Except, there was. Far ahead of him, behind the four men running at him, Mana stood. The blue at her fingertips was as deep blue as it had been, and four beams of light struck the armed men. Without exception, they disappeared, leaving their armor and weapons on the ground. Mana stumbled again, clutching at the carriage's body for stability. Matt rushed to her side, helping her back inside the carriage.
As he did so, he looked at her dress, the fabric decorated by bloody handprints. "Oh my gods, I'm sorry, Priestess Mana," Matt apologized, bowing as he did so. That dress wouldn't be so easy to clean.
"You've nothing to apologize for, young Matthew. In fact, I am in your debt. Your courage has saved both of our lives, and I do appreciate the help in finding my seat once more," Mana said, sighing as she reclined. Matt didn't know the first thing about magic, but it looked like it took a lot out of the caster.
"Is the driver dead?"
"Yes, he is. I'll perform rites for him when I am a little more rested. We will figure out the rest of our journey tomorrow," Mana offered, her voice growing fainter as she explained her plans. Within moments, the priestess was asleep, her head resting against the hard wood of the carriage. Matt tried to do the same on his own seat, but blissful sleep would not find him.
His hands, still dirty, were a constant reminder of the fact that he had just claimed a human life, as if he were some kind of arbiter of who was to die and who wasn't. Yes, it had been in self-defense. It wasn't reasonable to worry about the moral consequences of his actions, but he still did. For all he knew, the men were starving and needed coin to feed their families. In that case, would they be the villains, or he?
He tossed and turned until Mana woke a couple hours later. The sun had begun to set, bringing a sorrowful conclusion to their fourth day of travel. It would be the first night they hadn't slept in an inn, and the first night during which they'd have to offer their prayers to the gods to help the driver's soul find its way in the afterlife.
"Why did they attack us?" Matt asked as they sat by a small fire. His voice was small – he hated it.
"We'll never know, young Matthew. I suspect they weren't short on coin, based on their equipment. It boggles the mind, but you should not be worrying why. They chose to enter combat with an unarmed carriage, ready to claim the lives that it held within. Do they deserve mercy?"
"I'm not sure," he whispered slowly, his mind turning the question over but finding no answer.
"They do not. Actions have consequences, young Matthew, and theirs just caught up with them."
The priestess' words made him feel better, but he couldn't shake the dark specter that had its grip around his heart. Gods, if being a warrior meant that he'd have to do this again, he didn't know that he could do it. It's something those legends and myths always left out; there was great glory on the battlefield, but there was even more sorrow. Even for the victors.
Those thoughts, grim as they were, accompanied him as he finally drifted off to sleep. Not even the demons that plagued him could prevent his exhausted body, finally drained of adrenaline, from collapsing.
When he woke again, it was on the carriage's hard bench. Mana sat across him, with a pile of the bandits' weapons between them. Matt's eyebrows raised in surprise, something the perceptive woman noticed. "As much as I hate to say it, I only have enough money to cover our room and board. We'll need to sell some of this to hire another driver in the next town."
It made sense, but that plan left a big question unanswered. "How will we get to the next town?"
Mana, suddenly looking less like the representative of one of the most influential goddesses and more like an embarrassed common lady, pointed at him. "I was hoping you knew how to drive a wagon. Surely you've done it at the quarry."
"I drove oxen, priestess! And that was before they removed me from that post because of my ineptitude," Matt sputtered.
"Well, here's your chance to learn!" the priestess said, her tone returning to a totally uncalled-for joviality. Matt glared at her, but he realized that she probably had even less experience with driving a carriage than he. Despite her having renounced her family, it was almost certain Mana was from a noble family.
He stepped outside the carriage, taking his spot on the driver's bench. It felt weird, to be filling in for a man that ought to have still been sitting there. Matt didn't even know the man well, but the loss affected him more than he thought it would. Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, he gripped the reins. "Iapetus guide me," he whispered, praying to his patron god. There probably wasn't much the Piercer could do, but any help was welcome.
The carriage began moving slowly, and they made incremental progress towards the next town. With the horses fighting him at every second minute, it was a surprise that it went as well as it did. Maybe he had a talent for this thing after all!
The town, a small thing of maybe a few thousand residents, appeared over the horizon. They'd be there soon. "And thank the gods for that," Matt mumbled.