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.
6291443 As you wish...Chapter Thirty Six - Fire Lillies, uploaded
6293496 Hi, you're absolutely right, i could have expanded on the backstory of Rush's family more. At the time of writing I was worried about diverging too much from the main story, rather wanting to leave this more to the reader's imagination as to what they thought had happened to his family when they'd been taken away and why they had effectively joined the bandits. Essentially, I was thinking of a form of Stockholm Syndrome.
Another reason, was that i didn't want Rush to appear to be dwelling on this, instead accepting that it was a part of his past and had been buried to the point of being almost 'circumstantial' to his life. I felt this was important as it showed Rush to be a person who in some ways had a painful past, but that it was something he'd pushed from his mind. Celestia's appearance begins to break down some of those walls and he comes to understand he still has feelings, but there is still that sense of detachment from his human family. Whether this is due to his ancestry or not, i want the reader to decide. There's more to Rush's backstory as you read on, but i'd ruin it for you if I said any more.
You'll have to forgive me, i've always been a bit worried about ending up as being too 'explanatory' with anything I write. When I think back to some of the films i've watched, the ones I prefer are the ones that get you thinking. Of course, there's always going to be extremes, but I have tried to find a balance. I fully take on what you said and will bear it mind for any future writings.
Thanks again for the helpful feedback
6295742 While I certainly agree that Stockholm Syndrome can lead to sympathy with and empathy for their captors, what makes it come across as contrived is the extremity of that reaction. Stockholm Syndrome can lead to positive feelings toward the controller, negative feelings toward the rescuers, supportive behavior by the victim helping the abuser, and lack of desire by the victim to be rescued, it does not completely erase previous feelings. In those scenarios where hostages assisted their captors against rescuers, they were turning weapons on what they viewed as members of an outside group directly threatening their new "friends". Not family members that they had strong emotional ties with. My problem isn't the behavior itself, it's the abruptness in which it is portrayed, with no apparent feelings of remorse, hesitation, or even attempts to justify it. His wife and child were the aggressors, and as written, attacked him so suddenly and so forcefully that he was still suffering from shock at even seeing them alive when he was injured. They showed no shock, no hesitation, and no remorse in doing so, DESPITE the fact that as written, his daughters dying words were to say she loved him.
Additionally, the FBI statistics state that the amount of hostages who display SOME form of Stockholm Syndrome for their captors is about 8%. Now it's entirely likely that several factors can lead to more extreme forms of/higher percentages of Stockholm Syndrome, none of this changes the fact that their reactions come across as excessive in the extreme, to the point where in my case, the reader is jarred out of the narrative.
My take on it is this; you already have a habit of taking detours to show other POVs, some of which could probably have been done without. So far we've had Celestia, Nasta, some lord who's name escapes me, Thorn, Rend, and probably several others who's contribution to the narrative has left so little impression on me that I actually can't remember them. I may even have gotten those names wrong because I didn't care about them enough. I imagine that probably comes across as somewhat harsh, but I'm trying to illustrate another issue; the POV changes are useful techniques, but you are in danger of doing it too often/unnecessarily. When, as a reader, I find myself skimming over a certain POV because I want to get back to the narrative that involves the characters I actually care about and empathize with, that's a sign that the author has not devoted enough time to a set of characters for me to care about them, aside from how their actions affect the characters I DO care about.
This lack of concern hits other characters as well, Blossom's death had very little impact, other than a vague, aw... a young girl? That's too bad. She was never introduced in the narrative, in fact, her connection to and relationship with Rush is so vague that you don't even know she's his niece until after she's dead. Up until her death leads to a frantic search for revenge, we only know that she and Rush know each other, and that he likes her.
That's it. We learn absolutely nothing else about this character until she's already dead. Not only is her death not terribly shocking (because we don't really know her, or care about her much), we can't empathize with how much of an impact her death has on Rush, so much so that we have to be TOLD, in the narrative, how much her death has an impact. This all points to a couple of things. One, you're rushing the narrative to get to a specific point in the story, to the point where some of the characters and their importance to/relation with the narrative focus characters are being lost or missed, and this rush is also causing some characters actions to come across as extreme or even unbelievable because we lack the context that would make those actions make sense, given the characterization they have received.
Looking at the comments, I find that some of the other criticisms you are receiving are in effect readers who are getting confused at the narrative, to the point where they simply stop reading because they can't follow what is going on. ALL of these issues readers are having with the story probably come from the same source; not enough time is being used to flesh out the narrative and set the scene. The story is bounding along at a breakneck pace, without stopping to consider or even really shed light on the reasons for characters actions and feelings, and the result is that some readers are getting left behind and becoming disillusioned. My advice to you is that when multiple readers are having the same problem, it's a strong hint that you should probably slow down a bit and elaborate. Again, as soon as you have to TELL me that someone is feeling or thinking a certain way, you're taking a short cut. If there simply isn't enough context for you to SHOW me what they are feeling or thinking, that's a bad sign.
Remember, show me, don't tell me.
I hope this helps. I really do, because you've got a good story here, but it is sadly suffering for the reasons I laid out. Some readers won't care, readers are a diverse lot, but as evidenced by some of their comments, several do.
Gods thirst have been sated..For now but I exspect moar from your glorious story
6299541 Hi, Thanks for all the feedback. You're right, this was written as a short story, in part to try and help see what readers like, want and to help to me to develop. I wrote three books in the Fairlight series and these were absolutely slated, although some did really like them. When the Snow Melts was an idea i'd had for a long time but i was concerned about it becoming too long and, goddess forbid, 'boring'. I like a story to be well paced and maybe i was a little quick with this one. I know the issue regarding Rush being forced to kill his wife and child were more 'touched upon' rather than gone into in any great detail, but this was deliberate on my part. Probably not the best idea, as it turned out!
The later stages of the story are supposed to be quite fast paced, and here we have a problem i've encountered, which is transferring my mental imagery to you, the reader. A bit sloppy on my part? Maybe. You the reader will have to decide! When i can, I will go back and edit some of the chapters, the same with Rush's family 'back story' and a little more explanation as to why Thorn didn't attack Rend at the road (That's been questioned earlier too).
I do take criticism to heart and listen to everything people say, which will help me offer stories in future that will be more 'rounded' for want of a better word. My Fairlight series is my pet project, and I have completed four books now, three of which are on Fimfiction. The snag being that I wrote the story that I wanted to read, but it was clearly not for everyone. What i'd like to do is to re-write the whole lot and remove a lot of the mature content to make it more accessible for a wider audience base. Its written in first person, which oddly i find more comfortable that this particular story.
If there's one thing i've learned from everyone's comments on here, its that i seriously need a pre-reader/editor!
Thanks again and I really hope you like the ending.
6298782 We're nearing the end, sadly, but fear not. Should you stop by book four of Fairlight (When i get around to publishing it of course), you will be able to indulge your desire for warfare to the fullest. This book covers the war with the changelings which i particularly enjoyed. Hope you like it when its published!
6296557 Hi, this is exactly the sort of feedback i need. Thank you very much indeed for taking the time to point out areas where i can concentrate on and improve. Most of my writing since leaving school has been based around official reports for work, and my creative writing only started at the back end of last year. My first few books crashed and burned (badly), but i still like them!
I think you're absolutely right in what you say though, and it really shows the value of a pre-reader and an editor. I did try to find one with my Fairlight series, but i just couldn't get a response so did the job myself. I think you can see from all the 'thumbs downing' how that idea turned out.
So, where do we go with this story? I can always edit/re-write the areas noted by yourself and others when i get time, as I really like this story and want readers to as well.
The story hasn't far to go now, but I hope you enjoy the ending. I had two possible ones in mind, and the one i chose may not be to everyone's taste, but that's always going to be an issue with any ending.
Thanks again, and i really do appreciate the feedback.
6299613 Hmmm When its realest i'll indulge in the blood and glory but for now KEEP. POSTING.if that's alright with you ......Mortal