Alphonse waves his hand lazily in the air. “Yes, yes. They are Crusaders. I’m sure they know what to do in case they come across any of the shadowcreatures.” Abruptly, he turns to face the recruits. “Güthric, Dimitri, with me.”
Watching Dimitri walk away feels like my stomach is made of knots and he is the cord pulling taut on my insides. I don’t like this; I don’t like this at all. How am I supposed to feel safe without my best friend at my side? How am I supposed to survive if anything happens while he’s halfway across the village?
Silver appears beside me. She doesn’t look my way. In fact, ever since we entered Ashenvale, her gaze has been trained forward like she can’t risk looking anywhere else. Though the horror of what happened here has practically been wiped clean, it has stained her mind forever. But I know her closeness isn’t by accident. She was a mother, I remind myself, and some days I think she’s still a mother now, the way she watches after us.
As the Crusaders grab two recruits each as they were instructed, Eparah strides over to us.
“Are you two ready?” she asks, and there’s such sincerity in her tone that I think if either of us said no, she’d actually wait here instead of forcing us to explore.
But to abandon this moment is to abandon all hope of either of us ever leaving Nigh. If we don’t find something of value while we’re here, Silver and I will live the rest of our days in the castle, bleeding corpses for necro-ink and cleaning chalk from the classroom walls.
“Yes,” Silver says, resolute and unflinching.
I nod as well, and the three of us set out. We comb through the nearly empty buildings and prowl the vacant streets. On the side of the tavern, we find a box wagon tucked behind some opened and scavenged crates. Eparah drops to her knee, her bag dropping to the ground beside her with a dull clang. She pulls out a rusted tool of some sort and hooks it onto the front of the wheel.
“Is that necessary?” I ask, my voice a harsh whisper. I glance nervously to Silver who’s scanning the area around us while we both kneel. “Shouldn’t we be searching for bodies?”
“No, that’s what you need to search for,” Eparah says with a grunt as she lifts the cart up. She nods to me to help her, but I don’t have the slightest clue what to do. She chuckles. “Okay, you lift.”
We trade off, and she begins cranking at the wrench, spinning the wheel every once in a while as she goes. A knob that was holding the wheel in place comes off.
Eparah tosses it on top of her bag and grasps the spokes of the wheel. “Hold on tight.”
I scoff, incredulous. I’m already holding on as tightly as I can. The base of the wagon cuts into my fingers, making them burn and strain. She gives the wheel a strong tug, and I’m sure my fingers are going to fall off, but the wheel comes off clean.
“Okay, you can put it down.”
I’m all too eager to be done with the weight of it, but I’m cautious about making too much noise, so I ease it down gently. My arms go limp at my sides, and I throw my head back to catch my breath.
Eparah gathers her tools back into her bag, tossing in the iron knob she retrieved from the wheel.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my breaths easing back into their normal rhythm.
Eparah stands. She places her hand on the rim of the wheel at her hip and sighs. “Your job is to find shadowsteel and necro-ink, but Ashenvale has mostly been scavenged already. It’s an impossible task that only those who went to the north side of town will be successful in. My job while we’re here is to gather any materials that might prove useful to the Shadow Crusade. Wagon wheels break too often to pass this one up—”
“W-why did we go south then?” I balk. “Silver and I, if we don’t find any shadowsteel or necro-ink, our chances of becoming Crusaders—true Crusaders—are ruined.”
Eparah shakes her head, eyes closing. “I’m sorry. It’s an unfair test, one he never meant for you to complete. The last unit of Crusaders to come here for supplies was attacked. A few of them fell and the others fled before they could retrieve their belongings. Alphonse predetermined who would be taken north to the last battle site, and who would be led astray.” Noticing the hurt in my expression, she adds, “It’s not all bad, though. We can still do good here. We can find more items of value to bring back with us—”
I shake my head.
“Halira,” she begs. “Please, you must understand. He is my general. I must do as he says. And he is yours, as well.”
Slowly, I start backing away. The likeliness of me ever becoming a real Crusader has been rigged from the start. I never stood a chance, not with my hateful cousin in charge.
“Halira?” Worry edges Eparah’s tone. “Whatever you’re thinking…don’t.”
I frown at her, unsure of what it is she’s cautioning me against doing. I’m not sure I was thinking anything other than how unfair this is. I’ve trained just as hard as everyone. I’ve lost just as much. I want to become a Crusader and avenge my family just as badly as all the others.
But the look in her eyes gives me an idea. Though the odds are stacked against me, it’s not over yet.
I turn on my heels and run north.
My feet pound against the earth, as strong as the thundering heart in my chest. I don’t know how long we’d been walking, but I know I’ve already lost precious time. Alphonse and the others might’ve already arrived to the battle site; it’s likely the bodies of the fallen have already had their necro-ink vials and weapons lifted from them. But I have no other choice. I have to try, even if it means directly disobeying Alphonse’s order to stay with my Crusader, my captain.
A guttural shriek impales the crisp air.
My feet trip to a halt. I look east toward the cry, deeper into the village down a path that I think I saw Maxwell and his company head down, more poor fools who were never meant to complete the task.
I stare north again, toward my only chance at success. I should keep going. I’m not much of a fighter; I’d be of little to no use to Maxwell and would likely just put myself in harm’s way. If they encountered demons, then surely the Crusader he’s with can protect them. Besides, the most responsible, rational mode of action would be for me to find Alphonse and let him and the others know that some of our people are in danger.
“Help!” a different, shakier scream pierces my heart from down the street. It’s Maxwell’s, I know it is; I can tell by the adenoidal whine that strains on his sinuses. “Somebody, please!”
Biting my lip, I curse under my breath and dash down the street. This is stupid. This is reckless. This is precisely the kind of idiotic, heroic act that got my brother killed…but I have no choice. Maxwell’s whimpering continues to echo across the ruins of Ashenvale, but I hear no others. I think he might be the only one left, and if that’s true, he wouldn’t survive me wasting another second.
Instead, I do the next best thing.
“Demons!” I yell, reaching over my back to pull out my battle-axe. Though its size makes it awkward for me to run, there’s no way I’m running headfirst into battle without it drawn. “Demons! To the east!”
It’s not much, but hopefully someone will have heard me. At least Eparah and Silver, they might be close enough to—