Thirteen Years in One Hundred Steps: Theme 17 – Blood

Days passed into weeks of battling and defending, but things seemed rather successful so far. The three teens had yet to kill, and not one of them was really looking forward to such a prospect.

Hopefully the war would not be brought into City Altea.

Oh, such hopes.

~~+++===+++===+++~~

Aliana and Mark were situated on a watchtower overlooking the entrance to the city, as the former had been sent back to the city at an earlier time. Both had already faced some degree of battle, and even though they were at ease for the moment, they could feel their hearts racing, their blood rushing, and their alertness heighten.

Most had, at first, objected to having two “careless” teenagers take a post as watchers, but upon seeing their set and determined looks, no one could argue.

Both had volunteered for this job of staying on watch, and they believed it was only natural. Mark was naturally farsighted, and his eyesight was particularly keen the further an object was. Aliana had developed a steadfast alertness: nothing could surprise her, and nothing could escape her attention.

They were not at the watchtower to search for enemies, however.

“Do you think Marth will be okay?” Mark asked his partner. “We’ve seen battle, but haven’t killed yet. He might…”

“I don’t know if he’ll be fine,” Aliana grumbled, “but not believing he’ll make it back alive is the same thing as saying we don’t have faith in him.” She snorted. “Besides that, he might not even need to fight. We’re allied with Gra, and it’s only natural because Gra is Altea’s sister kingdom.”

“But she could just as easily turn on us and side with Dolua,” Mark suggested. “We were only allied with her because of the split that happened within the royal court long ago.”

Aliana shrugged. “I could care less at this point.” She leaned against a wall, looking out across the horizon. “I just want him to come back safe and sound.”

A boy came up the steps to the watchtower then, his hood flying off of his head in his rush. His green hair was a mess, and his tan clothing and navy blue cape and hood were coated with dust. He held a tome in his left hand supported himself against the wall with his other, panting with exhaustion.

“Maric!” Mark exclaimed. “I thought you were with Princess Ellis! Why are you here?”

“The Lady…sent me…” Maric panted. He accepted the water Aliana handed him, taking a moment to settle down before speaking again. “Lady Ellis, as you know, is very skilled with her magic, so much that she has been able to communicate with the prince.”

Aliana jumped at this, grabbing Maric by the collar of his tunic, soundly shaking him. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she growled venomously. “Spit it out! Where is he? Is he well? Is he even alive? Let’s go, spit it out!”

Mark promptly pulled Aliana away from Maric, restraining her from attacking the mage. “Calm yourself, Aliana. I know you want to know how Marth is faring, but you must contain that excitement!”

She eventually took a deep breath and settled down, venturing back to her post without a word.

Maric actually did not seem to mind, and burst as such: “Prince Marth is making his way back here at the moment, along with what is left of the Knights. He requests you two to meet him where you usually meet. Especially –“

“What’s left of the Knights?” Mark broke in, obviously incredulous. “What happened?”

“Gra…Gra has betrayed us…” Maric trembled, hanging his head in shame. “Gra has betrayed us and joined Dolua! They were supposed to attack Dolua from the left flank, but betrayed Altea at the last moment, attacking our forces instead of the enemy…”

Both Mark and Aliana were struck dumb by this news.

Oh, but it did not end there.

“And the King…Lord Cornelius…He’s been…”

Aliana slammed a fist into the wall to silence Maric. Her voice was but a hiss. “Maric, that had better be true…You had best be telling the truth…”

Maric only trembled before nodding. “I’m…I’m telling the truth…Lord Cornelius has been killed by Garnef of Khadein…And now their targets have been turned to Lord Marth, Lady Ellis, and Lady Eleanor. Lord Marth is making his way back to Altea right now…”

Mark thought on this a moment, then nodded. “We’ll meet his request,” he firmly stated.

“We need a relief, though,” Aliana protested.

“Abel is on his way, so we can leave now. We can explain later –“

A furious blast of intense fire magic hit the tower then, causing the building to collapse on the three. Bricks crumbled and mortar rained down on them.

Mark came to his senses with a pounding headache, as if someone was continuously slamming his head against a wall or something of the sort. Coughing at the dust that settled around him, he pushed the crumbling building pieces out of his way, but stopped as an agonizing, stabbing pain blasted through his head. Putting a hand to the side of his head, he tried to suppress the pain, but quickly drew his hand away.

Dark red. Rich. Slippery, yet somewhat sticky from congealing so quickly. Blood, trailing from deep within his dark brown hair, nearly flowing over his right eye.

Mark had covered Aliana at the moment the attack had shaken the tower. Was she okay? He helped her up, taking note of the numerous cuts she had been marked with as a result of the sharp pieces of wood and stone that rained down on them. Her hair was matted with dust and splinters. Other than that, however, she was well.

What of Maric? He was well, as he had put up a force field around himself to protect against the hail of stonework he would have otherwise been crushed by. A river of apologies spilled from him, apologizing to both Mark and Aliana for not being able to shield them in time, doing so even more when he saw Mark’s injury. A quick glare from Aliana silenced him, however, and Maric resorted to sobbing half-heartedly.

Aliana was quick to action. “Maric, you head back to the castle or find someone close by to tell them we’re under attack. Mark and I will get the civilians to initiate the city’s lock-down procedures and meet up with Marth later. No time for explaining, just go!”

The three tore down the tower stairs and out to the city. Maric raced straight away for the castle. Mark and Aliana ran through the streets, attracting any Altean soldiers in the vicinity as well as telling civilians of the attack by shouting the recent happenings to all who could hear.

There came a point, however, when Mark could no longer run. He stopped at the castle entrance, nodding to Aliana. “Go meet him…” he panted. “I can’t continue on with a headache like this…”

She was unsure at first. “I thought he needs –“

“He needs you!” Mark exclaimed, holding a hand to his injury. “At least, I believe you’re the one he needs right now…Go! You have to meet him before it’s too late!”

“Too late? What are you going about? Let me at least --!”

Mark’s blood-stained hand grabbed Aliana’s clean one, holding it tightly. “I appreciate you trying to help, but gauge the situation. The monarchy’s in danger. Marth is probably being pursued by the enemy. We have to do what we can to help.” He leaned in to her ear, whispering his next words. “Especially you, Aliana. You love him, don’t you?”

She could not protest.

“Go then,” Mark went on. “He needs you now. I’ll take care of what’s going on in the rest of the city and the castle.” He let go of her hand, pushing her toward the woods. “I’ll heal you later when we meet up again. But go! Don’t worry about me, love. Marth needs you and your help now. I know it.”

She hesitated a moment, but nodded and raced away.

~~+++===+++===+++~~

The forest was quiet, almost too quiet for Aliana’s liking. It seemed like the very soul of the woods had been taken from them. No breath. No voice. No wind. No motion. Nothing but still silence.

Silence with the sounds of blazing fire and distant battling in the background. Was this beloved forest on fire? Who was fighting here? Was blood staining the trees and bushes?

Blood. Aliana gazed at her cuts. They would definitely leave scars. The bleeding had stopped, but now it seemed like a million needles were stabbing her arms and legs. A numb, yet excruciating pain.

She looked around. Where was he?

A thought crossed. This is war. And in a war, people died. During these times, especially, people died in their own pools of blood. Blood could mean death.

She held herself. There was no time to be thinking such things. Marth still had not arrived.

But this was a war. Mark said Marth’s life was in danger. Marth still was not here. Could he have possibly…?

Bushes rustled to the side of the clearing. Aliana shot up from her seat near the tree, a hand on the hilt of her sword.

It was Marth, however, who came through the vegetation and to the clearing. A ruined, tired, and all around exhausted Marth. Dust and dirt matted his usually clean radiant blue hair. His left arm hung limp, badly bruised and bleeding, probably from being thrown off his horse. It was probably a fatal fall as well – his left cheek was in the same condition.

Perhaps the striking thing was the rapier in his hand. A beautiful sword when Marth held it, as he had become quite the swordsman by this time. However, that ornamented rapier, now loosely and carelessly held in his hand, had a few more decorations to it. Red ribbons slid down the blade, falling off as little beads of scarlet at the tip. That red liquid did not seem to fit that blade, but at the same time, it was meant to be part of it.

That uncanny silence again. No sound of the forest. Nothing but Marth’s anxious breath and the imagine sound of drops of blood falling form the tip of the rapier blade. The silence was thick, broken only by that breath and the dripping blood.

Blood. People died in their own pools of blood. Blood could mean death.

Marth had not said a word.

Aliana pieced it together. She relaxed, walking over to Marth. She listened to his unstable breath, gauging his anxiety. Taking his left hand, she gave a light tug, beckoning him to follow her.

He did not let up a word of acknowledgement or protest, following her to the tree. The sword was still loosely in his hand. He did not allow himself to let it go or look Aliana in the eye.

She let go of his hand, not wanting to cause too much damage his already injured arm. “Did you…kill someone?” she ventured.

Marth tensed up, not saying anything in reply.

She reached for his sword hand now, seeking to have him let go of his burden.

If he had seemed dull before, he quickly snapped out of it as he took notice of her reaching out for him. He immediately backed away against the tree, an uncertain and frightened look in his eyes.

Aliana did not let this faze her, though. She slowly approached him, lightly touching his uninjured cheek. “Marth, it’s okay,” she softly – and calmly – reassured. “Talk to me before it’s too late.”

The soft words stabbed his heart. Dropping the sword, he held her close with his good arm, muffling his cries with her shoulder. The blood on that rapier meant too much for words. Forcefully taking a person’s life, even though they were the enemy…Marth had never meant to commit such a crime.

He felt his blood run cold as he remembered that dead feeling on his rapier when he had stabbed said enemy, thus yanking the fellow’s life from existence. His blade or hands had never felt so cold…

But now holding her as so…Knowing she was there…

His tears did not – could not – stop. She was accepting him and his tears…He did not suppose she could do anything more.

He noticed her numerous injuries. Mark’s blood on her free hand. The dust and splinters matting her hair. But the blood that stained her…

His weakened left arm came around her, holding her tightly, or as much as the pain would allow.

She let her hand slide through his soft blue hair, whispering reassurances to him.

So much blood…So much death…

And for the first time in years, Marth let up a strangled cry of anguish, sobbing uncontrollably as life as he knew it fell apart to pieces.