Hermera


    The 3^rd of Skirophorion


    The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals


    Lyssa hit the ground a moment after Tess pulled Arche away from slaughtering Fig. The honor-duel was over, ended by Figoritolos’s capitulation. He lay nearby, howling at his own pain, but Lyssa didn’t waste a glance on him. Arche’s skin was pale and he was covered in wounds. The most serious of which were the gashes in his shoulder, side, and leg, but the multitude covering his chest and arms had stopped bleeding.


    “Odelia!” Lyssa shouted.


    She had no idea if the halfling woman was among the crowd watching.


    “Odelia!”


    Tess cradled Arche’s head, tears streaming down her cheeks.


    “No, no, no,” she murmured. “You can’t die, remember? Stay with me. Don’t leave me, please.”


    Arche’s breathing was ragged and shallow. His eyelids had mostly closed, telling Lyssa he had already slipped away into unconsciousness from blood loss and injury. Without magical intervention, he would die.


    A small figure appeared next to Lyssa, hands glowing with power. Lyssa sank to her knees.


    “Hold him steady, girls,” Odelia said. “He’s in a bad way.”


    The halfling woman gripped hold of Arche, the soft light around her hands flowing over him. Arche convulsed, his body contracting and spasming. Tess held his shoulders down and clenched her teeth, her eyes screwed shut. Lyssa grabbed hold of Arche’s arms to pin them in place so he wouldn’t hurt himself further. She was scared to touch his legs, one of which was twisted the wrong way around.


    Odelia’s face grew sweaty as she continued casting her spell. When the light faded, she let out a ragged breath and held her chest.


    “He should stabilize,” she gasped. “But I can do no more for him now.”


    “Allow me.”


    Lyssa turned and saw her father standing next to them.


    He knelt, one hand glowing brightly as he placed it against Arche’s chest. A moment later, Arche’s eyes flew open. His throat bulged as though he were screaming, but no sound came out. Instead, she heard the grinding rasp of bones resetting and refitting themselves into place. A few moments later, he was whole, gasping for breath and looking around with wild eyes.


    Lyssa allowed herself an entire second of relief, then her eyes turned to Figoritolos. Her father had already healed him, it seemed, as he was lying in the mud with his arms and legs spread wide, but no longer screaming. His ear was still missing, though whether it was by way of reminder or from lack of ability to regenerate it, Lyssa wasn’t certain. Fig stared up into the sky, face ashen.


    Witnessing the fight had been one of the single worst events of Lyssa’s life. From the beginning to the horrible end, her only thought was to question how she could have let things spiral out of control to reach this point. It should never have gone this far. She should have foreseen a way to smooth things over without Arche having to fight an honor-duel.


    Even as she thought it, she knew there was nothing she could have done.


    “Where is he?”


    She turned her attention back to Arche. He was sitting up with Tess beside him, stroking his face. He caught Lyssa’s eye. For a single moment, someone else stared back at her. A stranger. Then he blinked and it was Arche again.


    “Did I kill him?”


    “See for yourself.”


    His eyes unfocused, then refocused a moment later. He nodded to himself, then slowly got to his feet. Tess put one of his arms around her shoulders and helped steady him. He was still pale, but no longer trembled.


    “What happened?” Tess asked.


    “He happened,” Lyssa answered, indicating Fig with a jerk of her head. “An honor-duel.”


    The other Dawnwood elves had formed a ring around Figoritolos, but none moved to help him beyond what Lord Cypress had already done. Fig laid unmoving in the mud, sightless eyes still staring up into the rain.


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    “Killing him would have been kinder,” Arche said, his voice hollow as he looked at the husk of an elf.


    “It’s not about kindness,” Lyssa said. “It’s about survival. You have just ruined three centuries of his progression, but he keeps his life.”


    “Lucky him,” Arche muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. “What happens now?”


    “What indeed?” Lyssa raised her voice. “Lord Cypress. The honor-duel is over.”


    “The quest for the vampire is rescinded. She will be allowed to continue her existence in peace, so long as she refrains from entering our lands. I would advise you, however, from one leader to another, not to throw your lot in with practitioners of death magic. There is only so much Dawnwood can overlook.”


    Arche stepped past her, headed straight for Fig. This got the first real reaction out of the elf since the fight ended. Fig scrambled backward, his eyes like those of a frightened animal. Arche stopped and bent down.


    “You have the time and ability to relearn what was lost,” Arche said. “But never forget that it was a human that bested you.”


    Fig made a coughing noise that sounded like he was trying to say ‘monster,’ and Lyssa realized with a sick feeling that his ear was still lodged somewhere in his throat. Arche stood and turned away.


    The world grew still.


    A chill ran up her spine as water droplets froze before her. Wild-eyed, she looked around, but everyone was frozen in place. Everyone except Arche, who matched her confusion. Then, his face twisted into a mask of pain and he clutched at his head.


    “Arche!” Lyssa cried out, at his side in an instant.


    “No, no, no, it’s too early,” Arche muttered. “He’s coming.”


    Lyssa felt cold radiate throughout her entire body. In a flash, she produced her bow, Iliofotia, and knocked it with a light arrow. Movement caught her eye and she swiveled to it. The blood and rainwater amalgamated into a vaguely humanoid form. The liquid pulsed and writhed, then a man of crimson blood stood before them. Dark metal armor emerged, battle-worn and battered, but no weapon. The blooded entity’s eyes were cold slits of metal. Lyssa saw her face reflected in those eyes, her own uncertainty cast back at her. Her own fears.


    There was no doubt in her mind. This was Ares.


    “Two of you, now. Interesting.”


    The voice radiated power. The mere sound of it was like a weight thrown onto Lyssa, but she stood firm. Next to her, Arche held out his hand and the Tridory flew into it from its place atop the hill. Ares laughed, a sinister noise.


    “Amusing as it would be, I am not here for you. Not yet.”


    Ares turned toward Figoritolos and the elf unfroze, quickly scampering backward. The blood entity reached out a misshapen hand and spoke.


    “Join me and I will give you power and vengeance.”


    Fig looked from Ares to Lyssa, then finally to Arche. Then he grabbed the entity’s hand and disappeared. Lyssa’s heart dropped, but she didn’t have time to think about her former friend. Ares turned back to them.


    “A man and an elf have arrayed themselves against me, so I will raise up a man and an elf in turn. I am looking forward to this war you have promised me, boy.”


    Arche didn’t answer, but by the intense look on his face and the muttered whispers, he was doing something. Lyssa kept her arrow nocked and leveled at Ares’s face, in case Arche decided to make a move. In the distance, a peal of thunder rang out. Ares turned toward the noise, then looked back, his gaze fixed squarely on Arche.


    “Very well. Get them all involved. It will make for a more beautiful battle.”


    The crash of rain returned. With it, Ares melted into the ground and disappeared. Both Lyssa and Arche let out gasps as they acclimated to the sudden loss of Ares’s presence. Lyssa let her arrow fall away into nothing and her bow returned to a stream of light around her hand. Arche sank the sauroter of his spear into the ground and sagged against it.


    At the same time, a cry went up from the gathering of elves and the rasp of metal leaving sheathes could be heard. Lord Cypress whirled on them.


    “What trickery is this? What was that creature?”


    “That was Ares,” Arche said. “The God of War.”


    “God?” Cypress snarled. “There are no gods. They died out long ago.”


    Arche paused and seemed to consider that.


    “That makes a little too much sense, actually, but I can assure you that they are very much still around.”


    Cypress turned his attention to Lyssa.


    “Tell me this is not a trick.”


    “No trick,” she said. “Ares is breeding a war. The scope is yet to be defined, but his ambition knows no bounds.”


    “Then he has created an enemy in me,” Cypress thundered, adding in elvish. “To Dawnwood!”


    As one, the elven host turned and began a sprint over the grassland. Lyssa watched them leave, wondering if Dawnwood would truly join the coming conflict and whether it would be on their side. Next to her, Arche sagged and nearly fell. She caught him below the arm before he hit the ground, giving him a concerned look.


    “I’m cold,” he mumbled. “I think I should lie down for a bit.”


    Her father’s spell hadn’t restored his missing blood.


    “Tess, can you take him?”


    Tess didn’t answer. She stared at the place Ares had stood, one hand pressed hard against her side.


    “Tess!”


    Tess jumped, a knife in her hand. She saw Lyssa holding Arche upright and moved to help, disappearing the knife into her inventory. Gigator marshalled the guards to get everyone back inside the walls.


    As the gates shut, Lyssa looked back toward the pool of blood and shivered.