WE BECOME THOUGHTLESS

four | rest in pieces, bitch

this is war // matthew raetzel (feat. richard farrell)

Kill the mindrenderer. That was his mission. Do that, and Cole could watch the Chrysosian soldiers flock back into their ships and disappear into the sky. They could finally reclaim the village, the first village to reclaim since Cole first took up the mantle of being Galanthus' leader.

He had to do this.

His eyes tracked the mindrenderer's movements; the cloaked body streaked across the clearing, the folds in his long cloak rippling behind him, before disappearing down a slant like the quick slither of a snake vanishing into the underbrush. Cole gritted his teeth before he shouted into the crowd of flitting bodies.

"Emer, Angus!" Voice like a thunderclap. "Watch my back, I'm going after the mindrenderer!"

Somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted in understanding. His boots clashed with mud and he was sprinting across the clearing before the enemy could cut him down. The rushing of blood in his ears blotted out all other noise; gurgled screams drowned in blood; metal against metal; bodies hitting the ground.

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

He just had to keep running.

Slotting his axe into the strap over his left shoulder, Cole rammed the entire weight of his overgrown body into an oncoming soldier. The surprise knocked them off their feet, sending the gilded soldier into the mud below with a wet thunk. Before they had the chance to recollect themselves, Cole was darting across the clearing, rushing against the uplift of wind.

Swollen clouds had gathered above like a bruising across the dark sky. A growl of thunder roiled in the sky, the ground, sending a charge in the air. Cole bit down on his tongue to keep his panic from overwhelming him – he didn't like storms. Hot copper filled his mouth.

When he reached the slant, his eyes went to the ships below. A herd of them, waiting like cattle. He slid the axe out from its strap. And slipping up the gangway of a small companion ship, the outline of the mindrenderer receded into the darkness.

There, he assured himself. There he is.

Behind him, Emer hauled herself to her feet and shook her head, threads of oil-slick hair whipping her face as she adjusted her bruising grip around the hilt of her sword. She sprinted towards him, face screwed up with anger. She looked formidable in the misty drizzle of light rain, hair pasted to her neck, her forehead.

Cole hurried down the slope.

Now, a Chrysosian ship wasn't something he'd ever thought of entering willingly – its great balloon loomed overhead, a constant threat amidst the chaos of battle – but Cole, with considerable torment, realised he didn't have a choice. He needed the mindrenderer dead, and he needed to follow him into the ship to do it.

It didn't stop his heart from throwing itself against his ribcage, again and again, as he darted up the ship's open gangway.

The moment his boots met wooden decking, a body threw itself against his side. Cole went skidding across the deck, his axe slipping from his tight grip and shuddering against the wood before hitting the railing. Rolling to his side with barely a moment to think, a sword sliced the ground next to his head.

A Chrysosian soldier stabbed the air as he wrenched himself to his feet. Cole registered the beginnings of a glow forming inside the ship's burner as he narrowly dodged every hard-edged attack, and his insides froze over.

They were trying to get the ship into the air?

He staggered back into the railing. No, not good. Very not good. If the ship left the ground, and if the hard surety of the earth vanished from below his feet, Cole didn't stand a chance. Even if he managed to come out of the fight victorious, how was he supposed to fly a Chrysosian ship?

The idea of peering over the edge and seeing the earth miles below him, the bodies of fighting warriors like battling ants, thickened his blood. His heart had to work double time in order to keep him moving.

Emer scrambled up the stern of the rising ship as a boot hit his knee and sent him sprawling across the deck. Cole watched the soldier bring the sword down between the gaps of his fingers before Emer leapt forward, sword in hand, and buried it into the soft, unguarded spot of flesh along the soldier's stomach.

The soldier dropped. Cole leaned back to grab the hilt of his axe before lifting himself to his feet. Emer had already thrown herself back into battle, and she stood silhouetted against the dark, clouded sky as her sword hit steel. He counted one, two more soldiers. The mindrenderer included.

The mindrenderer tended to the burner with quick fingers. Cole stalked forward – he'd probably hoped the Welish rebels would retreat once the ship wobbled off the ground and lifted into the sky, but he knew what he needed to do, and he wouldn't back down. Even if the mere prospect of being inside a Chrysosian ship was sending his heart into overdrive.

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

First, he needed to keep the ship from going any further. He kicked the burner hard, watching it spark, pop.

The mindrenderer shoved him away. "Stop!" His voice, his concerningly human voice, split the air. His words were in polished Chrysosian. "Are you trying to kill us all?"

Cole blinked. The mindrenderer's hood had slipped from over his head, revealing a shock of blond hair. No one in Weles had hair as light as that. Refocusing, Cole's fingers tightened around his axe. The mindrenderer's eyes went wide before taking a step back and lifting his hands like weapons. The patterns in his palms criss-crossed like clashing scars, grooves in his skin. Mindrenderer hands.

They were interrupted as the ship lurched to the side, sending them all into the railing. Cole peered over the edge with sickening clarity at the earth below. Far, far below. They were in the sky – and the storm was all around them.

Cole pushed himself away from the railing before realising that both his hands were empty – turning his head, he spotted the weapon sliding across the deck. With a turning stomach, it disappeared over the edge and fell into the darkness, the ground below.

Above them, he heard the tearing of fabric.

The ship was falling.

For a moment, Cole wasn't afraid. He was fear with a body attached.