There was a lot of blood on Ridahne's leg. It did not slow her down. In fact, it only served to fuel her battle-rage and in the moment, she could hardly register the pain of it. She felt heat only, a dull burning sensation that buzzed somewhere at the back of her mind. She was relieved to hear Talbot gallop away, knowing that his rider would be far safer on the run than standing firm like she was doing. There was never any shame in playing to one's strengths, and Ridahne knew that hers were best used right here, absorbing the attention of these people long enough for Darin to get away. But the archer had fled with her. She inwardly cursed but had no choice but to continue the fight with the other two.
Hrendi kept back and watched with a smug grin on his face, but his two mates came at Ridahne relentlessly. They lacked the hesitation of Mark and his human companions and had far more skill and strength than any of them too. It had actually been a while since she'd encountered an opponent as skilled as they were, and in any other circumstance she would have congratulated them on their hard work and praised their skill. But not now. Now, they were dead men. Two against one was a hard fight, but Ridahne had been trained for this. Not only was she precise and quick, but she was calm enough to really think through the situation, read their body language, and exploit any faults she found. She saw an opening and delivered a swift kick between the legs to the man, though before she could follow up the crippling blow with a more fatal one of her own, the woman with the broadsword brought down a heavy swing and Ridahne was forced to dance out of the way.
The man was down for a few moments so she had space to focus on the woman. She was well armored and strong, and her sword had far better reach. But she was slow. Her moves, by nature, had to be sort of 'heralded' by her body language and so if Ridahne paid attention, she could predict what she was going to do. The woman made another heavy swing, Ridahne slapped away the blade with her knife and while the woman was recovering, Ridahne's sword swept down to cut off one of the woman's hands. It came away cleanly. The woman screamed; she could not wield the broadsword with one hand, so as a last resort she hurled it at Ridahne. The blade spun around in a dangerous arc like the hand of a compass and was too large to avoid. Ridahne tried to block it, but there was only so much of the massive blade she could block and part of it swung around to clip her in the side. The blade bit deep into her, but not fatally, as it had lost a lot of momentum due to Ridahne's efforts to block it. The Azurei howled as her side burned, but she leapt at the woman fiercely. The Eluri had picked up a stone and thrown that at her too, and it struck Ridahne in her ribs with a painful crack. However, the woman was soon impaled by Ridahne's knife and could not gloat over her hit for long.
The man was back up again. Disoriented by the low-blow, he was not as formidable as he once was. Ridahne was breathing hard but snarled at him and spat. He circled her for a moment, and just when he tensed up to charge and strike at her, Ridahne was bowled to the ground by Hrendi, who had decided finally to join the fight. The force knocked her sword out of her hand, but the left still clutched her knife. She managed to turn over but then both men were on top of her, pinning her down with their combined weight. She screamed, a sound like a feral animal, and struggled with every ounce of energy she had left. Hrendi was on her chest, on her broken rib with his hands around her neck, squeezing with both hands. The other man had her hands, one of which was still squeezing her knife like it was a lifeline. For a moment, she was completely stuck, and she might have been bested had it not been for Mitaja. The cat leaped out of the shadows and went straight for the man's throat. He had not seen her and had no defense against her, so the cat viciously and easily bit into and tore out the throat of the still screaming elf, leaving Ridahne free to deal with Hrendi.
Her vision was already growing black and fuzzy. She barely had the strength left to lift her blade even once to plunge it into Hrendi, and he retaliated by bashing her head into the ground with stunning force once, twice, three times. She stabbed him again and he faltered a little, his grip on her throat loosening enough that she could draw in a painful, raspy breath. She bucked, kicking him off of her, and as he struggled to right himself she leaped on top of him and stabbed him six times in the chest. The last five were not necessary; he was already dead. But it didn't matter to her.
He lay still. The once tumultuous patch of road was now eerily silent except for the painful rasps of Ridahne's labored breaths. Absolutely spent, starved of air and rapidly losing blood, Ridahne collapsed in the brush beside the road. She was so, so dizzy. But she had to get to Darin. She HAD to. By nothing except sheer force of will, she made one arm reach out and claw into the soil and drag her broken body along as one leg feebly pushed. Once only she managed this, and then for a moment lost consciousness. When she came to again, it was only a few minutes later. Mitaja was licking her face fervently between distressed yowls. Ridahne just felt numb. This was it, she was sure. She would die here on the road, but Darin now only had to contend with the archer. If she'd protected her from anything, anything at all, then she'd done the best she could.
"Mitaja..." her voice was a hoarse, wispy croak. "Darin...protect...Darin..." The cat hesitated but did eventually disappear into the gloom. Ridahne sighed. Mitaja would find her. They'd be okay. And as much as she wanted to get up, mount Tsura and follow, she knew she was spent. Ridahne thought of her mother. She thought of the warm days spent on the beach as a girl, combing the sands with her mother for pretty shells. She thought of the song that her mother would always sing to her at night under the stars by the fire. And as the numbness began to set in, Ridahne spent her little remaining strength rasping out the song in a gasping whisper. The last thought she had before unconsciousness took her was that she'd seen this before. With Ravi at the Farm, she'd seen her own death after all, and only realized it about halfway through the song. The only anxiety she held was wondering about Darin. She needed to just get up, and if she could do that then she could find the Seed Bearer....but she was...just...so...t i r e d....
---
The night deepened. Time passed, but then it seemed like an eternity had gone by since Darin had fled with Talbot. Ridahne did not come. The animals began timidly speaking again, little insects made hesitant chirping sounds and every so often there was a gentle rustle of leaves made by a creature that would rather remain unseen. But still, Ridahne did not come. Mitaja did. Her glowing green eyes shone first, and the cat bounded towards Darin with both grace and speed. But something about the way the cat's black-ringed tail twitched and swished gave her a rather harried look. The cat yowled loudly, once, twice, circling around Darin's legs a few times before actively leaning on her as if pushing her forward. The cat would take a few steps back in the direction she'd come, stop, look back at Darin, circle her once, and do it again. The message was abundantly clear: Darin was to follow. And it was urgent.
--
At a distance, the only evidence that Mitaja had come to the right spot was Tsura, standing restlessly just beside the road. On closer inspection, there were bodies that littered the area. The lantern that Hrendi had once held reflected off glinting dark blood on leaves, grass, and bodies from where it lay discarded. One body had a torn open throat, and from the blood on Mitaja's face it was easy to guess his fate. But one form lay just beside where Tsura stood guard over it; there was a knife still clutched in her hand while the other was still motionlessly clawing at the dirt in the direction Darin and Talbot had fled. Her dark wavy hair was matted with blood at the back, and around her right leg and the left side of her abdomen was a pool of blood. Everything in this clearing seemed to be stained with red, but even so, her clothes were still obviously blue.
Ridahne.
The elf was unconscious and her labored breath was shallow, but she was alive. Barely. Purplish marks were already blossoming around her neck where she'd been choked, her left side was wet and red, and the broken-off arrow was still in her thigh. Even her inked face was smeared with blood, though whether it had come from her or one of her fallen enemies was unclear. The scene was solemn and gruesome.
