Bacorium Legacy (27 page)

And then, under the rule of Zinoro, Acaria had emerged from its own death, with an army that dwarfed the size of Manorith's. These soldiers were inhuman - they killed without hesitation, they never spoke, and they charged into death without a single concern.

The nation of Acaria had come back with a vengeance - in only twenty years.

There was a scream from below as one of the students was cut down. It pained Dori to see them die, but such was the life of a mercenary. Nobody expected to learn the secret training of Allma without having to pay a price - whether that was death or service to whoever paid.

He had to be careful in choosing where to direct Austille to strike. The Allmans were gathering in groups where they could, but the occasional flash of white in the sea of black meant that he couldn't have Austille attack there. But when they were surrounded by enemies, those lone students did not tend to live long anyway...

“Dori, look,” Austille said. “Down at the gate.”

He looked down, his vision no less sharp with age. At the gate, surrounded by several dozen Acarians stood the strange acolyte who Zinoro had sent to command this attack, unmistakable with his grey skin, shaved head, and tattoos.

“He emerges at last,” the dragon rumbled. “Shall I strike there next? We can slay their leader. Without his orders, they will be confused.”

“Yes, but be wary,” Dori said. “He may be preparing some attack.”

As Austille flew down towards the gate, Dreevius beckoned and a flurry of arrows flew at Austille from archers on the rooftops. Hundred of arrows.

Dori used wind magick to keep any from hitting him - the rest just bounced uselessly off Austille's skin.

“Fools!” Austille roared. “If that was your plan, you have wasted your chance!”

Even from where he was, Dori could make out the expression on Dreevius' face. He was smiling - a confident smirk.

“Austille, wait!”

It was too late. Dreevius held up his left hand, revealing some sort of strange orb filled with thick black smoke. He channelled his mana through it, and it turned red.

Austille cried out and twisted in mid-air. Rather than come to a stop right before Dreevius, he crashed into the ground, thrashing and writhing in pain. Dori was thrown off of his back, and he flew a far distance and struck the wall of the temple.

Austille roared, thrashing wildly in blind agony. The Acarians swarmed on him by the dozens. In his thrashing, his tail knocked many down, and his claws tore several apart, but that didn't stop them. They surrounded over him like black ants swarming over a piece of dropped food, and while their arrows could not piece the dragon's thick skin, their swords had no such difficulty. They stabbed madly, wherever they could, and drew back blades covered in green blood.

Dori cried out. He rose, ignoring the pain in his old, crippled body. He took several unsure steps.

He did not get far. His body just would not move. He fell onto one knee, realising one of his legs, and at least one of his ribs was broken.

Austille cried out in pain again, whether it was from the strange orb Dreevius held or the dozens of Acarian soldier stabbing him, or both, Dori could not know.

Feebly, Dori tried to crawl to his suffering friend. A boot stepped on his fingers.

“Watch,” Dreevius said to him. “Watch as the dragon dies.”

Dori could not. He closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do, however, to block out the sound of Austille's screams. Tears ran down his cheeks.

And then - the screaming stopped. The Acarian soldiers continued to stab at the dragon, even in death. They would continue until their leader ordered them to stop.

“Austille...” Dori sobbed in a weak, defeated voice.

“Don't worry,” Dreevius said, as Dori heard the sound of a blade being drawn. “You will soon join him in death.”

Dori looked up at the grey man before him. He recognised what he was, and he had no adoration for his kind. But no matter what colour of skin he had, or even what species he was, there was no possibility of mercy for him now.

“Oh, how cute,” Dreevius said. “The old drunk wants to fight back.”

He took a few steps away, giving Dori the chance to climb back to his feet. The Acarian soldiers had finally ceased their mindless stabbing of Austille's corpse, and had now gathered in a large circle around Dori and their master, cutting off any possibility of escape. Not that it mattered, as Dori had no intention of desire to get away. He knew he was finished.

But if he could help it, he would take this man with him.

He rose, leaning heavily on his cane, gasping painfully through his broken ribs. His leg filled him with intense pain, but on a second look, he found it was not broken - at least not enough to completely cripple him.

Dori looked back over at his friend, ignoring the sneering Acarian who waited for him. He sighed, reached within his coat, and drew out a flask.

“For you, old friend,” he said. He took a long swig, and when he was finished, the flash was empty. He threw it aside.

He then turned his attention back to Dreevius. The acolyte stared back at him, waiting with a cocky amusement.

“Well? I don't have all day.”

“Sorry about this Ash,” Dori muttered. “I'm afraid I have to leave you alone now. Hopefully you and your brother can get out of this place.” He wondered where Ash was now, and prayed the boy was safe, both from the Acarians and Allma's schemes.

“What was that you said?” Dreevius asked.

“You honourless cur,”Dori spat at him. “I curse you. The death coming for you may not be at my hand, but I pray it will be nothing but slow and agonising for what you have done. Regardless...”

Dori then burst forth, twisting the cane he held as he moved. The top of the polished wood turned, and he drew it out of the rest of it. A slender blade was freed, and he tossed the rest of the cane - in truth, the sheath of his concealed sword - aside.

Dreevius gave a start at the unexpected speed of the ragged old man before him. He hastily drew his own sword, and was able to block Dori's assault just in time to spare himself from a fatal stroke.

Dori landed on his good leg, and as he shifted his weight back to the wounded one, he grimaced in pain. Still, his quick step back was not hindered, and he swung his blade once again, this time low, aiming to take Dreevius' legs off.

Unable to block the attack, Dreevius clumsily stepped back, and Dori pressed his advantage. He swung his light blade in quick, masterful strokes, and it was half by luck that Dreevius was able to block them at all.

But on the fifth, he made his inevitable mistake, and Dori's blade struck his wrist. Despite the sword's light weight, Dori swung it with a skill only a master could. The cut was clean, and Dreevius screamed as he stumbled away, clutching the bleeding stump that has once been his sword hand.

“D-don't just stand there, you mindless fools!” Dreevius screamed. “Kill him! Kill him!”

Dori moved to close in on him, and deal the finishing blow to his now helpless opponent. But a wall of armoured Acarians quickly formed between them, and he had no chance.

Dozens of blades were swung at him, and he fought them off as well as he could. But he was old, and he no longer had the stamina to fight for so long. Dori lasted for perhaps half a minute against the endless swarm of Acarians, slaying five or six of his opponents, before one of them finally managed to run their blade into his back.

“Damn...” he muttered, blood dripping from his lips.

He had a second or so to ponder his life. He thought of his apprentice, and his older brother, the suicidally reckless boy that Lodin had brought up. Ash was so different from his brother it was hard to believe they were related, but the one thing they shared was an intense passion. Lodin himself had had that same passion, before that business with Manorith and Zinoro had robbed him of it. That passion would drive them to their deaths one day, but it was also a source of strength.

Perhaps he should have told Luca the whole truth of what he was doing.

And then, dozens of blades were driven into Dori, just like Austille, and he was dead.

<> <> <>

Emila jumped to her feet when the door to Dori's house opened. She clutched the ice dagger in her hand, fearing that Acarians had finally come to check the place, but she let out a sigh of relief when she saw the long white hair that could only have belonged to Luca's brother.

But when two other people followed Ash in, neither of whom were Luca, she was grew worried.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Ash glanced at her. “You're my brother's companion?”

She nodded. “He said he would meet me here with you. Who are these two and where is he?”

“This is Selphie, princess of Sono,” Ash said. “And her guard.”

“Jared,” said the guard.

“Okay - and where is Luca?”

Ash shrugged. “Off fighting, I guess. He told me to tell you to flee with us.”

Emila blinked. “W-what? I thought he-”

Jared glanced out the door's small window. “I don't think anyone saw us, but we should still make haste. They may have seen us enter.”

“Why would he say that?” Emila demanded. “What happened? What made him change his mind?”

He couldn't have been in his right mind, she thought. He knew what would happen if she left without him - as soon as they were too far apart, the tether would be broken and he would die. After all that talk of his about being unable too die, and his relief at surviving, why would he just want to throw his life away?

“Emila?” Selphie said, stepping forward and smiling. “I believe that's what Luca said your name was?”

She nodded, wary of these new people.

“I don't exactly understand what the circumstances are between you two,” Selphie said to her. “But I feel that Luca is concerned for your safety. Whatever his reasons are, I'm sure that he means well.”

“Ash, where is the entrance to these caverns?” Jared asked.

“Here,” Ash said, stepping past everyone and opening the inconspicuous door. The cool air of the caves filled the room.

“Brand is not here either,” Emila said to the princess. “What happened to this - group that you were putting together? Has everything been tossed aside because of this attack?”

“Well, yes,” Selphie replied. “It is unfortunate, but I cannot remain here. My life is in jeopardy with this attack happening, and if I were to be killed, it could result in many more lost lives.”

“Emila, we can talk about this later,” Ash said to her.

“I can't go with you!” Emila insisted. “I need to be near him, or he'll die!”

The three exchanged glances.

“Emila, I owe my brother a debt,” Ash said, an edge of impatience in his voice. “I told him I would inform you of his wishes for you, but if you aren't coming with us, we'll have no choice but to leave you behind.”

Emila looked at the first door - the one leading to the caverns, and then at the second - the door that lead back outside to the battlefield. The room was briefly illuminated by a flash of light, caused by someone using magick not too far away. She heard the sound of a dying scream - an Allman, for the Acarians did not scream - and she flinched.

“No. I will not leave without him.”

Jared muttered something and strode past her, stepping through the door to the caverns. Selphie gave Emila a look of understanding, she said, “Good luck,” and followed after the guard.

Ash watched her for a moment. “You really care about him, don't you?”

She nodded slowly.

He shrugged, and brushed his long hair out of his eyes. “Well, I don't really know what to say. There's nothing out there now but death. He made a mistake in not fleeing as well.”

“A - mistake?” Emila said. “What do you mean?”

“Because he attacked me when I spoke of you before,” Ash said, turning his back to her and taking the first couple of steps towards the door. “Clearly you mean a lot to him, as well. But in the end, he chose honour over you.”

With those parting words, Ash disappeared into the caves, closing the door behind him.

Silence took the room once more. The only thing she could hear was the muffled sounds of war outside. Dying screams.

Emila looked down at her hands.

Blood.

She had blood on her hands.

It was two years ago, and she was watching as her home was burned. She saw men she had known her whole life, being beaten and slaughtered like animals. She saw the women being thrown to the ground while Acarian soldiers stood over them with lecherous grins. She saw her father's glasses, stained with blood. She saw her mother's dress, alone at the table, a massive pool of blood where her head should have been. Her entire life, destroyed in a single afternoon, and all by one man.

The man with the single, red eye.

“I can't do it...” she whispered, her voice like the flickering flame of a candle in the wind.

She remembered earlier in the day, when an Acarian, after crawling out of the ground with the others, had caught sight of her as she sat on that bench, while she was waiting for Luca to come back.

That man had charged at her, and all she could do was run from him, and put up feeble resistance with her ice daggers. She had many chances to put down her slow, weak enemy, but she never took them. She couldn't kill, not even an Acarian, the people who she hated and feared more than anything.

Life meant so much to her, for she had seen so much of it lost. She knew what a miracle it was that she herself lived. The thought of taking a life herself...

She could never do that.

So now she waited, on the chance that Luca would make it and come back to her. What if he didn't? What if that Acarian man caught him again, and stabbed him through the heart once more? What if Luca didn't survive a second time?

He chose honour over you...

It was not his weakness that he did the right thing. It was a virtue, which was a quality far too lacking in the world they lived in. If there were more honourable men like Luca, then perhaps she would not have been sitting there, hoping that he made it back to her. Perhaps there would not be so much death in the world.