The left half of my face burns.
Skin sizzling just underneath my discolored amber eye, choking my vision in smoke. The pain is unbearable, enough that I can't think of anything else but convulsing and screaming until my breath is no more.
Erk. Gnnnh.
"GAAAAH! AAAAAAARGH!" I shriek, I scream, I roar.
Lance! Do not do this!
I can't hear Melina; her words won't register. She pushes through her own pain to reach me, but her hand falls short.
She is somewhere I can't see… because all I see is red.
I don't care anymore; I'm doing this.
The misbegotten swarm; they snarl and bellow and snap. Rabid beasts; not an emotion behind their eyes except malice and twisted pleasure. They close in on all sides, wielding primitive blades and broken claws, ready to rend me and devour me whole.
I am but a torch in festering darkness, a light amongst gnashing shadows.
I'm in danger; I will die.
But I don't cower or hide; I hiss, I snarl; I stand tall.
I bring my new sword close, it's weight unyielding and design unbalanced. It's not made to stab, not made to parry or pierce. It's made to split my foes in two, made to decapitate and eviscerate any who would stand in my way.
My other hand clutches Irina's memento; a V shaped trinket she called a seal. I bring that seal close, wiping it across my burning tears.
I'm ready.
"Tears of a maiden."
I chant; my voice is not my own.
"Blood of an empyrean."
I whisk the soaked seal away; the tears ignite in the cool evening air. Fire, golden fire, blazes to life around my clenched fist, illuminating an untold number of inhuman snarls and smiles around my glowing form.
"It all burns the same."
I drag that burning seal across my blade. Flames spread; flames roar. It distorts the air in a swirling mirage, drips down the blade's triangular tip, stains the gleaming metal in the colors of heavenly hellfire.
"Kindling, accept this meager flame."
I spin the large weapon about face, cutting into the very shadows themselves with a bright, unyielding, fiery greatsword.
I will avenge her.
I will avenge them all.
5 days prior, northern side of the now called Bridge of Sacrifice.
Night has fallen.
The warm ocean winds carry the strong scent of sea salt, melding with the earthy tones of the surrounding forests into a smell one could experience in northern Europe, where the ocean shores are composed of towering fjords, and the sounds of waves crashing into stone could easily be heard.
The moon is out today; it's close to its apex in the heavens. That moon is far too close; it nearly takes up a fourth of the night sky. It has a cyan hue to it; each and every crater close enough that I can make them out with vivid detail. The moon's close proximity may be why the waters around here are so active all the time; that or it's a smaller moon than the one we had on earth.
Whatever the case, it's close enough that it could be considered a second sun; it's reflected light strong enough that I can see clearly in the dark.
It's a strange phenomenon, and it's a problem for us.
"Just had to show herself tonight, eh?"
Kalé talks like the moon was a person; he waits in the cover of the woods alongside me.
If the moon was a form of a god, it wouldn't surprise me. This place is all bent out of shape.
"Think we should wait until tomorrow night?" I ask sincerely.
While the moon would just get brighter, there's always a chance we could get cloud cover. It's perfectly clear tonight; getting past the guards on the bridge will be just as difficult as trying during the day.
"Might get a more favorable overcast."
"Rather not risk it." He says calmly. "I'm not too keen on sticking around in Limgrave for much longer."
He points at me, shuffling a bit on an exposed tree root he's taken as a seat.
"Don't forget, you have a price on your head. The longer you stick around here, the worse it'll be for you."
True.
"Just stick to the plan, and if worst comes to worst; we'll make a break for it."
While concocting a strategy to cross this bridge unscathed, Kalé dropped a bit of news on me:
He and Melina had a conversation while I was asleep.
It was surprising; even more so when Melina confirmed it. While it wasn't exactly two people chatting, Kalé did talk to Melina, and she responded in a way he could understand. What Melina does with herself is not up to my decision, as long as it doesn't put me in any danger. Still, it was a little off-putting; I would have at least liked to have been included. When I asked her why, she simply said:
I have decided to trust him for now.
Kalé then said he had an idea: we would use Melina. I grinned a little when he explained himself; it follows the same idea Melina had to save me, back when I was a prisoner.
"Have her burn something, one of the battlements if she can." He said enthusiastically. "Maybe even that ballista if she can manage it. Then, we just sneak on by in the chaos."
"What's the backup plan?" I asked.
If we get found out halfway across the bridge, then we're screwed.
"For starters, we'll get as close as we can. Most of the men are on the north side; if we can get past them, we only need to run."
"They've got crossbows. Can't exactly run from those."
Kalé stumbled on his words.
"Oh. Yes. There is that isn't there?"
He fell silent.
His plan isn't the worst in the world; distractions are always good. Turns out something burning is a great distraction, especially when nobody knows how it started. I can't think of a better way of crossing the bridge, besides simply storming it. But I'm not sure what blew up those travellers, and until we know that; we'd be putting ourselves in danger of losing everything attached to our torsos.
So, burning something and slipping by remains the most valid option. Extra points if that something is the ballista. Unfortunately, we never came up with any solutions for the crossbows. We settled on using the battlements for cover if they start shooting, and I'll take out any that try to pursue us.
...
This whole plan feels like it's barely patched together. So much can go wrong, and Kalé's betting heavily that the soldiers won't pursue us once we cross the bridge. If they do give chase, their longer legs would run us down.
If I had a horse, then this would be a much simpler matter. Kalé and I could just mount our steeds, and ride over the bridge during the chaos. Crossbows would still be a problem, but hitting a fast target is much harder than a slower one. If Melina knocks the ballista out of commission, then it would be a breeze.
Problem is… I don't have a horse, and Kalé's dopey steed looks like he's fed on nothing but plastic straws his whole life; he'd probably fall over and die if the two of us tried to mount him.
So, we're stuck on foot.
Kalé could just rush the bridge without me with the horse he has, but I'm glad that he hasn't resorted to that. For a merchant, he's been rather considerate this whole trip.
But as the night fell, Kalé and I complained about the moon, and we lied in wait, I sighed.
"You know, Kalé, if worst comes to worst, you could just get on your horse and hightail it."
He gives me an incredulous expression, his eyes showing no hint of irony or sarcasm.
"Now why would I go and do something like that?"
I shrug.
"If we're being honest, I'd fare better if I get caught up; Melina and I can fight our way out." I gesture to him. "But a merchant with an instrument for a weapon can only do so much. I'd understand if you wanted to run on the off-chance we get spotted."
He shakes his head.
"No can do, mate. For starters, this was my plan. If it fails, then I'd surely need to take the blame. I may be many things, but a coward is not one of them." He dismisses it. "Don't worry about it. There's always the chance this goes smoothly, right?"
Famous last words if I ever heard them, but if Kalé truly were to die, I just need to make sure his corpse doesn't fall into the ocean. He'd revive eventually.
The only problem is me.
Even if I can revive too, I've got the feeling my light would leave me. Melina might not be able to make it back to the breach on this side in time. Plus, if I do die, I'm sure they'll toss me. That or follow up with what they tried back near Stormhill: save me for grafting.
Basically, I need to survive, no matter what.
If Kalé dies, it's not the end of the world. But if I kick the bucket, then everything falls apart.
…
Maybe I'm overthinking things.
Yeah, I totally am.
I just need to worry about keeping covert in the chaos and slipping by. Kill or ward off any that would try and stop us; keep running and don't look back. The battlements make the path on the bridge restrictive; that'll be a problem. Even while things are burning, our party still sticks out like a sore thumb. The entire bridge may not all close in on us, but I can assume one or two might try running us down.
I draw Roard's partisan, resting it across my lap.
I'll use this spear tonight.
I don't plan on sticking around long enough to stand and face off against anyone; we'll just be passing through. This spear will excel at keeping anyone looking to fight away with range alone, and I'm guessing it's ascended state will allow it to deal with armor.
It's simply the better choice.
...
I can't help but feel nervous.
Kalé rises from his seat, peeking out behind his timber cover. The silence of the night is his only answer; he takes a deep breath.
"Well, you ready?"
I look toward Melina. She flashes.
Yes.
I smile to try chasing away my unease, and nod toward Kalé.
"Let's get this over with."
We draw toward the bridge, keeping ourselves as inconspicuous as we can manage.
Melina gave me the crash course on stealth back when I was prepping to take on Roard; Kalé isn't half-bad at sneaking around either. But his horse is a big problem, the steed doesn't have a single stealthy bone in its body. It snorts and grunts, plodding along on its cacophonous hooves. It's like trying to sneak around with a drawer full of silverware in your hands; each step adds stress to my mind.
Nothing we can do about it, though Kalé tries his best to calm the beast down, constantly making that 'shhhhh' noise as he pats its long snout.
I lead the way; Melina hid her glowing self within the confines of my shirt. I'm crouched, watching my step, spear parallel to the ground. I feel like a hunter from the stone age, passing from bush to bush; trying to get as close as I can while staying in cover.
It's a slow process.
My senses heighten when I hear voices; lax and disgruntled voices. I can't make anything out. But the voices grow louder and louder, until I can distinguish them.
Finally, I reach the closest cover possible: a fallen log near the bridge's entrance. I press my back against the humid bark, controlling my breaths. In the dim darkness, I can spot Kalé behind me, around twenty steps away. He can't draw any closer, his horse is too tall. He'll need to pick up the pace once hell breaks loose.
He gives me a reassuring wave. Get on with it. He seems to say.
Melina.
A rune the size of a baseball floats out from a large gash in my shirt, slinking away and onto the side of the bridge. She travels along, passing by chattering voices and roiling campfires with nobody being the wiser. She makes it halfway, slipping onto the bridge without a hitch.
We tested the distance Melina can travel from me earlier; the distance has grown.
At first, it was barely a stone toss away. Now, I couldn't make the distance even if I chucked that stone with all my might.
Even then, the ballista is still outside the boundary, Melina stops in her tracks, seemingly at my border. I can barely see her at this angle.
I will be gone for a moment. Let Kalé know I am ready.
Roger.
I look back toward the merchant, making a small signal. He nods.
Well Melina, it's now or never.
Alright.
Without even a warning, her presence disappears. It's a jarring feeling, like being in a room with a white noise suddenly turning off. It makes a shiver run down my back, but I shake off the feeling.
I work up to a hunched position, peering over the log. Three seconds pass, they're the longest three seconds of my life.
…
What if this is a terrible idea?
I can't stop it now, but I can't shake the feeling something terrible is about to happen. I don't want to feel this way, I'd rather love if this went smoothly. But nothing has ever gone right for me since I've come here; there's always a twist or turn of events. No matter when or how, something always goes wrong. I've lived this long, but that doesn't mean anything. I've been lucky; my own skill has barely played a role in it at all.
I'm not looking forward to this, not in the slightest.
My heart thunders, adrenaline builds in my head, ready to wreak havoc on my systems. I fight to control my breaths; I fight to still my unease. I'm afraid, afraid of the unknown, but I won't falter.
I won't. Not this time.
My life, Melina's life. Kalé's life; his dopey horse too. They're in my hands. It's up to me to keep us all alive.
It's up to me.
By the third second, on the dot, the ballista bursts into flames.
It's not a gradual change, it happens like it just spontaneously combusted. The flames roar, illuminating the night sky with the colors of an evening sunset. Those voices spike, surprise filling the soldiers' throats.
"The hell!?"
"Fire!"
"The heavy ballista's on fire!"
"Put it out!"
"Hurry!"
"Get' sum water 'n that!"
A clamor of voices across the bridge erupt, one of the two guards I've been keeping an eye on abandons his post at the north entrance; he's close enough that I hear his receding footsteps.
Without warning, Melina's presence returns, it sounds like she's out of air.
Go!... hah… now!
Kalé's bolting past me by the time I spring to my feet; I get a good look at his face. Fear, unease. But it's mixed with bravery, gusto, and even a tinge of moxie. What a guy, running toward the enemy without even a knife to defend himself.
That's because he trusts you, idiot.
I say to myself, vaulting over my cover.
I overtake Kalé, bringing my spear in a readied position. My chainmail sways about with my movements, my sheathed straight sword bounces against my hip. Melina joins up by my side, trailing through the night like a flying torch.
One of the two guards stayed at his position at the bridge's entrance, glued in place. He watches his comrades buzz about the flaming ballista like wasps over their destroyed hive; the firelight catching in his eyes. I wished he ran to help, wished he went anywhere else besides staying where he was. He may be my enemy; may be a heartless soldier that participates in murdering innocents, invading lands, and killing indiscriminately.
But he lives in this hell too.
Based on the wrinkles under his eyes, as if he's never slept a day in his life.
Despite the grey skin, as if he was constantly being drained of blood.
Even though he has a sad expression; he is my enemy.
He's only given a moment to hear our approaching footsteps and turn, before an ascended spearhead buries into his jugular, easily splicing the links of chainmail where that rusted tip erupts out at the nape.
He gargles, gripping my spear's shaft. His initial strength, which made Roard's partisan shift as he tries to pull it out; that strength quickly diminishes, until his arm falls slack to his side. I draw the partisan out, wincing when a guttural pop exits the his split throat. Runes leak from his body as he spills to the brick floor; they draw to me.
"I'm sorry." I mutter.
Kalé runs by, unfazed, behind me. He holds no care for these men, he'd happily see them all burn at the stake.
Do not slow down!
Melina barks, getting right up in my face.
…Yeah.
I turn and run, run away from another soul I killed, another life I ended.
Another face I'll see in my nightmares.
The bridge, a large and extensive structure of stone, is in chaos when I get a good look. Soldiers are running back and forth, trying their best to manage the blaze. Some try dumping latrine buckets and water stores; they make no difference. Others stay away, shouting at one another with manic movements. A buzz of confusion rests over everyone's heads; now's the perfect time to go.
Our party slinks between the arrays of wooden spike battlements, keeping our heads low as we run. One soldier spots us, then two. But they simply freeze in place, more confused by our presence than alerted. Still, one shouts as loud as he can, drawing his sword.
"Intruders! Intruders!"
Nobody hears him, that or nobody listens.
I run straight toward him, preparing myself to put him down. I'll bypass his guard, slash his leg, and drive the partisan into his chest. He should die quickly if I aim right; I hope I aim right.
But he flinches, I do too.
The ballista, burning like a large bonfire, collapses sideways, letting out a deafening snap. The taught rope threaded through the mechanism gives, letting the bending wood of the bow release its pent-up stress. With a scream of wooden gears and groaning metal, a flaming projectile the size of Roard's partisan launches sideways from the failing war machine, sending that ballista bolt careening by, spinning like a thrown hatchet.
It misses Kalé's ducking head by an inch, deflects off a nearby battlement, and is sent skyward. The noise it makes sounds like when someone preps to throw a grappling hook, whooshing as it spins. I'd think nothing of it; I intend to just kill the soldier and keep running.
But the bolt explodes, cavitates into a violent fireball over all our heads.
The blast sounds like setting off the largest fireworks one could buy, and the thing goes off prematurely, twenty feet in the air. The shockwave punches me, makes me fall to a knee. It hurts, makes my hearing nearly fall over the edge.
But I immediately connect the dots, my heart drops into my stomach.
Something's wrong.
Something's very wrong.
Bolts don't explode…
Unless…
"The magazine!" One soldier shouts somewhere nearby, his voice shrill and full of fear.
"It got in the magazine!" Another soldier cries, his tone saturated in terror.
"Get down!"
I-
Get down!
Oh-
I witness the sun.
The ballista disappears, devoured by a light that blinds me.
A blast, a horrendous fireball.
A shockwave, a noise I cannot accurately describe.
I'm flying…
no…
I'm thrown.
Tossed like a ragdoll, struck so hard in the chest my lungs compress.
My side finds the ground first, my head smacks not a second later.
My blurred vision doubles, just as I watch a soldier fall out of sight, plummeting screaming down to the ocean below. He was missing an arm; half of his face was gone.
His runes found me not soon after.
Flaming shrapnel comes, chips and chunks of wood sputter and tumble every which way. Something hot sticks into my calf, chewing into the chainmail and vomiting embers on my skin.
That ballista, the explosion that killed the travelers.
It came form the ballista.
Melina's fire just set the magazine off.
Those thoughts run through my mind in divided increments; I can't sense anything else.
My vision is blurred, with a giant purple spot plaguing everything I see.
My hearing is gone; I can only hear a constant whine.
My muscles feel torn, bones feel shaken, organs feel like they've been shuffled and reassembled in my body.
It feels like my mind is swimming, drifting into the deep end of my consciousness. If I sink now, I'll black out…
I forget to breathe.
I sputter, I cough.
I fight for every cubic of air I can get; I hear none of it.
Something arrests me, someone grabs me. It's not a generous grip; gloved hands find their way onto my neck.
No.
No no I'm drowing.
I- I can't-
I can't breathe.
In my blurring vision, I can make out a soldier. He's atop me, choking me to death. His partially burned face is manic, fingers digging into my throat.
I gag, I gasp, I spit.
I'm-
I-
Kindling, accept this meager flame!
The soldier lights up like a torch; his harrowing screams are the first thing I can hear.
His runes come, as his voice dies out beside me.
I'm getting up before I knew I could. Something digs into my calf, I ignore it. My body feels cold, I move without it. I can't hold a coherent thought, can't think anything. I'm running on autopilot; I don't know where my spear went.
Something hard strikes me in the back; it was a boot.
I fall, I tumble, I toil.
Kindling accept this meager flame!
A soldier screams, his blood beginning to boil under his skin.
Runes come.
I try to stand, something zips through the air. A crossbow bolt tears apart the chainmail of my left shoulder, cold metal buries into my left arm's socket. I fall back to the ground; I hear footsteps approaching.
Kindling accept this meager flame!
Kindling accept this meager flame!
Screams plague me, the heat of fresh fires bathe my cooling form.
The screams die out, but runes never come.
I'm surrounded, they're closing in. I don't know what happened to Kalé; he was closer to the ballista when it went.
Melina zips about erratically above me, lunging at the approaching soldiers and footsoldiers like an enraged guard dog. They retreat from her presence; their burning comrades are an example enough.
But they ready their weapons, they load their crossbows, they prepare to kill me when they get the chance.
Melina is trying to talk to me, but I can barely hear her.
I'm gasping for air, clenching my lower abdomen.
It hurts, everything hurts.
Melina shouts at me, hissing an incantation not a second later. Another soldier goes up in flames, he tries his best to put himself out.
…
…
Where am I?
How did I get to this place?
Where's home?
Where's mom and dad?
-Melina screams, flashing, yelling, blinking. She stands her ground, as her comrade bleeds out below her-
Oh, there they are.
Where have you been mom? It feels like ages since I've seen you.
Hey dad, how was work? Did you ever finish remodeling the garage?
-She yells, shouts, cries. Her incantations begin to fail her; her flames lost their bite-
-She can't hold on, they draw closer-
-They got Kalé, they'll get me too-
Oh, go with you?
Where are we going?
...
Home?
...
Yeah, you're right, it's been far too long.
It's hopeless.
There was nothing for me here anyway.
Let's go home.
"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuh."
The soldiers tense up, the atmosphere flips on a dime.
A solemn howl sound sounds out in the night, carrying over the dark ocean winds like a siren's call. Heads swing skyward, blades are drawn. I'm forgotten on the stone floor; Melina doesn't miss a beat.
Prince of death, stay your growing blade.
Shadow of Marika, hide your sacred rune.
Return the grace of gold to thee, under the light of the Erdtree.
Heal.
A warmth grows amongst the cold, spreading out from my chest. It melds over the pain, softening its sting. It perforates my frame, mending what was broken. It brings me back from the edge of death.
I… huh?
Mom? Dad?
Lance, snap out of it.
We need to go.
What?
The howl, that chilling tune, comes again, snapping me back to my senses.
It…
It came from above?
"Heh… Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha, ha, hahaha hahahahahaha!" Kalé's pained laughter cuts into the drawn silence. "You bastards! You fiends! It's over for you now! It's all over!"
He falls into manic laughter.
"Blaidd, you bastard!" He calls out into the night, his voice falters. "Where have you been!?"
A howl, a wolf's howl.
Wolves don't come this far south.
I struggle; I try to get up, I-
I witness a comet come crashing down from the heavens.
An aura of pale white light slams into the ground, erupting like a neutron star. A horrible chill runs through my body, winter frost permeates the air.
Two soldiers stagger away, not making so much as a noise.
Half their bodies are covered in a dense coat of ice.
It froze their blood, made frost of their lungs, turned their brains into preserves.
They're dead before they hit the ground; their runes come to me while they fall.
A warrior, a legend wielding a colossal sword, rises from the center of the blast, tugging his weapon out of the stone that just split like it was made of butter.
Rising to a towering height, back coated in a cloak of animal fur.
Head of a wolf, body of a man.
I know him, my sealed memories practically scream his name.
Blaidd.
Blaidd snarls, growls like a rabid beast. He hunches, spins his ornamental sword about, before lunging, pouncing at a staggering speed.
The soldiers are torn to pieces; that's the best way to describe it.
Blaidd does have a human's body, but he moves like he's supposed to be on all fours, concealing his height down to our level.
He moves in such an unnatural way; I've never seen anything like it before.
He cleaves a soldier in two, splitting the shield and spear without even faltering. The rest close in, letting out their battle cries. Like a cornered animal, Blaidd lunges.
His sword, his unnatural movements lie in his sword.
It's heavier than he is.
When he swings, the blade's weight carries him along. When he leaps, dashes, and spins, his sword lags just a second behind. Wielding something heavier than oneself is not possible, it just isn't. The human body isn't capable of it.
But Blaidd swings his sword like it was made of carboard, and he doesn't resist the inertia.
He uses it to his advantage.
He cuts diagonally into a footsoldier, burying his sword partly into the ground. Without missing a beat, he leaps, using his sword like a pole vault stick. He flips midair, pulling the blade out of the ground and swinging it overhead with strength alone.
Throwing such weight around makes Blaidd himself waver through the air, like a feather tied to a lead ball, following the blade as it comes crashing down, parting a soldier with a sword and brass shield completely in two.
He flips again and skids to a halt, heaves his sword up, and lurches back into the mess he's made.
Three dead in under four seconds, and he's already swinging again by the fifth.
He growls as he kills, snarls and bares his teeth. He's purposefully dragged around by his sword's weight, seamlessly transitioning into attack after attack.
A soldier loses his head, another is parted in two twice, a third is speared through the gut.
A footsoldier, one I recognize, tries to stab the wolfman from behind. Blaidd senses the approaching danger on instinct alone. He dislodges his sword, flipping backwards, dodging that thrust dagger without an inch to spare.
His free hand hooks into the footsoldier's agape mouth, grabbing onto the upper half of his head like a bowling ball. The footsoldier is taken off the ground, swung over Blaidd's shoulder as he lands, and is thrown.
He practically flies through the air, screaming as he plummets off the bridge's side, never to be seen again.
One left.
Only one soldier left.
I recognize him too.
Out of the 14 posted here, one was killed by me, and one died when the ballista exploded. Two were completely burned to death by Melina, and nine were quickly dispatched by Blaidd.
This final one watched his comrades get slaughtered, and he stood there.
Even the soldiers that Blaidd killed, their runes came to me. They'll never live again; they're gone.
He watched his friends die, dead fear plaguing his eyes.
When Blaidd turns his way, the soldier runs, drops his warhammer and shield; and runs.
The wolfman chases him down; runes come to me as I try to stand.
I'm shaking, struggling to keep my balance.
Melina healed me; I got that much.
But before that… my mind's all fuzzy.
The ballista exploded, and then what?
Increments are coming to me slowly, but most of it is a jumbled mess. I may never remember completely.
"Oh… Curses that hurts."
I limp over to Kalé, who's found himself lying on the ground. One of his legs looks bent way out of whack. His hat was blown off, his skin is blackened, his eyes are pained, but he's otherwise unscathed.
His horse is nowhere to be seen.
I stand over him, holding my left arm close to my side. A crossbow bolt speared completely through my shoulder, a chunk of shrapnel buried into my right calf. I'm covered in lacerations and soot, but I can manage it.
I extend my good hand, forcing a small smile.
"Need some help?"
Kalé looks almost relived to see me.
"Aye. If you could."
I pull him to his feet; he almost falls back down again.
"Haaaaah… Markia on high, that stings."
His right leg is broken, and it's rather obvious. It looks like the femur completely shattered, that or it snapped cleanly in two. It'll takes weeks for an injury like that to heal, maybe even months.
I help him limp to an overturned crate, plopping him down. He strokes his leg tenderly, chuckling a little to himself.
"Well, that could've gone better. Should've- nnh! -known! … That their little ballista had explosive bolts."
I take a look around, inspecting the mess.
Besides the corpses of soldiers, it truly looks like a bomb went off on this bridge. The otherwise smooth stone has waves of carbon scarring, black marks in violent shapes painted over everything. The ballista is gone, nothing but a tight ring of charcoal and spread ash where it once stood. The battlements that were closest to the explosion are gone, most likely thrown over the edge. Ones further away have been overturned, some even fell apart and splintered.
Shrapnel and flaming debris peppers everything, clouding billows of smoke hanging around above in the night air.
Looking at this all, just drives it home:
We're lucky we survived.
Kalé looks up at me when I don't say anything. I return his glance.
He dismisses the expression on my face.
"No, don't worry about it. This was my mistake."
That's not what's on my mind.
"How… did you survive that?" Kalé goes silent, I press. "I saw you; you were almost right next to the ballista."
Kalé reluctantly nods.
"Aye, I was."
Then how?
He taps his chest thoughtfully, wincing at a pain he feels there.
"My steed. That brain-dead son of a troll bucked me."
He glances about, reluctantly accepting that he can't see his horse or our supplies anywhere.
"Might've just been spooked by that initial blast, but he kicked me away. Saved my life, I reckon." He glances back down at his leg. "Well, most of me."
So, there was a casualty.
Still, we are alive.
What's more; we were saved.
Someone by the name of Blaidd came crashing down from out of nowhere, and took care of the remaining force seemingly without breaking a sweat. It was a harrowing sight.
As if reading my mind, Kalé calls out into the night.
"Oi Blaidd! I know you're there! Get over here so I can thank you for saving our arse!"
The gathering smoke partially blots out the moons rays, casting shadows over the silver light that bathes everything. Passing in and out of those shadows; a warrior with the head of a wolf and the body of a man stalks toward us on the bridge, his ornamental colossal sword almost completely stained in fresh crimson.
A staggering nine feet in height, moving in a manner one would take when stalking prey. He stashes his sword on his back somehow, and his bladed gauntlets disappear behind that cloak he wears. He eyes up Kalé and I as he approaches, giving Melina a longer gaze.
Saying I feel intimidated would be an understatement, it's like running into a grizzly bear in the woods.
That's the feeling he gives off, and the worst part is his eyes.
Face of an animal, with emotion behind dilatated pupils. Like Boc, but it's not vague pleasantry. His eyes display open contempt, even a small dose of manic hostility. You would see the same in the eyes of a madman, teetering on the edge.
Despite his emotions, as if he were resisting them; his voice is controlled, old English, and underlines with a slight twinge of worry.
"Kalé."
Blaidd snarls, stopping when's he's a single step away.
I have to crane my neck up to look at him.
"You always find some way to start a racket. Taking on Godrick's men? Have you gone mad?"
He glances my way; I avert my gaze on reflex.
He considers me, breaths level despite the exertion he underwent mere minutes ago.
"It'd be best if you didn't leave that in, mate. Here. Allow me."
In a fluid motion I didn't see, he tugs the bolt out of my left shoulder without warning; I nearly keel over.
"Guh…"
Blood spits out of the wound; pain fires up and down my arm. But I can move it again, albeit only a little.
"Drink this."
A bladed gauntlet inches from my face, holding something familiar. My eyes go wide; I accept what Blaidd hands me quietly.
Satisfied, Blaidd turns back on Kalé.
"What, are you doing here? Weren't you planning on traveling to Liurnia?"
Kalé dismisses the wolfman, taking steady breaths to ease his pain.
"Got a little caught up; thinking I could ask you the same thing though. The blazes are you doing this far south?"
I gaze at a flask, a small flask of swirling gold and underlying red in my hands. It holds weight, something golden sloshes around inside. My sealed and unsealed memories both agree on what this is.
A crimson flask.
A healing item.
A thing that would've come in handy many times before now.
I don't know why Blaidd has one, but I eagerly drink it; the pain goes away. The hole in my shoulder closes up, the shrapnel in my calf gets forced out. Torn skin stiches back up together, my headache and partial hearing loss become nothing but an afterthought.
It's like I touched a breach.
I'm still covered in soot; blood still stains my clothes. But I feel normal, maybe even better than normal.
Kalé looks at me like he was betrayed.
"Hey! What about me?" He turns on Blaidd. "Got any more flasks for your old friend Kalé?"
Blaidd snorts.
"A merchant is only as safe as their guard is able; you will have to manage."
Kalé clicks his tongue, but falls silent.
"Thanks for the rescue." I say.
Maybe I said it to break the silence, maybe I said it because I'm actually grateful. Or maybe I said it because I feel left out.
The wolfman turns my way; I fight to meet his gaze. Images of his violent deeds flash in my mind; I quell them. He's our savior; there was no better solution to dealing with the soldiers. They're heartless, almost mindless in ways. They would've killed us if given the chance; Blaidd needed to put them down.
I understand that much.
"Think nothing of it."
Blaidd says solemnly, taking the flask back from me. He stuffs it in a satchel at his side, before that too disappears behind his cloak.
"Now, why not we get off this bridge? You can't expect a canine to stay calm with this much blood around."
He turns and leaves, picking up Kalé like a prince carrying off his aggravated princess.
Kalé's protests drown out as the two leave, until it's just Melina and I left on the bridge.
…
The events after the explosion have been slowly returning; I'm starting to remember.
This whole plan was a wash; it all came down to luck again.
Maybe we were hasty, maybe we could've thought up a better plan.
You can't account for everything, but you should never go with the first plan that comes to mind. Based on how Blaidd was talking; it sounds like that's a reoccurring issue with Kalé. Might be my fault too; if I came up with a better plan, I could've convinced the merchant otherwise. But the mistake's in the past now. Just learn form my mistakes, and keep moving. It's the least I can do.
...
Still, we are alive because of luck, because of sacrifice and empathy.
We survived because Blaidd came, Kalé survived because his horse kicked him away. And I survived, because a little light fought, tooth and nail, to keep me alive. Melina was the only one that didn't make a mistake; she went along with her comrades' idiotic plans, again. And when everything went south, she was the only one trying to fix it before Blaidd came.
The little light.
That light has been silent for a long time now.
Melina…
I-
Don't do that, ever again.
I flinch, a cold feeling rests on my heart.
Her voice sounds stifled in my mind.
Filled with anger, but also plagued by remorse.
Don't scare me like that.
Never again.
Don't you dare.
I have nothing. I've worried her, again.
I messed up, again.
I was weak, again.
I'm a terrible partner.
Sorry.