I force myself to rise, clasping the hilt of my sword as I do. My face flares with pain, and I almost lose my balance and fall over. Once again, my arms seem obnoxiously heavy, and I ascertain that it will take some time for me to adjust to their newfound weight.
Kiilda stands perfectly still, perfectly quiet, twenty feet to my right. I face It, but I don’t feel the same kind of determination—or lack thereof—that I usually rouse within myself. This isn’t about fighting anymore. At least not for the moment. It’s about finding the answer. It’s about discovering the truth. It’s about the path to the “river of water” and following it no matter what. Find the “river of water”, and I’ll find the Word. And while the Word may not be “him”, the mystical warrior my parents once spoke to me of and I’ve always dreamed of finding, I have faith that he can help me.
In fact, maybe the two aren’t that different.
I can hear my heart beating in my chest. I have to find a way to avoid It, I think. I can’t engage It. I clench my sword, thinking desperately, trying to discern as to whether I’ve ever subconsciously noticed a clue that would lead me to the “river of water”. Did I see any source of water while upon the mountain? Not that I can remember. In fact, I can’t say that I’ve seen one drop of water the whole time I’ve been in Kiilda. Gus told me that the location of the river changes for every person that enters Kiilda.
So I guess this is really my endeavor. This is my adventure, and my adventure alone.
My fear of Kiilda is escalating. The demon stands there, unmoving, but the way Its eyes pierce me; it’s as if Its gaze is turning me to stone. Kiilda is so large, so bold, so intimidating. The folds of Its black cloak flap behind it like the wings of a dragon beginning to unfurl. Its long, spikey hair looks completely bizarre and alien. The dull, unchanging, open-mouthed frown of the beast is even more unsettling. It has no interest for my life. It has no pity. It has no emotion. It only kills.
But my fear gives me power. I allow it to fill me and drive me. I mold my fear into courage. I accept the challenge that the demon imposes upon me. The challenge to face It. The challenge to not fear it. The challenge to not back down.
I grip my sword, preparing the movements in my mind before making them occur. This isn’t running away, I tell myself. This is setting up my victory. I pivot away from Kiilda, leaning forward in the direction I want to go, and without false-stepping, I shoot away in the opposite direction of the demon.
I don’t need confirmation that Kiilda is following me. If It isn’t, then good. That would be incredibly relieving. But I doubt that this is the case. I believe that It is pursuing me. And I believe that It will overtake me. I stagger initially, my arms throwing my stride out of balance, but I right myself, hastening forward. My stomach still feels bizarre, rotten even. Only by trying as hard as I can am I able to ignore the feelings of distortion running through my body.
The enormous hole in the ground is growing closer as I push myself to sprint faster. I can already sense that any moment, I’ll have to turn about and exchange blows with the demon pursuing me. Nevertheless, I don’t want to do so by the circular abyss—it’s far too perilous, foolish even. Thus, I veer to the right, and immediately thereafter whirl in the direction of Kiilda. The monster is much closer than I thought It would be. I intercept the blade of the beast by turning my sword horizontally, and am consequently lifted off my feet, shoved upwards by the demon. It’s hard for me to alight gracefully on the ground—or at least as gracefully as I normally would—due to the multiple effects of the stone-infection. Staggering as I land, I swiftly regain my balance and sidestep an attack from Kiilda. Then I bolt away in the direction of the forest, which is about two hundred yards away from the hole in the ground.
I don’t know where to find the “river of water”. I know that I’ve been in the forest, technically, before. But it’s not like I’ve searched it thoroughly for the “river of water”. What’s more, it seems like the only place that could effectively conceal the river. Wouldn’t Kiilda, as the god of this world, hide the river from Its opponents?
I’m forced to cease my approach of the forest three times. Each time I pivot around to face Kiilda, I find that I’m just in time to stop the demon from stabbing me in the back. The exchanges are short, and I make them this way purposefully. Careful not to engage Kiilda, I escape each time, gradually arriving at the fringe of the forest. The forest seems like the perfect place to conceal the “river of water”; it is dark and foreboding, the deep shadows daunting and forlorn.
I turn once again to clash with Kiilda as I reach the first line of trees, jerking out of the way of the demon’s sword which comes flashing upwards for my face. I grit my teeth, wondering how long I can keep this up. I can feel the stone-infection growing, and sweat begins to drip from my face. The river had better be close. Because if it’s not…
“John…” the Word’s voice comes to me, faintly.
I incline my attention to him, but only as much as I am able. I parry an attack from Kiilda by turning my blade horizontally and grasping the broken tip. Blood runs from my left hand as I cut myself on the jagged point of my sword.
“John…” the Word says. I don’t know why, but the more I hear his voice, I feel as if it’s the voice of a young man, someone not much older than me.
What is he trying to tell me? Can’t he say more?
Kiilda shoves me further into the forest. Good, I think, using it as an opportunity to escape from It and go deeper into the woods.
“John…” the Word speaks again. It sounds like a…warning.
Why would he…?
I stop, looking about, and then casting my gaze back to Kiilda, who pursues tirelessly. It’s not here… I realize. The river must be elsewhere. But where?
I have to get out of the woods. All of a sudden, as the knowledge that the river isn’t here hits me, I sense that Kiilda wants me to be here. I skirt past a few trees, placing obstacles in between myself and the monster rushing after me, heading for the field once again. Dangit! I think. Even though, apparently, my logic was wrong and the forest doesn’t contain the river, the feeling of having absolutely no direction feels worse than having the wrong one. Where do I go?
What if I’ve always known the answer? What if it’s always been right in front of me? Could that be possible?
I burst out of the woods, lunging into the air. Kiilda flits upwards after me. I spin while still airborne, aware that Kiilda is directly behind me, and our blades collide. I start to backflip away from the beast, not intentionally, but then I follow through with the flip, twirling while I plummet so that I am facing away from the forest once again. Then I take off at top speed away from Kiilda.
I’m satisfied with my speed; I near the giant hole in the ground in about thirty seconds. I have no intention of dueling Kiilda next to the abyss, but perhaps I can use it as an obstacle to keep the monster away so that I might regain my breath. Putting that plan into action, I circumvent the circular chasm. And then I allow myself to come to a halt.
To my dismay, Kiilda wastes no time; It hastens after me, running around the hole to where I stand. I have two options; I can run around in the opposite direction of the hole and play tag with the demon, or I can turn away and run away from the chasm altogether. I choose the latter.
I knew that whichever option I chose, Kiilda was going to catch me. Therefore, I decided to go in the direction that I thought gave me the safest fighting terrain. In other words, I thought it reasonable to choose not to battle the monster by the seemingly endless abyss of darkness. Running about twenty yards away from the hole, I plant my foot and turn for what seems the hundredth time and prepare to exchange blows with the demon.
Only It hasn’t followed me.
Kiilda stands tall and voluminous, like a massive storm cloud, at the edge of the hole, clasping Its sword with both hands as It faces me and waits. But… I think, the recognition dawning u
pon me, …it’s not waiting. The demon isn’t pausing without reason. This isn’t just happening. During this battle, this is the only time Kiilda has stopped pursuing me.
What’s so special about right now? What’s so special about this place?
My mouth falls open, and I grunt. Now I understand. Of course, I think wearily, but with newfound resolve. Kiilda really is a simple creature. I grip my sword, relief, determination, and courage rushing through me. The moment I arrived in Kiilda, I realize, I should’ve let go of that chain.
I cast my thoughts out to the Word. Let’s do this.
I dash forward, my arms trailing behind my as I run, and I lean forward, mustering every fiber of balance and agility within me. You just gave it away, I say mentally to Kiilda. Kiilda takes up a stance as I charge It. It’s ready to defend the abyss. It’s ready to defend the one place that will give me the strength and power I need to defeat It.
I’m fifteen yards away from the beast. Now ten. Now five…
Kiilda draws back Its sword.
“Sorry…” I begin, speaking to the demon. I force myself to speed up right as I’m within Kiilda’s grasp. The monster aims Its strike and then swings. The attack is massive. I’ll be cut in two.
But I lunge into the air, front flipping over the monster’s sword. The action is so fast, so perfectly executed, I’m astonished with my own dexterity. And I shout as I somersault in the air, finishing, “…but this time I choose the battlefield!”
And I drop into the darkness of the hole. Air whips my face as I plummet, and for a moment, all I can feel is satisfaction with my success. And peace. And certainty.
Even though I’m completely in the dark, I feel everything begin to twist and turn. It’s happening again. I don’t know if Kiilda is somehow going to bring me back up to the surface, or if I’ve successfully done exactly what I said: chosen the next battlefield. I guess there’s nothing I can do about it. I slip into the blackness completely, and once again, lose consciousness.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: ADELYNN GRIM
The camp has grown bizarrely quiet. The stillness is beginning to become unnerving. And it’s not just the activity level within the camp, but the bandits themselves. To my surprise, this includes Aethyer.
Aethyer sits beside me, squatting down into a crouch. A shadow is over his face, and he stares out towards the front of the camp. “Aeth?” I ask him, using his nickname.
He doesn’t look back at me.
I follow his gaze. What’s he looking at?
Captain Sharon stands with her advisors on the edge of our camp on a small incline in the ground, which grants one a view of the fields preceding the castle of Castrum. Aethyer breathes deeply, his eyebrows lowered and his face tense. “What is i—?” I begin to ask in a gentle voice. But I think I know what’s going through his head.
Without allowing me to continue, he wraps his right arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. Okay, I think, accepting the embrace, the closeness he wants right now. But what are you planning? What are you going to do?
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER
Castrum Fortress is in a frenzy. Or, at least as much of a frenzy as it is able to be in. There are a depressingly small amount of warriors to hustle and bustle about. Perhaps we have eighty, if you count the kids that are eleven to twelve years old. For being so young, the kids are actually astounding fighters. But, having seen and experienced the skill of the average Brown Bandit, I know that the adolescents of Castrum Fortress won’t really earn us any better odds of winning.
I was told only recently about what happened at Tarsh’s exchange. From what else I’ve heard, Lord Beznar wasn’t pleased with Frances’ actions. Frances, he declared, doomed Castrum Fortress. We’ve been evacuating as many citizens as we can while simultaneously preparing for the Brown Bandits to attack.
Lord Beznar offered for me, Faith, and Frater to evacuate also. In Frater’s case, there was no option; we told John that we would keep him safe, so he is indefinitely departing the castle. Faith and I decided that someone had to go with him though. And that person, although I don’t like it, is I.
If Faith stays, I know that she’s going to get hurt…at least. There’s no way that Castrum can win this battle. Thus, because Faith is fighting on Castrum’s side, she’ll at best be captured, and killed at worst. I don’t want to leave her; I wish I didn’t have to go with Frater. But I understand that someone must. And Faith won’t go. She has this idea in her head that she has to stay with Tarsh. I still don’t know how a friendship formed between them, but it has. She can be so stubborn sometimes.
And so I leave out of the northern-most gate of Castrum Fortress, away from the site of the battlefield. Walking alongside me are the children and elderly members of Castrum Fortress, along with a group of guards. Frater is at my left, having been given some new clothes and shoes for the journey. It’s cold. I don’t know exactly where we’re going…somewhere into the mountains behind the castle. I hope the Brown Bandits won’t come looking for us.
My heart has gradually begun beating quicker as each hour passes. Everything has turned downcast so quickly. John still isn’t back. Faith is going to get captured, maybe even die. We hardly even got to say goodbye. And that’s not even mentioning Frances, Ashida, and everyone else fighting.
And then there’s me. The one walking away from the battle. The one who can’t help. I scowl to myself as I walk, trying to remain hopeful, trying to find the bright side. But there isn’t any. And now, I’m put out of a position even to change that.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK
I heft my bow, doing my best to ignore the slighting cold wind that blows across the battlement. A part of me doesn’t even know why I’m here. I’m standing here alongside forty archers, facing an army of over two hundred skilled warriors. We don’t even have a plan of attack, as far as I know. We’re going to be slaughtered. This part of me feels like crying.
But then there’s another part of me, urging me to be strong. In fact, this part of me has left me feeling confident. Confident even in the face of all this adversity. Confident because I believe in myself; I believe in my actions. I don’t know, or I don’t even trust, that things will turn out okay for me. Insofar as my safety goes, I don’t think this was the right choice. But my heart tells me that I should be at peace with my decision. My decision to stay and fight.
My heart thuds a little faster. A thought just entered my mind…and it seems so…grown up.
Is this what dying feels like? Being scared, but feeling confident at the same time?
Am I going to die?
The Brown Bandits begin forming orderly ranks in the fields outside the castle. The wind blows a little harder. I suddenly feel so small. I feel little. I feel like a child. What am I doing here? Why did I stay? I don’t need to be a part of this battle!
“Faith?” I hear Tarsh’s voice behind me.
I pivot, faster than I think is normal, and I turn to him.
His eyes are wide with surprise.
FLASHBACK
“You need to leave, Faith!” Tarsh exclaims, stepping towards me. Even though it’s dark in Lord Beznar’s throne room at this time of the day, I can tell Tarsh is looking at me intently, and I think Frances is too.
“You have no obligation to stay, Faith,” Lord Beznar says gently. “In fact, I would prefer it if you and Bernard took John’s brother and departed from Castrum Fortress.”
I pause, exhaling deeply. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to. I knew that this would happen, that we would be given the choice to leave. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to abandon these people. I don’t want to leave before John gets back. And besides, where would we go?
But if we stay, we’re bound to get killed, or at least captured, by the Brown Bandits. I know we can’t let that happen to Frater; we told John we’d look after him.
“…
O—okay,” I say at last. Tarsh seems to relax beside me, and I do also, allowing my shoulders to droop. I exhale deeply again, releasing some of my pent up stress and confusion.
“Good,” Lord Beznar says, “there are no hard feelings. We thank you for your aid to us in the Invasion of Howaito Maki. Tread carefully wherever you go, and may fortune be upon you and your companions. Should John Hedekira return, we will send him after you.”
“Thanks,” I say in a small, defeated voice.
For a moment, all I do is stand there in silence, unable to bring myself to turn away. Then I hear Tarsh’s voice, “Faith…”
A shiver runs through me.
I look over at him, my face impassive.
“Thanks for everything,” he says, a gentle, cool smile on his face. “Your company has really meant a lot to me these past few days. You’re probably the only true friend I’ve ever had.”
“Thanks,” I say again, just as dully as before.
“See ya’ later, Faith,” Frances says in what I believe to be an overly cheerful voice. “Come back to visit!”
I grunt. “Uh, yeah, I will!” Lastly, I cast my gaze to Lord Beznar. I don’t know if I’m supposed to do this, but I bow, saying, “Thank you, Lord Beznar. We couldn’t have rescued Frater without you.”
“You are welcome, Faith,” the old man responds, inclining his head and smiling softly.
I still don’t want to leave Castrum Fortress. I don’t even want to leave the room. Yet I find myself turning away from the throne, away from Tarsh and Frances, and taking step after step away from them. Not another word passes between us. I can feel them watch me go. Opening the door to the throne room, I pause for a moment in the exit, and then step outside into the corridor.
The door thuds shut behind me. I don’t want to go.
I can’t even believe I’m thinking about doing this.
Shaking my head, I lower my head with determination and sprint away down the corridor. I have to find Bernard. I have to make this right. I have to make this work. I can’t leave.
I don’t know exactly what I want to stay. But I am.
And for whatever reason, as I run down the corridor—the tapestries and paintings on the wall passing by me in a blur—I realize that this is the biggest decision I’ve ever made on my own. There’s never been a moment like this. There’s no one telling me what to do. There’s nothing that I feel is pressuring me into making this decision. This is just me.
And for whatever reason, I’ve never felt more alive. I’ve never felt more like me; more like the person I’ve always wanted to be.
PRESENT
I had hoped he wouldn’t find me. I tried to stand at the front of the archers, where he probably wouldn’t notice me. Of course, I assumed he’d be on top the wall sooner or later, but I reasoned it was unlikely for him to pick me out amidst the other forty archers. Dangit! I think as I face him.
“Faith!” Tarsh says again. “What are you doing here?” He reaches up as if he intends to grab me, but instead grips the air, seemingly out of frustration.
“I—” I begin, suddenly feeling awkward and foolish, like some child committing some rash, daring action to impress grown-ups. I’m tempted to follow through with the feeling of shame and foolishness imbuing me, but I straighten up, finding my resolve once more. I have to at least try and defend myself. “I’m staying,” I say firmly. “I’m going to help fight.”
Clutching my arm, Tarsh leads me away from the archers. Once we are out of hearing-range, Tarsh turns back to me and bends down so that he his icy, big blue eyes are looking directly into mine. “Faith,” he says. “You don’t get it. There is absolutely no point in you staying. We’re all going to die.”
My stomach starts to churn with anxiety. There is no hope at all in words, his eyes, or his countenance in general. He is confident and strong; he doesn’t seem afraid. But he has no hope for survival. “I don’t care,” I reply, “I—”
“Why would you even want to stay so badly?” Tarsh questions, seeming to be genuinely perturbed.
“I wanted to because—”
“You what? Wanted to be some sort of hero?” Tarsh raises his gaze to the sky, exasperated.
I can’t believe he’s so frustrated with me. I knew that if he found me, he’d be surprised, and maybe a little mad. But this isn’t what I expected. He’s more than just frustrated with me; he seems outright disappointed, as if I’ve failed some sort of expectation he had for me. I can’t believe this, I think sadly. He’s seriously about to make me cry.
The next thing I don’t believe is that I find myself acting like John. I clench my fists and look up at Tarsh, stating angrily, “I’m staying because I think it’s the right thing to do, and there’s nothing you can do to change that! So stop talking to me like I’m a little kid, and let me fight with you!” I look away after my outburst, not ashamed. Just unwilling to stare at him any longer. “Let me die with you…”
I hear Tarsh grunt. I am still averting my gaze from him, but then I hear him seem to shiver, and he drops down into a crouch in front of me. That’s when I glance at him.
Then I grunt too. There are tears in his eyes. “Faith,” he whispers. “Don’t do this.”
I can’t bear the emotional intensity of this moment anymore. I have to turn away and go back to my post before I burst into tears. Thus, I pivot away from him, leaving him alone on the opposite side of the wall.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: TARSH LANDID
“Don’t do this,” I say.
Faith hesitates for a moment. For an instant, hope swells within me as I consider that she’s going to remain with me here, to at least talk for another few moments. But I know that in another moment, she also might turn away, leaving me to go back to her post. I wish she would just stay with me, for at least another minute or two.
My arm moves only an inch, and by then she’s already whirled away from me. But I can’t help but carry out the rest of my intended action. My hand brushes the air where she once stood…the air where her hand was. I guess I had…wanted to hold it.
Stupid, I call myself. That probably would’ve been a bad idea anyway.