[PhoenixFlare]

And another one!

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha GuardianS

Chapter Eight—Rain and Sacrifice

Spoiler for Scene IV, continued:

=Continued=

[We’ve retrieved the Jewel. Coming out now.] Grandia’s mental voice said.

[Just in time.] Sharazad responded as soon as she received it.

[Is something wrong? Has the enemy attacked?] Vestrell asked.

[No, but the area’s too quiet it’s unusual. I don’t quite know how to explain it.] Trystahn said.

[Prepare to leave as soon as we’re out.] Grandia replied. [No delay. Sharazad, be ready to teleport.]

[Yes, brother.]

* * * * *

“Wyrd, Skuld Form,” Leona commanded as she flew to her right so that she and Hayate formed a V-shaped formation. The rings on her fingers glowed for a brief moment before vanishing in long silvyrn ribbons and transforming into a solid silver staff. Her cloak vanished in a bright sparkle, though a short vest and twin gauntlets reinforced her Barrier Jacket.

“Everyone, be prepared to engage,” Kratos said to the rest. “Captain Tyriel and General Yagami are set.” All members in the screens nodded. “Archangel, guide their aim.”

<Yes, sir. Target location marked into Wyrd and Tiara. Radius of spell established.>

She stopped then, and a blue spell sigil appeared below her. “Phalanx Nexus, Vanguard Nexus, Ventral Nexus, release!” she said, and her magic power intensified. She held her staff in front of her, the embossed dragon sparkling.

“Limiter Level One, release!” Hayate cried, and her being seemed enveloped in a bright white fire. With the Tome of the Night Sky held aloft in one hand, she posited the golden cross on Schwertkreuz towards the barrier.

“Awaken, o’ ancient dragon of the holy star …” Leona began. The staff began to glow a brilliant blue as target rings appeared at the tip, locking on to the barrier location where the enemy supposedly lay hidden. At the same time, huge white wings of condensed magical energy erupted from her back.

Hayate’s spell was more spectacular. A large Belkan sigil, pure white in color, formed at the gilded apex of Schwertkreuz. The air was filled with a low hum, and it seemed to waver, liquid-like, as her magic manifested innumerable smaller sigils around her. “Fallen angels, protectors of the sacred king, rise at mine command …” she chanted. In response, countless silvery motes of light shimmered into being at the center of every sigil, seemingly immersed in the liquid air.

“… end the desecration of thy hateful nemesis …” Leona’s wings became engulfed with an azure fire.

“… let thy divine hymn ring once more …” The motes of light lengthened, forming what appeared to be like the hilt of a sword.

“… with the argent conflagration of thy blessed fire!”

“… ere thy ancient blades hail the glory of light!”

<Níðhöggr.>

<Tausend Hiebe: Bleiche Morgendämmerung (Thousand Strikes: Pale Dawn).>

Simultaneously reaching the climax of their spells, the air fulminated as their magic surged forth in an incredible wave. The wings on Leona’s back burst into immeasurable rays of energy that seared the sky, the azure bolts like brilliant stars falling from the heavens. Hayate’s spell rushed like a huge silver flood, a tremendous rain of glittering magical blades that seemed to hum in the air, singing a grave, haunting litany.

In mid-fall, the two spells wove together, forming a shimmering curtain of silver and sapphire that illuminated the settling dusk.

And then came the explosive collision of magic that shattered the encompassing silence of the desolate wastelands …

* * * * *

“Was that …?” Trystahn turned around. Moments before, he had felt a strange pressure in the air, as if something heavy was descending upon them. He was fairly sure their enemy was up to something, perhaps preparing to destroy the barrier, but attacking randomly using minor spells would do them naught. Given the large area sealed within the barrier, they had a better chance of evading a typical bombardment spell while he worked on replenishing the breach. Therefore, they were clearly at an advantage here, unless …

The first attack landed.

A shower of brilliant blue rays struck the barrier, attempting to break through the defense in a wide area. Yet, while the attack had number, it lacked the force necessary to punch through. He could easily increase the defensive power using the Astral Quartz, and that would be the end of the spell.

“Can you hold the barrier?” Sharazad asked. “It seems that they’ve discovered the ruse.”

“This shouldn’t be a problem,” Trystahn replied. “The attack is just a volley of minor bolts, and …” Before he finished, a thought struck him. Then, what was the enormous pressure that I felt just now …?

“Trystahn?” Sharazad called, but he did not answer.

A white sparkle in the midst of the azure rain caught his attention. Realization suddenly dawned on him, and his eyes widened.

Turning swiftly, he shouted. “Sharazad, run!”

Sharazad’s eyes snapped open. “Wha—?” Before she could finish her sentence, Trystahn had seized her around the waist with one hand.

At the same moment, there was a sharp, shattering sound as the barrier was smashed by a silvery-blue storm of magical energy covering a huge area. And they were right within the zone of the spell!

Without preamble, Trystahn shot into the air, taking her together with him. Casting his runic mace in front of him, he began channeling all the Elements within the Astral Quartz into a powerful protective shield.

That quick maneuver probably saved them from certain death, for the deadly hail of magic struck mercilessly. Argent blades and azure rays fell like a vengeful blizzard, and caught within its relentless assault, it was all that Trystahn could manage to ensure their survival. The shield protected them from most of the harm, but the attack tore through the little that was undefended. Their cloaks were shredded into pieces, leaving only the face-cover intact. A lock of Sharazad’s hair was slashed cleanly off. Their exposed legs were cut and bleeding, as were the sides of their face. One of the thousand blades zoomed past precariously close to Trystahn that he was forced to turn his head aside or had to live thereon with only one ear available.

Gritting his teeth, Trystahn accelerated their speed while doing his best to maintain the shield. After what seemed like an eternity of flight through the hellish magic, Trystahn and Sharazad finally managed to climb into a safer area. The energy hail peppered the cracked earth, driving a cloud of dust and debris into the air. Both of them panted from the ordeal, and Trystahn looked worn and haggard.

“You’re terribly hurt! Let me heal you!” Sharazad said immediately.

“Take care of yourself as well,” Trystahn said softly. The drain from the exertion and blood loss clearly took a toll on him.

“I will, after I’m done with your wounds,” Sharazad said firmly. Her hand began to glow with warm energy which she channeled into the short-haired man.

Yet, before she could even properly manage the healing process, Trystahn had grabbed her again. “Watch out!” he cried, bending forward to cover her. “Tch!” he cursed. Extending his other empty hand to his right, there was a bright glow as Trystahn summoned something into existence.

A beam of pure energy blasted through the dust cloud towards them just in time for Trystahn to complete his summoning. The pink energy struck violently against a large, white material that formed between the attack and the two Templars. It pushed them slightly backwards, but otherwise did not manage to harm them. White smoke spiraled from the item—a tower shield—where the beam hit.

Before the Templars could recover from the first assault, they were dealt a second blow. In the dusk and shrouding pall of dust, they could hear, faintly, two spells being released in their direction.

<Haken Slash.> a masculine voice said, from above.

<Twilight Talon.> another announced. It came from below them.

And bursting from the pall of lingering dust were two energy discs, golden from above and ebony from below, that spun rapidly in their direction, trapping them in a pincer attack. And Trystahn could not maneuver fast enough to block the attacks.

This time, however, Sharazad took matters into her hands. Plucking two jarring notes on her harp, she sent two blasts of condensed Elements in opposite directions. The brilliant balls of energy collided with discs, exploding in a shower of sparks as they dissipated. Without a break, she struck a rapid tune that conjured a small whirlwind to sweep away the concealing shroud. “Show yourself!”

The cloud gone, Trystahn and Sharazad could finally see their adversaries.

A golden-haired mage with black cloak and attire descended slowly. In her hand was an energy scythe with black fittings. “I am Captain Fate Testarossa Harlaown of the Valor Squad,” she announced.

From below, in a black-and-white Barrier Jacket, rose another mage, this time a male. “And I am First Lieutenant Xeno Graymist, also of the Valor Squad.” His enormous ebon scythe stood by his side menacingly.

Behind the Templars, another mage appeared. The woman had a blue-and-white Barrier Jacket, with a flowing skirt and brown hair. “I am Captain Takamachi Nanoha of the Justice Squad,” she said slowly. “You have attacked civilians, raided Bureau properties, and stolen dangerous artifacts known as the Lost Logia.”

Then, she brandished her staff forward. Her violet eyes were serious.

With a cool voice, she demanded: “In the name of the Time-Space Administration Bureau, surrender, intruders.”

Spoiler for Scene V:

[Sector 2, Western Wastelands] [February 14th, MC 081] [1805 hours]

Two figures darted around a corner, reaching another long corridor that stretched to the far side. Another junction, and they would emerge from this labyrinthine lab. Their black silhouettes and cloaks seemed like disembodied shadows come forth from the darkness, a blur of shapes that accelerated in the corridor.

That noise above us … has Trystahn and Sharazad been engaged? Grandia thought silently, his irritation rising. In one gloved hand glittered a small but magnificently-crafted silver anklet inset with glowing emeralds—the Jewel of the Emerald Star. It was such a tiny thing, yet its powers were unfathomable, and they were searching for it with the utmost desperation, putting their lives on the line against the protectors of this world who viewed it as dangerous.

They knew it was a crime, yet their choices were limited to all but this path alone. The Magi had said that this was the only option left them, and whether they would do it would decide if their Princess would return. Great powers were needed to recall a person from the world of the dead, and the Jewels represented their only salvation, their hope.

And that was why they would do anything to achieve their goal, even if it meant their life.

Grandia clenched his fingers over the Jewel as Vestrell and he rounded the last corner. Murky lights of dusk shone through the open gates, slivers of pervasive dust hanging in the air. Grandia turned to Vestrell, and said, “Vestrell, you will hold on to this.” He pushed his closed fist to the Hunter of the Claw, who looked surprised.

“Why?” she asked, her emerald eyes twinkling.

“Among us, you’re the speediest and the most capable in finding a route through the enemy line. You’ll be able to guard this Jewel better than anyone of us,” Grandia said, and he smiled. “And I trust that you will.”

Vestrell gazed at Grandia for a moment, and then nodded. She opened her gloved hand to receive the sparkling anklet. “I understand,” she said. “Just make sure that you don’t get yourself killed, and we’ll make it through. Together.”

“We will,” Grandia said gravely. “Ready?”

Vestrell merely nodded, placing the anklet into one of inner pockets of her vest.

And then, they burst through the entrance into the approaching dusk, dim and choked with dust. Immediately that they did, Grandia yelled, “Split!”

Leaning sideways in the opposite direction from his partner and planting one booted foot on Vestrell’s, Grandia kicked themselves apart, using the momentum to drive their speed, just in a fraction of a second to avoid being hit by a barrage of energy bullets and flaming spheres.

Grandia glanced behind, and spotted four lights speeding in his direction. He recognized the auras, and there was a grim smile on his lips. Flexing his right hand, bright orange flames sprang to life, elongating and coalescing into a shining, golden sword with runic etchings: the Sword of the Sun, the Titan Helios.

He drew them away for some ways after the split, trying to gain enough distance between Vestrell and him that they would not be able to get close to her easily. It was a double-edged sword indeed, for it meant that he would also be having a more difficult time to reach her in case of emergency, but he had enough confidence in Vestrell’s ability to fend for herself, especially when she possessed one of the Jewels, the relic to attain their goal. She would put her best to defend it, and that would make her powerful … and dangerous.

Grandia knew from the beginning how the feeling of being cornered would do to Vestrell, but he knew also that as the leader, he would be put into a more difficult situation, as he would naturally be the prime target to be captured. Giving the Jewel to Vestrell was a risk and a responsibility that he had to take, without so much intention as to encourage her ferocity from manifesting than to divert the attention of their strongest foes away from her.

This is far enough … Grandia made a half-turn in mid-air, and dug his heels into the cracked earth as he landed, churning up a small cloud of dust. His black cloak wrapped around him, though the golden blade could be seen protruding out from the cover. His ruby eyes watched intently for the enemies, his breathing surprisingly slow and steady through the face-cover.

The four streaks of light shot past him and stopped slightly farther to his back. Signum, Tesla, Reinforce Zwei, and Agito came down slowly. The Blazing Flame General had her sword ready, as was the Knight of the Sky with her glaive. Both warriors had a stern, serious demeanor, and this expression was shared by the Unison Devices as well. Though not exactly surprised, Grandia did wonder what had happened for them to be looking this grave.

“We meet again, Knight Signum,” Grandia said. His eyes were unwavering as he regarded them. There was a faint throbbing on his left shoulder, a mocking reminder of the wound he received from the pink-haired warrior. “I trust you have been well.”

Signum raised her sword up and held it levelly at Grandia, her eyes cool. “Enough pleasantries, Grandia Estrediel Paladien. You’ve repeated your crimes again in Sector 2, and I order you to surrender the relic and yourself peacefully to Bureau.”

“Order?” Grandia smirked. “I do remember vividly saying that I take order from no one except from people I willingly serve, and neither you nor the Bureau fit my taste.” He swung his sword out and also pointed it straight at Signum. “I suppose the chatter ends here. Come and get both the Jewel and me, if you can.”

Tesla brandished her Device. “There are only four of you here. Where is the fifth Templar, Grandia?” she asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

This took Grandia by surprise. He had not expected them to know about their identity as the Templars, and even moreso the existence of a fifth member. It was true, however, that they were originally a quintet, an elite cadre of warriors. Only that … Grandia’s expression became solemn.

“Answer us!” Agito demanded impatiently.

Grandia looked at them, his eyes penetrating and twinkling strangely. They met Signum’s, and something passed that both were not quite sure at the moment what it was. “So, you’ve known our identity …” he said softly. He touched his left shoulder, rubbing it absently. “Very well, I will tell you this in return for my disgraceful act back in the Verlast Forest and for my deepest respect of Knight Signum’s tremendous archery skill.” He looked at Signum, and there was an ironic smile on his lips. “It was very well-aimed, Knight Signum, despite the ruse, and it made me realize just how fragile my life can be.”

Signum understood immediately what he meant and the implication of his words. Her blind shot had struck its mark, and it had nearly cost Grandia his life. Regardless, she eyed the man warily, for he was not one to be trifled with, whether wounded or otherwise.

Grandia drew in a deep breath, and released it slowly. “She … The Saint of the Scepter is no longer with us.”

“Where has she gone to? Where does she hide, manipulating things from the shadows? Did she attack Escutcheon while you people steal the Lost Logia?” Reinforce Zwei asked, her face flushed.

Perhaps it was the trick of the setting sun and atmosphere, but Grandia’s expression darkened significantly. “Little one, I suggest that you speak with more refinement …” His voice was cold and deathly quiet. “Then again, it’s probably too much to ask of your enemies to be respectful …” Again, the corner of his lips curved sardonically. “No matter, I will speak of this only once.”

He raised his head slightly, and there could be seen a peculiar, almost distant and subdued expression in his eyes. “I know not of what attack you mentioned. Neither it is possible for the Saint of the Scepter to be responsible for it …”

“What do you mean? She can definitely launch an attack while you’re out here to remove the Los—” Reinforce Zwei’s voice trailed off, for whatever she heard thereafter from Grandia, even when his voice was as soft and as fleeting as the mists, chilled her heart, and she was sure it was the same for the other three.

“It is not possible … because I was the one …”

* * * * *

Vestrell flew like the winds she rode, her cloak billowing behind her like the spread wings of an ebon hawk. Her small and light frame made it easy for her to traverse this way, a feat she completed to earn for herself the rank of the Hunter of the Claw. Her short cyan hair rippled in the gusts, her ears and eyes alert of her immediate surroundings. Being a hunter, the wilderness was both her friend and foe, and right now, the atmosphere was truly hostile. Being scattered from the rest of the Templars would mean that she had to take extra measures to protect herself.

And the Jewel of the Emerald Star entrusted to her.

She was sure that, when she split from Grandia, two specks of light had followed her, though now she could no longer feel the presence of one of the pursuers. The orange streak blazed still, but by the mediocre speed, he or she would be left behind before reaching anywhere near the Hunter of the Claw. And in their desperation, the only plausible option left them to deter her escape would be …

It came as she expected.

Three spheres of energy flickered at the edge of her vision, and with deadly accuracy zeroed in on her. With a casual sideway turn in mid-air, she evaded the energy bullets, charring the end of her black cloak a little. “Quite a sniper, this person is …” she said silently. “But, this is going to be useless because …”

Vestrell’s eyes widened in sudden surprise. The bullets that had shot past her swerved in their flight and readjusted their trajectory without losing their speed, and were once again aligned with her as their target. Quickly, she rolled again, just in the nick of time to avoid certain hit that would have damaged her critically. The bullets burned through her cloak this time, leaving three smoking holes in their trail.

Again, they turned when they missed. Are these energy spheres …? Vestrell asked herself, but had neither time to confirm nor the relevant sources. There was no room for evasion this time, and her expression was grim as she tightened her grip on her Titan. Channeling her Elements, she drew a long slash at the apparently empty air and struck multiple blades of wind at the bullets. They exploded as they collided.

Then, the second pursuer, who had managed to close the distance between them during the interference, reached her from above. Something sharp and lethal gleamed in his gloved hands, twin circular weapons with serrated outer edges. Viciously, he launched a series of quick assaults, his chakrams flashing between them. Vestrell was forced to block with both clawed hands, and where their weapons met, sparks flew, ephemeral fireflies that illuminated their faces for a moment.

Emerald eyes met with crimson ones, both pairs narrowed and determined.

Though Vestrell was able to fend the attacks, the attacker had the advantage of momentum, and she was pushed down despite her efforts. Both of them plummeted from the sky, their weapons still clashing, the ring of metal upon metal resounding and jarring.

Vestrell risked being pinned in between the earth and the attacker if she continued the combat, and with her hackles rising, she let out a great roar. The attacker was caught by surprise for the briefest of a moment, and that was all she needed. With an agile maneuver, she back-flipped in mid-air and gave a powerful kick to the attacker’s torso. He managed to protect it with one hand, but he was forced to disengage from the mêlée by the impetus.

She landed catlike on the patched earth after another somersault; the rust-haired attacker hovered slowly downward, tiny orange wings fluttering at the sides of his armored boots, his hand still clutching his abdomen. His crimson eyes, however, were locked onto the Hunter of the Claw, sharp, penetrating, and alert. A small puff of dust formed when he touched ground, and with a flourish, pointed his chakram at Vestrell. “I am First Lieutenant Gabriel Sunstrider of the Galland Squad. Surrender the Lost Logia and yourself, Templar!”

Vestrell rose and merely smirked. “Come and get it if you can, boy.” She cast her eyes around, watching her surroundings. Though blasted, the Western Wastelands sported low hills and on one side, a number of huge, solid stones carved by the ageless weather and time, ancient structures and remnants of the past world, making them excellent hiding places with night approaching fast. The second pursuer is still missing … sneaking around there … or cowering somewhere else?

“Then, get ready!” Gabriel rushed with his chakrams ready, his brick-red Barrier Jacket fluttering behind like the wisps of fire.

Vestrell did not wait, either. With a kick, she lunged at the lieutenant, the Claw Titan poised.

Their clash was quick, deadly, and explosive.

In the short five seconds that they met, at least thirty blows had been exchanged. Swift strikes were faced with swifter counterattacks, assault after assault given to defeat the opponent. At one point, the battle was brought shortly above ground, then it resumed on the desolate earth, driving clouds of dust into the air.

Then, at last, Vestrell managed to score a deep scratch on Gabriel’s arm, sending the rust-haired lieutenant reeling back a little from the foray. But, Gabriel ground his teeth and launched a renewed assault. He thrust one of the chakrams vertically forward, which Vestrell automatically tried to block. It was a feint, however; Gabriel turned his chakram horizontal at the last moment and slashed sideways, making a deep cut across her upper arm.

Vestrell winced in pain and immediately drew back. Both warriors were short on breath, and they panted where they stood. Blood seeped from their wounds. And they eyed each other, hate—and if it was ever possible, admiration—apparent in their expression. The emerald-eyed Templar licked her wound and spitted the blood out contemptuously. A sinister smile touched her lips. “Not too bad, lieutenant.”

“The same can be said for you, girl,” Gabriel replied. “For someone so young, your combat skill is quite refined.”

Vestrell laughed mirthlessly. “Vestrell Floriene does not take honeyed words kindly.” She looked coldly at Gabriel. “Come again if you want to capture me.”

“Vestrell, is it?” Gabriel said, returning the cold gaze. “You can bet that I will arrest you, no matter.” Then, the lieutenant spread his legs and readied his stance. “I’ll show you what the sole inheritor of the Dance of the Phoenix Wheels can do.”

“Dance of the … What th—” Vestrell did not manage to finish her question, because Gabriel had already shot himself at her. He was much faster this time, propelled by his flight spell, and began his attack.

“Sunstrike!” he shouted. He angled his body sideways as he closed the distance, and spread his arms wide before beginning to spin his whole body around rapidly. He became a deadly wheel of steel and struck at Vestrell, who had to raise both arms, claws outward, to block the attack. A high-pitched screeching noise could be heard as the razor teeth of his chakrams ground against the claws, sparks flying from the friction. The momentum forced Vestrell to back away.

Gabriel’s drive waned after some time, and he quickly began another assault. He used whatever force was left of the spin and vaulted slightly higher into the air. “Grim Talons!” he shouted. Leaving no room for Vestrell’s counterattack, he plunged both chakrams at the Hunter of the Claw with as much strength as he could muster. It was all Vestrell could manage to change her direction to block with both hands again. The weakened ground beneath her cracked, and the force of the attack drove her feet in.

Stuck in the earth, Gabriel planted a vicious kick into Vestrell’s exposed stomach as he came down. It was strong enough to dislodge Vestrell, who doubled over in pain and clutched at her abdomen as she was flung away. Without waiting for her to recover, Gabriel launched four balls of fire at the Templar.

Vestrell, though damaged, was not going to let herself perish so easily. She raised a hand, and a glowing shield materialized. The magic collided harmlessly against the shield.

Though, she did not notice that, in the shadows of a huge rock, a spark of energy had come to life behind her …

* * * * *

Chance! Teana cried triumphantly.

She had waited patiently behind one of the many weathered rock-structures that littered the wastelands, looking for an opening to attack. While she previously managed to slow the Templar down with Shoot Barret: Barret F and gave Gabriel sufficient time to catch up, Teana knew that she was not one for close combat. Cross Mirage did have Dagger Form in case of mêlée, but she was hardly an expert in that field.

And so, she had opted to become a sniper instead. She watched the intense battle between Gabriel and Vestrell, and was helpless to interfere. After a terrible experience when she was still a Private, where she nearly killed Subaru for blindly attacking, she vowed never to repeat the same mistake again. She would not endanger her friends again. And thus, she waited.

When Gabriel turned the table in his favor with a rapid succession of attack, her heart hammered wildly. It seemed that they would have an upper hand in this battle, and the Templar was not as powerful as she had imagined. And there was a cry of agony as Gabriel kicked the green-haired girl away, firing several magical bolts that she blocked.

Yet, the chance had presented itself: the Templar was being thrown to her direction, the exposed back facing her. With just the right shot, they could take her down.

Teana aimed Cross Mirage at the Templar and began charging for an attack. It was a spell that she had learnt from Nanoha herself. Beams of light began to converge in front of her Device’s muzzle, forming a sphere of condensed magical energy. A collection-type bombardment spell that had taken her a lot of painstaking effort to complete … one shot and it would be over …

“Starlight …” she began.

“I really don’t think you can do that …” someone spoke with a voice that was so deathly quiet it seemed unreal.

It was Vestrell’s voice. She was still doubled over, and her back still facing her. The black cloak wrapped around her as if protecting her.

Who is she talking to? Gabriel?

Teana blinked, perplexed.

When she opened her eyes after the millisecond blink, the cloaked Templar had vanished from sight. A small ring of dust on the ground was the only evidence that she was there before.

Teana was taken aback. Damn it, where has she gone to? She looked around, but found not the familiar feature of the Templar. She saw Gabriel running towards her direction, mouthing something incomprehensible.

What is he saying?

“Lanster, above you!” he shouted so loudly his voice was hoarse.

Teana quickly looked up, and saw, with horror, a shadow descending like a meteorite from the sky, green energy crackling in the wicked claws. There was a feral, almost beastial expression on her face, a savage, wild anger boiling within her. The corner of her lips was oozing blood, but her eyes were that of a lioness, a deadly twinkle in the emerald pupils as she fell to kill the prey.

Damn, when did she—?

“You can’t do that, because you’ll die now!” she yelled.

Slamming her claws together, she cried: “Αστραλ Ρηεια—Ηωυνδσ ωϕ Αρτεμισ (Astral Rheia—Hounds of Artemis)!”

* * * * *

The sky was alight with pink and golden fires as Nanoha and Fate rained attacks on their foes. Xeno snuck in and slashed his scythe at the Trystahn, who blocked with his runic mace, before flitting out from firing range. The Baron of the Mace raised his huge tower shield above them to protect against the magical bolts. A number of them were manually controlled to change their direction before launching themselves at the two Templars again. Sharazad quickly launched multiple blasts of energy to destroy the bolts. She missed two, and they were about to strike her if not for Trystahn raising a shield to block them.

The Templars, beset by three opponents, were teetering dangerously to losing.

It took every ounce of strength, skills, and experience for them to just avoid being killed. Their opponents were quick and dangerous, using both ranged and mêlée attacks to keep them pinned in very tight corners with little to no chance to retaliate. They lost count of how many times they had their defenses breached, either by a hail of magic bolts or a sudden slash of energy scythe or an unexpected binding spell, yet they persevered, renewing their defenses with greater force than before.

Sharazad had insisted that she at least close Trystahn’s earlier wounds before they launched a counteroffensive, but at the rate that they were going and the number of new cuts and damage they received, it was unlikely that she would be able to hold up. Even though she had mended most of the bleeding cuts Trystahn had on his lower legs, it was incomplete and great exertion tore the wounds anew. The healing was draining her greatly in addition to the defense she had to manage. She looked pale and haggard from her own exhaustion, her hair clinging to her sweating face.

“Sharazad, we cannot continue like this …” Trystahn said, drawing in breath in between the assaults.

“I know, but if they are not healed, you’ll lose too much blood,” she replied calmly despite the urgent situation. It was one of her rare traits, to remain as composed and unruffled as possible in any circumstances. That was what made her unexpectedly dangerous, for though she looked passive, her mind was actively looking for a way, reading her enemy as they attacked, planning, evaluating, running every thinkable possibility in her mind’s eye. The few enemies who underestimated her met their ends early.

“They are much better now,” Trystahn said. He knew she would be unconvinced, but he had to try to dissuade her.

She was silent. “Just don’t push yourself too hard,” she said afterwards. Reluctantly, she released her left hand, which had been holding onto his right arm and channeling the healing energy into his body. Sharazad herself was hurt, but her wounds were lighter compared to his.

“Are you ready, then?” Trystahn asked silently.

Drawing her Titan closer, Sharazad merely nodded.

* * * * *

[Kratos, any sign of the others?] Nanoha sent a telepathic message to the lieutenant.

[Vice-Captains Signum and Tesla as well as Sergeant Major Reinforce Zwei and Lieutenant Agito are engaged with one of the Templars.] came the reply. [Lieutenant Lanster and Gabriel are in fight with another.]

[The fifth Templar?] she asked again.

[Absent. Only those two emerged from the laboratory.] Kratos confirmed.

[Possibility of escape?] Nanoha pressed.

[Minimal. There isn’t any signal picked up by Archangel, though, not even a remote one.]

Nanoha frowned. [I see. Update us on anything else important, then.]

[I will.] And the communication was terminated.

Nanoha looked at the Templars, who hovered back-to-back. They display great teamwork and skills, she had to admit. She knew, from her personal experience and the blue-haired Templar’s awkward position, that she had not used her fullest power to heal her comrade, though she had just released her hold a moment ago. What would they want with such dangerous items as Lost Logia? They don’t strike me as power-crazy warmongers, if they can show such deep concern for each other’s life …

Fate and Xeno were some distance away, and together with her, formed a large triangle that surrounded the two Templars within. They had begun their assault after they refused to surrender. The three had flung spell after spell at them, which the Templars defended against with great difficulty, and still they showed no signs of letting up. Exhaustion was settling in, however, and they looked drawn. A few more rounds, and it would all be over.

“Templars, isn’t it?” Nanoha said suddenly.

The brown-haired Templar looked up at the captain, his eyes wary. The woman behind her glanced slightly, before returning her gaze to the two scythe-wielding officers.

“What is your purpose, Templars? Why do you desire to have the Jewel of the Stars when you know it’s a heinous crime to take them out by force?” she said calmly, though her violet eyes remained fixed on them.

There was no answer, where only the sigh of winds could be heard, the dry breeze casting a dreary reprieve into the battlefield.

Then, unexpectedly, the female Templar answered, her voice oddly distant and wistful. “We desire nothing of these relics but to save another’s life … The power they contain is strong enough to fulfill our wishes …”

“That is true, I grant you that much,” Fate said. “Yet, for forces that heal, they can also become forces that destroy. The Lost Logia are a bane even as they are a boon. Countless worlds have been wiped from existence because of struggles involving these relics you desire. How can you ensure that it won’t become the very antithesis of the power you seek?”

They were silent. “The lore is alien even to us, officers, but we have people far more knowledgeable than we are in matters related to these relics.” This time, it was the hazel-eyed man who spoke. “Our desire is singular, and that is to see our Princess once more. Anything else is secondary. Regardless, we intend no harm to the people who guard these items, or to the people of this world.”

“It’s folly. You do not understand the extent of the powers a single Lost Logia can bring to bear. While your may not mean to do harm, the unpredictable nature of the Lost Logia discredits such intentions whimsically. One tiny mistake, and you may never live to see your Princess. The innocent will suffer from the aftermath of your blunder,” Xeno retorted. “Besides, can the people you speak of even be trusted? No magic in the entire universe is powerful enough to bring a person back to life.”

“We …” The woman wanted to reply, then stopped. She looked confused. “We … we don’t know.”

Trystahn’s reply, on the other hand, was firm. “Even if there is the slightest bit of chance that it is possible, we will still do it. This path offers us that little flame of hope where nothing else is available, and so we’ll tread it even if it meant our lives.”

“And we cannot allow you to do that, knowing that in your blind pursuit, you will unintentionally cause harm. Already, there are people who died because of this. The guards of the Topaz Star, and possibly they who perished from this evening’s attack at the capital,” Fate said, her eyes grave. Bardiche’s golden blade flickered angrily as if in direct response to her emotion.

The Templars glanced at her. “We will not rescind the fact that the guards died because of our action. It was tragic, but rightly our fault. However, we will not tolerate baseless accusations aimed at us. We are here to retrieve the Jewel, and nowhere near the capital at all,” the woman replied, her voice wintry.

“There are only four of you here, and to our knowledge, there is a fifth. He or she could be responsible for the attack,” Nanoha said.

“That is impossible,” came the swift retort from the female Templar.

“And why is that so?” Nanoha demanded.

“Because …” She could not continue, heavy emotions welling up in her.

“Because she is slain by one of us,” Trystahn replied on her behalf, though his voice was deathly silent. Nanoha, Fate, and Xeno were shocked by his proclamation; Sharazad was pale. Trystahn’s expression turned dark and brooding, and his gaze became unfriendly.

“Despite our reasons, I see no reconciliation between us. We will have the Jewels, and you’ll all continue to bar our way. That’s that.” He readied his stance in the air. “In that case, enough idle talk. Let’s get this over with.”

Right, that's about all ...

Not.

That's only half of the entire bluecheesium, I'll post the rest when I've gotten over this sore at my rear. Been sitting too long in front of the computer.

Enjoy!

P/S: Before that, I'll have to offer prayers and apologies to the God and the OC thread in general for purposefully sending a number of CC members from Escutcheon, Teana, and Signum to the guillotine. May their souls rest in peace.

*FLEES LIKE HELL!*