IceBlade28: I'm updating my three multi-chapter fics a bit more evenly now, so here's Chapter IV of The Blood Of Pride! Sorry about the wait!!

Serra: You're so lucky you haven't killed me in this fic yet.

IceBlade28: Well, the Taliver are brutal, so you never know . . .

Serra: For your sake, you'd better be joking.

IceBlade28: (sweatdrop) Let's get started!

The Blood Of Pride

Chapter IV: Stand Alone, Die Alone

Lyn stared out her window at the slave caravan. According to Matthew's report, Erisal and a number of slave women were held captive within. If she could hack her way through more than a hundred-fifty Taliver bandits, she might be able to save them. With the meagre forces left at her disposal, Lyndis was having serious doubts that Caelin Castle would stand much longer. While she could easily out-siege them, she had no hope if the full force of the Taliver attacked at once.

The Sacaen woman strode to a desk, scribbling a few notes onto a roll of parchment, peering out another window at the expansive Taliver army. Frowning, Lyndis lifted a finger and tapped the glass slowly, counting.

She gave up after forty. There were too many; and she was only counting the ones that didn't use axes. The future of Caelin Castle looked very grim, unless they got some miraculous reinforcements. But no message had gotten out of the attack; only the citizens knew, and they weren't taking the chance of catching the Taliver's eye.

A knock on her bedroom door warranted Lyn's attention. Lyn strode to the heavy wood door and pulled it open, allowing Matthew into her room.

"I've got the latest reports, Lady Lyndis," he said respectfully. Lyn nodded, meaning for Matthew to continue.

"We've lost approximately two-thirds of our fighting force, although we can regain a small part if the staff and servants of the castle are willing to fight. Many of the cooks and male servants have already expressed their wishes to use kitchenware- knives, frying pans and the like- as weapons in battle. Several have taken to tying meat cleavers onto broom handles and are currently practising in the courtyard, displaying a range of efficiency. The handmaidens, ladies and the like are putting together a rather potent array of home-made armament; hot oil, burning spices on the wind and such. Commander Kent and the remaining military leaders feel it is best if we wage a guerrilla war, rather than facing the Taliver face-on. They are awaiting your approval, Lady Lyn," Matthew reported. Lyn nodded, consuming the facts as they were presented to her.

"I don't want the servants fighting unless we can't evacuate them," Lyn said. "They're innocent people with no training in war. Keep them back unless there is no alternative." Matthew nodded.

"I understand," he said, though inwardly he disagreed. In desperate times, if someone could fight, then they should fight. No questions asked. "I'll inform the non-military personnel currently training to disarm and stand down immediately." Saluting, Matthew left with a twirl of his red cloak.

Lyn sighed and went back to staring out the window at the horde of murderers making the fields outside their resting place. How could such an army have amassed in the Sacae plains and Lyndis not catch word of it? And all of this to destroy Caelin? It wasn't any half-baked rabble either, it was the Taliver . . .

Lyn froze on her bed. It wasn't Caelin. It was her. All of this, Erisal's abduction, Wallace's death, the fighting and hostages. The Taliver wanted her. They wanted to finish the job they started nineteen years ago, on that bloody night in the grass. The only reason the Taliver had come to Caelin was to kill the last surviving Lorcan.

She pulled her Mani Katti off the rack on her bedroom wall, tying it firmly around her waist. She was leaving Caelin. If she left, her friends would be spared, and the Taliver would leave. She saw no other choice for her.

Lyn scribbled a quick note on a roll of parchment and sneaked out the door, moving down the hallway for a secret passage she'd discovered some months ago. It should let her out of a dead, hollow tree trunk close to the horde of Taliver. She was a fast runner. She could survive. And perhaps Erisal would have a chance to escape.

-----

Erisal leaned his head against the wooden wall of the carriage, biting his lip. Cherian was still weeping from the deaths of her three friends, and Erisal felt guilty because he had basically killed them himself.

"Cherian," he said softly.

"Don't talk to me," she seethed. "Don't look at me, don't touch to me, just stay away." Erisal exhaled sharply.

"Cherian, I-I tried, I did-"

"How could you?" she said, staring at Erisal through teary eyes. This was no accusation, against which Erisal could have dealed with practiced ease; but rather a painful, innocent plea. "How could you betray us like that?" she cried. Erisal's met her eyes, acknowledging her hurt before turning away. Cherian approached him, and placed a hand to his cheek, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said quietly. "I just . . . I . . ." Erisal glared at her, brushing her hand away.

"I killed your friends. If you want to hate me, join the queue," he spat. "Providing I don't kill you too." Cherian shook her head.

"It wasn't you! Those beastly Taliver-"

"The Taliver held the axes, but it makes little difference. I had a choice, I knew the consequences, and I took it anyway," Erisal hissed. "The brigands outside murdered your friends, but I may as well have beheaded them myself. It's their blood on my hands." Cherian looked at his hands and saw they had been stained a deep wet red.

"You've been a slave all your life, and you come to a murderer with pity in your eyes?" he said, laughing. "Worse, it's pity for him?" He laughed harder, enjoying the sight of Cherian recoiling.

"Oh, this is grand! A beautiful girl meets her hero, the famed tactician who worked with the noble Lyndis to secure her throne, defeat the evil Lundgren and restore peace to Caelin!" he mocked. "And now she finds herself trapped in a nightmare, when that same hero turns out to be a murdering coward who leads naive fools straight into an early grave!"

Cherian stared at Erisal with hurt eyes, and the tears dripping down her face completed the picture of a delicate weeping goddess. Erisal stared at Cherian, who was crying wordlessly and still staring at the bruised strategist.

"And now the heart of that same beautiful maiden shatters," he said softly, quietly enough that only Cherian heard him. "As the tactician she once knew submits before insurmountable odds."

Erisal slid down the wooden wall of the carriage before he placed his head on his knees and moaned with self-pity. Cherian hesitated before crawling forward and placing her arms around Erisal, moving his head onto the soft skin of her shoulder. The boy cried into her hair, akin to a little boy wanting comfort from his mother.

Cherian nestled her face into the nape of Erisal's neck, and he shivered from the wetness of her tears. Once both were comfortable, they cried as one, draining their anxieties and grief away in a myriad of tears; tears that sparkled in the sunlight of the day. Sparkling in blatant disregard to the atrocities the members of the caravan had suffered.

"I have to warn Lyndis," he mumbled into Cherian's hair. "Lyn needs me. I . . . I love her."

This simple truth cut Cherian deeper than anything Erisal had said.

-----

Rath launched another shaft into the horde running down the hill. The arrow caught a hefty Brigand in the head and sent him tumbling, tripping others and causing a sizeable pile of soldiers in the middle of a hill. Wil was sending every missile he had into the horde, his eyes blazing.

"It won't end here," he muttered. "I will see Rebecca again. I will not disappoint Lady Lyn."

Guy walked slowly out in front of the archers, holding his Killing Edge. The axeman at the front of the two-score Taliver gave a yell and ran faster, charging for the Sacaen. The swordsman's green eyes were blazing, and with a fluid movement cut off his enemy's hands and head.

With one kill to his name, Guy flicked his braid behind him and ran into the army, sword scything around him as arrows fell like sparse rain. Axemen fell before they could react.

Wil rolled to the side as a Fire spell scorched the grass where his feet had been, and a swift arrow promised that he wouldn't have to worry about the caster again. He paused for one precious moment to check his arrow supply: half depleted. Reshouldering his quiver, he yelled as a Taliver swordsman ran past him. Twirling, he planted an arrow between the man's shoulder blades and sent two more into the pack of Taliver in front.

He didn't know about the blood pouring from his body until his legs folded beneath him. Breathing lightly, he gave a little sigh and flopped to the grass, staring up at the sky.

"Wil," Rath called, twirling an arrow between his fingers and taking out a Sniper who had stopped to take aim. "Wil, get up." The archer didn't hear his friend; everything was muffled and peaceful. It really was like all the tales and expectations about death.

Rath cursed darkly in Sacaen and galloped over, picking the archer up and slinging him onto the horse.

"Guy! Fall back, we're moving out! Retreat!" Rath bellowed, kicking his horse and riding in haste for Castle Caelin.

"I'm not done yet!" Guy yelled, battle lust filling his gaze. He had become careless and allowed the Taliver to surround him, yet the bodies continued to pile around him as the grass became slippery from death. He growled as he cut down a mage; a brigand; a fellow Sacaen, and even a Berserker. It was a dance of carnage.

Guy was adrift in his own world until his sword shattered and fell from his grasp. Ducking an axe, he pushed past the lad and decked a mage, running until he found his goal: he was no longer surrounded. Now it was a matter of speed.

"Can you run, scum?" he yelled, caught in the giddy rush of survival. He sprinted towards Caelin Castle without stopping for breath, ignoring the pleading from his legs and lungs.

The Taliver chieftain watched the developments, grounding his teeth.

"Shall I pick him off, sir?" said a scar-eyed Sniper, who also had a cultural variety of knives strapped to his waist. The chieftain raised a finger, telling him to wait.

"He's spent all his energy in combat. He won't make it to the walls. Let him taste of desperation, and knock him out. I dare say our men need a little . . . sport to put morale back into them," the Berserker said calmly. The man with a scar on his eye nodded, smiling as he descended the hill to count the dead. He wasn't smiling when he got back to the top, after slipping twice on wet grass.

"S-Sir," he gasped. "We lost over twenty men in that battle." The chief growled.

"Twenty men to two archers and a swordsboy?" he seethed, before scruffing the Sniper and bringing him to eye level- a distance of more than three feet from the ground.

"Get me my gutting axe, and everyone with thirty kills to their name," he yelled, spittle flecking the Sniper's face.

"I'm having Lorcan tonight!"

-----

Matthew pressed his back to the slave caravan, holding his knife tight beneath his cloak. Three sentries were dead, and it was almost noon. For a thief, these were particularly compromised and volatile security standards. One yell could set the entire the thing to blaze.

Matthew slipped beneath the carriage, taking his knife out and setting it in a gap between two logs. Taking a deep breath, he stuck the point deep into the tiny breach and levered, until he had a gap barely big enough for him to slip through. And slip through he did, into the awaiting convoy of women and girls.

"Matthew," Erisal said hoarsely, from a pile of cushions in the corner. The thief turned and grimaced. The boy had taken multiple beatings over a period of days, and his torso and face was a mass of purple and black bruising.

"Erisal. So Lyn's theory was true."

"Theory?"

"That's my opinion, at least. She knew you were kidnapped but only had circumstantial evidence to go on," Matthew explained. Erisal nodded.

"This is Cherian," he said, gesturing to the stunning raven-haired Ilian. "She's a slave for the Taliver. Everyone in this place is."

"Which is why Lyn's trying to get you all out," Matthew explained. "I'll have to do it in portions. The most important thing first: Erisal, you need to leave. I have to get you back to Caelin, where you'll be safe." Erisal shook his head.

"I'm not leaving these girls. If I escape, the Taliver will kill everyone." Matthew pushed back frustration.

"If you don't leave with me, then everyone in Caelin will die and a province of Lycia will fall to bandit rule. Is that what you want?" he said harshly. "Do you want Lyndis dead? Everyone you know, can you condemn them to fall beneath a Brigand's axe?" Erisal flashed back to that merry night he danced with Lyndis. She was so beautiful, so fierce and proud and wonderful and free. He was in love with her, there was no point denying it.

"Can you get everyone out?" he asked. Matthew thought quickly.

"Maybe. But we have to go now," he said. Erisal nodded.

"Cherian, you first. Down through the hole."

"But you're-"

"I'll be right behind you, everyone will be. You go," Erisal insisted. Cherian bit her lip, attractive features made more so by worry.

"Okay," she said, kneeling in translucent silk. She slid her arms through the hole, before following with her head. With a little twisting her shoulders managed to make it through, along with her ample bust.

Cherian was halfway out when she found she couldn't move. She wriggled until she figured out the reason; despite there being no-one to see, she blushed. Her hips were too wide to fit through the hole, and she could feel her behind rubbing against the wood as she bent and contorted.

"I-I-I'm stuck," she whispered, ashamed. Staring in front of her, Cherian would've been mortified if she wasn't busy panicking. A pair of boots was heading straight for the caravan.

Matthew heard the footsteps and grabbed Cherian's legs, pulling her violently out of the hole. It was too costly, however, as the door slammed open and exposed Matthew in the midst of slave women and a battered tactician.

"Who the-" The Taliver brigand would have continued if Matthew's knife hadn't quickly and efficiently ended his life. The thief bolted for the door and paused a fraction of a second.

"Erisal, it's now or never. I'm not waiting up for you- come with me now or stay and die!" he said, before dashing away along some unknown grassy path. Erisal watched him run, before turning to Cherian, who was fixing her tiny ruffled silk skirt.

"Cherian, will you come with me?" he asked. The girl paused before shaking her head.

"No. If I leave, my friends will die. We've been together so long, and I can't abandon them now," she said. Erisal nodded, pausing to punch the lights out of some foolish swordsman who strayed too close to the entrance.

"Then I stay with you," he said firmly, slamming the door and barring it with a gold sceptre. Cherian looked back at the door.

"But Lyndis . . . you said you . . ." Erisal's face was masked, but his eyes told the real story.

"I do, I love her. More than any girl I've known. But she's a warrior. She can fight. She will survive. I won't let any more innocent people die," he said viciously. Turning away, he closed his eyes. Oh Father Sky, please let Lyndis survive what I have done. Don't let me have killed the woman I love.

-----

Kent made his way to stables, holding Huey's saddle. Florina was waiting there, securing a pack of javelin's to her Pegasus' side.

"Are you sure you can do this? It's no simple feat," he asked, concerned. "Maybe I should do this." Florina shook her head.

"L-Lord Eliwood will help us, I'm sure of it. We n-need help, or Caelin won't survive, will it?" she stammered. Kent gave an admiring smile.

"The Florina I first met wouldn't have dared even thinking of this. You're a braver, better person than before, and I know you won't fail." Florina smiled back, before slipping a few Vulneraries into her bag.

"I'll save Lady Lyndis, and all of Caelin," she said, saddling Huey and brushing a strand of violet hair out of her face. Kent walked to the end of the stable and booted open the door, allowing a view into the courtyard and the open sky.

"Go!" he yelled, caught in the moment. Florina and her mount barrelled down the runway and out into the courtyard, and with a massive kick the two were airborne and rising fast.

"Good luck, Florina," Kent mumbled. "Just don't get killed out there."

IceBlade28: That oughta do it- Chapter IV, finished!

Serra: Hope you liked it! Next time, on The Blood Of Pride:

Lyndis has fled Caelin Castle, and plans to forfeit her own life in a hopeless fight against the Taliver hordes. Florina rides to the Pheraen capital and attempts to enlist the official aid of Lord Eliwood himself- but they refuse to act! Why?! Wil is injured and critical, and Erk squares off alone against a crack battalion of Taliver mages . . .

IceBlade28: Reviews are appreciated!