The Blind Valiant

THE WRATH THAT HAS MOVED.

“What a surprise. I half expected you to have tried escaping again. I can’t say it’s a terrible thing I don’t get to shoot you down again.”

  Instinctively, Kyrillos’ shoulders hiked up at Anduin’s unmistakably throaty voice. He cleared his throat, then swiped quickly at his wearied face.

 The Fell wouldn’t get the pleasure of seeing him weak.

  “In case you didn’t see what happened back there, they attacked with intent to kill me so where would I be escaping to?” Kyrillos said, swiveling to him, “but that’s just...”

  Standing on the other side of the river banks, his hair still dripping from his wash, was a very naked cantankerous Anduin.

 Anduin arched up a brow as he grabbed at his clothes which had stripped by the barren tree at the banks and started to dress.

“You should take a wash. The waters will remove whatever poisonous charms Severa Mortimer might’ve cursed us with on our way out.”

 Her sorcery doesn’t work like that. Kyrillos wanted to tell him but then he figured he needed the bath regardless, seeing as he hadn’t had a bath in three days.

Plus he was now covered in blood and grime from the encounter with his father. “You’re not worried I’d use the river and escape?”

 Kyrillos watched him come up to him. His eyes moved to his massive shoulders and his tapering torso; gaze dipped lower, to his ridged torso and V cut that revealed a fading trail of hair into his pants.

 Anduin’s purple eyes roved his face alight with humor as he said.

 “All that’s downstream is a good twenty feet before your face meets granite hard reefs at the bottom. So try and escape, I pray you.”

 He stepped away to shrug on his shirt just as Kyrillos began removing his, walking closer to the rushing river. It was when he reached for the bandages covering the knife wounds at his back, did he give a pause.

Wherever Anduin had tied off the linen bandages, it was beyond his reach. Kyrillos tugged fruitlessly at the wrappings until Anduin came over.

 He knocked Kyrillos’ hands away and turned his back to him.

  Kyrillos was about to protest when he heard the bandages being ripped from his body, he tossed the bloodied scraps of cloth to the ground.

 Once he was finished, Anduin rasped sternly. “Don’t take too long or I’ll push you downstream myself.”

 Lovely. “The least you could do is thank me.”

He guffawed laugh, “Thank you? For what? The happy welcome we got from your family?” then he pointed to his blackened leg, “Or for half destroying my ability to walk?”

 Kyrillos narrowed a look back at him as he raided his face from dipping himself into the water. “For saving your life. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead right now or worse, rebel.”

  “If it weren’t for you, that would not have happened in the first place. You need to get your head sorted out before your confusion ends up killing you. Or worse me alongside.”

 Kyrillos growled under his breath. Not my fault my memories have been tampered with.

But he quipped back, “And if you wouldn’t drag me about then you’d have avoided the whole dilemma entirely. I would think a wanted rebel would want to get back to his allies without hassle.”

 “I told you, you’re my ticket past the borders.”

“And do I have to remind you the circumstance we just survived, I’m more valuable to them dead than alive. So you might as well spare me your snatching precautions and let me be my own problem!”

 Anduin paused for a moment, the bandages he was making for his leg half torn in his hands. “Spoken like a true Mortimer.”

“I’m not a f*****g Mortimer!” Kyrillos hollered and yanked some grass to scrub the dried blood from his hands.

 He glared at the stains, blood from the soldiers he had killed, and he attacked them ferociously till he was sure the skin would bruise.

 It was many minutes before he heard Anduin speak. “You were telling the truth about them wanting to kill you. What could you have done to have made the Madrigal want to kill his only son?”

 Kyrillos looked up, wiped back wet strands from his face and saw the Fell sitting  at the foot of a tree, tending to his ruined leg.

I don’t even know if I’m his son.

 At his continued silence, Anduin looked over at him. “Did you try a coup that failed? Sleep with your father’s wife?”

 Kyrillos froze and blanked at that. His mind rolling on that possibility for such hostile attacks from his father.

 Could Manfri have found out about Louscha and I before the gala? But all this wouldn’t just be to punish me for that.

Why not just kill me outright... and then there’s the question of my dreams...?

Anduin chortled with amusement. “You did, didn’t you? Seems I’ve been taking you for granted, lordling. Was she worth it then, this wife of the great Manfri Mortimer?”

 She isn’t his wife. At least not yet. Kyrillos bristled at his tone, “Why should I tell you anything when all the times I’ve tried making conversation, you’ve all but cut my tongue out.”

“I’m not doing any such thing now.” He quirked an obvious expression.

“Too late, my business is my own.” Kyrillos got out of the river, stomping out to grab his clothes. “You should concentrate on getting us to wherever you wish to trade me off. At least that way I get out of this very questionable partnership.”

 “Well there’s no need for that anymore.”

Kyrillos stopped and glanced back, “What?”

Anduin groaned as he wrapped his burned leg with the bandages and swallowed before speaking. “It’s like you said, they want you dead and even if I sent them your head, they’d still come for me.”

 Ignoring his idea of sending the Mortimers his head. “What are you saying? That I’m not your hostage anymore?”

 Anduin shrugged and reached to hoist his body up by the branch he’d broken and now used as a cane.

“I’m saying that maybe we’re both in the same position with the Mortimers. And the best way to survive is to cooperate with each other.”

 Kyrillos arched a brow at that. Is that supposed to be an apology of some kind?

He watched the rebel limp forward and with a look down at his leg, Kyrillos felt a twinge of guilt for causing such damage to him.

 “I’m sorry about your leg.” He blurted out without knowing.

Anduin blinked up at him and caught his look of pity and guilt directed on his leg. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll heal, slowly but at least you did it out of defense. Nothing compared to what I did you.”

 “It’s still my fault. I didn’t know how I...”

“I think we should worry more about how to get you to direct that raw power next time, Kyrillos. It’s getting late, we should make camp and you look hungry.”

 Kyrillos sighed deeply, giving a nod and watched the rebel limp away before he realized that he had used his name for the first time.

 Because of his new handicap, it was left for Kyrillos to find where they would stay for the night and it was only fortunate that the horse they had stolen had bags of supplies.

 Kyrillos watched him place protective spells around the area they were settling for the night. It was all he could do before he slumped down to the ground in the throes of his injury.

 Kyrillos helped him to back himself by a tree, swallowing his apology for causing him such pain.

  Leaving him to tend to his leg, he went to rummage through the supplies they’d stolen. Therein he found a pack of cheese, wraps of dried meat and a skein of wine.

 The wine he gave to Anduin and fed himself with some cheese and meat. Some he offered to the Fell who waved it off.

“Why don’t you eat? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you eat in the two days since you dragged me from those tunnels.” Kyrillos eventually asked. 

“Because I don’t have to,” he answered curtly. 

 “So?” 

  “So?” he echoed, sounding affronted. He peered down at Kyrillos, maybe to make sure he was serious.

“I’m confused. Why should I eat if I don’t need to?” 

 “Because it tastes good and helps restore strength especially now you're injured.”

 Anduin scoffed, “I’ll do fine without it. What I want to know is, how you did what you did at Montparnasse without the use of a relic? And how did you know the Mortimers was lying about the whole trauma thing.”

 Kyrillos should have known he would bring it up. But he took a swallow of some wine and stared at the first blinking stars in the dusky heavens.

 “I’ll give you the same answer I’ve been giving you since. I don’t know, it just happens. And as for the lies, I just knew. I cannot explain it but even though my mind sometimes feels like it has been shattered into fragments of incomprehensible and painful memories, I just knew I shouldn’t go with them.” Kyrillos looked at him across the fire.

 “That I’d rather go with the heartless devil than the beguiling angel.”

 “I will take that as a compliment.” Anduin breathed with indignation. “I’ve never seen anyone transmigrate like that. I don’t think I should even call it that.”

 “Why?”

“Because transmigration requires an immense amount of manæ collected over long periods of time and bound to a structure, something only found in compounded relics like a Reliquary. The spell needs to be scheduled at certain moments of the day. A vortex is one kind of transmigration.”

 Kyrillos knew what he was talking about, having lived in a Reliquary all his life and used such methods of travel occasionally. He screwed his brows together and shook his head. “I didn’t do that.”

 “No you didn’t. It felt like you were moving in and out of this dimension in split seconds.”

He met the awed look worn on Anduin’s face. “That’s impossible. No one can do that.”

“No, not no one. Only Divines and Infernals can.” Anduin was staring at him in the most uncomfortable manner.

I think it will be better if he looks at me like a sniveling Noirish, not like this.

“But I’m mortal.” Kyrillos protested the idea of being something other than what he was.

 But what am I... who am I?

“Are you? You said you died by my dagger, the Madrigal said he had to use a resurrection spell to bring you back. But like I said, Noirish can’t perform such sorcery; he was lying.”

 “Then how else would I have survived that? Maybe you missed my heart.” Kyrillos unconsciously reached up to his chest where he had felt the blade go in.

 Anduin shook his head. “I never miss.”