to find Soral was missing, send a search party and report the findings. “It had been planned all along.” Rising from his chair, he quickly wore his coat and rushed to the Druid Guild.

  ……….

  “This boiling storm is going to be the end of us.” Gumbled Lipos, one of the three veteran mercenaries that had come with the carriage, hired of course. He was an older refugee of the Republic from its centuries old war with the Empire.

  “Thank the Gods we camped as soon as we did.” Spat Ymus, a far northerner. Looking at a magic device, he testified, “It’s minus fifty degrees outside. And the wind sure ain’t helping. I pity the fools on watch.”

  “Noct would be fine even on ‘the Frontier’, bastard’s as cold as ice. On the other hand, that elf chick is going to freeze alive.” Chimed Caesar, an old criminal. His hand toyed with the extra he had managed to acquire in his pocket. “Well, they got the dwarf, so I am sure they will be fine.”

  In contrast to the tranquil atmosphere inside the tents Noct had enchanted, the outside was a veritable moving wall of white, ice and snow. Seeing was as easy as running vertically without falling, something that, if tried, the winds promised that it would be painful. Pellets of ice worth about two inches were constantly striking the surroundings as a high pitched howling wind of no less than sixty kilometres per hour carried its fair share of weight and force.

  In this dangerous climate, in which only armoured sapients could hope to not be bludgeoned to death, one would need the eyes of either an elf or a wizard to see across the chaos. Lia, the former, was regretting having been born one. Bones frozen, Lia was struggling to feel anything at all, enchanted coat be damned. No, the coat was not damned, it was fucking immovable cold. Lia could have elbowed it and she would have hurt her arm. Nevertheless, even in this storm of angry ice, she continued to do her job. Fixing the hood of her coat yet again, her eyes squinted, doing their best along with Likos and Noct, whom she could see at the sides if she focused real hard.

  “See something out of the ordinary?” Came the scream turned whisper of Likos. Half sunk into the snow, he had to repeat his call several times to be heard above the howling.

  Her eyes darted across the trees of the road. A small anomaly caught her attention, a metallic reflection, an unnatural mound accompanied by a second, third?...seventy to eighty metres away. “Yes! I think there’s s…”

  Before she could end her sentence the anomaly changed as the reflection flew, now joined by another three. Crossbow bolts, aimed from those mounds she had just seen. Two missed Likos, being too short and having mended with the layer of snow. The third was deflected by Noct’s slap. The fourth hit her in the side of her head, bouncing off as it had hit, and dented, the helmet under the hood. The blow, powered by the enchanted crossbow, was enough to cause severe damage. Lia lost consciousness and fell on her left side, pushed by both the wind and the inertia of the bolt.

  Before she could crash into the ground Noct catched her, rapidly laying her on the ground as he started to create tens of tiny spells on the tip of his fingers, not minding snow or ice. His right hand, the one with the spells, darted to her head while the left one rotted her in place by the shoulders.

  “Enemy attack!” Roared Noct, his words powered by magic and were made heard. Likos, diving into the snow, catched a glimpse of another four bolts, now aimed at Noct, hit their mark. This time they bounced or were deflected off the armour, not denting it as their magic lost the fight.

  Having dodged his portion, Likos rushed to his side, unbinding his shield as he knocked snow left and right. Wanting to offer some support, he placed himself between the crossbowmen and Noct, shield first. Next thing he heard were four hits of metal against metal, two behind him and another two a bit below his head that caused him to back a step and almost fall. Looking down after noticing a sudden spike of pain, he saw his penetrated shield and guts, the bolts having cut through normal steel as if it had been cloth yet having been slightly deflected from torso to stomach. Resisting the urge of grabbing the bolts he picked his warhammer and, forcing his legs up, he met the two charging swordsmen that had sprung from the snow, his sheer force of will letting him charge too as to distance the battle from Lia.

  The order, and the screams and clashing of metal against metal, having been heard on the camp, was met by reinforcements. Tiamat and Itmas were the first to join near them, reinforcing the injured Likos. Sorak’s warg chose to surround the attackers and try to distract them by plunging through their behind.

  ‘Great, a brain edema. The bolt was enough to both break the skull and cause brain haemorrhage.’ Analyzed Noct with her medical diagnostic spell, as Lia’s head started to bleed, staining her ears.

  The spell itself was an analytic construct, working on the same principle as the spell of ground remediation. It sended waves of mana and recollected their echoes, letting the mage see inside the patient. A revolutionary method of wound treating only available to nobles, as it was a very complicated spell, it relied on knowledge of the structure and functioning of the body in question which, thanks to his experiments to create an artificial body, he had in spares.

  Fine tuning with illusion magic to focus his field of vision to the inside of the wound, the zone right next to it and the flow of the blood at the same time, he started to stabilise and repair the damaged zone with water and reinforcement magic. The bolt had struck on the side of the skull, just above the temporal bone, and had caused the skull to break inwards, towards the brain matter, increasing the pressure on the brain and causing acute subdural bleeding.

  Sensing both a stroke and a seizure, he casted invasive necromantic spells to control the body, artificially stabilising the heart rate and keeping both the blood flow and respiration steady. ‘The complicated part comes now.’ As time was of essence he forsake the possibility of his guards failing and he dying and deepened his concentration, starting to both regrow the brain matter and the different stratus of the skull bones while regressing the latter to its original position. Having to act with haste before the brain suffered complications or memory loss, he was forced to use his internal mana, forcing his eyes to slowly turn a bright but creepy dark green.

  ‘Slow and steady, slow and steady.’ He repeated this mantra, trying to keep his concentration against both the chaos outside and his insides rebelling against him, causing his stomach to irritate and his lungs to be contaminated by small quantities of blood as his internal mana suffered an anomaly and turned unstable, blue mana fighting against grey. As he had not the time to care about any of that, he upped the speed of the treatment, starting to sweat heavily. About ten seconds after the treatment began, Lia breathed in and tried to get up, the iron hold of Noct maintaining her immobilised. As soon as she awakened she started to scream in pain and struggled against his unrelenting grip, being able to feel her skull bones and brain twisting and mending.

  After a few moments of the status quo, Sorak arrived and tried to join in the healing before Noct screamed. “Don’t! Join the frontlines. I need a mage!” Nodding, surprised by the desperation in his voice and the odd choice of words, she joined the fight against the bandits, switching positions with the gravely injured Likos.

  Not sooner she had switched, she realised she was desperately needed there, as Likos, behind her, had already reached his limits and had fallen. Tiamat had lost an arm and was screaming in pain as he weakly rolled on the ground, rapidly succumbing to cold and injury. Itmas would have met the same destiny if Sorak had not dived shield first and blocked the strike.

  A corpse behind the attacker, she ignited her sword, leaving a trail of smoke as she smacked the enemy’s shield, cracking it. Her instincts screamed and, gasping, repositioned her shield as she tried to dodge with her head. Two bolts embedded themselves against her shield. The third missed thanks to the wind and the fourth opened a small wound in her cheek after she evaded it. Striking again, and breaking the shield, she cleaved the enemy in front of her. Four more to go. Doing her best to keep her equilibrium as she charged forward, she kept an eye on the crossbowmen’s movements.

  Meanwhile, Soral had arrived at the side of her brother, who had his face drenched in his blood, thanks to his eyes as they had started to bleed a bit, the blood rapidly freezing in his face. Gulping her unease together with her saliva, she asked, “What do you need me for?”

  “Hold her down!” Soral quickly grabbed her by the shoulders and locked her in place.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Done, now what?”

  Noct made another spell, on his now free left hand, that rotated around it and grabbed Lia by the face. Moments later, she fell asleep.

  “Hold the spells!” Not a second later he got up and phased in her shadow and out of there after activating and dropping one of his rings near her.

  “Hold the…wait!!” She had no time to think before she had to rush her hands towards the spell circles that had become orphans. ‘I see. I only need to send mana. I could have used an explanation nevertheless.’ Soon enough snow started to pile on top of her.

  ……….

  “Is she still alive?!?” Tried to question Jetsun, the Commander of the small military detachment of the army of the Duchess of the North. Badly dressed as men of the Astar county, they had enough charms of the Hand’s to pass as a assassination attempt from the underground criminal syndicate.

  “We are doing our best. We have killed three and neutralised four of her guards that, despite your damned intel, were better than some newly appointed recruits!” Answered another crossbowman. He shot at Soral once, bolt crashing against a magic shield. Clicking his tongue, he took aim at Sorak through his enchanted goggles, who was now dueling four of her comrades at the same time, he added, “And even then, only that paladin and that cursed warg are the problem. Two men have been fucking devoured already. If you would stop with the stu…Wait…where’s the regent who was…?”

  Before he could finish that question Noct rose from his own shadow behind him. Not waiting for a breath, Noct stabbed the back of his head, cutting it in half with his clawed gauntlet. Turning around, his hand caused a rain of brain matter and blood. His glare, directed at the captain and the two men next to him, was as cold as the blizzard.

  “The regent is here!” Stuttering, the look-out screamed, an old bandit made a soldier. Noct truly was honouring his fame as a tyrant. Alien green, piercing eyes, dressed in black heavy armour with spikes and drenched in blood. Topping it all, the face of a mad man with the focused murderous gaze of someone who did not believe in pity. He was a sight to behold.

  In fright, the ex-bandit tried to run while the commander and the second soldier, now cursing under their breath, unsheathed their swords thanks to muscle memory. The plan relied on Noct not being invited to the celebration of the countess, doomed to fail otherwise as they had not brought any mages to counter him. Seeing Noct dashing towards him, the commander rose to parry a feint that caused Noct’s clawed gauntlet to find itself deep in his guts, stabbing him and grabbing his intestines. Not wasting a second, Noct disembowelled the bastard, who fell to the ground thinking about the dark fate that awaited his family with his failure and death. Of course, that move had opened him to a stab from the second soldier that cut through his right armpit and reached the clavicle. Noct tore his throat out and pulled the sword out, letting it drop on the ground.

  The commander’s regret was soon overshadowed by the heavy pain he was feeling. Not wanting to spare the soldier the slow end, Noct focused on the retreating soldier, who found himself skewed by a necromantic bolt to the back. Already rushing to the other enemies, he didn’t spare a glance to both of the dying men he had left behind.

  ……..

  Sorak had grown severely tired on top of the cold. Fighting four coordinated enemies at the same time wasn’t easy, even less so in a winter storm. Her shield had almost been broken with the last strike of a mace and her armour was on its last legs. The only reason she was still alive was the very storm that she was cursing, as it caused the same difficulties to her enemies and disrupted their coordination.

  Against all odds, she had managed to strike one bandit down after causing some steam to disperse their formation, her fiery stab cutting through armour as their bolts did. A fleeting victory as, as soon as she tried to return to a defensive position she parried a feint with her shield and was stabbed by another’s sword in the left shoulder, nullifying her shield arm and making her stagger backwards. Getting ready for a last stand, as her lady was a few steps behind her, she raised her sword and swore to take down another.

  What not one of those four expected was a young woman, armed with a dagger, to blur out from the storm and collide with the soldier further behind, stabbing his side, distracting the middle soldier as he turned in surprise. That opening let Sorak parry an uncoordinated strike and slash the neck of the third one through their mail, turning the three versus one into a two versus two. Sorak quickly rushed to the second soldier who, watching the still favourable situation they had, took advantage of her exhaustion and played the defensive game, waiting for his comrade to deal with that civilian and come to his aid.

  A scream from Mulia made Sorak’s blood boil. She could do nothing but watch as the bandit pushed Mulia away, pulled the dagger off his side, approached and promptly lost his jaw, and half of his face, from a longsword slash that came from the shadows of his feet. Reeling back from the strike, he collapsed on his back as Noct rose from those shadows, weapon in his left hand.

  Noticing their iffy position, the bandit turned towards Sorak in a desperate rain of blows, which Sorak managed to hold against before Noct cut the head of the offender. Breathing out a sigh, equal parts exhaustion and relief, she turned towards Likos and Tiamat. The former half dead and the latter fully. Kneeling next to the dwarf, she pulled the bolts unceremoniously and, resting her hands on the wound, started to heal.

  Noct, still hearing fighting in the middle of the campment, together with the victorious howl of the warg far away, entered the shadows again, leaving them near the tents. He jumped above Mulligan’s corpse, a second too late to prevent a bandit from stabbing Ymus through one of their compound eyes. In response Noct cleaved them by the torso, his longsword having no trouble chewing through bone and steel. Caesar, together with one of the bandits, were trying to overwhelm Itmas, who was defending the injured Lipos.

  Noct’s entrance having left little to stealth, he was made to block two bolts as the last two free bandits rushed to meet him. Bloodlust, blood loss, and seeing men under his command die sent him in a frenzy, causing him to ignore defense and block with his armour all hits. He slashed, cutting both hands from a bandit as he tried to stab his neck, their blade chipping against Noct’s mail. The second aimed at his knee with their mace, breaking bone. Turning around on a kneeling position, he impaled them by the chest.

  In response another two bolts rained on him. One hit the side of his helmet, breaking and failing. The other penetrated the magic shield of the helmet’s visor, losing a lot of power and only managing to stab the right eye. Ignoring the mitigated pain, he left his half crouching position, left eye looking from where the bolts had come as his right arm aimed at Caesar and shot a bolt of his own. The necromantic magic hitting him on the head, Caesar died instantly, his withering skull turning into dust that flew onto the bandit that was aiding him against Itmas, causing them to lose visibility and get stabbed in the neck.

  Another two blots flew, this time one being parried and the other dodged. Another shadow teleport and Noct was in front of the crossbowmen. Their weapons in their sheaths, their deaths came in two quick strikes. Noct, still furious, looked around. He soon detected some retreating soldiers. So laser focused he was that he did not hear Soral scream for her with Lia. He would have traversed through the shadows again and joined the warg’s hunt if Itmas had not stopped him, seeing the terrible state he was in.

  “My regent! Your…your eye!”

  Turning to the soldier, he finally heard Soral’s screams and, after pulling out the bolt without the rest of the eye, he teleported again, now appearing next to Lia.

  “Noct, what do I do now!?!” Growing increasingly fearful of the circles she was trying to stabilise, Soral was slowly losing control, her fingertips having turned bone white with some blue and purple spots, her forehead slowly filling with frozen sweat.

  Noct, however, was now being hit with bloodlost and pain, causing his reply to not come up and him to almost fall.

  “Regent!!” Screamed Sorak. Seeing as he remained irresponsible, she grabbed his coat and pulled, knocking him into the ground next to Lia, not seeing the damage thanks to the blizzard still in full swing.

  That, however, had done the trick and he switched with Soral, who, now free of her burden, fell backwards as she whimpered, looking at her hands, somewhat numb, unresponsive and tingling. She slowly formed fists with them, trying to warm them.

  Finally seeing him move, Sorak turned to Soral and started to use her ignited sword and faith healing to start curing Soral of her frostbite. As that was happening, Noct looked into Lia’s wound, his armour struggling to heal the injuries he had sustained. The brain matter had, thankfully, been restored to its state before the impact and, while it hadn’t fully healed, the skull had been fixed, more or less. Dispelling the sleeping spell, he let Lia wake up.

  Coughing, she was slowly permitted to sit on the ground as Noct, content with the work, dispelled most of the spells. Ignoring the pain in his right eye, he started, “Have a lot of care with your head for now. No sudden movements. No trying to speak. Absolutely do not speak until I say so. Slow and steady, alright? Nod if you understand but do not speak. Never speak.”

  Lia nodded, shivering and doing her best to follow those instructions, even against her desire to ask about what in the Nethers had happened. Turning to Sorak, still healing Soral, and Mulia, who had managed to walk amidst the blizzard towards them, he added, “Get them in a tent, paladin. Now.”

  Nodding, Sorak raised Soral in her arms and guided Mulia and Lia to the isolated tents. The temperature had gotten even worse and their clothes would not protect them for longer. Noct’s gaze turned to Likos, “I ordered something, dwarf.”

  “And I will do so once I have confirmed the condemned are dead!” Growled the dwarf, still looking around and having refused to move from Tiamat’s frozen corpse.

  Limping towards him, Noct pulled his shoulder and growled, his voice amplifying enchantment breaking between words. “They are dead so do it already!” Not wanting to waste more time, as Lipos was still injured and needed treatment, he started to limp, not having enough internal mana to jump shadows and heal.

  His leg failed and Likos held him up, slowly returning to his senses. The two of them traversed the frozen clearing, filled the corpses and tents, finally reaching Lipos. Itmas was almost frozen, having given up on moving Lipos and having protected him with his coat. Revealing the now crippled sapient, Noct grabbed the cut arm, in the process of freezing, and got to hea Lipos.

  Noticing the dire condition of Itmas, Likos rushed to get him to Sorak as to not lose another friend today, leaving Noct alone with Lipos.

  The sapient coughed as he slowly bleed out while Noct healed and warmed the arm. “How many dead?”

  “Four. Five if you follow.” Mumbled Noct, pushing the now healthy arm into the stump and slowly regenerating the tissues, muscles and bones that held it in place.

  “And…did we win?”

  “Why do you think I am here if not?” Having lost half of his sight, Noct was struggling to navigate through his spells as he binded together the veins and arteries of the arm

  “Well…you do make for a good follower of the Abyss. Gods, you look like one too.” Tried to joke Lipos. If he was dying he wanted his last words to be a joke. His curiosity got the better of him, words leaving his frozen lips and betraying his intent. “Does it look bad?”

  Tracing the wound that connected both the severed arm and the stump with a finger, its touch mended the skin, not leaving a scar.

  “Whoa.” Exclaimed Likos, half believing he was hallucinating.

  “What did you want to work on, Lipos?” Noct evaded the question and did his best to finish the treatment of the wound from the inside out, his tunnel vision getting worse.

  Realising what he was telling him after a good while, he meditated for a while and answered, “Being a bartender doesn’t sound half bad. I always loved the warm atmosphere in bars.”

  “Then I will grant you a recommendation note for the Carpenters' Guild. They will give you a good price for your tavern. Do not fear, you will keep the arm. Won’t work the same, but close enough.”

  “We will see…I am not that good with money.…The others?”

  Sorak, having finished her treatments, answered from behind. “Tiamat, Mulligan, Caesar and Ymus are dead. The rest are battered but well.”

  “...I need a drink.” Cursed Lipos. Noct grunted and fell backwards, gasping after finishing the treatment.

  “Carry him to the others, paladin.”

  Almost refusing, she realised it would be quicker to do so and come back. More safer for Lipos too. She would have to pray to Elenia for Noct to not bleed out until them. Princess carrying Lipos, she rushed out towards the tents.

  “I will keep watch, rest up men.” Said Noct absentminded, not realising he was entering delirium. Knowing his condition, he limped and, after a few minutes for him, fell to a crawl towards the nearby corpses. His right arm pressed against his side to try and stop the bleeding, the overwhelming pain of his eye, now half frozen, had turned his vision into guesswork. Trying to limp instead of crawling, he tripped on the snow thanks to his broken knee and almost fell over. Struggling to find a corpse as most had been buried amidst sow already, his mind turned to an useless recapitulation of the fight. ‘Enchanted bolts and blades. They were not common unlaws.’ Finally arriving near a corpse he used the nearby tree to aid him in his mission to crouch without face planting. He let out a laugh. He had lost half his company again.

  His eyes traced the clothes as his hands tried, and failed, to form a necromantic spell. ‘They were wearing the countess’ armour, yet it was badly made. Not proper men at arms. A plot to uncover?’ His fingers managed to create the spell yet it had been fruitless. The lifeforce was no longer collectable. It had been too damaged by the cold. He felt himself fall. ‘These types of enchantments require skiller mages…Not available to countesses nor barons…The Empress has come…to collect her due?’

  His blood was struggling to form a pool below him, only staining the snow pink as his wounds had mostly been frozen by this point. He should be dead. Maybe this was death. So cold. So lonely. The sound was muffled, too muffled. He could not hear the howl of the wind. He could not hear his thoughts. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. He let out a cackle this time, hearing it neither. He felt not how a pair of armoured gauntlets tried to raise him before he was buried by the blizzard. He struggled. He did not know why. The cold was going away.

  “By Elenia!” Came the scream he could not hear. “Can you hold still before you bleed out?!” Sorak, who had rushed out once Lipos had been out of immediate danger, finally sat Noct against the tree. “...how can you walk, yet struggle, is beyond me…You hear me?!” Needing a stronger healing, Sorak undressed his gauntlets, ignoring the bite of cold.

  Noct, no longer shivering, turned his face towards her, not seeing her. Frowning seeing that torn eye, she started her prayers and put her hands on Noct, one on the eye, the other on the armpit, the knee could wait, and started to send holy energy. Now Noct spoke or, more correctly, screamed. He cried out as if he was being skinned…no, as if he was being burnt alive. His wounds, unfrozen, started to bleed more as if resisting the healing.

  “Nethers!” Sorak sended a bigger wave. ‘It is just a simple stab. The worst part is the eye, it is messed up beyond repair. Maybe it stabbed deep and cursed him?...The bolts weren’t…Maybe the sword that stabbed?...Poison, perhaps?’ Sorak stopped her mind from wandering. This was not the time. The third wave of healing faith did cause a reaction. Noct pushed her hands away and stared at her, his last irish half brown half green.

  “Do not do more. I…I can deal with it…Heal Simon! You hear…me?!? Save him! Not me!”

  “Noct, you are dying.” She ignored his struggles and placed her hands on the injuries again. “If you do not let me heal you, you are going to bleed out.” Not waiting for his agreement, she started again.

  “I ordered you to save Simon!!” That last word turned into another scream.

  Taken aback by his sudden outburst she, nevertheless, didn’t back down. Her eyes looked at Noct. A completely battered appearance, drenched in frozen blood and snow, his eye shifting tones between the green and the brown continuously. ‘He is suffering from grey…’ She cut her line of thinking before it arrived at a place she couldn’t have ignored as a paladin of Elenia. She stopped her healing, having burned the wounds shut.

  Tearing a piece of her clothes, she tried to bandage them while Noct casted and failed the execution of some spells, the runic spells flickering green and blue before shattering. Seeing that it was his concentration that was failing him, she tried to calm him up using her battered shield, reinforced by his faith, to hide them from the worst of the storm and speaking as softly as she could.

  “Breath in and out. The injury is not that bad for your healing. Calm down.”

  “It’s…it’s the same that happened with Simon.” He gave up on casting spells, his frostbitten hands falling to the ground as if giving up. “Tried to save him too, cost us men. The same…it happened again, I killed him again. They are dead…Not me…why…I should, not them. Me…Them…” Seeing Noct descend into a panic spiral she took the risky bet. With a controlled punch she knocked him out and forced with sheer faith the wounds to heal even more, ignoring its unnatural sizzling and bubbling until it formed a horrible scar that extended way more than it should have, now lording almost half of his side and face.

  Rising him up and carrying him on her shoulders, she felt her recently treated wounds scream in pain. She did not care. She returned to the campment.

  ……………..