Richard felt Elora's firm grip on his left wrist as they each took a step back.
He took a subtle glance at her, his brows creased in puzzlement. He understood that they had gotten themselves in a bad situation, but why was she holding onto him? Him of all people.
With her level of power, she could handle at least take out three out of the six men in front of them. And with the absence of Master Hendrik, her chances of winning were higher. She didn't need a useless, mana-less Mage like him.
His attention was quickly diverted back to the men in front of them as he heard a chuckle.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of the men said, his hair blood-red. "A wandering couple in the woods. They probably lost their way or something."
His cohorts scoffed. Richard would have let out a sigh of relief, since the men were oblivious to their real reason for being here, but then, the red-haired man spoke again.
His voice was much deeper and serious as he said, "That's what I would have said if Bard hadn't sniffed out your aura yesterday."
He pointed at a bald man with a lean physique, who flashed a smirk at the young adults, whilst tapping his left temple.
'He's probably a Cognitive Mage, like Iris,' Richard pondered inwardly, still unsure of the sub path he fell under.
As though Elora could read his thoughts, she whispered, "A Descrier."
Just like other sub paths under the Cognitive Mage Paths, Descriers also have passive abilities. One could call them the wolves of the mind. They could perceive people's auras, no matter the race. It also didn't matter if the person was a Mage or not. They could track people with it, or roughly tell how much mana they possess.
Though handicapped, Richard and Elora couldn't help but feel relieved that one of the men wasn't a fighter. Or maybe even two of them, since another had produced clones to deceive them a few minutes ago.
"It was like the gods were finally smiling on us," the red-haired man continued, folding his arms. "Bard could tell you were from the Academy and that you'd come back. Which made things very easy for us. Imagine planning for weeks, to find the perfect moment to snatch the princess, but she ignorantly walks into our midst."
'They can tell who I am under the mask?' Elora was impressed by the Descrier's ability.
Richard groaned as he felt Elora squeeze his wrist. He could see her narrow her eyes from the corner of his eye. She was probably gritting her teeth under that mask.
He felt she was beginning to regret her actions. She should have listened to his warnings.
He really resisted the urge to say, "I told you so."
Now wasn't the appropriate moment for that.
Elora let go of his wrist, rubbed it softly before taking two steps forward.
"Huh?" Richard stared at her back blankly, wondering what she was up to.
She raised her hands to her shoulder level, "Okay, you have us caught. It was also foolish for us to think we could solve this ourselves. But we're not just going to surrender to you and let you take us away."
"What do you mean? We only need you. We'll kill the lad," The red-haired man shrugged, looking down at the princess.
Bard pulled out a knife and shifted his gaze toward Richard.
"Ugh," she grunted inwardly, dropping her hands. She initially wanted to stall the men, maybe engage them in a short battle, to create an opening for Richard to escape. But it seemed the men were focused on killing him first.
"Okay, okay," she said softly. "I'll go with you. Just let him go. I promise he won't say a word about this to anyone."
The red-haired man chuckled, "No can do, princess. He has to be silenced... permanently."
Bard brandished the knife in his hand and rushed at Richard, who didn't notice him until he was right in front of him. Bard was pretty fast for a Descrier, shocking Richard and Elora. Most Cognitive Mages never engaged in combat. They more or less acted as supports from behind.
Elora clapped her hands forward, unleashing a spurt of wind, that threw her back immediately. Those before her were almost blown off their feet.
She struck her back again Bard, who in turn stumbled to a fall. Richard quickly stepped aside before he got squashed under their weight.
Bard collided head first with the ground and went unconscious in the process. Elora had gotten on her feet and stood beside Richard. They looked down at the unconscious Bard and nodded their heads simultaneously.
He was still a Descrier after all. He lacked the stamina and physique to fight or tank hits.
A short clap from the red-haired man cajoled them to turn towards him.
"Lovely. Just, lovely," he clapped again with a smile. "That was just a test to see if we could actually let the boy go, and you failed woefully, princess."
'A test? I would have had a knife stuck in my heart if she hadn't helped me! You guys are psychopaths!' Richard retorted inwardly.
"Stay behind me," Elora whispered to Richard.
She stepped forward again and took a simple stance, "I really wanted to make it easy for you guys, but now you leave me no choice."
'Eh?' Richard was stupefied. 'She can't beat them all, right?'
The five men guffawed at her statement. Then their faces dissolved to menacing expressions as they channelled their mana.
'This is bad,' Richard froze, muttering inwardly. That part of the woods was inundated by their magical aura. It wasn't exactly overwhelming, but it showed that they were collectively stronger.
'I have to think of a way to help her,' he resolved in his mind as he felt really useless at that point. Back in New Orleans, he was someone that always stood up for people, even if the opponents were much bigger and stronger. There was nothing like mana or magic back on earth. He resolved those kind of situations with his fists. But that morale was useless in a realm where people could conjure fire out of thin air.
He was so lost in thoughts that he didn't notice the men come at them. Elora had to push him back with a blast of air from the sole of her feet. He was stopped by a nearby tree and he groaned, watching as the princess fought against five fully grown men.
Elora was pretty evasive as a Wind Mage, hopping of the ground and floating in the air like a leaf. It helped her evade every attack thrown at her. She kept spinning in the air and circling the men from above. Though it was only a matter of time before she'd get tired from using so much mana to keep her airborne.
Albeit, she used her time in the air to scan the men and what they could do. The red-haired man was a Fire Mage. One was a Mirageer; he could produce clones of himself and other people. Another was an Ice Mage, and the last two were Skulkers. Skulkers could protrude claws from their fingers, and were as agile and nimble as foxes.
She could die if she spent over a minute on the ground, in their midst, but she decided to go down anyway.
She landed with a loud thud, which was immediately followed by an omnidirectional gust of wind, that tossed the men away to different locations. Now she had enough distance and time to at least take one of them down.
Her coat fluttered noisily behind her as she dashed at the Clone Mage. His ability didn't hold much attack power, but having to deal with the other lookalikes of him would be annoying and distracting. He could also subdue her with his numbers.
The man was just standing to his feet when she buckled her knees and jumped at him like a cat. Her hands went behind him as she got in proximity, drilling her knees into his torso. His body glitches for a second there, protruding about two of his clones from behind him. But they were only half-formed. They went back to his body again as he got the air knocked out of his lungs.
Elora landed on her feet and made to finish him off with another knee jab, but she felt the air by her right ripple, forcing her to jump back immediately.
One of the Skulkers stumbled forward with his right claws outstretched, as he missed to lop off her head. A small smile formed on her lips when she saw the Clone Mage drop to his knees, clutching his chest. At least he'd be out of commission for a few minutes, giving her enough time to face the remaining four.
Her short moment of victory was cut short as a spear made of ice pierced through her left forearm like a hot needle through butter. There was a gaping hole left in her forearm, with blood dripping rapidly.
For the first time since Richard had been with her, Elora screamed. She screamed in agony. The pain was unbearable.
She tried to cover the gaping hole with her other hand, but the pain only worsened. She retracted her forearm and shot off the ground.
"Elora, no!" Richard yelled as he spotted the second Skulker leap off a tree next to her. The latter already knew that she'd try to escape, and he waited patiently.
Richard's scream caused her to look in his direction mid-flight. By the time she got the message from his pointed finger, the Skulker slashed at her, impaling her already injured arm with his curved claws.
He would have ripped off her skin, if she hadn't turned immediately and released a mild flash of light from her body. It was accosted with a spurt of air, throwing them away from each other.
But it was as though the heavens decided to neglect her that day, because the red-haired Fire Mage was waiting in her path of descent, his hair blazing with flames. He ignited red hot flames around his hands as she got closer.
They weren't supposed to kill her because of the ritual, since they needed her blood to be fresh and warm. But the man had gotten pissed by her skill and perseverance.
However, just as he made to drive his fiery fist through her back, his shadow squirmed and he vanished into it.
Elora fell into the arms of a young man, his shoulder-length hair blonde like hers.
The weak Elora managed to look at him with her heavy eyes and she felt her brows curl up, "Brother?"