The large bag on Matthew's back threatened to send him to the ground. It was as full as he could possibly make it with guns, artifices and various ammo for said weapons. One gun was heavy enough to him, but now he was luging around dozens of them. And that was only a fraction of what he had in the Armory.
Echoing throughout the halls were the sounds of combat. So much so that Matthew could not tell which way was the best way to move. If he went by the sounds alone the fighting could have been right next to him. But that also meant that no matter which direction he went he would run into someone.
Following that line of thought, and the random soldier's statement, he turned to the right outside of his Armory and headed for the West Wing. That side of the base was where the Field, Fire and Instinct Training took place in various rooms from classrooms to large open spaces. But why did the fight start there?
The memory of the Major Sergeant's look when Matthew mentioned the only transfer of the day came back. Had he given the enemy the weapons they needed to start the fight? But they had only asked for fifteen weapons. Did that mean there were only fifteen magi here?
His thoughts were interrupted by a concussive like blast that sent him down on his back. The only thing he could hear for a couple of seconds was an unending ring. White filled his vision and he felt nothing. Slowly his senses returned.
Groaning he started to sit up only to see a lance of ice fly toward his head. A shriek escaped his lips and he shoved his head to the side. He felt the point of the lance slice his cheek open but without the lance directly in his vision he could see what happened.
Two figures, a man and a woman, were having a magical and physical firefight with a single Inquisition soldier.
Matthew's instincts told him to leap to his feet and run for the fight. But he held back. While he was lucky with the kid in the Armory, he knew that he was not good in a fight. Even the fact that he was trained did not help. So, instead of rushing into the fray and getting himself killed he waited and looked.
The soldier had managed to pull a table from the room nearby and flipped it to use as a makeshift barrier. It was not going to hold out for long as it was made of wood and already had dents and holes from previous attacks. The man himself had a couple of rips and Matthew could see blood staining his arm from his shoulder down. Yet he held a Smith and Wesson SW Magnum pistol in both hands.
The mages, on the other hand, were relatively worse off. The man had gunshot wounds on his arms and legs and it was a surprise that he was even on his knees. He looked as if he was about to collapse, yet he let loose with an ice shard that smacked into the table. The woman next to him was better off with only rips at her body but she looked like she was exhausting herself. They both wore the Inquisition's uniform, albeit worn and battered, so they must have been able to infiltrate with disguises. The Inquisition would have to be careful about who they attacked.
Matthew, deciding his first target, pulled the Colt Python from its holster on his hip, pulled back the hammer, and fired. The thought of attacking another person had sent shakes down his arm, so his shot flew wide from the male mage. Yet, he had grabbed the attention of the magi.
They both turned to him and he could feel the power leaking from them as they prepared spells. The energy caressed his skin and the fear of the fight prevented him from getting his weapon ready for the second shot.
The soldier saved his life.
While the magi were distracted with Matthew, the soldier rose from his hiding spot and sent two rounds into each mage's head. They both jerked back and slid against the wall. Matthew flinched as well and turned his gaze away from the two corpses.
The soldier, a Corporal by his insignia, rushed toward Matthew and knelt.
"Are you alright Graver?"
Matthew nodded quickly, "Yeah. Yeah." He twisted to set down the bag still at his back, "The Major Sergeant wanted me to deliver weapons to whoever I could."
The Corporal reached into the bag and grabbed an assault rifle as well as a couple of clips worth of ammo for both the rifle and his pistol. It was not much, but it would at least be enough to last a little while.
"Do you know what they are after?" He asked.
"No. I was in the Armory when they attacked. I do not know anything except that they may have a few of our guns."
The man muttered a curse, "Alright then. Keep moving toward the West Wing. The mages were moving this way before I ran into them so I'll see if I can follow their path."
Matthew nodded and rose to his feet. He pulled the bag back over his shoulder and continued on. With each step his heart and stomach sank with nerves and fear. And while he did, he thought about the fight.
He had almost died. If the Corporal was not there, he would currently have lances of ice and whatever the woman was throwing in his head. All because he was too scared to properly cock and fire his gun. Granted he was never a fan of weapons, but in this situation he could die if he did not get his act together. He had to make sure to not let the fear control him again. The instructors had told him to not let emotion get in the way. Coldly analyze the situation and act. Save the emotions for later. Yet that was one of the areas that he was never able to do well.
Better do well now, then.