Medea remained by Leonard's side for a time, striving to further his recovery. His injuries mirrored Mal's; though not fatal, they would necessitate a prolonged period of convalescence and the aid of Medea's medical kit. Medea had proven herself immensely capable, and her worth had only soared now that she had been tested and tempered in the fires of true combat.
Mal rose slowly, a curse escaping his lips. His wound was severe, and he knew he would have to drag himself back to the camp they had established near the fortifications. He limped toward the fallen monster and knelt over it for a moment. He did not know why, but his gaze was drawn to the shattered sword. Something about it beckoned to him. It was no sorcery, but rather the pure fascination of a swordsman for an artifact tied to his craft - a relic of the mysterious, vanished civilization that had once dwelt within these ruins of black marble. He stooped to retrieve the blade, partly as a collector's piece or a trophy of a successful hunt, but also because he harbored a desire to one day wield it. It was an illogical thought, for the sword lacked the reach of his own, yet for some reason, the notion pleased him.
Using the shard of the blade, he slowly carved into the creature's torso until he located its heart. The organ was utterly mutated, and he sliced into it with care. There was no blood within the heart, just as it seemed none had flowed through the beast's veins. Tucked inside the muscle lay the prize for which they had come. He reached in and drew it out. He beheld a dark stone, levitating several centimeters above his palm. Two rings circled the stone. Mal saw in them the orbits of Mercury and Venus; though the paths were not in perfect alignment, the resemblance was unmistakable. Within the first ring, twelve knots moved - a discovery that startled Mal, for he had expected fewer. Around it, however, lay a second ring, bearing two knots of its own.
"Behold, one and all," he declared, approaching Leonard and Medea. "Our prize. Our salvation."
Leonard and Medea gazed upon the violet, glowing stone. Mal studied it as well before making his decision. With a fluid motion, he tossed the second-rank Terror Core to Leo, who caught it in surprise.
"No, no - you should be the one to have it," Leo insisted. "Believe me, the temptation is great, but think on it. You are the strongest among us. If you absorb it, you will ascend to the second rank. When we encounter the next monster of that stature, we shall strike it down with far greater ease if you are its equal." With that, he tossed the core back.
'I wanted it for myself anyway.'
"Very well. I suppose as soon as we are mended, we shall seek out another of its kind?"
"You will discuss no such thing now!" Medea intervened decisively. "We are returning to the base, and there you shall both heal first!"
They rose and turned to depart.
"Wait, while we are here, should we not seek another weapon?" Mal reminded them. "Does Thade have anything to fight with? I suspect once he hears of his sister's success, he will wish to join the fray."
"I do not know if he is ready," Leonard countered. "We train together, but he has yet to master the art of combat."
"True, but you are training in close quarters. What if we look for a bow? I expect no arrows here, or if there are any, they will be broken or few in number. But we have shaping. He can fashion arrows from whatever element he chooses."
The suggestion seemed sound, and after a brief deliberation, Medea was dispatched to search the interior for a bow. Mal felt a lingering shadow of worry at sending her alone, but he realized the fear was unfounded. A second-rank monster would certainly not be lurking there now, and even if there were a wolf he had missed during his reconnaissance of the ancient armory, she had proven she could handle it.
"There might be a third-rank horror," Leo teased, trying to provoke him.
After a sharp nudge to his wounded leg, Leo desisted and fell into a fit of coughing.
"Sorry, sorry," he wheezed.
They waited in silence, for there were no more words to be said.
After roughly five minutes, Medea's slight figure emerged from the doorway. She was radiant, and the reason was clear. In her hand she held a magnificent black bow, adorned with magical runes that Mal did not recognize. It was evident that the weapon was a masterpiece. This was no common soldier's bow; it bore the elegance of a nobleman's armament. When Medea handed it to him, he found a name engraved upon it in the common tongue.
[Saint Melker of Ir Za'avin]
'Another Saint. Strange, that two Saints are revered in this city. It must be a potent weapon indeed, if it was carried by a Saint of this ancient race.'
He took the bow and asked his companions to step back. He drew the string as he imagined it ought to be done - having never held a bow, he lacked the skill - yet he was determined to test its power. He focused on the runes, attempting to influence them with his will and activate their power. He succeeded only in part. It was as if the bow held a faint memory of the Saint's will; when it recognized a new, unfamiliar, and decidedly weaker presence, it did not yield easily. His will clashed with the spectral echo of Saint Melker's, and he managed to hold his ground. Thus, he could activate only a few of the runes, but for now, it sufficed. He doubted Thade could have fared any better.
He channeled his will into a different form. A spark of red electricity flickered upon the bowstring, and as Mal aimed and loosed the shot toward the building adjacent to the armory - where Leo had stood - it streaked through the air with terrifying speed. It collided with the black wall in a flash of light, boring half a meter deep into the black marble.
'It truly stings that I cannot keep it. Such a magnificent weapon!'