Everheart: Chapter 10

"Oh, hells." Ginal muttered.  "Those damned birdmen again?"  The tension of a headache crept into her temples, and her frustrations were vented through a low growl that escalated into an explosive sigh.  "Alright, Wailer, you keep looking for people to go to the Spire's aid, I'm going on ahead now!"

"My thanks, citizen!"

The miqo'te man was forcing his way through the crowds of citizens and adventurers, resuming his calls for aid.  She sprinted as best she could down the wooden ramp, toward the nearby chocobo stable and the attending stable hand.  She found, though, that these iron plated boots were heavier than she was used to.

"Stable keep!  How much?"

At that moment, the bird mask these stable keepers all donned as their universal uniform was void of all charm it may have normally held.  It was, simply, ridiculous and seemed to only waste her time by its very existence.  But then, having to delay her journey to reunite with her wife, all because these damnable beastmen just couldn't sit still for another day, had her ready to snap.

May Garuda have mercy on her children, for Ginal would have none.

"Oh, that'll be a sixty gil deposit, Miss!" the stable attendant cheerily answered.  "Thirty gil refund if the bird is back within three hours."

"Fine, here!"  Ginal didn't really look in her coin purse, but she thought she saw that the coin she threw was a one-hundred piece.  Oh, well.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

The miqo'te spun around to face the armor-clad bust of highlander hyur.  The woman's broad build and near towering height were immediately off-putting.  Selah was easily a head taller than Ginal, but this woman had at least that much over Selah, if not even more.  Next to the woman was a male highlander, even broader of build and matching an elezen's sky-touching height.  Even Grezel wasn't this tall, was he?

The two were clad neck-to-toe in thick, steel gray plates of armor that looked nothing like anything she'd ever seen.  Definitely not of Ul'dah make, for it lacked the simple elegance of a gladiator's armor.  The axes the pair had strapped to their backs suggested marauders, and that was good enough for her.

"My name is Samaria," the woman explained, "and this is my lover, Roric.

The bearded man silently offered a half bow, and the miqo'te found it an honest struggle to not blurt out commentary about his height.

"We heard the call, and we'd like to help.  Where is this E-Tat's Spire?"

"About an hour west of Old Gridania's Yellow Serpent Gate, by bird.  If you're coming, hurry!"

The stable hand led saddled and ready bird out to its' temporary master, and as Ginal situated herself in the saddle, she noticed Roric hand over some gil as well, and within a moment the pair had themselves seated and ready.  Was that equipment of theirs just for show?  Let's hope not.  Defending a Wailer outpost would take all the help she could get.

Gods, if only Selah were here.

A gentle breeze that danced with her hair and the branches of the trees.  Pillars of sunlight piercing the woodland canopy.  The echoes of honeybees, chittering squirrels, and ziz seeking mates.  The potpourri of roses, lilacs and orchids.

It was good to be back in The Shroud, even under these urgent circumstances.

The great bird she rode upon galloped ahead, and in the distance, through the thicket, rose a craggy hill she recognized.

"You see that hill up ahead?" she asked of her allies.  "That's where E-Tatt's Spire is!  Almost there!"

"We have a plan?" Samaria inquired.

"Kill the birdmen and protect my home." the miqo'te sharply stated.  

Who cared about plans and strategies right now?  These Matron-forsaken beasts needed to be put down and driven away.  They weren't just a threat to the safety of her homeland, though that was bad enough on most days.  No, today these filthy, molting, stinking, squawking creatures were standing between her, and reconciling with her wife.  She wouldn't be denied anymore, by anyone.  

Her grip on the reigns tightened as she grit her teeth.  A low, guttural growl escaped her throat as red began to color the edges of her vision.  She hated the Ixal, today more than ever.  And she would kill them all if she had to.

"I like that plan." Roric chimed in, his slightly gravelly voice carrying a cheery lilt.

The words snapped Ginal from her trance, and she spurred her chocobo on towards their destination.

"You're not one for conversation, are you, Miss?" Samaria asked.

"I guess not.  I've got a lot on my mind."

"Sorry to hear that." Roric answered.

There was no longer time to think about these things, as they drew near the sharply rising hill.  The tall, wooden watch tower loomed overhead as the three circled their mounts around the jutting rocks in search of the easy slope Ginal remembered, and at last they found their way to the hilltop.

A quick survey found a handful of Wood Wailers, five of them, but no sign of any Ixal.  More curious, though, were the large chunks of blue, luminous crystal that sat piled into two wooden carts.  The soldiers certainly seemed to be on alert.  Three of them stood at the edge of the cliffs surrounding their position, carefully surveying the landscape, while the other two were busy taking whetstones to bone-crafted lances lined on racks.

Ginal dismounted, patting her bird and whispering her thanks to him.  The chocobo responded with a happy chirp, and turned to begin its trek back home.  The birds her allies rode upon joined their stable-mate a moment later.

"We heard a call that your outpost was under attack." Samaria explained.  "But...you seem to have everything in order?"

"We will be soon enough." answered the nearest soldier, an elezen woman.  "Regional scouts found a buildup of warriors at the Ixal logging camp northwest of her, and they're on the move in our direction."

The miqo'te pointed at the crystal-filled carts.  "Does it have something to do with that?"

"Yes, it's aetheryte crystals.  We were going to take them to Hyrstmill to be assembled.  We had them about a third of the way there, too, when we ran into an Ixal hunting party.  It's a very long walk from here to Hyrstmill, so we brought them back until we were certain the route was more secure."

"I'd guess Gridanians expanding their aetheryte network doesn't sit well with the birdmen." Roric offered.

The elezen nodded her agreement.  "It doesn't.  According to our scouts, they're throwing a sizeable group our way.  Should be here anytime now."

"Then we'll just have to hold out until help arrives." Samaria stated.

"The Godsbow scouts in the area will try to draw off some of their numbers." the elezen explained.  "So don't be surprised if it takes them a while to circle around to help us."

Ginal's ears twitched as she heard the distant cawing.  Call for them, and they appear.  How convenient.

She turned to the elezen woman, who nodded an affirmative.  "I heard it, too.  Look alive, Wailers!"

The other guardsmen; a male elezen, two hyurs and a lalafell still sharpening spears, took positions near the cliffs around the guard tower, while the miqo'te, her comrades, and the elezen woman stepped up to the top of the easily hiked slope.

Here we go.  Stay calm.  You'll be fine.  Just think of the story you'll have to tell Selah.

It was just like the time she aided in defending Bentbranch Meadows from an Ixal assault, minus the support of the Godsbow or her free company, and the security of the woman she loved nearby.  Blood dripped from her lance as she quickly surveyed the ground before her.  One, two...five...eleven?  More, and counting.  Limbs, blood, and corpses abound.  It was a grotesque sight to take in, even in her experience.

The two hyurs were certainly worth having around.  Their armor had been sturdy enough to deflect a myriad of weapon strikes and flailing claws, and their skill with those heavy axes were undeniable.  Granted, they didn't always hit their mark, but when they did, death or dismemberment immediately followed.  The elezen Wood Wailer, whose name she never caught, was a welcome addition as well.  The woman's form and attitude spoke volumes of being one of Ywain's students, and her ability to quickly survey the landscape and direct her team, who were contending with occasional cliff-climbers themselves, was impressive.

For her own part, Ginal was pleased with her own performance, as were her comrades, if their encouraging commentary were anything to take to heart.  So far, she had remained quite calm, which she knew was somewhat of a feat.  Her breath was steady, her vision focused, and she had no overwhelming desire to kill, just the need to defend her people.

A side-step and a forward thrust, and her lance pierced her attacker's stomach.  It squawked desperately as she withdrew the weapon, and with a hard kick to the wound, the beastman was down.  Two more replaced it, cawing angrily and swinging crudely-forged swords.  The shaft of her lance took the blow, and a fleet-footed twirl placed her behind her opponents, where a sweep of the legs put one face-first in the dirt, her spear-tip finding home in the other's back.

Help should be here anytime now, right?  Weren't the Godsbow agents on their way?  Wailer reinforcements?  Or another wandering adventurer?  Where in the hells was anyone?  These damned Ixal just keep coming.  And for Nophica's sake, what would it take to get them to stop with that damnable squawking!?

An arrow grazed the thin armor plate on her shoulder, but an oncoming opponent who threatened her with his own crudely fashioned spear pressed her attention.  Thank the Matron for terrible aim, but that bastard has to die next!  Her lance dug into her enemy's, and with a twist and pull, the weapon was removed from his grasp.  Ginal pressed forward, and with one, two, three shallow jabs, the Ixal stumbled back as his lifeblood poured down his front.  Her ears twitched as she caught his ankle with her weapon to pull him from his feet, and spun the lance around to thrust back and behind her.  The Ixal who thought to come behind her gazed upon her in shock as the lance punctured its' heart.  Lousy, stupid bird.  You should know better than sneak up on a miqo'te.

Her eyes locked upon those of the would-be archer, whom she knew had seen the demise of his comrades.  Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a predatory grin.  Oh yes, little birdy, you're next.  A blur moved through the corner of her vision, and an axehead buried itself in her prey's forehead.  She looked over her shoulder at Roric, who offered a nod as he pulled another axe from the harness on his back.  Oh well, maybe the next one.

She withdrew her weapon and allowed a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow and survey the battlefield.  The other Wailers were still defending the cliffs from their high ground, minus the one lying on the ground with two arrows in his torso.  Did he have a lover?  A family?  Damnable beasts.

And then there was Samaria, standing tall and proud as she brandished her weapon as though an extension of herself.  A sunbeam breaking through the canopy fell upon on her long brown hair, seeming to alter it to an auburn shade.  Time seemed to slow.  Ginal's heart ached as she looked upon the hyur.  The confidence and strength.  The complete control of her emotions.  The raw, natural beauty that defied makeup to ruin it.  That gorgeous auburn hair, eyes of shining sapphire...and did she smell lavender?

"Spell caster!" Roric's voice pierced the cacophony.

She whirled around as she followed his finger, to a solitary Ixal gathering aether around its hands.  Now would be a really great time to have an archer on hand.  Just as well, never send someone else to do a lancer's work.  She hefted her weapon over her shoulder and threw as hard as her arm could allow.  The lance soared, singing softly as it cut through the air, and found home within the beastman's torso.

It was too late, for the gathered magical energies had formed into a blazing ball of fire.  As the beastman fell, the fireball furiously raced toward her, and she threw herself to the ground.  Close call, that.  Dealing with these magic-users is always unpleasant business.  A hand dropped into her vision, and Ginal looked up to see that it was Samaria, with a grim expression, offering her help up.

"Try not to cut it so close, next time." the hyur chided.  "I'm growing rather fond of your lance-work."

The miqo'te took her hand and rose, chuckling softly.  "And here I thought you liked me for my body."

Samaria's eyes twinkled with a beaming smile, "I like you, Lancer."

"Ginal."

"Less chatting, more killing, please!" Roric called out.

The female highlander was back into the fray with a laugh.  Ginal spied her weapon, standing tall in the corpse of its' victim, and sprinted forward.  An unarmed Ixal ran at her, screeching and swiping its' talons.  With a shift of her weight, she tumbled back, and as the beastman stumbled, she leaped forward and buried her gauntlet-clad fist into its' jaw.  She could feel the snapping of teeth reverberate through her arm, and when the warrior tumbled to the ground, she dropped into a low stance and challenged it with the blood-seeking roar of a lioness.

But the birdman didn't rise to the challenge.  Instead, it clumsily scrambled to its feet and scurried off.  That's right, you stinking, screeching bastard, run away.  A particular call went out among the Ixali, an urgent sounding squawk that was repeated several times, and she realized that the remaining birdmen were retreating.

She slowly inhaled, and exhaled.  Good.  Not so bad after all, was it?

"Fire!  Fire!"

Ginal spun on her heel, and her eyes went wide.  The carts that carried the aetheryte were engulfed in flames.

The fireball.  Damn it all.

"Wailers, move your ass!" the elezen woman commanded.

The remaining guardsmen headed their commander and sprinted for the slope, as the elezen woman, Samaria and Roric ran ahead.  The miqo'te stood watch to wait for her lancer cousins.   Halfway to there, the lalafell stopped short, and turned back to tend to his fallen comrade.

"Ah, shit."  Ginal muttered, and she charged ahead without a second thought.  "You idiot, leave him!  He's already dead!"

"We have...to get..." the lalafell grunted his words as he tried to drag the much larger man away.  "...him to his family..."

As she reached him, the sounds of glass exploding caused her ears and tail to twitch anxiously.  She looked back and saw Roric running back up the slope, then glanced to her waist-high companion.  Ginal scooped up the man and spun herself around, and around, and finally let go of the small man.  He flew through the air, his expression of shock almost comical.

"You get back to your family." she whispered.

Roric caught the smallkin as roaring boom came from her right.  A wave a bright purple light consumed her, and she immediately felt twice as hot than on any of the days she had spent in Thanalan.



Ginal stumbled forward.  Smoke wafted off the patches of her crumbling armor, gauntlets and boots. The leather that made up the main body of her outfit was burned through in large patches, as were her skirt and some of her hair.

Her legs buckled and she hit the ground hard enough to lose her remaining breath.  Her head spun, and her vision grew cloudy.

Selah...