Chapter Nineteen

Cierra was panting and out of breath by the time they reached what she hoped was the middle of the cave system. In the skogkatts realm she had been forced to let some of the mythical creatures go, unable to heal such a large group for so long. Here, if they were going to make it to Freya's tears, Cierra had to keep as many warriors up as possible.

"Let's take a break." Leif said, eyeing Cierra.

The skeleton women never seemed to tire, they simply waited for their bodies to regenerate before pressing forward. Along the way they had fallen into a pattern of attacking, the first row of attackers falling back to wait for healing while the fighters in the back moved forward to take their place. In this way they had decimated two more groups of centipedes and one creature Cierra had never seen before. It reminded her of a unicorn, but instead of having one horn that stood straight, it had a line of three curved blades of bone protruding from both its sides and one from its head.

The women with maces had smashed the bones on one side, while shield bearers distracted the beast in front. Cierra had done her best to keep limbs attached, but one woman had been too slow to avoid a direct hit, her helmet swinging off with her head. Cierra's heart had dropped, distraught to find that even though Freya's warriors were technically undead, she was not able to bring them back if their heads were knocked off their bodies.

There had been no open grieving for the woman, and instead the group had pressed on, silent, as though dying was nothing more or less than an inevitability.

From then on, Cierra had tried to think of ways to be proactive, testing if she was able to keep her healing ability up all the time so no one was able to get injured in the first place, or if they did, they could heal quick enough that it wouldn't matter. She had soon found herself panting, with her head feeling like it was going to split open.

Now, sitting and resting, she took the time to pet Cid. He had held his own in each battle, helping as much as possible. Cierra found herself envious of his teeth and claws; he was able to do what she could not: fight. At present, she stood in the back, protected by the others, responsible for keeping them standing while they sacrificed literal arms and legs. She felt small and worthless, not doing anything but continually feeling as though ever bone in her body was worn out.

In reality, Cierra was tired, and her head felt like at any moment the pain was going to blind her. She thought about forcing herself to wake up, but she couldn't do that to these ladies who had given it their all to get her this far. Not to mention she was so close to getting a hold of a divine artifact.

How could she think about leaving now, abandoning everyone, and losing out on the item she needed in order to start getting answers?

As if reading her mind, Leif came and sat next to Ceirra. It was strange to think of how she sat as nothing more than bones, but luckily her chainmail covered her to the upper thigh. Still, Cierra wondered if it was uncomfortable to rest bones on rock floor.

"Take this," Leif handed Cierra the sword the fallen woman had carried. The hilt was black polished wood with decorative silver on the top and bottom to keep the owner's hands from slipping one way or the other. The sword itself was Damascus steel, the different alloys creating intricate waves that spread across the blade.

"Never leave anything on the battlefield that might prove useful." She paused, as though thinking back on past battles, "At least not until the war is won."

It was only while Cierra was admiring the pattern of the blade that she realized Leif must have cleaned the steel as there was no trace of blood anywhere to be found.

"Thank you." Cierra looked at Leif and tried her best to sound grateful. She could now fight, yet she still felt useless.

Someone had to die for her get this opportunity.

"Focus on what you can do. Stay in the back, heal. Only fight if you absolutely have to." Leif said.

Cierra nodded. She made a silent vow to herself, whenever she got out of here, she was going to train. Never again did she want to sit in the back, simply trying to keep others alive. Every muscle inside of her strained against the all-encompassing feeling of uselessness seeping through her.

How many more could she save if she could fight and heal?

Leif waited a few moments more and then stood.

"Are you ready?" She asked, hand outstretch to help Cierra up.

Cierra took her hand, grateful for the help and the sword.

As they pressed on, the cries from inside the cave got louder, and the shaking more violent. The path became harder, with chunks of rock that had fallen from the ceiling obstructing their path. Occasionally more rocks would fall and Cierra and Cid would dash to gather together under a shield bearer, who would raise their shield over their heads while the world shook around them.

All around them the cave was starting to widen, and Leif guided them to walk close to the edge of the walls so as not to be caught unaware. Where before, at the beginning of the cave, they had encountered wave after wave of monsters, now they seldom met with any. The only sound coming from in front of them, like the sound of many bodies moving back and forth.

Cierra swallowed nervously. She hoped that a second path would suddenly appear in front of them and lead them to the tears, but she knew that impossible. The only way to get what she wanted was to fight. She played with holding the sword in her right hand, and then with both, realizing the weight of it was too much for her to swing it with only one.

A nearby swordswoman paused for a moment, assessing Cierra's movements before moving next to her.

"Hold it like this," She modeled her grip on the swords hilt, her right hand under the top metal guard and her left above the bottom metal pommel, "Always use two hands for this type of sword, it will be steady."

"You want to make sure every move with any weapon is smooth and purposeful. Do not waver halfway through, you will fail to get the kill." With both hands on the sword, she stabbed upwards, her motion quick and even.

Cierra copied her hand placement and stabbing motion, "Like this?"

"Yes, good," The woman nodded and then adjusted her stance, left leg in front of her, "Now when striking, you want a full, powerful swing of the sword. Use your body to steady yourself and brace for impact."

The woman swung downwards with the sword in a straight motion. Cierra tried to copy her movements but was stopped before she could swing.

"No," The skeleton grabbed her elbow, and for the first time Cierra felt cold bones grabbing her. Reflexively she started to pull away but stopped. She forced herself to stay calm while the woman forced her elbow to bend slightly, "Don't lock your joints. You might be able to heal, but you don't want to cause injury unnecessarily."

Cierra nodded, not looking at the woman, and tried again.

"Better." The woman turned away and they resumed walking, hurrying to catch up with the others.

"Thank you," Cierra hesitated, feeling ashamed of her reaction when all the woman wanted to do was help her, "for helping me. I'm Cierra."

She held her hand out, but the other woman turned away. "It's fine, I know that it must be disturbing to see us in this form." She walked back to her place in formation. "You can call me Silva."

As they moved forward, Cierra practiced the moves she learned from Silva, making sure her hands stayed in position and her moves were smooth. For all the time she spent training her body in track and field, she never truly focused on building upper body strength or muscle mass. She spent her time training cardio and as little time as was acceptable on the repetitive motions of weightlifting.

Now, as she swung the sword, her shoulders and upper arms ached.

"Is it almost ready?," A young man's voice echoed around them. They stopped, weapons ready.

"We've waited hundreds of years, what does it matter if we have to wait hundreds more?" An older voice answered, relaxed.

"No," the young man sounded angry, "You can wait hundreds of years. What am I supposed to do in the meantime? Die of old age?" He ended sarcastically.