Enter Abyss

Chapter 42; A spark of hope. A breath of magic.

Archer heard himself scream when the blade bit through Cogs, passing through the boy's stomach and out the other end of him, cutting through sinew, bone...spilling blood. So, so much blood.

After that, he wasn't really sure what happend.

It all sort of sped by in a blur; Archer running to the bottom of the battle grounds and gripping Cogs' limp body. Feelings Pip's arms around him and hugging her back, her cries grating on his ears.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed, "I never meant to-- I'm so sorry."

But he knew.

And even as a group of civilains gently put Cogs' body on a flat board and carried the boy out of the arena, Archer knew. 

He knew Pip had not run her friend through on purpose-- Cogs himself had done a good job of that himself-- but for now, the question of why he did it was not important. What WAS important was going to be with their friend.

Thus, picking themselves up off the ground, the followed those who carried Cogs' body all the way back to their room, where they gently laid him out on his bed. After that, the men left Archer and Pip in silence.

Looking upon his friend's still face, Archer could not help but notice in a sort of surreal way how white and waxy the blond boy looked. As if he wasn't real. As if this wasn't real.

"They didn't take him to the infirmary." Pip burst out, her body still shaking with sobs, "They didn't even try to save him."

"Piper..." Archer kept his voice soft, "There is nothing they could have done."

"THEY COULD HAVE TRIED! THEY COULD HAVE BLOODY TRIED!"

She was sobbing harder now, and Archer could only watch in a painful trance as she knelt beside Cogs' bed, gripping his hand. 

Archer blinked, sucking in a shaky breath. No, there was a bright side here-- there HAD to be. Shaking his head forcfully, he let out a half-sob half-scream, clenching his fists. Blimey, who was he kidding? His friend was dead. Dead. And there was no bright side to one's friend being dead.

No amount of wishing could fix this. Cogs wasn't a machine-- he couldn't be brought back to life with the addition of a new boiler or the replacement of a gear or two. Flesh and blood was not easy to fix.

They would need a miracle.

And it was then, as if on cue, that Galen stumbled through the door with Meera in tow. And though Archer nearly screamed at them to get out, he felt nothing but relief to see the young king alive and awake.

But that relief died when Meera walked over to Cogs' bed, running a hand over his body and stopping just where the sword jutted out from him.

She screamed then, the sound mixing with the sobs of Pip and Archer, and with shaking hands, she leaned over Cogs, holding him close.

Numbly, Archer felt Galen's arms close around him and though he himself was taller than the king, he buried his face in the crook of his neck, his tears running freely even though he barely felt them.

"Why weren't you here?" Archer cried, gripping Galen's arm, his shoulder. "Why didn't you fight for him?"

"You know why..." the king sighed sadly then, "Archer, I battled near-death while in the infirmary. It took more magic than you know you keep the darkness at bay while we were banished, and it was only by the grace of the Ancestors that I have awoken now."

Archer looked at him then, his eyes coming to rest on the gem in Galen's forehead, noting that it shimmered only with a faint light, flickering and pulsing like the beat of a broken heart.