Devotion

First off, let me apologize quickly for what may be about to occur. And for using Helvetica. I wanted a script font but the editor doesn't have one. I didn't get any sleep Sunday night, and wrote some of this on Monday and some of it on sleep-deprived Tuesday? As if that were an excuse? Was up trying to do some schoolwork and then I botched it. Anyway, It could be great it could be horrid, I really have no idea, because I've never done creative writing from a sleep deprived state before. Read at your own risk. Also I apologize for missing Monday and for Tuesday being a few hours late, but I will work hard to catch up!

Triton Tactics image by Jack Wang

(Whose website I was unable to find. Please contact me if you know where I can find it so that I can give him credit!)
© Wizards of the Coast 2013

The two of them stand there. They've never been terribly close, but they weren't enemies either, just squadmates. People who worked together three to nine months a year, depending on how much work they got, or wanted. They'd worked five or seven months each year. Neither of them were much the type to take time off. Probably didn't matter much now, one way or another. Srinercoar was out and away, but it had meant leaving them behind. They were both good picks for bodyguards. People who did need the money, but didn't care much for it. People who were (generally) lucky, had that sense for when danger was coming, and knew how to handle he selves when it came, but avoided it all the same.

It should be clear that they weren't the kind of people who were bodyguarding because they had nothing to live for. On the contrary, they picked up bodyguarding because it complimented their natural talents, and because they were the kinds of people who could be satisfied at anything -- they understood thoroughly that single-minded dedication to something, anything really, can be one of the most fulfilling, lasting things in any person's life. While others chose arbitrarily from a young age, religion, a career, a woman, a man, the family, a political cause, the arts, or whatever else they chose, both of these women had the apparently singular understanding that dedication was the key to her happiness, and was capable of choosing her devotion. They had chosen life bond loyalty to a patron rather than any of the other options, and his death

In all honesty none of these things were being considered by anyone on the ground. Srinercoar may have thought it while en route to his safe house, but he did not think it for long, and they were not important enough to anyone for the thought to occur or even to have occurred. They squared up, feeling quite honorable, but not interested in dying all the same, vigilant in their effort to continue living their rewarding lives. Back to back, so that they could feel the other's intangible presence that extended just past the skin, a remnant from before their race developed magic. They took a good hold on their shields and pulled their hands back just a bit on the tridents.

Lerika got one first, but after that they didn't count. There were simply too many. These men traveled with dogs, and there was a woman with them, whose clear control of magic was unsettling. The men had crossbows and the woman pushed and pulled on their bodies if they didn't avoid her, and the dogs jumped and bit with teeth like razor blades. The Chain assaults were often like this, and the guards had heard stories, though they had not been involved in an assault before. They fought for several minutes, and Rewna was bitten first. Lerika used her magic to see where the dog was, killed it with the trident without looking back, stabbed the dog in front of her with her shied and then dragged the shield, dog and all, in front of herself to stop the bolt.

She used some healing magic to help Rewna, but magic is like all things which require material resources and time: you can do them without mistakes, you can do them quickly, and you can do them without spending many of the resources, but you must pick only two. With very quick healing, the common choice is for correct healing over easy healing, so the energy it took to heal the bite left her magically drained. Not drained physically, having just worked up a sweat, and not drained mentally or emotionally like a human can be, but a fourth reserve of energy, her magic energy, was running low.

Rewna was the stronger mage of the two, and at the beginning of the fight, she had been working the dogs, deflecting her part of the woman's magic, shielding and misdirecting bolts, and breaking crossbows. Now she had to take up Lerika's part of he magic-blocking, and the crossbows could not be helped. Three men were left to shoot their bows, while the other three moved forward, drawing swords warily on the women surrounded by the men's dead hounds. The women moved closer together for just a moment as a lull hit the fight. Then they knew. Lerika had an advantage on one of the advancers and Rewna had a disadvantage on one of her two. With any other combatants, the backs would have separated, Lerika pressing her advantage and leaving Rewna, or letting the advantage slide. Neither happened.

An inaudible, invisible communication between the two women passed, and they moved as one, backward for Rewna, forward for Lerika. She took one of the men out, and Rewna felt it, a crossbow bolt coming at Lerika's left side, her trident arm. Without consulting Lerika, she initiated the roll they'd practiced with each member of their guard until they had it right. Their shoulders touched and Lerika knew what to do, did it without asking or knowing why. Rewna blocked the bolt with her shield, and Lerika took advantage of the man who had thought he was watching an opening develop in the women's guard. They came out of it in the same position they had started in, back to back, ready to fight.

By this time the combat was beginning to wear on them. Continuing to use exhausted magic sources was drawing on Lerika's mental and physical strength, and, when killing the last swordsman, she sustained a wound to the shoulder, not shallow enough to be trivialized, but hardly deep enough to be called deep. Enough to make it very hard to use the shield correctly, but not so much that she couldn't hold the shield. Rewna, even with her stronger magic training, was beginning to tire in that way, and in the physical way too.

Fortunately, the other spell caster was working down too, and, having two people to deal with, she was nearly worn out, casting sloppily. The other. Once she made a sloppy mistake, made one of her men miss a strike, and the two women took advantage. They crippled and finished him, took his mate together as one, and, now outnumbering and outranking the tired mage, Lerika ran hard for her and Rewna worked to speed Lerika along, lightening her burden and giving her as strong a backwind as she could manage. Lerika ran the mage through, and the two moved to a hiding spot far enough away that they would not be found and rested. Returning home would not be too difficult, but having their strength up would be optimal.

"Devotion" Flash Fiction © Ben Clardy V

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.