The Silver Wolves
Celeste's every breath burned like fire, each gasp bringing a sharp pain from her chest. She groaned as she tried to sit up, clenching her teeth to keep from screaming. Her right hand, drenched with blood, gingerly felt her right side. It was partially caved in just below her breast, the leather armor only being able to absorb so much impact before the rest had crushed her ribs.
Celeste was lying slumped against a rock, surrounded by the dead. A pained and muffled scream caught her attention as her head rolled to her left to see Miles sitting nearly beside her, pulling a tourniquet above her right knee, staunching the blood flow from where his right leg used to be. He slumped against the same rock, fighting unconsciousness, absently running his hand over the scar above his heart. She chuckled weakly, remembering his disastrous first mission where he got it, and how he always rubbed it when he thought no one was looking.
"Told you this was a bad idea," Celeste gasped. Even death wouldn't keep her from being snarky.
A chuckle that led into a pained groan came from Miles.
"I got something to tell you." she wheezed, feeling herself slowly sliding down the rock.
"Fuck off."
"Fuck you, you're going to hear it."
She slapped at him with her left hand with what little strength she had left in it, landing it on his right thigh, causing him to spit curses.
"Shut the fuck up rook." She groaned again, swallowing heavily, "I always liked you; you know? You were just too chickenshit to do anything about it." She grinned at him, blood on her lips crimson, "I woulda fucked you good."
"Fuck off, you could have done something about that yourself."
Celeste chuckled weakly, groaning again in pain, "What can I say, I'm kind of a bitch like that." She was having a hard time focusing, "just, just promise me, you'll take me home, Miles." Her voice broke, "Please."
She felt his hand grasp hers and squeeze hard, "Yeah. You'll have to show me the sights."
A small smile played across her face as the darkness closed around her, "Sure, that sounds nice."
Miles leaned over to check her, when the rock they had been hiding behind exploded, tossing them through the air to land a dozen meters away. He gasped in pain as he reoriented himself, looking around for Celeste, but he had lost her in the sea of corpses.
Miles turned his attention to another thundering explosion, seeing an armored giant of a man slamming into the ground, driving his spear with both hands onto his prone target, roaring with rage. A shuddering scream emanated from below him as the writhing form of a corrupted and twisted being thrashed in the rubble. A charred and mauled claw shattered the golden spear as if it were made of paper and the form lashed out at the man's exposed legs, tearing through his armor, flesh and bone with ease, driving him to his knees as another claw pierced the golden lion emblazoned on his armor into his chest.
The man spat blood through clenched teeth, driving the remaining shattered haft of his spear down into the creature's heart, fully falling onto her wretched form, seeing her gold irises burn with hatred as her claws searched for his heart.
The creature gave out a tired feminine chuckle, "Good try, but it won't help you." A sphere of light began to form over them, emitting a keening noise that slowly rose in pitch. She smiled victoriously at him, "I'll see you next time."
His left hand jammed a vial into her mouth as she gloated and then slugged her as hard as he could with the other, shattering the fragile glass. Her body suddenly seized as burning light shot from mouth, eyes and nose that enveloped them both in a bright blaze, forcing Miles to turn away. He could hear her savage scream tear through his skull, its pitch rising as the light blazed brighter, clawing at his very soul.
The keening sound continued to build as the light faded and Miles saw their two unmoving forms locked in their final struggle. General Lasitus, first sword of the empire, leader of the allied forces, lay silent, glaring in a final moment of hatred as blood dripped from his still lips.
Miles held his breath, afraid that the twisted form of Quinxia, the Queen of Devotion, would suddenly move again, that mankind's final attempt had failed, but she remained frozen in silent repose, her face twisted in grotesque agony. Miles finally exhaled with a nervous laugh that turned into a bitter sob. So many people, so many friends lay dead because of her, and yet here he was, the final witness to her demise.
Suddenly, the sound stopped, and the floating orb of light throbbed above the two bodies. It hovered for a moment, and then shot into the chest of Quinxia, where it shone and pulsed brightly. Panic gripped Miles as he surged forward on his elbows, trying to cross the distance between them, afraid that whatever she had cast would revive her. He pulled his knife as he slipped and used it to pull himself along the ground faster. The light suddenly left her body and then shot into Lasitus where it shone and pulsed brightly as well.
Miles continued to drag himself to the bodies, closing the gap, determined to stop whatever was happening, though he had no idea how. He had no magic, no spells, nothing to disrupt it with. "Let's see you revive after I burn you to ashes you bitch," he spat fiercely, drawing ever closer.
He never got the chance though, as the light ponderously left Lasitus and instead shot directly at him. Miles never even had a chance to dodge.
***
A flash of pain bloomed in his right temple and a ringing resounded through his head as Miles stumbled, trying to remain upright on his two feet. He still had two feet; he was sure of it. He shook his head, trying to get an alien image of some titanic battle out of his mind.
"What did I tell you rook, keep your sword up. The shield blocks your view if you hold it like that."
Miles regained his footing, shaking his head to clear his vision. Celeste was standing in front of him, clad in light leathers, wooden training sword in her right hand.
"Best keep that shield ready rook, or you'll get your head rung again." She launched herself forward with an overhead strike that Miles moved to parry. Rather, he wanted to parry it, and had every intention to, but his body didn't move in that direction. It instead took a step forward and shield-bashed her, knocking her off balance and deflecting her strike. She landed face first on the ground.
"Looks like the rook's got some moves girly," Harun, one of the spectators, guffawed.
"Fuck me, did I telegraph that spin kick?" Celeste was dusting herself off, flipping the finger to the old merc.
A moment of doubt ran through his mind. Had he been in control? Miles shook it off. "You have a tendency to use that feint when you think you've rattled someone and they're on the defensive." Miles smiled from behind the shield, not dropping it in case she tried anything.
"Really put me on my ass there."
"Tits, I was checking out that ass while you were down there," he grinned and braced himself. He stepped back with his right foot and pivoted his body to the right to block her backhanded sword slash with his own blade and then braced as he received her spin kick to the shield. He didn't even need to see it to know it was coming. He dropped low and thrust his sword out as he flicked his shield up and to the left, catching her overhead sword strike and deflecting it while striking her in the solar plexus.
Celeste gasped as she doubled over, falling to the ground kneeling. The wood swords didn't have points, but they still hurt like hell.
Miles tapped the sword on her shoulder casually, and he received back a middle finger and more gasping. He chuckled and stuck the sword in his belt.
"I think that's my first time ever landing a blow on you. How about we stop before you beat me to death?" He offered a hand, which she grasped, pulling herself to his chest. She was breathing more steadily now, pressing on him with a flirtatious grin on her lips.
"It wouldn't be to death rook, just until you're black and blue." She winked at him, pushing herself away softly and picked up her sword, letting him get a good look at her leather clad ass again.
Miles walked to the edge of the ring and dropped off the shield and sword with Harun, the Silver Wolves' quartermaster; a middle-aged blacksmith turned mercenary. "Nice moves rook. Soon enough we'll be able to let you go without a chaperon." He slapped him on the shoulder as he racked the equipment.
Austin, the mercenary leader, stepped up to Celeste as she stretched her arms. "Going easy on him isn't going to do him any favors in the long run." He glanced at the young man talking with Harun. "I want to make sure he's ready and not just feeling ready."