Midnight Rider

Chapter Thirteen : Ill-fated Eventualities

"Kyra!" Lynette shrieked. She finally found her legs moving as she sprinted forward, running to Kyra's side. "Kyra! Hang in there, I'll heal you..." She fumbled with a Healing Rune as blood wet her friend's shirt, staining it red. A dusty hand reached out to stop her. 

"It's alright Lynette, help you friends," Kyra croaked, looking up from her position on the muddy floor at Hanara and Cryscent, as they rode in with their Horses and Stardust, their new Swords raised high, Emalia following them. "I'm fine." She lied as she blinked in pain, her eyes growing dull. 

Suddenly, they widened. "Lynette! At least let me help you this time," She mustered the strength to speak softly, in a mere whisper, seeming to avert her eyes away from something in the distance. "What--" Lynette started, but Kyra staggered to her knees. In one shaking motion, she flung herself in behind Lynette, leaning over. "NO!" Lynette let out a blood-curdling scream. But it was too late.

Kyra slumped to the ground, her body still. A Lymer stood beside her, her sword dripping with fresh blood. It was clear that she had tried to attack Lynette, but Kyra had become a willing target. Fury rose within Lynette as she flung a Freeze Rune at the Lymer, immobilizing her.  Tears pricked at her eyes as she leaned over Kyra, grabbing her cold hand, willing her to open her eyes and get up. 

Her eyes never flutterered open. Only her lips moved slowly. "Lyn-ette... Thank you... I'm... glad I met you. Take care---" Her limbs shuddered for a split second, and her hand went limp. Tears rolled uncontrallably from Lynette's eyes. Her friend, Kyra, whom had helped her once, now gone. 

Dead.

There was finality in that word. Not injured, or dying, but dead. Never to speak, move, or be her friend anymore. The first death in this ruthless battle. What next? What hurt even more was that she was the cause of the death. Her heart felt as if a thousand needles were sticking deep into it, hurting her endlessly. Her salty tears dripped down onto the soil, wetting it like the blood that flowed from Kyra's stab wounds. 

"Lynette! What happened?" She heard Cryscent behind her and felt a hand on her shoulder. Behind her, she heard blasts of magic as the frozen Lymer was defeated. "Dead. One of the people. From the Outskirts." Lynette choked out. Hanara sighed sadly. Both of them were silent as they all mourned Kyra's passing at the edge of the fray. 

"If we want to prevent more deaths, then we need to get in that battle," Lynette announced firmly, wiping tears from her eyes. Kyra's death would always weigh heavily on her, but she had to stay strong, to fight for Kaldrak, to save the rest of the people in the Outskirts. Lynette accepted the heavy armour her friends offered her, strapping it onto her body for whatever protection it would give her.

"I'll avenge you, Kyra," She muttered under her breath as she mounted Stardust. "For Kyra!" She shouted, as she raised her Sword and charged into the clashing mass of Riders and Lymers, her friends following behind her. 

~~~

Every time Lynette felt a pang of pain or repulse as she slashed down another Lymer, she pictured Kyra's lifeless body in front of her, motionless on the floor. Just the thought of one of her kind, killed by the Lymers, gave her strength to go on. Behind her, her friends staggered forward, bloodied and battered, but they kept on stabbing the advancing Lymers with their swords and their Horses reared up, casting the limited magic they could use. 

More and more troops rushed in, people from the main city, even those who had refused to prepare. Soon, the throngs of Lymers were beginning to be forced back by the Riders. Or at least it seemed so. At first, it was only like a little twitch, a little fatigue in her limbs. Then it grew, becoming something like a road block, blocking her mind and stopping her from concentrating on her casting. It affected the Lymers too, but clearly in a different way. They seemed sprightly, full of energy, their cast deft, powerful and almost always perfect in terms of precision.