//------------------------------// // Chapter Thirty Six - Fire Lillies // Story: When The Snow Melts // by Bluespectre //------------------------------// CHAPTER THIRTY SIX FIRE LILLIES The force of the blast blew Ire and Ghai across the street and into a pile of hay left out for Saru’s horses, the wall of an adjacent house preventing them from travelling any further. The young lord’s body felt completely numb, his ears screaming with a high-pitched whine and his vision shrinking as his consciousness quickly began whirling away from him, taking him down into the darkness. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a large tattooed man reaching down for him. He smiled to himself; why did angels need to have tattoos? Chert held the door open as his men pulled the mangled figures of the lord and the clerk out of the freezing fog. He looked out of the door both ways before pulling it shut quickly. Stran passed Ire to another who carried him upstairs, led by a worried-looking Jinu. Chert adjusted his sword. “Keep alert, Stran, and keep them safe.” “Yes, Boss.” Outside, Saru’s men had found what was left of their lord and his two guards. One was still alive, barely. He managed to say one word: “Assassin.” That was all it took. A moment later, all hell broke loose around the house as the air began to fill with shouts. Ire’s men, their ranks swelled by Chert’s, poured out of the main house and side buildings just as the one housing the bulk of the late lord’s men exploded into pieces of flying debris, fire, and body parts. Screams from the wounded and dying carried to those still living, adding an extra note of both fear and rage to the warriors. More of them flooded into the street as additional explosions rent the air, spewing fire and death across the village. Saru’s men rallied, drawing swords and launching themselves in suicidal fury at those they believed responsible for the murder of their lord. Ire’s men, determined to defend their young lord and the memory of his late father, bellowed their own war cries and charged. Swords clashed; the ring of steel and cries of the warriors turning the once idyllic village into what Rush had always feared… another battlefield. He staggered down an alley between two houses, leaning against a wall for support. His head was splitting; in fact, he was certain that was exactly what had happened. Probing it gingerly with his hand, he found a little blood, but not much as much as he’d feared, thank the gods. What the hell had happened? Everything was going as planned. He’d been waiting in the alleyway for the signal before something had struck him hard from behind, and the ground had been the last thing he’d seen. Now, he’d come to in one of the circles of hell. All around him was fire, the burning shells of buildings and… oh gods, that sound! Steel on steel, screaming, shouting—it was happening again! A hand suddenly grabbed him from behind, and he spun around to face Nasta, his eyes wide in shock. “Rush! Oh thank the gods, you’re alive! It’s Lord Saru—he’s been murdered, and now Saru’s men are fighting Lord Ire’s. We’re in the middle of a war! What are we going to do?!” Rush could only think of one thing right then: he had to reach the princess, he had to get her out before… “Rush, please! We need you!” “Damn it!” Rush grabbed Nasta’s shoulder. “Where are they?” “They’re in the house.” “What the hell are you doing out here then?” “I… I wanted to try and get you out, the two of you. I’m sorry, Rush, I’ve felt so guilt that I didn’t do more for you. I shouldn’t have left you in there! I thought that in the confusion I could—” There was another blast as one of the outermost buildings turned to fragments that rained down heavily on the surrounding properties, dropping broken timbers and the memories of a family’s lifetime into the uncaring streets.   The two step-brothers pressed up against a wall as debris fell all around them. Nasta gasped. “Oh gods, we have to get to Cray’s family! I promised him!” Rush grabbed a nearby pitchfork that was leaning up against the wall with some other assorted tools of the farming community. It wasn’t much, but it would be better than nothing. His heart strangely calm amidst the chaos, Rush could feel his long-buried army training coming back to him. He was all too aware how this was keeping him from Celestia, but he couldn’t abandon Nasta, not now. Whatever else he was, Nasta was still the nearest thing he had to family. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. “Come on, let’s move!” They ran through the fog, the eerie orange glow from the sky contrasting with the flickering of burning buildings and eye-stinging smoke. Cray’s house wasn’t far, just around the next corner, the alley behind the workshops and behind— Nasta slammed into Rush, who had pulled up suddenly, staring ahead of him at what had once been the home of one of the village’s families. Nasta, gasping for air from the short sprint, wiped his eyes and took in the scene. With a strangled cry of horror, he roughly shoved Rush out of the way. “NO!” Nasta ran into the wreckage, pulling chunks of burning wood away with his bare hands, tearing at the remains of doors and walls. “Gods, no, no, NO!” He turned to his step-brother. “Don’t just stand there, for the gods’ sake, help me!” Rush knew it was hopeless. Anything in this would have been obliterated in that blast, but maybe, just maybe, there was the slimmest of chances… Nasta was desperate, howling and crying in despair as he dug through the destruction to find Cray’s family, or what was left of them. Using anything they had in hand, the two of them levered up the debris and peered underneath. Choking from the smoke and burnt by the flames, Rush finally grabbed Nasta’s shoulder. “Nasta, they’re not here!” His step-brother pulled away. “Of course they are! Why the hell wouldn’t they be? We need to get them out of here, Rush!” “For the gods’ sake, man, look at this place! Its matchwood! If they’d been in here, we would have found something by now!” Nasta stared at his step-brother, his eye twitching before he suddenly grabbed him in a bear hug. “Rush… I’ve failed him… I’ve failed my friend. It was all he asked me to do, and I couldn’t even do that.” Rush shook his head, pulling away. “You don’t know that, Nasta, think! Is there anywhere else they could have gone?” “I… I don’t know!” “Well, we can’t stay here. We have to get to your house and check to see if your family’s alright.” “Yes… I… You’re right. Let’s go.” Despite the cold, the heat from the fires was intense, the simple wooden buildings taking little to catch light. Amongst it all, shadowy figures rushed here and there in the dense fog and smoke, some fighting fires as well as others fighting each other without any noticeable direction. Sweat poured down Rush’s back as they ran. The princess was probably in the safest place in village, he reasoned, since she was surrounded by guards and… “Damn it, Nasta, move!” Rush picked up speed, trying to remember the feeling of strength in his legs, the power, the speed, but nothing came. His frail human body was failing him at every turn just when he needed it the most. The princess needed him; he should be there for her right now, not running away from her in this chaos! The door to the garden hung open, cart tracks and the evidence of a lot of people having passed through here recently was clearly visible. Nasta never slowed, charging up the steps and flinging open the doors. “Petal! Sera! Wing! Daddy’s here; where are you?!” Rush, hot on his step-brother’s heels, scanned the empty room. There were clear signs of a hurried evacuation, with clothing and bedding strewn around the floor haphazardly. Nasta turned to Rush, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh gods, no! The hill road!” Rush grabbed his shoulders. “No! Stop, Nasta, think, man. To head there in this, with all the fighting? No, Petal’s not that foolish. Look around you—they’ve gone somewhere for safety. Where’s the safest place in the village?” “The boss’ house?” “No.” Rush shook his head. “Not now. No, somewhere where there’s space for them to take shelter and remote enough to be away from the fighting.” The answer hit him just as the side door was flung open by one of the servants, a sword in his hand and sweat dripping down his face. “Master? Thank the gods you’re safe.” Nasta hurried over. “Frel, are you alright? What’s happened? Where’s my family?” The man collapsed into Nasta’s arms, exhausted. “They’re at the mill with the elder and some of the other families. Some of the boss’ men are there too. I volunteered to come back and keep an eye on the house in case you came back.” The relief of Nasta’s face was heart-warming. Rush closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks; not to their gods, but to another, one he could see, hear, and touch. He had to go now. Even if it meant running into the jaws of hell itself, he would be with his princess again. “Rush?”   He looked up to see Nasta beckoning him over to a dark wooden panel beneath the family shrine. Nasta respected his elders, holding his ancestors’ memories in high regard. That level of respect and devotion left Rush feeling strangely empty inside. Despite his love for his mother and Blossom, he’d rarely thought of his extended family, or even his own past up until recently. Perhaps it was a result of his Equestrian ancestry, but whatever it was, it didn’t mean he didn’t keep a place for them in his heart. Such things as shrines, though, and the paraphernalia that went with them, helped those like Nasta. For Rush, keeping the memory of those you loved alive in your heart was what truly mattered. Nasta lifted open the lid of a long, cherry, wood box, carefully removing a gently curved package wrapped in black and gold cloth from inside. Rush recognised it immediately and took a step back as a chill ran down his spine. Oblivious to his step-brother’s reaction, Nasta reverently untied the golden-coloured rope, letting both it and the cloth covering slip away to be neatly folded and replaced back inside the chest. “Rush…” “No.” Nasta stared at him. “You need it, Rush. For the gods’ sake, take it!” Memories of the war, the wounded screaming and crying for help, dying before his very eyes; his wife, his daughter, passing away as he knelt over them, their blood still fresh on his sword… his father’s sword… “I don’t want the cursed thing!” he hissed, backing away from the weapon held in Nasta’s hands. “It’s killed too many times! It’s soaked in the blood of my family.” The tall man shook his head sadly. “Then leave—” A scream of pain echoed around the room, followed by the rumble of approaching footsteps. The servant looked out down the corridor. “It’s Lord Saru’s men!” Nasta grabbed his own sword from the wall, ramming it into his belt. A strange calm settled across his features. “I won’t ask you to come with me, brother, but you are welcome to fight by my side.”   Rush stared at him, the man radiating a self-assurance he’d never seen in his step-brother before. It was… inspirational. Reed cutter, healer, stallion… Rush felt a wash of tranquillity run through his veins. He was desperate to reach the princess, but right now, his family needed him. Steadily, he reached out and took the sword, pushing it home snugly into his sash belt. Lifting the earthenware pot from the box, Rush removed the lid, taking some of the sand from inside and rubbed it into his hands. Whether he liked it or not, war had found him once more, and it was a time for sword work. He gritted his teeth, nodding to Nasta and running out the door with him towards the sound of fighting. Blood covered the walls and floor, the bodies of men from both Lord Ire’s contingent and Lord Saru’s lay throughout the larger part of the buildings surrounding Nasta’s home. Without warning, two warriors appeared like yellow-coated beasts from legend, emerging from the fog, swords held high. Rush dodged, his training coming back to him as naturally as night followed day. The sword slid effortlessly from its scabbard, striking up and out in a lethal arc, taking Saru’s man to the next world with deadly efficiency. The second had targeted Nasta. Saru’s warrior was frighteningly fast, his first strike cutting the tall man across the forearm before Rush’s thrust froze him. Nasta let out a held breath as his attacker slid to the ground. The servant re-appeared from around the doorway. “They’ve gone, but there’s fighting everywhere!”   There was no coordination, no tactics, just killing. Small bands of warriors appeared to be spread throughout the village, stumbling across one another amidst the wreckage of burning buildings. Rush flicked the blood from his sword. “Nasta, the two of you get to the mill and protect the others. There’s no more we can do here.” “But what about you?” Nasta asked, wincing as his servant tied a makeshift bandage around his wound. Rush smiled, sheathing his sword. “I have to save a princess, brother.” He opened the door to the garden and glanced back over his shoulder. “Give my love to Petal and the girls.” Nasta opened his mouth to speak, but Rush had already gone, disappearing into the all-encompassing white cloud. He smiled to himself and tried his arm. “Not a bad job, my friend. You could make a good healer some day! Come on, let’s get to that mill. It wouldn’t do to keep the ladies waiting.” ************************** Ire pushed the serving girl off him, quickly regretting his rough handling and giving her an apologetic smile. He turned to his commander, grimacing as the girl returned for another assault on his injuries. “What’s the situation out there? Ow! Bloody hell!” The girl bowed in apology. “Sorry, my lord” He was sure it wasn’t accidental this time, judging by the poorly-hidden cheeky grin. The commander bowed. “Not good. We can’t co-ordinate our force because of this damnable fog. The smoke isn't helping either. Casualties are being treated in the back rooms by the civilians who’ve taken shelter here. We’re outnumbered, but the weather is helping make it more of a level playing field.” “What about that thin fellow, the one who threw himself at me out there?” “He’s being treated with the others, mostly burns and concussion.” Ire nodded, wincing at the bolt of pain that raced down the back of his head. The girl tutted. “Please, my lord, I can’t help you if you keep moving about.” Ire sighed. “I’d love to stop and have you minister to me, my dear lady, but I have to go. Maybe later?” The girl shook her head. “As you wish, my lord.” He couldn’t help but grin to himself. These country types were in a different league to the ones at court. They were so… rural. One of his retainers passed him his swords, as he rose rather shakily to his feet. Ire looked about him. “Saru?” The commander shook his head. “Gone. Both figuratively and literally.” Ire knew now that his old adversary’s warriors, drowning in grief and despair, would most likely fight to the death to avenge their lord. Those that survived, those that ran, would likely face a frighteningly uncertain future as jobless wandering warriors. Many would eventually turn to banditry to try and survive, and that was where he came in. Or at least he did. With no more Lord Saru to bow and scrape to, the future was a little more…fluid. All he needed to do now was survive it. Ire grabbed a couple of guards on his way out of the front door. “You and you, with me.” The three men charged around the back of the building as another explosion, smaller this time, went off several hundred yards away. Ire and his men kept moving. Who the hell was doing that? It wasn’t his men, and it sure as hell wasn’t Chert’s—they wouldn’t blow up their own village. That narrowed it down to either some rogue element he wasn’t aware of, or… oh gods… Something black appeared briefly through the fog, the light from the fires glinting off slick, spiked armour. Ire caught a glimpse of a pair of unearthly eyes, glowing as red as coals, before the thing threw a cylindrical object at them and disappeared as fast as it had arrived, back into the smoke. The piece of bamboo sizzled as it came, trailing a thin line of blue smoke. Ire shouted a warning, diving in through the open doorway of a house just as the makeshift explosive detonated. The concussive blast made his head ring, the stink of bad eggs and stinging smoke making him feel nauseous. Picking himself up, Ire staggered to the doorway to be met with what was left of one of his men. His stomach heaved. Good gods, he had to get this mess under control and fast. If things weren’t bad enough having Saru’s men to contend with, now they had this damned monster running through there like a demon from hell. The image of the thing flashed through his mind. Those red eyes, its teeth and… it had been… smiling. That damned creature was enjoying this! What Celestia had said was true after all. By all the gods in the heavens, he had to get to her. If nothing else, he wanted that magnificent creature to escape this madness. It was a matter of honour now, honour and survival, for all of them. Rush charged through the snow, dodging the fighting the best he could. Nobody seemed to know what was going on, with civilians running in all directions, and pockets of yellow-coated warriors battling those wearing the blue of Ire’s house. He recognised some of Boss Chert’s men here and there, who actually looked like they knew what they were doing, shepherding the panicked villagers off towards the mill. Gods, he hoped they’d be safe there. If that thestral got to them, there’d be a bloody massacre. A shiver ran down his spine. He knew what the creature’s real goal was, and he would be damned if he’d let it have it. He rounded the corner of the next building, as something ran past him and off into the fog. The heat from the blast caught him, the smell of burning hair, his hair, making him gag. Ducking back against a wall, he looked around… It looked clear. His heart was racing… Damn it all, it was so near! All he needed to do was— “YOU!” Rush nearly slammed into the young lord as he appeared from the foul-smelling smoke. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you were going to—” “—No time,” Rush snapped. “The princess needs me. You coming?” Ire sputtered in indignation. “Wha—? Yes! Gods damn it, yes!” The three men hurried through the snow towards the storehouse and the princess.