Impossible (2)

As they moved past the back ranks of infantry, Markus hunched over to take the sword of a fallen Hadrialan. The battle still raged, and no few number of men shouted at them to return to the battle, but a brief display of Markus' aura quelled any criticism.

Grand Knights weren't exactly 'ordered' on a battlefield. One couldn't open six Gates of War without being a lifelong veteran of battle, and few men could call themselves the seniors of such people. If he wasn't fighting, there was a reason.

That said, Vance's nervous demeanor as he shrunk with every shout certainly helped diminish that reputation. No way for a man in his late twenties to act.

"What did you do before this?"

"Huh?"

"You don't strike me as a career soldier, this is your first battle?"

"...second. I was logistics, I helped Master Faren organize food and supplies for the company."

"Which company?"

"The Ironwind band."

Markus' eyes narrowed for a few reasons as he considered how to continue.

"You… were alone when you found me?"

Vance's jaw tightened as he remained silent. Markus restrained a sigh as the sound of death rattles haunted his ears. In a low, sympathetic voice he asked, "Were they kille—"

"I ran away."

His eyes went wide!

"Y—"

"It's not like… I didn't agree to this! I'm not a warrior, I've only held a sword once before and even then it was in necessity! The only reason I worked with the Ironwind band was because of Master Faren. He taught me everything I knew, so when he said they needed help keeping track of things, I… I never agreed to fight."

Seconds passed as they walked in silence, Vance staring down as they did.

"Let me get this right. You worked logistics for Ironwind, under the man who taught you, and they forced you to join the battle?"

Vance remained silent, but his head bobbed in confirmation.

"This is your second battle, so they made you fight twice?"

"No… The first time was before Ironwind. I needed the money and… well that's where I met Master Faren."

Markus considered in silence as they walked. His knee jerk reaction to someone who ran in a battle was to denounce him a deserter, but the man had never been a warrior in the first place.

Vance continued to support Markus as they walked, even as his own worries grew. 'He didn't need to help me. Even if it took some force on my end to make him, he could have abandoned me without trouble. He's a good man I think.'

"I'm sorry that happened Vance. I can guess why they forced non-combatants into the field, everyone's being pressed for more men, but it's still inexcusable. For now, follow me to the rear of the battle, we'll reunite with my people and you can sit the rest of it out. Will your comrades know you abandoned them?"

"If they see me alive, I think so."

"Alright. If any trouble occurs just stick by my people, I'll repay what you've done for me somehow."

…

"Thank you."

****

When they finally caught sight of a familiar face, it was Don Cox himself, veins practically bursting on his forehead as he shouted orders over the chaotic sounds of war. Markus thought he could see the man's large mustache waving from the force of his shout.

"Don! Don Cox!" He shouted in a dry voice.

"What?!" The man's head spun with the ferocity of a man at the edge of violence, but as he laid eyes on Markus, face covered in blood and right eye missing, shock overcame his expression.

"Ghou—Markus! What the hell happened to you? You look fresh from The Pit of the World!"

"I made a mistake, it's not important right now. Have you seen Quinn? I lost track of him as he fell and—"

"Stop, stop, he's fine," Don interrupted his hasty words. "I found him a while ago."

Markus relaxed so much that Vance who was supporting him went wide-eyed trying to keep him standing.

"That's good. Brat had me worried for a moment." He chuckled in a tired voice.

"Hey, Markus. Really, ya don't look too good." Don stared at the empty red and black mess that would have been his right eye. "Get back to the camps as soon as ya can. I already sent Quinn back to the reserves, you can check on him along the way."

"I'll be fine." Markus groaned as he let go of Vance, trying to impress on them the stability of his shaky legs. "If you say he's fine, then he's fine, I'll catch up with him later. Listen, this is Vance Arrick, he saved my life in a way. Have someone escort him back to the camps and give him anything he… needs…"

The world swayed for a moment as Markus felt his own weight like a foreign thing, impossible to hold up.

"Hey!" Don grabbed him by one arm as he fell, Vance supporting his back. Everything was a haze, sounds blurring in his ears as Don shouted something.

"...and… take the lieutenant… camps… caref…ly"

By the time his senses had returned, Markus was already approaching those distant camps south of the Dragon Gate, a dozen men escorting him and Vance on horseback.

"Well… maybe it was for the best." He said faintly with a small smile.

After returning to the camps, Markus dismissed his guard—an action that took far too much insistence on his part—and sought out a medic. They had a few among the massive number of non-combatants that followed the company, but his favorite was Nellie Forendil.

Lifting the flap of her tent, he eyed the few other men laying within as he entered, bandages wrapped around bloody injuries. He saw one with a bloody wrapping over one of his eyes and gave the man a sympathetic thumbs up, but the man lifted his bandage to look at him with both eyes, a deep cut just above his left, and Markus scoffed in betrayal.

"Markus?" Nellie's lidded eyes narrowed as she looked at him, trying to make out a face beneath the blood.

Turning to ignore the faker, he sighed "Hi Nellie, busy?"

"Oh my god, again? Every, single, time. Take a seat, come on."

Smiling wryly, he lowered himself to sit on a collection of rags, and let her work her magic, cleaning his wounds to bandage them. By the expression on her face he doubted he would see from that eye again. No, perhaps there wasn't even an eye to see out of anymore. The image of that particularly long dagger surfaced in his mind, and unconsciously he rapped the pommel of it, still tucked under his swordbelt.

"That's strange…" Nellie's voice broke him from his reverie. "What is? Has my eye been healed as good as new?"

He said it as a joke but Nellie's frown deepened. "No, even you aren't that lucky, but… It's not bleeding." In a quieter tone, a mumble he could barely hear she continued "But that's impossible."

Another injured man entered the tent, guided to one of the collections of rags nearby, and Nellie broke free from her thoughts. "Right, well good news is you'll live, as always. Bad news is you're going to scare your little girl to death looking like that. Oh, and you won't see out of that one again."

Ignoring his pained smile, she stood with an all-too casual attitude and retrieved bandages and stitches before setting to work, humming a faint tune as she did.

Sighing, he did his best to sit still while she did her work. The image of that long blade still haunted his thoughts, but for the time at least, the foreboding sensation had subsided a little.

He'd always taken injuries in stride, but this one… Liane was going to kill him when she found out.

'At least I'm alive,' he thought with a hint of bitterness. 'So long as I'm alive, what's the loss of an eye?'

"We're done here Markus. Get some rest for now." Standing, Nellie turned to her next patient, her small round face as neutral as ever.

'...Still, to think I would be bested in direct combat, by a knight of equal gates no less.' To his mind, the distraction of the Valche brothers—renown archers though they may be—was no excuse. His mentor in war, Arthur Reyes had always said, leave the rules and fairness for duelists, a knight needs to be infallible.

'And I abandoned my armor. I don't think I'll ever see it again.' The realization brought a tightness to his chest, not for the monetary loss, but for more personal reasons. He had sold the sword of his heart for that set of armor. It was his declaration, a promise to Liane that he would never leave her a widow.

'Sigh… It's just a set of armor. I can get another.' Even still, he wished there had been another way.

Closing his eyes, Markus laid on the collection of rags not to sleep, but to clear his mind and work at dispelling that foreboding omen that haunted him. This time, he thought hours passed before it was truly gone.

When night began to fall, Nellie was already shooing Markus out of the tent to make room for others. He smiled and did what he could to placate her, but the short woman was having none of it.

Yet just as he lifted the tent flap to leave, two deceptively strong arms wrapped around him in practiced fashion, a familiar mustached face filling Markus' vision as he was pulled from the tent and crushe– hugged.

"Markus! It's good that yer fine!" Don growled.

"Of course I'm fine," Markus choked out. "Now stop before you change that"

Air rushed back into his lungs as Don let go, but before he had a chance to regain his wits, another set of arms wrapped around him. Softer this time, as Julia's arms wrapped around his neck.

"Quinn told me what happened. I'm glad you're alright." Placing hands on his cheeks, she forced his head side to side as she inspected his wounds. "You've done it again," She whispered as her eyes fell down, consternation and sadness playing out on her face. To others, it may seem she was staring at nothing, but he knew her eyes traced the deep scar on his neck.

Hesitantly, her hand moved towards that old wound, but he caught her wrist and made her meet his eyes. "Julia, please."

A stern expression overtook sadness as she held his gaze. "Mark… you need to hang up your sword. You're not… You have people to protect now, right? You can't die in my charge. I won't face Liane with your body in tow and apologize, I just won't."

"Good," He showed teeth in his best smile, "Because I don't plan on dying."

Julia made to argue the issue, but he turned and found Quinn standing a small distance away, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. "Quinn! I'm glad you're safe, you did well today."

Wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder, he led Quinn away, turning back just once to see Don and Nellie standing less than a foot apart as they spoke quietly. A comical scene, given Don's tall height and Nellie's very small frame, but he wished his friend luck.

Julia watched as they left with a considering expression, but he didn't have the energy left to diffuse her worries. That would have to wait.

The camps were raucous and cheerful that night, the battle having played out to great success in the end. The Hasshan were pushed back, setting up camp quite a distance south, and were even forced to leave the bodies of their huge warbeasts behind.

Strange things those, with thick, hairless hides, and massive, dropping ears, but their huge size meant plenty of fresh meat, a luxury the men were all too happy to cheer for. That is, until they tried it.

Markus had to force himself to get through the meal, while Quinn tried a few times to directly refuse. Neither of them were particularly used to unpleasant meals, a fact Don quickly took a hold of to make fun of.

Surprisingly, Julia wolfed hers down as if she enjoyed it, showing up any other in the company, but Markus could see the corner of her eye twitching the entire time. She put up a brave face, but she was certainly no better off than he and Quinn.

Markus shared his liquor with Sergeant Bryant, the man had done well leading the troops in the final half of the battle and had certainly earned the respect of all. Alas, his achievements were heavily overshadowed by another.

Lieutenant Orsen Brooks, that calm, panther-like man who seemed to believe no-one else in the world had 'real' talent for archery, had managed to fell one of the Valche brothers. The man himself was humble, or perhaps stoic, never showing any reaction to praise or criticism, but his men wouldn't quiet down, proclaiming the greatness of their leader.

"Really, he put an arrow through that Hasshan's chest from the other side of the battlefield, he was practically pointing his bow at the clouds!"

"He shot even before the other man showed himself, you should have seen it. Like it was all planned out between them, he shot, and the moment before the arrow would hit, the Hasshan stood atop his horse and took it in the chest! It was unbelievable!"

"I couldn't even tell where those two were, they were hidden so well."

Amidst the rowdy atmosphere, Markus enjoyed the night with his brothers and sisters in arms, welcomed Vance Arrick into their circle, listened to Don ranting about the troubles of higher leadership, and chuckled wryly at the obstinate stoicism of Orsen.

Without realizing it himself, Markus had forgotten all about his loss of an eye. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

…

[$#%^!!]

Markus' eyes went wide as the image of his Gallery of War flashed within, uninvited.

'What was…'

A long and deep bellowing drone rang out within the camps and every face went still.

The horn had sounded again.