The shivering woke Elyar up. He tried moving deeper under his blanket but to no avail. The cold found him wherever he was. It crept into his bones trying to freeze him where he lay. He tried a few more ways to stay warm and then gave up. Wrapping his blanket around him he crawled out of his tent. I miss my bed, my room, my warm fireplace listening to father tell some ridicules story. A small smile formed on his face as he thought about his home. But his heart hurt a little as well. He realized how much he missed home.
The first thing that hit him was the freezing wind. It had not been there when he was on his watch. Holy Theos that is cold! He thought as he hurried to the coals left from last nights fire. He quickly threw on some new logs and stirred the embers until the fire caught. Better. He reached out a hand to warm it as he glanced around.
That is when the second thing struck him. Snow and ice. Last night had been cool, but that was to be expected with spring so young. Most of the snow had thawed by the time they left Val. But this was weird. He added one more log onto the fire before walking over to Jereme.
Speaking low Elyar asked, “when did this roll in?”
“Oh good morning mi Lord. Did the shivers drive you into the world of the living?” Jereme whispered back while chuckling to himself.
Elyar shivered a little but he smiled at the joke.
“Why yes, I did wake up cold, thank you. Your concern is overwhelming.”
“It is my duty to ensure your safety. Decreed by your father.” His joking suddenly stopped as he glanced out at the frozen world still covered in a soft haze. “As for this? I don’t like it. The mist seemed to have gotten better right before dawn, but no snow fell. It almost crept from the way of the crumbling stone. Like it was being pushed. I’m afraid of it. It is not natural.”
Another shiver went down Elyar’s spine. He was not sure if it was
the cold or the news that caused it. “I’m going back to the fire. It’s too cold over here.” Elyar half said to himself.
Laughing Jereme replied, “abandoning me to my frozen fate? What a friend! Luckily for me, my watch is almost over.” Jereme patted Elyar on the back as he turned toward the fire. He slowly walked back to his seat and resumed pocking the flames. Elyar noticed the sun was on the cusp of rising. It illuminated the world in soft hues of pinks and yellows. But it gave off no warmth. As it slowly pushed itself over the horizon the frozen marsh flashed into full light. The new snow and ice shimmered and sparkled. It would have been beautiful if Elyar was not wary of its appearance.
Havol walked up from his post sitting down across from Elyar. Neither spoke. Those still sleeping began to ster now that the sun was shining. Soon everyone was quietly sitting by the fire warming their hands. Frem asked about the snow getting the same answer Elyar got.
He nodded. Concern written on his face.
The sun was fully over the horizon when they broke camp. Frem had informed the group that they would reevaluate when they got to the ruble. Once packed they began walking again. Elyar was able to resume his usual spot in the back which made him happy. But he soon learned that hiking through frozen marshes covered in snow was harder than mushy marshes.
The fresh powder clung to his boots weighing them down. Havol tried stepping out onto frozen water. It quickly broke plunging him knee deep soaking his right leg. He was annoyed, but his dumb decision broke the melancholy mood affecting the group. Elyar helped Havol step back out of the marsh while trying to hide his big smile. He didn’t think he was successful from how Havol acted once unstuck.
The stones were getting nearer. Slowly, but nearer none the less. Jereme started telling a tale about wooing a local girl. He had met her at a local spring festival when he was just about a man. She was much older and was very gifted in the chest area. Jereme has a type I guess. Elyar thought laughing to himself. Jereme was now describing how he had gone to her father’s house to declare his love. He carried some spring flowers and had washed his clothes which had only made them more wrinkly. Once there he threw some small pebbles at her window. They got into an argument because she did not find his affection desirable. Her father must have heard them because he came bursting around the house holding a club screaming about some boy trying to take his daughter’s honor. Jereme described how he nearly fell over trying to run away. The old man also nearly hit him with his club, but Jereme was able to just get out of the way before he threw away his flowers and fled. Everyone was laugh ing by the end. Even grumpy Havol.
Elyar was always impressed with how Jereme could lighten almost any mood. It was a gift. What am I good at? Before he could continue
down that thought path he realized they had finally arrived. Finally! I was beginning to think they were an illusion
Speaking to the group, Frem said, “take a break. We will figure out our next move in a bit. Havol…maybe try drying your pants off.” Havol did not find that funny. But after starting a fire he did spend some time with his frozen pants near the fire. Elyar took this opportunity to explore. He set his pack down against a rock near the fire before looking around the ruins.
Now that they were there he saw how large the ruins where. This must have been a large fortress of some kind. The tower he saw last night stood high above their heads. He thought it might have been as tall as Val. It looked like similar stonework as well. He started walking around the whole thing which took him nearly thirty minutes before he was back where he started.
Near where they made their fire Elyar noticed something that stood out. Most of the stone was weathered and looked very old. But there was a section of stone that had intricately carved details. He brushed his hand over the main standing stone pillar as he inspected it. It was cool to the touch though it felt rough. He tried reading the runes but could not make anything out.
“Hey! Look at this!” Elyar yelled. Jereme and Ruzur walked over to see what Elyar was pointing at. He did not see the others.
“What have yee found?” Ruzur asked.
“These stones look different than the others. They have carvings in them.” Elyar pointed out.
“Carvings eh, little Lord? Do you know what they say?” Jereme asked running his hand over some of the carvings. Ruzur was also walking around the small clearing inspecting the stones.
“No…if they are runes, I can’t read them. They are so weathered it is hard to tell. The snow and ice aren’t helping either.”
“Snow and ice help none in mine opinion.” Ruzur jokingly responded. The three laughed as they looked at the stones for a few more minutes. Once they were sure there was nothing to see the three headed back to the others.
“I think we should make this our base for the time being.” Frem told them when they were walking up. “If we have to wander around this Theos forsaken land we might as well have a place to call home. These ruins give an easy place to come back to and it provides at least a little shelter. Good job, Elyar. None of us noticed this place, but you did. Well done.”
Elyar looked over at Frem and the man nodded to him before dropping his pack. Elyar felt a surge of pride fill him. Frem was not a harsh man, but he did not give out compliments often. He nodded back and began his nightly ritual.
Setting up camp took longer than usual. Snow had to be moved, ice broken, and a good cooking fire set up. There were loose sticks and plants around, but not many and most of them were buried under a foot of snow. Eventually they had a small fire going, which was good because by that time the sun was about gone and the air was getting chillier.
As the last rays of light illuminated the frozen marshes Elyar looked for sticks. Our of all the jobs stick gathering is the worst. Up, down. Up, down. It hurts my back and gets REALLY annoying. As Elyar grumbled to himself he started noticing things in the water. At first he could not tell what they were, but then it suddenly dawned on him. They were weapons. He saw Ruzur standing near enough to him so he called him over.
“Look at that.” Elyar said while pointing toward his discovery. “I never read about any battles above the mountains.”
Chuckling, Ruzur responded, “mine sure there are many tales the empire wishes to keep in the shadows.”
“You are probably right,” Elyar said thinking about his conversation with Pyke. It felt like a lifetime ago now. “Maybe we should leave them alone.” Elyar thought about what Tem said. He did not like the sound of
“raise the alarm.”
“Thee are probably right. Better to let the dead rest.”
Elyar nodded. He agreed with the sentiment on top of wanting to heed Tom’s words. He and Ruzur were just turning back to deliver their sticks when Havol began shouting.
“Oy! There’s an axe resting in this marsh!”
Elyar looked over about to tell him he should leave it alone when in horror he watched him reach in, while on his knees, and pull out the axe.
“Got it!” He yelled excitedly.
Elyar stood in shock. Why would he grab a weapon in frozen water? In a marsh?! He waited. Waited to see if he saw or heard anything. Nothing. Havol walked over and set the axe by the fire to dry. One by one, everyone returned. Elyar, still a throws distance from the group, kept scann ing the area for signs of danger. Still nothing.
Maybe Tem was wrong? Maybe.
Walking back Elyar wrapped himself in his cloak. The sun dropped below the horizon taking with it the last vestiges of light. The temperature plummeted and everyone quickly grabbed a thicker coat, or in Elyar’s case, he wrapped himself tighter in the one he had. If things were not bad enough, an icy wind ripped through him. He set his bundle of wood down tightening his cloak around him again. Declan repositioned himself a little closer to the fire.
“First a marsh with bugs that bite, then snow, and now an icy wind? Who angered Theos? Because I’m going to pop you a good one!” Jereme shouted half in jest. Elyar thought he was jesting at least. The man looked very unhappy bundled in his furs sitting by the fire. At least you have furs to grab. I did not bring any. Looking at Jereme, jealious of his warm cloak Elyar saw movement in the distance.
He locked his eyes onto the spot but saw nothing else. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me again. But to be sure, he walked to the outskirt of the camp and scanned the marshes. It was hard to see in the dark without any moon. His eyes moved over nothing to his left, a man stand ing in the dark, and nothing on his right. Wait, a man!
There, standing in the distance stood a hooded figure. Elyar could not see much because of the darkness, but he looked tall dressed in black. A hood covered his face while a black cloak drifted behind him. But in the dark everything looked black. In his hand he had a longsword raised high into the black night.
“Frysta!” The figures voice echoed across the marshes like an icicle shattering across a frozen pond. The figures sword began to shimmer like ice on a sunny day. Elyar saw a little more, but it was still dark. A cloud moved and the moon suddenly cast its silver rays. He saw clearly what
lay before them. Behind the man icy mist moved as the chilly breeze wafted through it. In the mist dark figures moved. As he looked harder he realized their movement was not natural. But he couldn’t place why. A harder gust hit Elyar sending a shiver down his spine.
“Elyar, why are you standing like a frozen chicken left out over a winter’s night?” Jereme asked. But Elyar did not reply. “Elyar? Are you ok?”
He felt frozen. He could not see the hooded figure’s eyes, but he felt them bore into him taking away his will to move. Fear crept up his spine paralyzing him. Flashes of the maurauders attacking their camp flashed through Elyar’s mind. He did not have the courage to fight a common thug. How was he going to fight a evil creature that could weave? I am not cut out for this. Dispaire took over his heart.
He then felt a presence at his shoulder. Appearing beside him Jerome stood sword drawn. On is other side Ruzur appeared axe and sword in hand. The others quickly assembled as the mist reached them. It clung to them forming ice on whatever it touched. The wind drove the cold deep into Elyar’s bones.
“Well that fixes one problem. Now We don’t have to go hunting. I like it when what I want comes to me.” Jereme was trying to lighten the mood. While a smile touched his face, he did not feel it any further.
The man still stood with his sword outstretched. The shapes slowly moved toward the party. With the moon shinning, and the glow of the sword, they were easier to see.
From his right, Elyar heard Frem whisper, “asharos.”
Elyar’s heart froze. He had heard of the living dead from tales around his families hearth. Souls condemned to walk the earth until their task completed. They were scary enough when sitting around a fire at home. Watching them approach in person was a nightmare come alive. Elyar’s throat went dry while his palms became sweaty. Frozen sweat. The dead were coming. Slowly the asheros walk toward the Hunters. Their forms shifting in and out of the mist. When they were halfway toward them they stopped. The Hunters could still hear the groans of the dead. But for some reason they had stopped their approach. Elyar could see some had broken armor and weapons of all sorts. Some had nothing but their hands, teeth, and broken bone. He was not sure which was scarier.
Elyar tightened his grip on his sword and made sure the strap on his shield was secure. He heard similar things from the Hunters surrounding him.
When the asheros were nearly on them Elyar whispered to Jerome,
“if I die today, make sure my mother knows I died as a warrior.” Jerome looked at him and broke a smile, “tell her youself little lord.”
He chuckled reaching his sword out toward his friend. They clinked their weapons. “Brothers of steel?”
Jerome’s smile broadened. “Brothers.”
Without hesitation Declan, Havol, Frem, and Ruzur all touched th-
eir weapons in as well. In unison they all said, “brothers of steel.”
Havol looked at Elyar, “forgive me for my mood of recent. I get wor-
ked up over things. My mother said I was a lad of passion.”
Giving him a reasuring smile, Elyar responded, “brothers fight. But brothers fight together as well.”
“Aye to that young lad. Aye to that.”
They did not have much more time for talking.
They reassembled and redied for the battle. They waited. One min ute turned into five, which turned into ten.
“Thou art playing with thee.” Ruzur grumbled. “Mine hand shall wait no more!” With that he stabbed the ground with his weapons then stripped his robes. Wearing only his linen pants his dark, bare chest shown with frost from the mist. Picking up his sword he pricked his finger. With a drop of blood he reached behind his neck spreading it over the top of a tattoo. Elyar saw a runic word tattooed vertically down his spine but could not read it. Once the blood touched the skin the tat too shimmered. Ruzur looked at Elyar his eyes blood red.
“Ruzur?” Elyar asked hesitantly.
Ruzur picked up his axe, turned to the asheros, and seemed to look at the figure still visible. He stepped up onto a stone pillar laying on the ground near them. He reached out his arms holding his axe and sword wide. As if taunting the army before them he screamed, “mine name is
Ruzur, son of Rezan! Mine is a bloodserkr of the south. May the Eternal Twins bless thee with everlasting peace. For mine sword and axe shall show no mercy!”
With a wicked smile matching his red eyes, Ruzur leaped with inhuman strength landing in the midst of the asheros. With his sword and
axe Elyar could see him begin to shred the creatures. Their body parts flying in the air. Without hesitation the rest charged. Frem leaped upon the pillar and began firing arrows into the asheros. Declan screaming with a mighty roar charged to join Ruzur. Havol, Jerome, and Elyar ran, following Declan into the fray.
He let the other two get a little ahead of him. Fear still gripped him making him shy away from the conflict. But, as he ran, Elyar raised his sword opening his being to embrace the weave. Breathing onto it he released the energy igniting his blade into its white hot form. He could feel the energy pulling from his being. But while his being was touching the weave he felt something he had not before. He was not sure what it was, but he did not have time to investigate for even at a slower pace, he still crashed into the asheros before him.
having no choice he began Swinging his sword slashing at every asheros before him. Fear began to melt as frustration and anger replaced it. Emotions trapped inside began to pour out. The dreams, nightmares, and the feeling of his world coming undone boiled over in wrath. The feelings of purposlessness and having no control of his life fueled his anger. The words of the Raven King added more fuel. Slashing his sword tore the asheros apart. Limb, head, or rotten armor it did not matter. His blazing sword knew only destruction.
Nothing stood in his way. This type of release felt good. Sparring with Pyke was fun. But this. This was exhilerating. He no longer had to hold back. He unleashed every restraint he ever knew. Bone, flesh, and steel melted before Elyar’s blade. Slowly he carved his way into the asheros. Slash after slash they crumbled. Dead eyes, blind to the will of some dark being, vanished to be replaced by another. They too fell. Step by step, Elyar finally reached a clearing full of bodies. In the center of it stood Ruzur standing on a pile of redead asheros. Any asheros that tried to climb died. None could challenge the bloodserkr. Jerome appeared at
Elyar’s side. Spattered in blood and gore.
“I think a child of the Feud puts up a bigger fight than these things.” “Aye, but there aren’t a thousand children.” Elyar laughed back.
Sweat covered Elyar’s body. He glanced down while he still could and saw he was covered in blood and guts as well. He did not feel any pain so he figured none of the blood was his. There were some scrapes and small cuts, but nothing felt major.
“And I am glad there are not! I hope the tide ends soon enough!” With that Jereme ran toward Declan who was beginning to get bogged down by a group of unarmed asheros. “For might! For glory! For the next drunk woman!”
Elyar couldn’t help from laughing at his friends stupidity. Even in war he is a jokester. Looking up as Ruzur cut an asheros in half with his axe. “Ruzur! This is a story like your father’s!’” Elyar shouted to the bloodserkr.
He turned and smiled. His teeth, face, and eyes all red. Elyar hoped it all was from the enemy. He leapted from his death hill as Elyar watched him join Declan and Jereme. It was then that Elyar spotted the hooded figure again. He stalked the outside of the death mound. He looked at Elyar and raised his sword. He thought he heard a laugh come from whatever was under the hood.
Elyar felt like the figure was challenging him. The anger he felt before melted away. It was replaced by an unnatural dread. Fear of failure, lonliness, and purpesslessness overwhelmed him again. He took a step backwards trying to move away from the figure. But as he moved back the figure moved forward.
A few asheros attacked Elyar as he turned to run but it only took a few slashes to remove them from his path. He was not sure if it was the fear or the battle, but he could feel his attacks getting slower. The drain from his sword was beginning to take its tole.
He turned to see if the figure was still there. He was. Closure this time.
“Come. Thou hast been expected.” The figure walked back into the mist away from Elyar. He did not know what to do. An overwhelming feeling to follow hit Elyar. He took a step forward before stopping himself. He looked back. Declan, Jereme, and Ruzur were slowly battering the asheros. But more were coming. They might be great warrors, but everyone has a breaking point. What if my purpose is to surrender so they might live? Is that a worthy life? An image of his father serving a villager popped in his head. He never complained. Never said no when someone needed him. With that he followed the figure.
As he followed the figure he moved in and out of the mist. Sometimes he could not see him for long periods of time. During one lull a large group of asheros lunged toward him. His attacks were getting slower, but he still quickly dispatched them. With every swing the mist was pushed back. Every asheros became a blazing corpse resent to Theos. He searched but could not find the figure again.
A few more asheros met their end by Elyar’s sword before Jerome appeared at his side. He glanced at Elyar’s sword shaking his head.
“The frozen glass at Val was one thing. But this…this is different. I’m fighting undead creatures standing besides a lord with a flaming sword.
The world is on its head!”
Elyar laughed as Ruzur broke through some of the mist still near them screaming as he slashed some asheros. Elyar had not seen the others in a bit. He hopped they were doing well. That is when he saw the figure again. Elyar broke into a run, dashing toward the being.
The hooded man turned and started running himself. If he wants me
to follow why is he running? The hooded man dashed left. Elyar changed direction. The hood ran through a group of asheros. Elyar ended them quickly then continued his chase. Out of the mist rose a broken tower. Not as large as Val’s, but Elyar thought it might have been a place of ref uge once upon a time. How did we not see this? It is huge!
The hood ran into the tower disappearing. Elyar looked more closely at the arch as he drew closer. That is when he recognized the scene. It was the one he had seen in his dream. There were no asheros, nor any of
Elyar’s allies. He hesitated a moment before diving into the tower.
He was met by a another familiar scene. Broken stone lay around the floor while there were fragments of furniture strewn here and there. A intact spiraling wooden staircase rose high into the air. Round and round it went. Panting and starting to really feel tired, Elyar stopped his weave allowing his sword to return to normal steel. A sigh escaped him as the pull ended. He felt a small amount of strength come back, but his body still hurt.
Breathing a few times to regain his composure he began walking up the stairs. Shield up to prevent any surprise attack, sword at the ready, he crept up the stairs. This could be a trap. Well, if it is I’m a goner already. So on I go. Around and around he went. Step by step he slowly rose. Eventually he saw a large open whole in the stone. Peering out he saw the battle below. Mist obscured most of what Elyar could see. He scanned to see his friends, but no sign of them appeared. His heart dropped a bit, but he had to pull himself together. He could not assume they were dead. I have to push on.
He steeled himself and began walking up the stairs again. Glad his friends were fine. He only had a few more flights to go. The fact he had met no resistance made Elyar feel more on edge than if he was battling foe after foe. One more circle and he was there. He knew what to expect.
But it did not change how he felt when he laid eyes on it.
A wooden platform came into view with a wooden double door. Though the stone was crumbling the wood looked new. he saw that the door had carvings on it. The closer Elyar got he saw scenes of ice crawling over fields of undead armies. It angered Elyar that someone would take the time to carve a vile scene. Especially after witnessing it in the fi rst place.
Hesitation stayed his hand. If his nightmare was true, and it had been up until this point, he did not want to experience what was on the other side of the door. But he knew what he must do. He steadied his nerves once more then walked toward the door.
Before he could reach his hand out toward the door a voice called out.
“Come in little lordling! I have been waiting for thee!”
Elyar closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and walked in. There stood a wooden seat, almost a throne, in the back middle of the room. Elyar quickly glanced over the room looking for any asheros or anything else this vile place could throw at him. The room was bare besides the throne. The only other person in the room was the hooded figure.
“I am so glad thee hath decided to entreet mine presence little lordling!” The voice came from the hooded figure, but Elyar could not see any features. The voice sounded odd though. It was more melodic, but with a tinge of something he could not place. The voice seemingly slid across the room.
“Who are you? And how do you know who I am?” Elyar asked still standing near the door. His sword was at the ready, but it was no longer raised.
“Oh, I knoweth many things about thee. Our lord hath detailed thee
greatly. He is…eager to finally meet thee in person.”
Elyar took a step closer. He hoped to get a glimpse of he hooded man’s face. But his curiosity must have been more noticable than he wanted.
“My apologies! I hath forgotten to remove mine hood! Where art mine maners!” With a quick flick of his hand it was gone.
Elyar instinctively took a step back in shock. There, before him, stood a fae. Nothing like when Master Pyke revealed himself in the hollow. But unmistackably, he was a fae. Elyar could not stop staring at the snow white skin under obsidian black hair. It flowed down the fae’s back stopping at what looked like his shoulders. He wore a few braids mixed in with the rest.
The fae jumped up and made a pose. His hands were raised at odd angles and his feet were bent. A silly grin covered his face.
“Ever seen a…what do Koraxians call us again…fae is it? Weird word if thee ask mine opinion.”
“Yes, actually. I have met one of your kind before. But he did not look like you.”
“Thee met an Ishar then? How unfortunate for thee. Cowardly lot they be.” The Fae spat as he spoke. He stopped his silly pose before walking slowly in a circle. Elyar matched his steps, keeping their distance. He noticed the sword strapped to his back. It was sheathed, but he had a feeling the fae could draw it quickly if he desired.
“Ishar? What is that? And what are you then?” Elyar asked still keep ing step.
Smiling a roguish grin, the fae slighly bowed and said, “I am a Tishan. Koraxians call us,” he thought for a second while still bowing, “winter fae I think. Thine people must think our complexion matches that of the coldest season. Thee are not wrong, but it humors mine people. To answer thine other question, Ishar are mine counter
bretheren. They are named summer fae by thee.” “And what do I call you?” Elyar inquired.
The fae’s smile widened. Making an extravagant bow, he said, “mine name is Lyrandionus. But mine friends speak of me as Lyr.”
“Well, Lyr, what happends next?”
He stopped. They stood facing each other. Elyar knew he could reach Lyr in only a few quick steps. His sword was still sheathed. A slash to the throat would end this whole ordeal.
“That depends on thine answer little lordling.” Lyr’s voice lost some of its melodiousness becoming steel. The whimsical nearly musical cadence Elyar had heard until then had vanished. It was replaced with a voice that sounded more like ice shattered by steel. “Come join mine lord. I know not why he desires thee in his ranks. But he doeth. He gave no
direct command on how thee needed to join.”
The flames on the wall dimmed. A shadow was cast over the room. Somehow, Elyar felt Lyr grow in size. His shadow formed with those cast by the throne. But Elyar could not take his eyes off of Lyr’s face. What once was a fair face shifted into that of something closer to an asheros. It became gaunt as the health drained. One of his eyes turned white like glass. His smile turned dark with pointed black teeth. Then it was gone. Like nothing happened. Lyr’s jovial smile greeted Elyar. He almost convinced himself that the change never happened. But Elyar could feel the sinsiter darkness lingering.
“Now lordling, will you join the king of ravens…alive or…otherwise?”
Horror crept into Elyar’s heart. This thing, whether it looked like a fae or whatever that other thing was, was not something he now thought he could beat. he gripped his sword and shield and answered the beast, trying to steel himself for what would follow.
“I do not know this king of ravens. If he uses asheros and the likes of you as his servants than I care not for him. I will not join him. Nor shall
I be his thrall!”
“Correct answer Little Lordling!” He shouted as he lunged toward Elyar. “I find it sick to accept thees kind into mine ranks!” Their blades met and Lyr leaned and whispered, “but as an asheros?” His grin become sinister, “that would do just fine.”
They disengaged their swords circling each other again. Elyar took the opportunity to connected to the weave and his blade flashed bright white. His blade started making the room hot. As a bead of sweat dripped down Elyar’s brow Lyr whispered, “frysta.” Like before, ice crawled down his blade. Without warning Lyr swung his blade over his head
aiming for Elyar’s torso. Once again the sound of steel on steel rang through the room. A burst of fire and ice shot out from the swords. Like a smith smashing steel pulled from the fire.
Lyr quickly began striking Elyar in complex maneuvers. He used longer edge to keep Elyar at bay. Elyar slashed and blocked his blows with his sword and shield. The room somehow turned hot and ice cold. Sweat formed on Elyar’s brow as the exertion and heat grew. But it also felt like the sweat would freeze for a moment before turning back to hot water on his skin. He could see sweat forming on Lyr’s face as well.
“Thou art better than expected little lordling.” Lyr said after a series of intense strikes. “Maybe mine eyes do witness why mine lord desires thee.”
“You can keep your compliments to yourself!” Elyar shouted beginning his own offense. But Lyr quickly defended himself before turning Elyar’s offensive into his own. They engaged each other for what felt like a lifetime. Elyar fought down frustration as he remained on the defensive. Lyr was too good of a swordsman, and his sword was just long enough to keep him at a distance. His heartbeat was racing and his mus cles ached. How soft my bed sounds right now.
Suddenly Lyr stopped. He held his sword in a defensive position but he refrained from his previous onslaught. Panting, Elyar kept his defens ive posture. Both stood panting as sweat poured down their faces.
“Thee fight well.”
“You’ve already said that.”
Laughing, Lyr responded, “Mine desire has always been to see the strength of thine people. If they be like thee, I relish the war to come.” Lyr said between breaths.
“You are planning an invasion then?” Elyar asked between breaths.
“Oh little Lordling, the planning is over. The invasion hath begun. But… before we conclude this battle, answer mine last question. Thine people weave through runes. Doeth thine blade burn through runic wea ving? Or wild weaving?”
Elyar look at him not understanding the question. His face must have betrayed his confusion because a smile crept over Lyr’s gaunt face. After another second he answered, “I do not know what wild weaving is.”
“Oh well. Tis not important.” Lyr shrugged before backing toward the door. “It is time to conclude this here battle. I will meet thee soon.
Thee will join…one way or another.” He slipped through the door.
Enough of this! Elyar sprinted after Lyr. His frustration began to pour over. Gritting his teeth Elyar flung his shield at Lyr as he descended down the stairs. As he chased him down, Elyar could not help be impressed by the fae’s speed. He was incredible athletic nearly dancing down the stairs.
Even so, Elyar kept pace. He would not let Lyr escape him. He saw the stairs end and Lyr sprint through the broken doors. Elyar jumped down skipping nearly five steps. As he landed he legs nearly gave out so he rolled to keep his momentum. Before him stood Lyr nearly fifty paces away. Infront of the fae stood Havol. His large axe covered in blood.
Actually most of Havol had some sign of blood, gore, and war.
“Out of mine way small man!” Lyr shouted swining his sword.
“I shall die before I allow you to escape!” Havol retorted blocking the sword with one of his axe heads before spinning it around readying his own attack. Elyar was thirty paces away.
Lyr spun ducking under Havol’s axe. He slashed at Havol’s thigh producing blood and a yell from the man. Havol tried bashing Lyr but Lyr was again too fast. Elyar saw Lyr Grinning, like he was only playing, as he made a long swing over his head plunging his sword into Havol’s shoulder.
The man gasped as the blade ripped through him. Elyar was fifteen paces away. Then, like an accrobat, Lyr jumped over Havol spinning his body wretching his blade out of his shoulder. In one smooth move Lyr landed behind Havol with his back to him. Elyar was five paces away.
With his sword pointing backwards, Lyr drive his blade deep into
Havol’s body, ripped it out, and resumed his sprint.
“Farewell Little Lordling! Until next time our blades meet!” Lyr vanished into the fog. His voice echoing like an etherial being speaking from the void.
Havol began falling to the ground, the life slowly draining from his eyes. Elyar was upon him before his body fell to far. Wrapping his arms around him he eased him onto the ground, resting Havol’s head against a moss covered rock. Tears stung Elyar’s eyes as they fell. Havol looked at him with a mixture of fear, pain, and regret.
“Havol, stay with me. You’ll be just fine.” Elyar spoke frantically. There was so much blood. He tried placing his hands over the wounds, but he did not know which wound to cover. “You’ll be ok. Just keep breathing. Help is coming.”
Havol’s breathing began to slow. “Help. Help!” He screamed not caring about the asheros. Nothing mattered but getting help. Elyar stopped trying to stop the blood. Instead he grabbed Havol’s hand with both of his blood ones. “Havol needs help!”
Footsteps started pounding nearby. They were coming toward them quickly. The first to reach them was Declan. He dropped to his knees and cradled his friends head with his hands. A small smile appeared on
Havol’s face.
“What have you gotten yourself into this time?” Declan whispered trying to stop the tears from falling. Havol reached up and placed his hand on Declan’s face. Then it went limp. It fell into Elyar’s lap and remained there. A scream tore from Declan. The sound of pure anguish and loss. The other three ran up at that moment.
Frem stopped up short once he saw what was going on. He fell to his knees with tears and crawled to Declan. Both men had known Havol for a long time. Elyar could see his loss would last the rest of their lives. He knew he would never forget the man himself.
Eyes puffy from crying, Elyar glanced up and saw some asheros stumbling toward them. Anger flared within him. He will pay. As the other men grieved their friend Elyar rose sword in hand. Filled with rage and sorrow, Elyar lashed out and the vile monsters before him. It seemed like the mist was lifting now that Lyr had vanished. He could see the last of the asheros and they would be his release. Every slash, every stab, every hack helped end the pain. Until they were no more. He glanced around the battlefield looking for any more attackers. Nothing. At that moment Elyar realized the nothingness outside was also inside. he felt empty.
Like the sky after a terrible storm.
He stumbled back to Havol’s dead body. He fell to one knee and then into a kneeling position next to Frem and Declan. Jereme and Ruzur stood behind them, hands on their shoulders. There were no more tears to shed. But Elyar looked at his friend feeling a numb pain like he had never known before.