As Elira slowly slid back into the world of consciousness, the world around her seemed to present itself to her as a hazy blur, obscure and indistinct. A firm, reassuring grip pressed into her side gave her a sense of presence, and the rhythmic sway of movement seemed, rather clearly, to indicate that she was being carried. Her mind, still clouded, and fighting through the remnants of whatever had dulled her awareness, struggled to piece together the surroundings that slowly started to materialize around her. She turned her head slightly to one side in an effort to clear her vision and, in that instant, caught a glimpse of Zephyr slung over the other shoulder of the very same man who was carrying her. His body was limp, limp and free of tension; his armor, once pure and spotless, now stained with blood from that battle, though his face surprisingly showed an oddly serene expression in the depths of his unconscious state.
Bits and pieces of the fight seeped back into her mind like jagged shards: the fiery clash with Zed, the adrenaline rush coursing through her body, the razor-sharp pain slicing its way through her as she fought for everything and won. She felt herself pulling to the breaking point, her vision blurring, the ground rushing up to swallow her as she collapsed beside Zephyr. She gave it her all, knowing she couldn't leave him behind.
She felt her chest shrink. They had survived this time, but how? And who saved them from whatever she didn't even know in the first place that they were facing?
" 'Kids these days,' a growly voice muttered over her. 'Always thinking they're invincible. A couple of fancy moves with a sword, and they're out cold.'".
This voice. It could not be mistaken.
"General Thorn?" she croaked out, her voice like sandpaper but still heavy with an ominous quality that was unmistakable.
The man gruffly laughed. "Sharp ears, kid. That's right-General Thorn of the Valorian army."
She felt relief wash over this confusion, which she could hardly cope with. "How did you do it to find us. here in the battlefield?" she asked, her breath momentarily catching in her throat as she was forcing words from her mouth into open air.
Thorn was moving slower now, it seemed, replaying that moment in his mind, letting every detail revel slowly before him. "I was fully busy, teaching some rather brutish Arcanan fellow a hard lesson he would soon and not lightly forget when suddenly I heard a powerful explosion that was close to your position. After I dispatched him, I climbed up a ridge for a better view of things-and there you were. A lone woman, soaked in blood, standing up to a onearmed fighter, a damned avenging spirit on a mission." He softened his tone gradually with a faint trace of admiration subtly making its way into his voice.
I didn't really feel anything bad, it was just another one of the minor skirmishes, something to blow over with little to no relevance. But as my eyes moved, I saw someone hunched down behind you, sitting still as death, and that made my skin crawl. I squinted hard to try to see any better, nearly swore when I nearly said "what in the." out loud, it was Sir Zephyr, the childhood prodigy of Valoira, lying there unconscious in the middle of the mayhem that surrounded us. And just as I was trying to process this revelation, you reached up to wipe your face, smearing the blood that had built up across your cheek like war paint of some kind, and it clicked-exactly who you were.
His voice became stiff with a blend of severity and profound admiration. "To see you both at that moment-on the very edge of collapse but with the determination not to back down, I knew at once I could not leave you in such a fragile state. Once I finally reached you, the battle was over. Both of you were almost totally spent, maintaining your moods just barely, yet you had stood firm obstinately like real, noble warriors."
Elira's cheeks flushed with a very complicated mix of both pride and an overwhelming felt shame. Thorn's words had really hurt her, reminding her by sheer necessity of just how close they had gotten to losing everything they held precious to them. She steadied her breath, something she desperately tried to do, in order to force herself to maintain the flat tone in her voice as she spoke. "Zephyr… he was turned out like that because of the Arcanan sage," she said, her voice steadying further into words. "She cast an absolutely freakingly enormous spell-an enormous ball of pure magic. He tried to break free from it, but unfortunately, she hit him head-on… That's the reason why he is like that."
Thorn's face clouded, his jaw setting noticeably to the situation. "So this is what took place. I see," he said in a barely audible tone of comprehension. His voice softened not at all as his bright, piercing eyes fastened onto hers, revealing something far more profound.
For a moment, he shifted her slightly in his hold, her voice low with embarrassment. "General, could you. put me down? It feels awkward being carried by my superior like this."
Thorn grinned outright at that, allowing amusement in the situation to bleed through. "Are you as sure as all this? Well, the camp isn't all that far from here, and I must confess to you: you're perilously close to collapse at any moment."
Her face reddened further. "I am fine. Please," she said firmly, her voice still quivering beneath.
And with a reluctant and heavy sigh, Thorn slowly and carefully eased her up onto her feet. "Suit yourself, Lieutenant," he said, with tone that wasn't exactly good-natured. "But if you happen to faint before we reach the camp, don't expect me to pick you up again like I did just now."
Elira laughed weakly, using a trembling leg to steady herself. "I won't, sir. Thank you."
They walked side by side, her steps uneven, faltering a little as she walked, but with each step she took, she felt herself becoming stronger, more steady in her movements. And after a moment of contemplation, Elira looked up at him with her eyes and her voice grew softer, even subdued. "Do you think. Zephyr will be all right at the end?
Thorns' face, stern in the extreme, smoothed out considerably, his gruff tone shifting in a surprisingly unexpectedly unexpected way to be gentle. "You know him much better than I do, Elira. But when it comes down to someone like him? He's certainly not going down without a fight that easily." Then, with a playful smirk that seemed full of mischievous teasing, he continued, "Though, considering the way you're worrying so much, I'm beginning to wonder… is there perhaps something more between you and our prodigy?
Elira's face flared scarlet with embarrassment, and she looked hastily away, breaking the eye contact. "N-no, sir! It's nothing like that at all," she stuttered, trying to push on, her voice slightly quivering. "He's just… he is very important to Valoira. If anything happens to him, it would be a huge loss for everyone. That's all there is to it."
Thorn couldn't help it but smile. He was patently unimpressed, but he sure wasn't going to start lecturing about it. "Okay, whatever you say, Lieutenant."
The remainder of the walk continued in complete silence, with no words exchanged between them, until, at last, the camp came into clear view in the distance. At that moment, Thorn came to a sudden halt, and his demeanor shifted dramatically as he adopted a tone that was suddenly very serious and focused, as if he had shifted into a professional mindset. "You go ahead and proceed to the camp," he instructed. "I'll take Zephyr directly to the doctor's tent myself. It's better that the men don't have to witness their hero in such a vulnerable state."
Elira nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Yes, sir." She headed off to the camp while Thorn pressed on that quieter route, with Zephyr in tow. Inside the doctor's tent, Thorn set Zephyr down on the cot. His voice was curt; he addressed the medic as he spoke. "Treat him immediately. And listen-heard? He'll be confidential. If this hits the press, then morale is going to hit rock bottom. Do you understand?" The doctor nodded nervously. "Understood, General." Once Thorn said the doctor was at the clinic and should get to work soon, he stepped back out to leave the chore of standing watch while keeping an eye on Zephyr to Elira. Fatigued, though she was, with leaden eyelids heavy under the weight of her exhaustion, she steeled herself against sleep's siren call. So wary and watchful did her eyes remain upon the fighting hero who had fought so gamely and battle-hardened by her side in all their struggles.