[ It was familiar, suddenly: panic and regret shot through Aymeric like lightning. The bird dove like a wyvern, a streak out of the sky, and he could too easily see it snatching up Cain's small vulnerable body, catching his limbs in its talons.
He charged out of the trees, too slow, and he knew it. Cain could turn, draw his sword and use the bird's speed against it, but he lacked the skill, and his sword was hardly more than a sharpened trinket, and Aymeric knew what happened to fresh knights with slipshod arms facing down wyverns alone.
Not like this, he thought desperately, this needless endeavor that meant nothing—
He cut across his left hand again to draw a line of fresh blood. The line of ash smeared across Cain's face had been a promise that something was listening, accepting the sacrifice. It wouldn't affect his grip so long as he kept his right hand on the outside.
The air around Cain began to shimmer as he sprinted, forming the barrier. Aymeric flung all his faith into the words he mouthed, too in need of all his breath to say them, sweat dripping down his brow. He prayed to the Fury, unimaginably far away, and to the gods of this land, any god who might be listening, that the shield would be without flaw, like Ishgard's wards had once been, so powerful and impenetrable that even a dragon would grasp at nothing and be forced to turn away.
He shouted back at Cain, hoarse with the effort: ]
Cast again! Come to me!
[ It didn't matter if he collapsed from the effort; he could be carried home, or to the Coven, so long as he survived. ]
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He charged out of the trees, too slow, and he knew it. Cain could turn, draw his sword and use the bird's speed against it, but he lacked the skill, and his sword was hardly more than a sharpened trinket, and Aymeric knew what happened to fresh knights with slipshod arms facing down wyverns alone.
Not like this, he thought desperately, this needless endeavor that meant nothing—
He cut across his left hand again to draw a line of fresh blood. The line of ash smeared across Cain's face had been a promise that something was listening, accepting the sacrifice. It wouldn't affect his grip so long as he kept his right hand on the outside.
The air around Cain began to shimmer as he sprinted, forming the barrier. Aymeric flung all his faith into the words he mouthed, too in need of all his breath to say them, sweat dripping down his brow. He prayed to the Fury, unimaginably far away, and to the gods of this land, any god who might be listening, that the shield would be without flaw, like Ishgard's wards had once been, so powerful and impenetrable that even a dragon would grasp at nothing and be forced to turn away.
He shouted back at Cain, hoarse with the effort: ]
Cast again! Come to me!
[ It didn't matter if he collapsed from the effort; he could be carried home, or to the Coven, so long as he survived. ]