The hooded man Ryckel simply tagged 'Hood' didn't strike. Instead, he let out a long, weary sigh that rattled through his gas mask.
He looked back at the skirmish, the dying screams of Hussars and his own men and then shouted a command that pierced the roar of the wind.
"Withdraw! Everyone to the bottom! Now!"
Bottom?
Ryckel's eyes widened.
Before the thought could even form, Hood blurred. He didn't run, he lunged with the predatory speed of a Zhenren.
Ryckel tried to move away, but Hood's armored shoulder rammed into his gut, knocking the remaining air from his lungs, and suddenly Ryckel was draped over the man's back like a sack of grain.
"Wait---stop! Put me---!"
Hood didn't speak. He stepped off the edge.
The world vanished. Ryckel's stomach did a violent somersault as they plummeted into the Red Mist. The wind became a physical force, screaming past his ears, threatening to rip the gas mask from his face.
The tang of the mask's filters mixed with the heavy, sweet-rot scent of the mistified air, a smell every Wistnan child knew as the scent of the grave.
Then came the jolt.
Hood's right hand suddenly shimmered with a black coating that hardened and sharpened. He slammed his fingers directly into the vertical cliff face.
SCREEEEEE!
The sound of stone being gouged out by bare fingers was deafening. They slid down with Hood's single hand that sent sparks flying into the crimson fog.
Ryckel watched. He was mesmerized and at the same time terrified, as the black tendrils still hanging from his own back began ripped away from his body, leaving holes that stitched themselves back together.
They hit the ground not with a crash, but with the soft, heavy thud of loose earth and marsh. Hood didn't lose his momentum. The moment his boots touched the silt, he was running again, his pace rhythmic and tireless.
They sprinted through the fog, Ryckel saw pale blue stones that glimmered like a ghost's eyes in the dark, not like he'd actually seen a ghost personally.
Though they have been accounts of such…
They passed a few stone pillars and arches swallowed by vines and what could look like body parts sticking out of the dirt.
"Who are you?" Ryckel managed to choke out, his ribs protesting the jostling. "Why did you attack the wagon? You... you kidnapped me!"
"Kidnap?" Hood's voice came back, sounding genuinely staggered. "Kid? We just saved your life from a one-way trip to a meat grinder."
Hood didn't offer his name. He just kept running.
The passage of time became a blur of red mists and the steady huff-huff of Hood's breathing. Eventually, they reached a clearing where a domesticated Zhenren, a massive bird with grey feathers and strong looking legs that stood tall.
It was a Hortes. With others being not too far off, all of different colors.
Hood tossed Ryckel onto the beast's back as other figures emerged from the mist, climbing aboard their own Hortes and they rode off.
***
Hours later, the terror had subsided into a hollow, unsettling chill. They were gathered around a campfire. The flames were a sickly orange against the oppressive red of the surrounding mist.
Five men, all wearing gas masks and in mismatched armor and leather, with the only consistent thing being the sigil of yellow doves, sat in a circle.
Ryckel sat on a log, his hands trembling. He knew he was the weakest thing in this circle. He forced himself to sit straight, to look respectful while being silent.
It would do him no good if he somehow agitated these man. He knew he'd need them if he ever wanted to return.
Continuing on from the conversation they were having, Ryckel having asked just who they are.
"We're freedom fighters, kid, the Stained Brothers of Freedom" one of the men said, a burly fellow with a battered gas mask.
Ryckel had heard of them. Freedom fighters like the man said, who always gave headaches to the Amphictony and by an extension of them, the Vanguard Lodge, an organization in which the Hussars belonged to.
He'd always heard of their great deeds from time to time and how they never gave up from the whispers of people back home.
Thinking of this, Ryckel could relax a bit. He was in safe hands.
"We heard the Hussars were hauling a fresh batch of Attuned to Castle Grey. We tried to intercept the wagon to liberate you lot, but then a damn Zhenren came in. The whole thing went sideways."
Ryckel felt cold and uncomfortable in his chest. Still slight disturbed by him somehow healing holes.
But a deeper anger was bubbling up. "You shouldn't have done it," Ryckel whispered.
The circle went silent. Hood, who sat across from him, tilted his head. "You said what?"
He couldn't keep up acting docile any much longer. Not after he just heard they ruined all he'd worked for!
"I had a deal!" Ryckel's voice rose, cracking with desperation as his gas mask clicked. "I gave myself up so my family would be spared! If I don't show up at Castle Grey, if I'm just missing, the Hussars will go back to my town. They'll kill my mother. They'll kill Lyra. I have to go back!"
Hood let out a short, sharp laugh. It was pitying. "Go back? To a Hussar?" He leaned forward, the firelight dancing off his gas mask but no revealing what was beneath the hood.
"Kid, never trust a Crow. Why would he waste rations on some nobody's family? They're already dead."
The words hit Ryckel like a physical blow. No. Syrion saw it. He saw the look in my eyes. He wasn't lying. He wanted to believe it, but the logic told him Hood might be right.
These men were experienced. Ryckel was not.
He felt devastated. To the point that his mind couldn't just accept the fact that his family might be dead.
"But don't worry. Since you've got no home to go back to," Hood said, his tone shifting into something more formal, "Join us. The Stained Brothers need Ignited blood. You join, you're free."
"Free?" Ryckel scoffed, his eyes darting to the darkness. "If I join you guys, the Amphictony would hunt me. If I'm caught, my family become traitors by association. I'm not joining you."
The men gazed at Ryckel. Hood lowered his head and the only sound was the cracking of the campfire and the silent wheezing of their Hortes.
No… this isn't right. Something is wrong with these men.
Ryckel's intuition told him.
He stood up. But quickly soon realized that what was he doing.
He had messed up.
---The End of Chapter 6---