Chapter Text
His strength was fading, he was bleeding sluggishly from half a dozen shallow cuts and starting to tire from throwing blasts of magical energy similar to the ones that Fjord could make. Mollymauk tried to focus on dodging the strange not quite magical bolts of energy that the bird (vulture maybe?) helmed fighters were firing from their metal staves and not on the fact that it felt like his body was moving without his permission. He shoved the knowledge that, for the second time in his life, he felt like a stranger in his own skin into the back of his mind to freak out over later he had to survive first. The stone ring behind him, as well as the faint squirming sounds that he could pick up from somewhere near the fighter’s guts each time he closed the distance to strike with his swords, made the hazy instincts left over from Lucien shriek with alarm. Another blast caused him to dodge directly into melee reach of another fighter pressing up the ramp onto the platform.
He could feel himself pull on the energy within him channeled through his waterskin tracing a brief pattern in the air by sword point with a barked word. Frost rimed his clothing and skin, his body seemed to be running on desperation and instinct without input from his mind. Molly swung the blade in his main hand towards the oncoming soldier, radiant energy casting eerie shadows on their helm and armor. The scimitar’s blade glanced off the armor and he could hear the whimper of the two kids behind him. He quietly assessed how he felt not wanting a desperate repeat of the fight with Lorenzo and concluded that he was still good he could risk trying to get his blood maledict off in an attempt to blind the second asshole coming up the ramp. There were at least six of these fuckers and what looked like another patrol coming out of the tree line. Mollymauk was not about to let the bastards get to his currently pint sized wizard nor the unknown Drow kid huddled behind him. He didn’t know where Nott, Beau, or Keg were but he could only assume that they had been taken by the Iron Shepherds after that fucker Lorenzo had stabbed him. He wasn’t going to fail, not this time.
“Your bones will decorate my doorway for ages to come.” He growled Infernal rasping over his forked tongue and shredding the air between him and his opponent. The blood maledict he got off earlier hits home on the second fighter coming up the ramp seconds before vicious mockery causes his current opponent stumble dropping the metal staff in favor clutching at his helm. It only takes a matter of seconds for the scimitar in right hand to find a weak point in the armor and drive home. Yanking the blade free from the corpse Mollymauk spun to meet the warrior whom the blood maledict had hit to see that the bird helmet had retracted revealing a man whose eyes were bleeding black ichor. A brief triumphant grin that was more snarl than smile crawled across his lips as the arc of his offhand blade sliced through the man’s throat with all the force of his spin.
Two down, four to go, He thought. The death of two of their own seemed to throw the remaining soldiers into a frenzied push to capture or kill him and the children. Over my dead body and I won’t let that happen twice. The thought was accompanied by another snarling smile that put his mismatched fangs on display. Dodge left, bat another energy blast away re-directing harmlessly away from the platform. He heard the rustling of cloth behind him and Molly didn’t dare look away from the enemies in front of him to see what Caleb and the other child were doing. Once again, this time deliberately, he reached focusing on the sensation of drawing energy through himself and down the blade of his sword. Magic flickered and raced the length of the blade dancing tongues of bright green blue touched with streaks of bright violet. The roiling magic gathered at the point of the blade and was flung into the charging mass as he swung the scimitar in another graceful arc. It knocked them back enough that he felt comfortable enough to attempt to bring the fight to them and Molly tried to activate Summer’s Dance’s Misty Step ability when nothing happened. He was sure that they hadn’t cast dispel magic after all the magical blasts, the bood maledict, and vicious mockery had gone off without any issues and surely if they had someone or something that could cast it they would have before now. It was only then that he realized that the slender curving scimitar in his hand, though it had the same golden hued blade was not Summer’s Dance. The hilt and cross guard were engraved with ferns and holly. Magic, Fascination, confidence and shelter; also defense and domestic happiness respectively his mind supplied unhelpfully as he barely dodged another one of those staff blasts.
Back in the game, he told himself, time for this later. Like when they were safe and he had found the rest of his friends. He could break down then. His arms were beginning to tremble and it was getting harder and harder to dodge those blasts or deflect them. Luckily the encroaching dusk was in his favor unless those utterly bizarre helmets somehow were like Beau’s goggles and gave their wearer darkvision. Desperation swept through Molly as he caught sight of Caleb and the unkown child huddled together in shirts far too large for them and what appeared to be a pile of clothes clearly disoriented and terrified if their dilated pupils and clenched hands gave him any indication. Four against one, not great odds, especially when the one was attempting to protect two who weren’t able to fight at the moment and the enemy had range on their side. Please let me save them, he prayed directing it to the Moonweaver, the Platinum Dragon, The Raven Queen, any gods who would listen. He couldn’t let them down, he had already lost one family and the rest of this family was surely in the clutches of slavers. Mollymauk was not about to let the one member still within his grasp down nor an innocent.
“Just a little longer, Pet. Help is coming.” The whisper flavored with laughter skittered across his left ear and consciousness as if the words weren’t truly spoken aloud at all. It was vaguely familiar in the way that he couldn’t quite place where he had heard the voice before, until Molly remembered that he had heard this same voice just before waking up on the platform of this strange ring surrounded by enemies. A voice that had asked him, “Do you wish to save them?”
There had been only one them that the voice could mean and only one answer that he could give, “Yes.”
“Then wake up.” The voice had told him and he obeyed only to find that he was nowhere near Glory Run Road, with only Caleb at his side and Caleb was now even more fragile than normal. The only thing he knew was that the voice sounded masculine, definitely not the Moonweaver then. He fought down the slight pang of disappointment, he wouldn’t really call himself particularly devout but he would be a lot less concerned if it had been her. Molly wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so to speak, if it turned out later that there were negative consequences to his trust in this mysterious voice; well they could take care of that when his wizard was the proper age and size again and they had their friends back.
The blunt end of a stave caught him in the side painful but not as much as it should have been, reminding him that he was still in the middle of battle and now was not the time to be getting distracted. Ice crystals crawled along the staff onto his assailant’s hands, causing him to drop the weapon. Okay it was definitely like Fjord’s sea water dreams. That wasn’t reassuring at all, but time for that later when they were safe.
“Touch one hair on their heads and I will rip your spine out through your nose.” He hissed in infernal as he noticed that one of the bastards were advancing on Caleb and the Drow. Unfortunately the Vicious Mockery seemed to slide right off the asshole. Dammit they were getting his squishy wizard, the only member of his makeshift family left in sight, and the other kid over his dead body and he had already promised that, that wasn’t an option. Throwing himself sideways disengaging from the opponent he was currently fighting and earning another hit from from one of those staff weapons. He closed on his new opponent, when he vaguely heard a shout from somewhere beyond the platform that he couldn’t quite understand and a series of sharp cracks shattered the early evening. The sound distracted his opponent enough that Molly was able to slip round to the man’s back. His swords tore through the seams in the armor finding the tiny weaknesses that all armor had no matter how finely made. A glance to make sure the kids were safe revealed a white lipped Caleb holding a glimmering shield around himself. Well at least kid Caleb was showing more self preservation than adult Caleb generally did. The fighter he had disengaged combat with was aiming the staff to fire again when more of those thunderous cracks punctuated the air and the remaining two fighters beyond the platform dropped with a series of jerks. Snarling he danced to the side as the fired blast passed by his cheek with crackle of energy and a faint metallic smell. Weaving under the man’s guard he noticed that the fighter had retracted that ridiculous helmet and brought his main hand blade up slice through his opponent’s jugular and windpipe. He felt the sensation of a hand on his shoulder and heard that same whisper that seemed to bypass his ear and transfer straight into his mind “Rest help has arrived.”
Only then did he allow himself to fall to his knees the radiant blade of his Rite of the Dawn winking out leaving the blade carnival glass once again. Molly heard the sound of bare feet on stone and the rustling of linen cloth, the only warning he had before Caleb threw himself at him. Catching Caleb in his arms Molly worried at how small and light he felt, though it seemed that in addition to whatever else the Iron Shepards had done to de-age the wizard they had also taken the time to scrub him clean.
“It’s all right, it’s over and we should be safe for a bit. We’ll get the rest back, somehow. Don’t worry.” He murmured pressing a kiss to dark red hair, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or Caleb. For now he was going to trust the voice and hope that the promised help actually was help in truth.