Alchimia Rex

Rick had little reason to suspect that danger would be coming his way specifically. The instant the palace had opened, Captain Deneva had issued a very simple command: charge. Lord Harold had quickly requested the tribe’s help in ensuring the safety of everyone not involved in the battle. There were humans nearby, as well as non-combatant maidens such as the healers.

He agreed, of course. The tribe was sturdy, and it was a less risky endeavor than fighting within the palace. Not to mention that sending them to retrieve Barry could very well result in them getting in the knights' way.

Not the strongest position to take, but the whole point of these negotiations had been to ensure a better working relationship with the Earl’s people. And if they happened to get into a pinch, then the tribe coming in as a reserve would also gain some favor.

Monica didn’t let him take a single step; however, her fuzzy paw on his shoulder was iron, and she was not moving an inch, eyes fixed on the branches that loomed nearly a hundred meters overhead.

Lord Harold noticed this. “Is something the-?”

Monica’s paw lashed out, grasping Dia right as she’d been about to step away from them and towards the tribe. In an explosion of dust and debris, a spear had embedded itself into the position she’d occupied a split second earlier.

“GET COVER!” The healer screamed out from within her black spiky armor, held tightly against Monica’s chest right next to Rick. “ATTACK FROM ABOVE!”

With the dust settling, Rick realized Dia had not been the only one targeted.

Lord Harold and the three knights who had been his guards were now impaled by eight spears. The knights' bodies had been pierced cleanly through either their chests or helmets, immobile as they dripped blood through the shafts.

The noble was mangled beyond recognition, his body closer to a splatter. The brutality of the attacks had shredded through everything in their path. A human like Harold never stood a chance.

Eyes widening in horror, Rick thought to rush back to the house, but Monica had not moved an inch. “Stay,” the Sabertooth declared coldly, keeping both him and Dia close against her chest.

“We have to do something!” he called back out. “We-”

“STAY,” Monica snarled, keeping her sight still pointed upwards.

“Rick,” Dia drew his attention softly, lowering her gaze to the Sabertooth’s arms. They were shaking.

Turning back to Monica, he could feel it now; the anger was a facade, there was terror underneath. Every hair on her body stood on its end, her grip trembled, ears flat against her skull. She was afraid, truly afraid. Her sole concern was escape; he could feel the desperate desire to leave this place as fast as she could.

Rick could only fathom that whatever was attacking them was, somehow, not giving her room to move an inch. Any attempt to peer through the bond was only met with an overwhelming sensation of walls closing in from all sides. How? Why? What was going on that only Monica could sense?

Further away from them, things were getting frantic. Harold hadn’t been the only human targeted, nor the only successful one. The tribe was swarming all over the place, each individual Orc wielding broad metallic shields they’d brought in preparation to fight the Golden Elves. Each Orc glued themselves to a human and would help shepherd the weaker maidens as well if any came under the protection of their shields.

Yet whenever the spears (Rick refused to call them arrows when they were longer than he was tall) landed, someone would die. Whoever was above them was not wasting a single shot, only taking the opportunity when it presented itself. Not once did Rick spot anyone on the tree branches overhead, the spears only ever came with brutal force, so fast he could not even follow them.

One moment someone tripped, or perhaps they would try to peek from around cover, or ignored all warnings as they rushed toward their human.

The next, their head would be gone, and the ground would burst out as if someone had detonated a grenade.

By contrast, the knights attacking the palace had not ignored the threat but rather could not afford to pay attention to it. They’d unilaterally removed their collars rather than risk descending into panic. Whatever was happening inside those wooden walls had put a fire under them; it was clear they deemed having two open fronts suicidal. Deneva herself remained at the rear of the assault, focused on the branches overhead.

Much like with Monica, the Swordmistress’ presence appeared to be considered as effective as a physical barrier. The snipers overhead were not taking shots at her, seemingly focused on picking off stragglers.

His gaze turned back toward the first victims. Rick didn’t like the thought of “getting used to" corpses, but this was entirely on another level. Every instance of a maiden killing a human had been measured, clean, minimal. His own murder of Lord Thorley had carried with it more brutality in many ways.

This looked like someone had placed bombs inside Lord Harold.

“Rick.” Dia’s hand squeezed his own, but Rick pulled away, unable to turn his eyes from the stained ground.

Every shot had been clean, perfect; not a single target survived. Which felt out of place. If they left the injured behind, then wouldn’t it be easier to wear the knights out? Wounded meant healers working overtime; it meant people dragging survivors away.

And the humans… Why the overkill? It couldn’t possibly be that they couldn’t ensure the kill in a less gruesome manner.

Rick glanced back at the others. The knights were succeeding in their push into the palace, and the tribe was gathering people within the safety of the homes that had been built into the trees. Everyone was making a grand effort to move into cover and out of direct line of sight from the archers overhead.

Everyone but Monica, who remained exactly perfectly still, holding him and Dia in place.

She could have shadow-jumped into the house they’d been in earlier.

Something felt terribly wrong, and Rick was barely catching up with his gut, or was it his bond? Despite how still Monica was, her bond was screaming out like a cornered animal, every part of her not just refusing contact but lashing out. The disparity felt as if they were two completely different people. The one he could see with his eyes, nearly perfectly stoic if not for the shaking claws, and the one through the bond that seethed and screamed in terror, looking for any way to get him out of there.

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t touch that terror through the bond. It was worse than Eva’s hunger, like it wasn’t just an emotion but an inextricable part of Monica herself.

“Hold tight,” Monica whispered, crouching ever so slightly and tightening her grip on him.

For a fraction of a second, she’d looked at the houses, at the places the tribe was moving into for shelter. Monica hesitated, trying to say something, pain shooting across her features, but no words coming out, fear flaring out with soul-crushing intensity.

She looked at Rick with a wordless scream for help.

It didn’t click for him until the first of the houses exploded. There was no fire, no smoke, just an overwhelming barrage of concussive force pushing dust and debris out of the windows. A volley of attacks had pierced straight through the bark without leaving a trace behind.

Some of the people in there were his own.

The world swirled in darkness as they plunged into the shadows; coldness drove all air from his lungs. His skin itched from the energy swirling around them as Monica dragged all three through the shadows.

Powerlessness burned in them both.

Rick gasped for air the moment they burst out of the shadows, mind spinning, unable to keep up. Monica had no sooner emerged than she’d plunged again. There was the muffled sound of explosions striking nearby.

Their path shifted abruptly; he couldn’t see it in the shadows, but he could sense their inertia swinging differently. The three of them surged out at the edge of the clearing that surrounded the palace, and Monica plunged again, quicker this time.

Over and over she’d pull out, plunge back in, and change direction. Not once did Monica surface too far away from the palace, and every time they plunged back into the darkness, the muffled sound of those concussive blasts would follow instants after.

The Golden Elves were blocking off escape, somehow. Perhaps not through directly disrupting Monica’s abilities, but by making it impossible for her to surface safely further away from the palace. It was a maddening game of cat and mouse, one Rick couldn’t survive for long; the longer the jumps, the more he felt a chilly coldness spreading within him.

All the while, his mind was locked into that glance she had given him, that moment where their eyes had met.

She’d known. She’d known it was unsafe inside the houses, that the Golden Elves would attack the survivors the moment they thought themselves safe. She’d known and not said a thing, because the easiest opportunity to get him out of there was to slip away during the attack.

Because, according to the bond, his survival trumped all else.

He wanted to be angry at her, but he couldn’t. Her emotions were pouring out through the bond; she desperately wanted to help, to do anything. But she couldn't take that risk; she could not put him in that situation.

They emerged from the jump when Dia said something to Monica. Rick’s head was spinning; the chill had been digging into his bones. He didn’t exactly grasp the meaning behind Dia’s words, but he got the gist of it: the elemental energy was starting to mess with his body. Not enough to be dangerous, though. Not yet, at least.

But it was impossible to sustain this.

Rick didn’t want to escape; he wanted to help, yet he shared their confusion. Why were their attackers focusing so much on ensuring they couldn’t get out? He looked around. They were still at the periphery of the palace’s clearing. Monica was glued to him, looming, gaze fixed overhead and attentive for anything coming from any direction. The healing brought clarity and realization.

What could their objective be that required keeping them here?

“They’re not attacking.”

The spears had only landed on them every time Monica jumped, but always an instant after she’d entered the darkness. And right now, no one else was being assaulted by the snipers. As if every single one of them was entirely focused on Monica. To make sure every possible one of her avenues of escape was accounted for, threatened.

“Monica, I need you to listen to me.”

Her hand clenched his shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “Not leave Rick.” Her words were harsh, yet there was a waver in her tone, a plea for him not to do what she likely suspected he would do.

“Then don’t.” He held back his grimace; they both knew Monica couldn’t be trusted. The bond had coerced her into this corner. “But we can’t get out of here. We have to fight.”

“No!” She hissed, turning to look at him with desperate eyes.

“You can’t get me out of here, Monica, you tried. If you push any harder, I’ll be poisoned by your energy.” He gripped her hand. “We have to fight.”

“Monica keep Rick safe, tribe fight, tribe–” She was shaking, breathing fast.

“We have to fight. All of us.” He had an idea, a dangerous idea. “Take me to Sheel, Monica, she can keep me safe. You can help the tribe fight back.”

The feline shook her head firmly. “No, only lose, too weak.”

“There’s a way.” He gripped her hand and squeezed. “I just need you to trust me.”

Deep within his heart, Rick knew that if his suspicion proved to be true, then his plan would be one none of the maidens bonded to him would approve of. Particularly Monica, not as she was now, where everything meant death in the most absolute of ways.

Monica’s desperate blue eyes moved from him to the healer. Perhaps she was aware that her judgment was compromised. Something that wasn’t at such an extreme for Dia. Rick could sense Dia was on to him, her eyes boring into the back of his skull.

“Trust Rick,” Dia said after what felt like an eternity. “He promised not to put his life needlessly at risk. He knows what I’ll do if he dies, after all.”

His attempt at a reassuring smile stiffened.

Monica was too beside herself to notice, giving a slow trembling nod.