Chapter 46: Royal Knight

(Announcement, going forward the story will be told in third person POV, the first person was too much hassle and I did not flow well with jt, so forgive the change and please forgive me)

Tez raised his sword as the larger figure rushed at him again.

He shifted his weight, ready to meet the swing. Then he noticed something at the edge of his vision, and he stopped.

The larger figure stopped too.

Someone was walking toward them down the street. It was the smaller figure. She was coming back.

The cloak on her arm had been torn open, and blood ran down her sleeve and dripped from her fingers onto the stones. Even so, she walked calmly, one step after another, as if nothing was wrong.

’What happened to Mira?’

The question hit Tez all at once. Mira had been fighting her. The two of them had moved off together, and now only one was walking back.

Before he could say anything, a streak of lightning shot down the street behind the smaller figure. Mira landed beside Tez in a crouch, breathing hard. Her sleeve was burned, and there were cuts across her arm and her cheek. She glared at the smaller figure and did not look away.

"Mira," Tez said. "You alright?"

"I’m fine."

Tez looked from her to the smaller figure. He could not tell what had happened in their fight. They had both come back alive, and neither of them had finished the other.

The smaller figure stopped beside the larger one and looked up at him.

"Let’s leave for now," she said.

The larger figure did not move at first. He was confused, and it showed in the way his head tilted. But he did not question her. He slid the massive sword onto his back and turned to Tez.

Tez could not see his eyes through the metal mask. He could still feel them on him.

Then the two of them turned and walked away. Their cloaks swayed, and they disappeared around the corner of the street.

Tez waited until the footsteps faded. Then he ran to the old man.

The old man was sitting against a broken wall, one hand pressed over his shoulder. Blood had soaked through his shirt and ran down his arm. When Tez knelt in front of him, he let out a cold chuckle, the kind someone makes when they are in pain and trying hard not to show it.

"You came back for me," he said. "I told you to run."

"We need to get you treated," Tez said.

"It’s nothing." The old man waved his free hand. "I’ve had worse."

Tez did not argue. He grabbed him under the arms and lifted him off the ground. The old man grunted and tried to pull away, but he was too weak, and Tez carried him back toward the inn. Mira followed close behind.

The front of the building was half broken. They stepped through the hole in the wall and found the common room in ruins, with tables flipped and glass all over the floor. Tez set the old man down on a bench that was still in one piece.

A door creaked at the back.

An older woman stepped out from behind the kitchen. She stopped when she saw the old man, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Oh, my love."

She was his wife. She had seen the fight through the cracks in the door and had stayed hidden, because it was far beyond her skill. Now she stood there, shaking, staring at the blood.

Tez knew who she was the moment he saw her.

"Can you treat him?" he asked.

She nodded quickly. "Yes. Yes, wait here."

She turned and ran. They heard her rummaging through cupboards in the next room, then she rushed back out with her arms full: a basin of water, a roll of clean cloth, a jar of salve, and a small iron rod. She dropped to her knees beside the bench.

"Hold still," she said.

"I’m fine, woman," the old man muttered.

"Hold still."

She tore his shirt away from the wound, and Mira looked away. The cut ran deep from his shoulder down across his chest. The wife wet a cloth and began cleaning it, wiping away the blood in slow, careful strokes. The water in the basin turned red.

The old man clenched his teeth but did not make a sound.

"Mira, the fire," the wife said.

Mira nodded and lit a small flame in her palm. The wife held the iron rod in it until the tip glowed red.

"This will hurt," she said quietly.

"I know."

She pressed the hot metal against the wound.

Hiss.

The old man’s whole body went rigid. His fingers dug into the edge of the bench, and a low groan escaped through his teeth. The smell of burned flesh filled the room. His wife kept her hand steady and her eyes fixed on the wound until she finished.

When she pulled the rod away, he breathed out slowly.

She spread the salve over the burn, and then she began to wrap the cloth around his shoulder and chest, pulling it tight with each turn. Tez and Mira stood to the side and watched. Nobody spoke.

Footsteps came down the stairs.

Leah appeared on the landing, followed by Lia, who held the elf by the arm. The elf was pale, but she was awake and standing. All three of them stopped when they saw the room. They looked at the broken tables, at the blood on the floor, and at the old man on the bench.

"What happened?" Lia asked quietly.

"Later," Tez said.

They came down and stood around. Leah stayed close to Lia. The elf’s eyes moved over the old man, and something unreadable crossed her face. Everyone watched in silence while the wife tied the last knot, tucked the end of the cloth under the bandage, and sat back.

"There," she said. Her hands were trembling. "It’s done."

Tez and Mira helped the old man sit up straight against the wall. His face was grey, and there was sweat on his forehead, but his eyes were clear. His wife stood beside him with one hand on his good shoulder.

For a moment, nobody said a word.

Then Tez spoke.

"Before any other discussion happens," he said, "who the hell are you?"

The old man let out a chuckle. He looked at the floor, and then at the ceiling. He did not want to talk about it. His face said that clearly. But when he looked back at Tez, he saw the conviction in his eyes, the look of someone who was not going to let this go.

He sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I’ll tell you."

His wife squeezed his shoulder.

"I was once a royal knight."