What followed his rage he didn't remember, and the rest he experienced as a blur and mix of sensations. Something wet on his hands, the weight of Caine on his shoulders and panicked exhaustion. He recalled riding away and dressing their wounds. Stolas thought he may have fallen asleep on the horse (he wasn't sure which he was on) and as such he didn't know where they had ended up or how much time had passed. Although the camp he recollected setting up hid under a rocky outcropping surrounded by miles of flat land. Caine slept comatose, wrapped in both of their bed furs, and Stolas sat hunched, staring at the eggs he delicately placed around the fire. He managed it. Somehow.
He took a sip of tea as he flicked through the Dragon Index. Although he questioned how much they were worth it, the golden egg had piqued his interest. Throughout Caine's extensive research, he hadn't a single detail on the existence of this breed. As far as Stolas knew, it could be anything from a hydra to a lindwurm, and he harboured a tiny spark of excitement to see what would emerge from the shell. His glance flicked to the affectionately named 'Innovia Dragon'. This would be father's favourite without a doubt, he thought fondly. Though as fast as his smile grew, it darkened into a set jaw. Movement.
On the horizon, through the blizzard, Stolas spied two shadows approaching at gaining speed. Quite what they were, he couldn't discern, but his mind jumped to the worst. With Caine out of commission, he would have to confront the visitors himself. In such poor condition, his chances of winning seemed as miserable as the weather, but he beat the odds before. The strategy would have to be the same. Stolas grabbed his weapons and crept over to Caine. Straining under the weight of his mentor, he carried him deeper into the shadows of the outcropping and masked him with snow. Quickly, Stolas dived into a darkened corner and pulled up his hood. His dagger concealed in the sleeve of his coat and the scythe thinly buried within reach. He let out steady, deep breaths to relax, yet sweat glued his clothes to his skin and the hilt slipped in his hand. Silently, he prayed.
God answered.
The sound of hooves on snow reached him, and angels didn't use horses. Two riders. Stolas wondered what they could want. Supplies they couldn't spare, most likely. He gripped the dagger tighter until his knuckles matched the shade of the weather, and his face grew sullen. A discarnate voice pierced the air.
"Hello? Anyone there?" called the voice as the horses slowed, punctuated by the sound of boots landing. "We won't hurt you," A pause. "Are those dragon eggs?" Stolas' panicked eyes darted to the gloved hand, reaching for them, and before he could comprehend his movements, he bolted from the corner and lunged, pushing the individual to the ground and landing atop them with his blade pressed to their gullet. Slate grey eyes stared back at him wide in shock and a familiar dimpled smile accompanied them. The shaggy honey blond hair and the burn peeking out from his collar. Indisputable.
"Éirean?" A boot lodged itself firmly into his right kidney and sent him flying. His back burned on the impact, and a scream escaped his lips. Stolas folded and fought to regain self-control as he writhed in pain on the ground, blurry-eyed and gasping. Through watering eyes, he made out the shape of Éirean and his brother Kalou beside him.
"Brother," he called.
"Stolas?" Kalou exclaimed, rushing to his side, white as a sheet. Never had Kalou shown any kind of violence toward him, and the guilt on his face Stolas saw clear as day. Both Kalou and Éirean dressed as he had done, rough and ragged, dirtied by the road. Amongst the pain, disappointment veiled his emotions. He wished to return to his family with victory and a great tale of battle, not lying on the ground in such a pitiful state. But, more than anything, they too were now at risk from the damned.
"You shouldn't be here," Stolas growled, getting the pain under control. He sat up, jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted together. "I cannot believe you kicked me."
"I thought you were someone else," Kalou pleaded. His messed-up hair shrouded the sadness in his eyes. "You- you held a knife to his throat how could i-"
"Your own little brother kicked like a dog." Éirean teased. Kalou's cheeks turned pink. He cast his hand to his forehead dramatically, as if he were a damsel about to faint. "How cruel."
"I am so sorry," said Kalou, wrapping his arms around his brother and inadvertently pressuring his back.
"No." Stolas whimpered, pushing him away and scurrying backwards. "I would prefer if you didn't do that." Tears welled in Kalou's eyes. "It's not you," Stolas assured him. "Just my back hurts a little, that's all." He smiled sweetly.
"Dragon fire burns are no joke Stolas, do not lie to them." The trio jumped at the sound of Caine's voice as he emerged from the outcropping. Kalou's eyes widened at the bandages wrapped around his head. Dried blood dyed them.
"Wait," he turned back to Stolas, who locked eyes with Caine's glare. "What happened?"
"I would like to know myself," said Caine.
They all collected themselves and returned to the outcropping to settle and discuss for the rest of the night. Kalou and Éirean laid out their belongings and beddings, and Stolas made a fresh pot of tea. Soon all four rested with their hands wrapped around their steaming cups, and Stolas began the tale of the events he remembered. Caine joined him in explanation until the horrors of dragons' nest by which Stolas felt it easier to show rather than tell. With care, he removed his clothing, unravelled his dampened bandages to reveal the burn. Along his spine, the skin appeared a blush rose colour, shiny, moist and lightly blistered.
"It should be fine in a couple of weeks, I am sure. There is no need to worry, it is not as if the pain is too much of an issue if I am careful," said Stolas, wrapping himself up again. Positively, he noticed how well his other injuries had healed.
"Stolas, how bad is Caine's wound. How did he get it?" asked Kalou dryly. Stolas sensed spite.
"The feral girl I mentioned hit him over the head with a rock after she climbed the rope. I don't know what occurred after. I blacked out, but we got away. All is good."
"A shame." Kalou turned his attention to Caine. "I should have liked to have given you that myself." Caine frowned. "You were supposed to train and teach my brother. Not send him into dragon infested caves to be eaten alive while you did what exactly?"
"Hey," Hissed Caine. "I could not follow him. If I could have, I would have. I have an interest in keeping him alive. His abilities are essential to our plan. If Stolas - no, any of you - died, Iordan would have my head." Caine threw up his hands, "Thank you, by the way, for giving me more responsibility that I didn't need. One child was enough now I must deal with three. Because the heir to the throne and whoever the fuck you are, ran away and joined us. Why is that, exactly?" Kalou gave him a black look. Stolas bit his lip and swallowed the laughter, fighting valiantly to emerge. He realised he felt an unreasonable amount of joy witnessing Caine address his family without regard for status, and if he were honest, watching anyone scold Kalou was a rare sight and a funny one. He cleared his throat.
"Caine is right, why are the two of you here? You are at risk with us, and you have duties to perform in Nurbaldir."
"We came to get you back," said Kalou, "Everyone worried when you never returned. Father thought Caine would deny you and send you home, a lesson learned. After a time, it became obvious that was not the case. We tracked you here following bodies, a very angry woman and trails of cruor. The fact you both seriously followed your convictions became clear." His voice grew quiet. "With every drop of blood we saw, I feared it belonged to you. Please, Stolas," Kalou begged, grasping his hands. "You are already injured, and these wilds are perilous. Come home."
"I will not." He said incredulously, snatching his hands away. "You expect me to abandon the seventy-five living people we failed, the ones we gave away to monsters? This isn't a situation we can run away from." He stood. Feelings of disgust coated his words. "It is not one we can bury and hide under the rug pretending it doesn't exist. Come Kalou, you are a soldier and a strategist, you have seen war. You know this. Don't let father infect you with his denial. We deal with this now. Effectively." He picked up the golden egg, his gloves struggling to stave off the heat. "Starting with these dragons."
"Your obsession with royal duty will get you killed."
"It is and always has been my reason for being. Just because the way I serve my people has changed does not mean I will neglect them. Not even one. I will save them." Stolas realized he was shouting. He caught his breath. "I had the means to feed the starving, so I did. Now, I have the means to rescue those we wronged. Tell me, how can I not at least try?"
"That angel could have killed you. It didn't." Kalou's eyes sharpened. "It tried to knock you out. You said it yourself, they could be after you. There are dangerous people on these roads, Stolas, and not all of them may be human."
"Actually," Éirean interrupted. "Didn't we see some strange folk near that old outpost?"
"What?" Caine tensed.
"Well, it is more concerning now we know that mess was you. There were two tall men armoured from head to toe poking about in the cabins. Assumed they were mercenaries and didn't want any trouble, so we left." Stolas hurriedly uncovered his scythe and shoved it in front of their faces.
"Did their weapons look like this?" He posed.
"I'm sorry, I don't know. We never got close enough to pick out any real distinguishing marks." Éirean conceded.
"Right then, each of us will take turns on watch. We stay the night here, ride out the weather. At dawn we must depart." said Caine with a hard tone as he arranged his belongings and unpacked a lantern. Stress wrinkled his brow. "We will keep the eggs in here. Cushion the inside a little and it will be a nice carrier. Although to be frank, it will be a miracle if they are not dead from your escape." He paused. "Stolas. I am sorry I forced you to deal with the previous situation on your own. You will not have to do so again, although you did well." The warm feeling of pride spread in Stolas' chest. Accomplishment, or perhaps recognition, summoned a brief smile.
"Thank you, Caine." Caine lit the lantern and poured all his tea on the meagre flames of the campfire, extinguishing them.
"Oh! I have never introduced myself to you, sir." Éirean knelt into a bow. "My name is Éirean Lanoste. I am the captain his royal highness, the crown prince Kalou's personal battalion. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Caine stared at him, and then at Stolas with a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face.
"For someone who's mental prowess ranks among the highest in this world, you are not very creative with aliases and alibis, are you?"
"Shut up," Stolas murmured as he lay down in his bed fur and rolled over. "For someone who fights angels, you got knocked out by a girl." He continued under his breath. The three boys got themselves comfortable and one by one fell into a slumber, while Caine rested against the wall and looked out onto the plains. Stolas felt himself drift until his mind fell silent.
A soft tugging at his coat awoke him. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes and stroked away the curls from his face. His limbs, like lead weights, tied him to the ground. "Is it my watch now?" he said in a husky, tired voice with a loud yawn. The gentle tugging stopped. "What time is it?" Stolas questioned as he tied his hair back into its braid. He noted scarlet rays of the morning had not yet lit their camp, but at the lack of an answer, he turned around. "Hey, what time is it... ah," His heart skipped a beat. Explosive sickness perfused through his body and his blood pulsed, burning and freezing in his veins. He greeted the grotesque barbed face of a helm. The armour looked arcane and bizarre, war worn, scratched and punctured. The comb melded into a crown of intricate horns, and the visor hid the angel's features. Only twin unblinking golden glows emanated from between the slits. It lent in close enough Stolas should hear its breaths, see the plumes of steam emanating from the vents in the armour, yet he sensed nothing save for the same harsh scent of age and the deep harrowing fear seeping into his soul. Stolas struggled to wrap his head around the enormity of the creature inches from away from him, the damage it could do. No, they. Another lurked in the darkness behind.
"Micalz el…" Stolas paled and fell weak as they spoke in unison. The violent urge to vomit unsettled his gut. Their voices sounded close to those of men, so close the slight deviation in the way they finished their words with a low, sinister echo seemed almost normal.
"I don't know what that means." he whimpered through the knot in his throat. "Please, leave, I beg you." His hand enclosed around the pommel of his dagger.
"Micalz el." They repeated louder. Insisted. "Micalz el. G geh tia."
"Go!" Stolas cried. They screamed. He lashed out, clutching his dagger with both hands and forcing it in between the glows, facing resistance as the blade pierced through its head. The creature toppled backwards, the dagger still lodged inside its skull, and the other bellowed in fury, thrashing out with its whips. The chains flew at him and as Stolas went to duck, Caine's sword flew up in defence, taking the blow. Sparks shot out as the metals scraped together, with the chain wrapping about his blade. Caine said nothing, but in his eyes, Stolas saw the darkness of detestation for their foe. Kalou and Éirean jumped to their feet and without thinking dived to place themselves between Stolas and the angel, weapons drawn. Horror etched into their faces as they realised the situation and the Power screamed once more.
"Stolas, we will take care of this one," Caine yelled as he heaved his sword free of the chain and backpedalled, "You know what to do." Yes. He remembered. Stolas pulled the dagger from the angel's head, dislodging it from what could only be bone. A thick, dark smoking substance seeped from the wound. Shaking, he stood with the scythe and aligned the blade with its neck. With a sharp intake of breath, he raised it and brought it down. Flecks of black blood flicked onto his face, seeped into his mouth, and he tasted ash. He hesitated. Again. More coated him. Again. More. Again, again and again, until the helm and the head inside broke free from its shoulders. Stolas picked it up, using the armour like a bucket for the ugly contents. The sounds of conflict around him muted. His pulse slowed, and his eyes glazed over. He held the mess in his hands and stared at it. Numb. Shining white hairs swam in amongst the pulsing grime. How odd. There was no time to disassemble it completely, although the sinister desire to dissect such a foreign creature spiralled in his mind. Interesting and useful it would be, to study it... no, now is not the time. With Kalou and Éirean here, the aim is to escape.
"Hm." Stolas hummed. He threw the head as far away in the other direction as he could and drew his attention back to the present and his allies, scythe at the ready.
Caine and the others encircled the creature, dodging its dual attacks as the spiked chains struck out like snakes, baring their fangs. Caine swirled his sword, and Kalou shifted his position. Éirean sprung backwards and withdrew from range to Stolas' side.
"Stay back, your royal highness," he said, shielding him with an arm. The Power faced his brother and raised its weapon.
"Kalou, look out!" Stolas cried as Éirean held him back. "Éirean!"
"Watch." The chain darted for his neck, and Kalou planted his feet and dropped his sword. Stolas realised his brother's expression was not one of fear or even concentration, but euphoria. The sharpened lash lunged closer and closer and in the last second Kalou altered his pose slightly, the razored edge scathing past his skin at a distance too small to espy and severing a lock of his hair. At the moment the whip remained extended, Kalou bolted towards the angel, and before it could use the pairing weapon, Caine dismembered its arm. With joyous laughter Kalou leapt - clasping an identical dagger to Stolas' - and as he had done, plunged it into the creature's face. He twisted the blade and used his full weight to drag it down, splitting the angel's face in half before he forced it out and jumped to the floor. The Power's head hit the ground before its body.
"Ugly bastards," Caine said, wiping the smoking black stain from his sword. He picked up the severed head and threw it twice the distance Stolas had done.
"Hah! That was fun." Kalou hollered.
"Shut up, psychopath." Caine barked back. Kalou's mouth snapped shut. "Everyone get on your horses, leave everything not already attached to your saddle." Stolas had no time to mull over his thoughts on his brother. He followed his instructions and mounted Bleach. "The dragons-"
"I have them, let's go," said Éirean, and the group immediately broke into a gallop. The snowfall increased, visibility was low, and the wind snatched away their voices. Stolas heard muffled words from ahead. Something about a town. Safety. He begged for it to come quickly.