Chapter 181

Chapter 181

I CANT BELIEVE YOU THREATENED LINS GUARDS LIKE THAT.

Greeting the soldiers as I lead my retinue out of camp, I move hand in hand with Mila while suppressing my urge to vomit, the adrenaline draining from my body as I reflect on my actions. Thankfully, I managed to climb onto Mafu before fear turned my legs into a pile of quivering goo. The immense pressure exerted by Lins guard was unlike anything Ive come across before, and nothing Id care to experience again.

THEYRE ONLY HERE TO KEEP HER SAFE, YOU DIDNT HAVE TO SNAP LIKE THAT. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU.

True. I mean, sure, Lins guard was rude but its not exactly a transgression worthy of a death threat. In light of how things went, I wouldnt say I regret my actions, though I wouldnt disagree if someone told me I overreacted. I'm becoming more like those puffed-up, arrogant noble types, so eager to shed blood. Then again, judging by how Lins guards kept their calm throughout the entire confrontation, Im fairly certain it would have been my blood being shed had I given the order to fire.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT TO ACCOMPLISH? INTIMIDATE THEM INTO BEING POLITE?

Oddly enough, I think they were pleased by my little outburst. I could be wrong, its tough reading someone wearing a veil, but I thought I saw one of them trying not to laugh, while the leader was hiding a smile. How fucked up is that? I threaten to shoot her for being rude, and her reaction is to smile.

ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING? ANSWER ME!

Wincing in pain, I turn to nod at a glaring Mila. Its nice that shes finally willing to hold hands in public, but if shes only doing it to scold me, then Id rather go without. Clearing my throat even though I wont be physically speaking, I do my best to look suitably contrite. Im sorry Mila, I wasnt thinking. I had this plan and you and Lin were almost safe, but then that woman got in the way and I snapped. Im out of sorts lately, it wont happen again, promise.

Her glare softens as she squeeze my hand in what I assume is a reassuring gesture, but her enthusiasm causes my bones to grind against one another. Compounding the pain, her voice remains at the same mind-numbing volume. IS IT BECAUSE OF THE PURGE? I KNOW IT COULDNT HAVE BEEN EASY, BUT IM HERE IF YOU NEED TO TALK...

Thank you, but I cant talk about it. Literally cant. Which is honestly the worst part. I want to talk about it, to cry, scream and rail about the injustice and hypocrisy of the Purge, let the world know mass-murder is being conducted right before their eyes, but I fucked it up by losing my temper. Im seeing a pattern of behaviour here.

Baledaghs voice sounds out in my mind, reminding me Im never alone, no matter how much I want to be. Brother, Ive been thinking. Youre acting out of sorts. Wow really? Sometimes I wish I strangled him to death when he was weak.

Gently extracting myself from Milas iron grip, so as not to accidentally Send to her while speaking with my Defiled alter-ego. Flexing my hand to make sure nothings broken, I idly wonder how my life got so complicated. I know, I know. Im exhausted, physically and mentally, but I couldnt sleep because of all this guilt and anger eating away at me. Im tired Baledagh. Im tired of failing all the time. Im tired of things never getting better. I'm tired of the shitty people who populate this world and I'm starting to wonder why I even bother trying to save them. I can't focus and everything irritates me. Im still aching all over from healing and everything I eat tastes like ashes.

The world seems empty and lifeless, devoid of any colour. Baledagh speaks softly, his sorrow apparent. You want to throw it all away, give up and leave everything for someone else to deal with. I know your thoughts brother, I've felt the same, which worries me. Its exactly what the Spectres want, for you to surrender. I gave up long ago, but you saved me, kept them from consuming me. Is it possible theyre affecting you now?

His words hit me like a hammer to the gut, my breath catching in my throat. Taking a deep breath, I go over the decisions Ive made in the past few days, searching for signs of meddling. Have I been listening to their whispers or am I merely depressed? Are my actions due to stress from the Purge or am I being pushed towards more extreme actions? Do I want to abandon the fight because I truly dont care anymore or is it part of a larger, nefarious plot carried out by the Spectres floating around in my mind?

After minutes of agonized soul searching, my answer amounts to I dont know. Not exactly helpful.

If I ever hope to have peace of mind again, then those Spectres need to go. The question is how? Theyre like supernatural herpes, I think they're gone or under control, but then, surprise, new break out. Persistent little bastards. Is there someone I can call who specializes in ghost busting? Im not even sure there are priests or monks or whatever here, the most religious person Ive met is the Shrike which does not inspire confidence in religion. Why bother with complicated exorcisms or purification rituals when death is a simple and permanent solution? Thats the problem with believing in reincarnation, too many problems can be solved with better luck next life. Then again, believing in a Heaven isnt much better, why suffer here on earth when life after death is so... heavenly?

Faith has never suited my inquisitive nature. At times, I wish things were different because I know faith can be a beautiful thing.

Rain. Huus voice interrupts my inner theological debate, the large warrior sitting atop his quin Jaga, ready and waiting. A good day for a hunt.

How nice of you to join us. One of Huus brides-to-be, Yesui or Yosai, I can never tell which, remarks sarcastically. Concealing my irritation, I mumble an apology, still lost in contemplation. For some reason, theyve concocted an imagined rivalry between Huu and myself, believing Im out to steal all of his glory. If only they knew the truth.

Thankfully, Huus kept a clear head about it all, giving me an apologetic glance. Leaning close, he whispers, Uncle Kalil told me of the Shrikes... habits. Are you well? Did you come into conflict?

Im managing. Sort of. Im not on good terms with the Shrike, but it shouldnt affect our work. Speaking of which, we should get to it. I think you should take lead, Im... distracted.

A shame Rain didnt share his enthusiasm but he could hardly be blamed. For the past week, Sentinels and soldiers spoke of nothing but the Purge, sharing harrowing tales and macabre descriptions through some twisted need to voice their fears. Painting the Aspirants as murderous fanatics devoted to their artistry of torture, even Fungs dark-eyed attendant seemed unnerved by the mere mention of the Shrike, her dedication and fervour towards carrying out the Purge enough to turn ones stomach. Sitting on the sidelines was almost too much to bear, and Huushal could only imagine what Rain was going through. Though talented beyond measure, at his core Rain was a kind and caring man, unsuited for the burdens of war. Finding the victims of the Defiled had driven him into an inconsolable rage and there was no reason to believe hed react any differently when forced to herd the guilty and innocent alike towards their slow, gruesome deaths at the hands of the Aspirants.

For the first time in his life, Huushal was thankful for his poor skills in Chi manipulation.

Something happened during the Purge, that much was clear, but no one would speak of it, not even Rain. Huushal noticed tension between Rain and the Major during the mornings meeting, with none of Rains customary moon-eyed glances at the beautiful half-fox. Instead, hed been on edge the entire time, an anger boiling beneath the surface, his hands firmly clenched behind his back to keep from lashing out. Their formerly cordial and relaxed relationship had soured, though Major Yuzhen didnt seem to hold it against him, instead avoiding Rains hardened glare.

After the meeting finished, Uncle Kalil brought to attention the soldiers glancing and saluting Rain with respect as he stalked away. A strange thing for these soldiers to show deference to a Warrant Officer so young, but if anyone deserved it, it was Rain. A talent unlike any other, after learning hed condensed his Aura before nineteen years of age, Huushal put aside all thoughts of rivalry, though he still worried for his friend. Turning his arrows against Lins guards was foolish and not like him at all, perhaps a sign of how distraught he truly was.

No matter, Rain was nothing if not tenacious and he had Mila and Lin to help ease his troubled mind, though Huushal made it clear he was available if needed. Perhaps killing Defiled would fix Rains head, Mother knows Huushal was looking forward to it even though a good half his retinue was missing, conscripted by Gerel. Once battle was joined, things became simple, kill or be killed, survival of the strongest.

He reached the ruined outpost shortly after noon, riding in to look for clues. The battle had been clean and tidy, the garrison taken without struggle. Trouble, Uncle Kalil said, pointing at a soldiers wound, a single thrust through the neck, the skin blackened around the incision. Wraiths. Seems they snuck in and opened the gate for their friends. These bodies are fresh, the Enemy less than a day ahead and wasting no time for games. They mean to take out the surrounding garrisons, weaken Sanshu before they strike.

No Garo or horse tracks, but plenty of false trails. Itll take time to figure out which direction they went in. Rain spoke, playing his part as second. Your orders?

Blinking, Huushals words froze in his throat, noting the confidence in Rains shoulders as he studied the area. Good, he was doing better already. Changing his plan at the last second, Huushal replied, Then we split up to save time. We know their goal, so we each head to a different outpost. You go east, I'll go Northeast. Remember, the Major wants prisoners to question, we need to know how so many Defiled appeared in the heart of the Province.

Be safe Huu. We'll drink when this is done. Clasping his hand, Rain led his people away without further ado. The thrill of the chase coursing through him, Huushal ignored the trails and rode for the next closest outpost. After four hours riding, his scouts came across the slaughtered remains of a patrol, their bodies still cooling in death. Knowing the Enemy was near, he unsheathed his saber and signalled for his Sentinels to fan out.

The afternoon sun shone brightly down upon them but the forest canopy provided plenty of shadows to hide in, Huushals people approaching unseen. The second outpost soon came into sight, the main gate closed and walls empty as it sat in the middle of the clearing, his ears picking up the sound of laughter coming from inside the walls. Ever the patient hunter, he waited until his scouts returned, informing him the side gate was open and the soldiers slaughtered. The Enemy celebrated within, desecrating the bodies of the dead in their unholy rituals, their victory making them bold and lazy with only a handful of sentries posted. Filled with righteous anger, his lip curled in disgust as he gave his orders in absolute silence, waiting as his instructions filtered through the entire group.

Taking the lead, Jaga stalked silently through the trees and out into the field, padding across the grass with long, eager bounds. Without a word, Huushal rode through the open side gate cleaving a surprised Defiled warrior in two as he passed. The shocked expressions and cries of alarm of the Defiled warriors filled him with glee and he took full advantage by riding head long into the fray, his Sentinels following his lead in complete, unified silence, an unstoppable force of avenging apparitions appearing from thin air.

Reacting like warriors, the Defiled scrambled to their feet and drew their weapons, but his Sentinels were already upon them, striking them down with ease. Trusting his Sentinels, Huushal gave in to the frenzied lust for battle and rode about the outpost in search of worthy prey. One strike, one kill, he moved unobstructed through the outpost, crashing through flimsy doors and wooden walls only to find more weaklings.

Too pitiful, too worthless, where was the challenge?

Riding into the barracks, a blur of motion alerted Huushal. Slashing out of reflex, his saber rang out as it crashed against a weapon. The ingrained response saved his life, parrying a strike meant to pierce through his heart and killing the offending Wraith before a massive Defiled warrior tackled him from Jagas back. Roaring in anger, Huushal dropped his saber and wrestled with the Enemy atop him, struggling to keep its sword from cutting into his flesh.

Flat on his back, Huushal held the Defiled away from him as it bore its weight down upon his chest. Gritting his teeth, he focused all his strength into his fingers as the sword dropped closer, centimetre by centimetre. After long, exhausting seconds, the swords tip kissed his cheek as he was rewarded with the crack of bones and a cry of pain. The strength faded from the Defileds body and Huushal flung it aside, his chest heaving with exertion as a cold sweat trickled down his neck.

Too close.

Gathering his wits about him, he sat up and reached for his saber, freezing in place as the Enemys Aura washed over him. His heart pounding, every instinct inside him screamed to run even as his muscles locked into place. Stepping out from around the corner, a well-groomed, recognizable bandit appeared, clearing the blood from his sword with a flick of his wrist.

Well what do we have here? Laughing Dragon drawled. Ye must be the young wolf. And here I was worried ye was Falling Rain. Fucking savages, yer all a pain in me arse. Can ye condense yer Aura too, boy? Yer pet certainly cant.

Staring past the bandit, Huushals eyes settled on Jagas prone body laid out across the hallway, his heart breaking at the sight. Swallowing his grief, he looked Laughing Dragon in the eye, a cool calm settling over him in this time of death. No need to piss your pants, you got lucky this time. Rain will come take your head soon enough.

His words had the desired effect, the smile falling from Laughing Dragons face as his eyes filled with anger and hate, his weapon raising to deal the killing blow. Huushal watched with open eyes, unafraid.

Sorry Ma, your boy just ain't good enough.

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