“Come and get me, boys!” Stress cackled, perched on top of a tree near Bdubs’ tower, waving Zed’s spear like a trophy. Tango yelled in frustration, and shot a bolt of ice at her, but she ducked between the branches in time to dodge it. With a gleeful grin, she retaliated with an arrow to his face, before turning to scamper across the trees, only slowing to ensure that Zed maintained pursuit.
Tango was shot by Stressmonster101
Oops.
Oh well. At least that dealt with that complication.
Tango: Get her.
And Stress was off again, tearing through the treetops with practised ease, fleeing a Zedaph nether-bent on avenging his king. She jumped down in front of him as they reached the back of Impulse’s starter base, and scampered over into his main house, slamming the door behind her. She paused for breath, and Impulse gave her a thumbs-up from his hiding place. She nodded, and turned to face the door just as Zed kicked it down.
With a silent, cold, uncharacteristic fury, Zed walked over and pulled the spear out of her hand. She let it happen, a self-satisfied grin appearing on her face as Zed was promptly tackled and pinned to the ground by four other figures. Impulse stepped out from his hiding place and, with a whispered apology, tipped a sleeping potion into Zed’s mouth. Zed let out a desperate cry, before passing out.
“I hated that,” Impulse said, to no-one in particular.
“I know.” Doc stood up and rested a comforting hand on Impulse’s shoulder, “I know.”
———
Inside his mind, Zedaph was drowning. The voices in his head that were so cold and distant and hateful of the other hermits seemed to love Tango, and the moment Tango had started talking they’d begun to overwhelm Zed. His mind was pounding; it was hard to tell which thoughts, which movements were his, and he was getting less and less lucid as of late.
Slowly, groggily, he opened his eyes.
He was tied to a chair, six of the other hermits standing over him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t remember which ones were which. Hatred and anger and contempt bubbled in his chest—those feelings probably weren’t his, so he tried to shove them down, to no avail. The feeling rose up, like bile in his throat, until in one vicious snap, he spoke.
“How dare you.” He growled, angry, wriggling slightly to try and break free. Like a worm, part of his mind supplied. Like Worm Man, like these worthless worms that would be ground beneath his king’s heel for daring to rise up against him. He was pretty sure the first association was his. He was pretty sure the second association was also his. “My liege will have your heads for this.”
“Sure.” The green one nodded, and pushed him backwards. He was falling, and his vision was filled with nothing but portal, and everything was swirling, and then it wasn’t. He heaved in a sharp breath as the imagery of the nearest hub to Hermitcraft materialised around him.
They betrayed you. You knew it would happen, one of the voices whispered. For the first time in what felt like ages, he found the strength to shove the thought down. There had to be a reason for what the others were doing, right? There was something about hubs, Zed remembered. What was it?
“You with us, Zed?” A gentle, familiar voice asked. The fog in his mind cleared a little, and he was able to put a face to a voice and a name to that face and it was Impulse. Impulse was talking to him. Impulse was his friend. No, he betrayed you, the thoughts argued, trying to find purchase as their hold over Zedaph slipped away. But the thing is, Zed was thinking clearly, for the first time in forever, and he knew for a fact that Impulse and whoever else had been with him had done something to cause that.
“...Mostly?” Zed croaked, opening his eyes. He felt the frozen tear tracks below his eyes start to thaw.
“That’s good,” Impulse smiled, pulling Zed close. Zed accepted the hug, holding on to Impulse like a lifeline. All this moment really needed was…
“Tango,” Zed gasped, pulling away from Impulse and staggering to his feet, “Tango… if my experience is anything to go by, he can’t be doing well.” He turned, grabbing Impulse by the shoulders. “We need to save him.”
“Zed, wait—” Impulse called as Zed turned and went back through the portal, back to Hermitcraft.
The moment Zed’s vision cleared and he stumbled through the other side, a wave of nausea hit him. He staggered forward, and found himself being caught by a metallic arm—Doc, then. He blinked, trying to get used to the light level in the room, as the beginnings of a migraine took root behind his eyes. The fog was coming back, he realised, but he pushed it away with a grunt of effort, staggering towards the door.
“Zed, wait!” Impulse came through the portal again, grabbing Zed by the arm. A flash of paranoia-fuelled panic ran through Zed, and he pushed Impulse’s arm away.
“Get away from me!” He yelled, except he didn’t want to yell, but Impulse was trying to stop him from going back to his king saving Tango, and that thought wasn’t his, was it? The magic was growing in his mind again and he needed to let it in get it out.
“Zed…”
“Help.” Zed whispered, fighting something else that tried to steal his voice away. He pushed back at the forces encroaching on his mind, but it was a losing battle, as his tears began to freeze on his cheeks once more. He pushed back, with all his might, until the effort came to be too much, and he passed out, eyes rolling back into his head.
———
Impulse cried out as Zed crumpled, running to catch him and stop his head hitting the ground. He checked Zed over—he had a heartbeat, he was breathing, it was okay. Zed was fine. Probably. They’d expected Zed to have some issues re-adjusting to the presence of the magic, they’d even made provisions in case Zed found himself fighting it off again, but this was… drastic, to say the least.
“I’ve got ‘im, luv,” Stress told Impulse as she lifted Zed out of Impulse’s arms, and carried him to a bed that False was setting down. Wordlessly, Impulse took his place beside Zed’s bed, waiting for the man to wake up, and the others quietly dispersed, in order to prepare for the next stage of the plan.
They remained like that for some time, Zed occasionally thrashing violently in his sleep. His movements always calmed when Impulse held his hand, however. Impulse wondered what was going on in there. Was there a metaphorical fight scene happening behind Zed’s closed eyelids? Was it more like a clash of forces, an unstoppable force and an immovable object? Was Zed winning?
…Was he losing?
Impulse didn’t know what he’d do if they lost Zed again. Seeing Zed’s eyes clouded by the ice had hurt enough before anyone had tried to do anything about it, and if Zed was lost now, then it would add the extra pang of failure on top. Impulse squeezed Zed’s hand tighter, wishing above any other wish that he could do something to help Zed.
Zed began thrashing again, more violently this time, and Impulse holding on wasn’t helping, and he placed a hand on Zed’s shoulder to keep him from hurting himself. Zed sat bolt upright with a scream, his eyes wide open and icy. The scream kept going, tears pouring out of Zed’s eyes like a river, as the ice in his eyes slowly pulsed from blue to purple, then began flaking away and draining out through Zed’s tears, until eventually, it stopped.
Zed fell back onto the bed, heaving for breath, a small trail of blood dripping from his nose. He turned to look at Impulse, with clear, purple, normal eyes, and gave him a weak smile.
“Zed…” Impulse gasped, holding onto Zed’s hand like it was his last lifeline.
“Hey Impulse,” Zed grinned, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been having a bit of a wacky time.”
Impulse made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and pulled Zed into a hug, and Zed hugged back, and they laughed, and cried, and held onto each other for dear life. Things were looking up, at long last. Even though the war was still raging, at least this battle had been won.