Elyar shook the fatigue from his arms and body before he dashed toward the new threat. Let Val handle the goblins. We can handle the dead. Beside him, Elyar saw Ruzur and Jerome keeping up with him. Neither of them looked overwhelmed. He was glad once again to have such men beside him.
As they approached he noticed that none carried any weapons or wore armor. Unlike in the marshes, these asheros looked like normal people. Farmers, blashsmiths, and the like. Then it dawned on him. These must be the dead of Val. Where did they come from?
Once they were within a few yards of the asheros, Elyar raised his sword ready to strike. A yell burst from him as he clashed into the first undead. Beside him he heard the yells of war as Jerome and Ruzur began butchering the asheros beside him. He had little time to think about how they got in or who raised them.
Slash, hack, stab. That was all his thoughts could handle. Before him lay a sea of the dead. Their lifeless eyes somehow looked at him and desired flesh. One asheros grabbed his arm before he removed it. Another tried bitting him, but he jabbed his sword into its throat.
The asheros did not care about death. It did not matter how many he slew. More undead took their places. None could handle the blaze of his
sword, but it did not matter. Fatigue was going to kill him before the asheros did. As exhausted slowly overcame him, Elyar could feel himself begin to give ground. There was no telling how long he fought. Seconds, minutes, hours, he had no idea. The pile of death around him continued to grow. The sea only swallowed the dead up and rolled toward him.
Sweat poured down his face getting into his eyes. The heat from his sword countered the light rain still pouring down. One bad step nearly lost him his footing, but a quick sidestep saved him. The asheros near used his mess up in their favor. They dove trying to tackle him. One grabbed his left arm while another his leg. Their strength was intense. They pulled him toward themselves while others tried clawing or biting his open flesh.
A blade suddenly appeared pocking out the stomach of one of the asheros while an axe imbedded in another. With expert strikes Ruzur slashed the undead off Elyar. Jerome appeared beside both as they held off the horde.
Now Elyar could see the same thing happening to the other two. For every two or three asheros to fall they had to take a step back. The horde of the dead kept clawing, grabbing, pushing, and gnawing.
They would leap out of nowhere to attack to only have Elyar slash one in half. But another would lunge at his feet. He would stab it rendering the asheros in two. Still others would try grabbing his arms which would cost them the limb. But none of it ever mattered. The dead cared not what limb they lost. Nor did they care about preserving their lives. They attacked in heedless ways. Broken limbs became spears. Teeth were like daggers.
Elyar hacked and slashed as his breath came out in shallow pants. He could hear the screams of those behind or around him. At times he saw the ordinary people, the men and women he was fighting for, using any object near them to fight off the asheros. Their courage enbolded
Elyar. But more often than nought their fight ended in death.
All around him he saw people he could not save as the asheros went around their small barricade. He could not stop them from hurting those around him. As he was pushed back he nearly stumbled over a dead woman. Her throat gashed open with what looked like claw marks. Blank eyes stared up at him while blood pooled under her. Every where he looked more scenes like that greeted him. Those images hurt him more than the stings of a blade.
Chancing a glance behind him, Elyar saw how bad the fight by the gate had become. The goblins had almost broken through. The steps into the keep were a few yards behind him. They were losing.
They were failing to defend Val.
He was failing to defend Val.
He was failing.
Just like the Raven King said he would. He did not have the stren gth to fight such evil. I should have joined him. If only to protect…
“ELYAR!” A familiar voice broke across the choase. Anger rushed through his weary limbs. Between attacks he scanned the area looking for the owner. He saw nothing byut the dead and undead. Then Lyrandionus strutted through a gap amongst the asheros. Elyar faced him, tightening the grip on his sword. Panting with sweat on his face he glared at Lyrandionus.“Oh Little Lordling. Why did thee cause so much havoc? So much…death and pain?” A meniacle laugh escaped the fae as he stretched out his arms gesturing to the death all around them.
His smirk enraged Elyar. His heart rate somehow increased and his cheeks burned more than they already did. Clenching his teeth Elyar remained silent. He did not know how to respond to the Crow of the Raven King.
The fighting seemed to stop around him. Not that the fighting stopped alltogether. It just no longer was aimed at Elyar. A circle formed as the asheros continued to push passed him. Ruzur and Jerome were pushed with it as they continued their slaughter. But they could not make it back to Elyar. He was alone in a sea of the dead facing his bitter enemy.
One last victory for me.
Smirking Lyrandionus drew his longsword. “Thee must understand. Last we met, I held back. It was mine orders to gather thee for mine king. Though I was fine slaying thee, I knew the Raven King would not
like it. Now…now I feel I can use mine whole strength.”
Elyar scoffed at the comment, “is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep? That you ran away like a coward because you had to hold back? Well fret not, you don’t have to hold back any longer!” Once he finished Elyar leaped toward Lyrandionus slashing at his chest. In a flash the fae spun around him slapping his cheek with the back of his hand. Tears appeared in his eyes as he came to a stop on the other side of the circle. Spinning, he saw Lyrandionus calmly standing inspecting his hand.
Even more angry than before, Elyar slashed at his chest. Lyrandionus cooly deflected the attack. Elyar attacked again to only have it brushed off. He was playing with him. Lyrandionus looked like an adult playing with stick swords against an infant. Every attack Elyar made Lyrandionus dodged or blocked with the utmost of ease.
Every attack infuriated Elyar. Blocked strike after strike he saw that he was wrong. Lyrandionus was toying with him before. Just like in his dream, he was going to lose. Just like in his dream, He was going to fail.
“Lucky for thee, Little Lordling, I am not done playing with thee.” Lyrandionus chuckled. Elyar tried striking him in the shoulder which he deflected with a twitch of his sword before punching Elyar in the jaw. Stumbling back a few paces, Elyar grabbed his face. When he looked back up Lyrandionus was gone.
The sea of asheros poured back into the void. Elyar fought desperatly to keep afloat. He battered his way back to the front of the line and met Jerome, Ruzur, and other warriors fighting. They were trapped standing by the steps of the keep. Everyone else was either inside or dead. They were on their last legs. Asheros were attacking from the south alongside their goblin allies from the north. Elyar could not tell how many Men of Val were left. Maybe fifty. Maybe one hundred.
Seeing Elyar fighting his way through the asheros, Jerome helped open the shield wall and pulled him in. Once inside and safe Elyar dropped his defences and released his hold on the weave. Elyar walked a few steps up pushing past some of the men still engaged in the struggle.
Elyar needed time to breath. He would rejoin the fight soon.
Elyar sat down once he was on the top step. He looked out over the battle. A few arrows flew here and there. But the main battle lay with the struggle between the shields. Spears and swords were more effective here than arrows. Jerome plopped himself down beside Elyar. Ruzur jumped up to on the step and leaned against the wall. He was glancing around, but Elyar did not know at what.
“We are going to die, aren’t we?” Elyar asked exhasuted and defeated.
“Some day.” Jerome absentmindedly replied. “But hopefully not today.”
His straightforwardness made Elyar laughed. It hurt his ribs and throat, but it was good to laugh. Even if it might be his last. Then Elyar
went serious again. “I can’t beat Lyrandionus.”
The gravity of the statement darkened the already dark moment.
Ruzur spoke, “maybe it is not thees place to defeat him. Hast thou pond ered that?”
Elyar did not answer. He had no way of answering. He had always said he would die for those he loved. But now he was being given a chance and here he was. Sitting on a step while others fought. They may not know it, but they were fighting and dying because of him. Do I live so
I may die for others?
The thought terrified him. But the more he thought about it the more he realized Ruzur might be right. He could end this battle. But he probably would not walk away if he did. A calm came over his heart and mind. Something he had not felt in a long time.
Peace. True peace. “Thank you, Ruzur. You have given me what I needed.” He stood up, placed a hand on Ruzur’s shoulder, and rolled his shoulders a few times. Jerome stood up with a confused look on his face.
“What are we doing?” Jerome asked slowly.
“We are about to drive a wedge into the enemy. Then you are to do nothing. It is time I end this.” Elyar said resolutely.
“What does that mean?!” A look of concern replaced Jerome’s
confusion. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”
Laughing Elyar walked into the middle of the step. He wanted to be
in the very center when he charged. “I don’t think it is any more foolish than jumping on a troll.”
Ruzur smiled as he joined Elyar. “I don’t know what thee are
planning. But I am with thee. Till the very end.”
“I know you are.” Elyar gratefully responded. “You have been a friend. No, you have been a brother. I have many, and I love them dearly, but you have been the brother I never had.” A sad smile crossed over Elyar’s face. Jerome was still standing confused. Elyar thought he looked kind of dumb. It lightened his heart just a little.
He was about to give the command when a voice behind him yelled, “Elyar!” Turning, he saw Kristiana running toward him. He turned and took a few quick steps toward her. Even though he was covered in blood and gore she gave him a loving embrace. He held her close taking in eve rything about her he could.
She pulled herself away before asking, “the battle is not going well is
it?”
Hesitantly Elyar responded, “no…but I have a plan.”
He could feel her arm muscles tighten. Concern crossed over her
eyes as she replied, “don’t be reclass. I need you to come back to me.”
Elyar smiled as he lied, “I will. I promise. Everything will be ok.” He moved his hands to grab hers and held them for a moment. Looking her in the eyes the sounds of battle and death seemed to dissappear.
Her blue eyes washed over him carrying him far away from Val. They were standing on a small hill over looking a beautiful valley. It looked like The Feud, but not quite. Kristiana looked a little older, but no less beautiful. Glancing up at him she gave him a smile. He knew he had seen it a thousand times, but it still warmed his heart. Laughter echoed off the trees nearby making him look over. Their two young children were laughing as they ran around trying to catch a butterfly. He had a son and a daughter.
His son looked to be about five. He looked like Kristiana except for the hair. Raven black like his father’s. His daughter looked more like him. Except she had sky blue eyes like her mother. Their laughter made him laugh. Their innocent, pure joy was infectious. As he watched them play he saw smoke coiling up in the distance. It came from a chimney down the hill attached to a strong house. His house. His home. A home full of laughter, joy, and love. A home where it did not matter what he did, or who he was. His purpose was to love them. And that was all he needed.
He glanced at Kristiana again, a heart full. Lines were drawn over her forehead. Lines of concern, not age. “You know you cannot stay?” “What do you mean? Why can’t I stay?” Elyar responded curiously.
She placed a hand on his chest. “Because this is only a dream in your head. You have to go back. You know what you must do.”
“But what if I don’t want to? What if I want to stay here? With you all?” He felt hurt. He knew he had to go back. He knew what was right.
But seeing a life that was only a possibility hurt.
“You may still have this life. But it is not now.” Her soft hand turned hard. With inhuman strength she shoved him down the hill yelling, “go back!”
War returned. The sound. The stench. The peaceful hill vanished in a flash. Kristiana looked at him for another second before letting go of his hands. “It is time.” He said.
“I know.” She replied before rising to her tiptoes and placing her soft lips on his. He kissed her back. It was short, but felt like a thousand suns exploding. She stepped back letting him go. Slowly Elyar turned and headed back to the door.
Time is a funny thing. He felt like he had stood with Kristiana for hours. But in reality it had only been a couple of minutes. Nothing had changed outside.
Elyar nodded his head looking at Ruzur and Jerome. The three men turned and began walking toward the front. Elyar took one quick glance back he pushed through the first group of men. Kristiana had walked up to the door. Turning again he quickened his approach to the front.
No one stopped him as he pushed his way up. Elyar saw Lord Turon as he reached the shield wall. He was in the second row using a spear to stab over the wall. Elyar grabbed Turon’s should and leaned in.
“We need the shield wall to let us out. I don’t have time to explain.
But on my command have the men let the wall fall for a second.”
Turon looked confused and hesitant. But looking at his brother-inlaw for a moment he nodded and gave the command. Elyar and the other two took a few short breaths. He told them to let him go first. They both nodded. Turning, he summoned Úrskurður and nodded to Turon.
The shield wall in front of Elyar pulled back allowing the asheros in front to stumble in. Before they could began widening the gap Elyar closed his eyes and opened his being to the weave. It shone before his soul. A bright multicolored strand of threads wound together. Reaching out once again with his soul he began pulling more of the weave toward him than ever before.
Snapping his eyes open Elyar screamed while charging into the asheros. His blade burst into white flames as it burned with an intensity like never before. The few asheros in front of him crumbled before him while he burned his way through them. Soon he was surrounded by asheros on all sides. He knew he only had a few seconds before Ruzur and
Jerome would be beside him again. It was now or never.
Exhausted, bruised, and bleeding, Elyar reopened himself to the weave and screamed, “eldsvoði!” His sword was pointed straight ahead of him toward the wall. As the power surged through him a massive explosion ripped around him while a white beam of fire blasted straight ahead. All the asheros within a five foot radius were torn apart while anything in the beam was disintegrated. Elyar felt the power sapping his strength quickly. Soon, he would have no energy left. But he was going to take as with him to Theos as he could.
Holding his sword out with one arm he began moving it burning everything. Asheros, goblins, and the wall all crumbled before Elyar’s wrath. But only for a few seconds. His vision started flashing red and white spots. Screaming he intensified the blast. Tingles spread over his skin and a splitting headache appeared.
Screams echoed off the walls as goblins were instantly vaporized. The asheros continued to attack even as they were destroyed by the dozens. The spots in his eyes began to turn black. Breathing became hard, but he kept pushing himself. He would burn the world to save everyone.
The connection to the weave started sputtering. Úrskurður became
so heavy he could barely hold it up. Darkness began overtaking his sight. The weave closed itself to him. His breathing became raspy. Úrskurður became a crutch. Breath in, breath out.
Elyar fought to stay standing and breath while he waited for death to take him. Faintly the sound of battle surrounded him. He could hear death around him, but none came to him.
He opened his eyes with a struggle. Light hurt. He forced them fully opened. He was standing, barely, in a circle of warriors finishing the job he started. Goblins were trying to flee through the destroyed wall.
Asheros were still fighting, but their numbers were starting to fade.
Victory was close, but not yet achieved. Elyar turned to look around. Warriors were fighting in all directions. There may not have been many, but it seems his actions invigorated them. He tried to smile. It hurt.
A scream came from his right. There, carving his way through the warriors, was Lyrandionus. No one could stand before his longsword. Any warrior who stood in his way was cut down. Elyar knew where he was going. Lyrandionus was walking straight toward him. A meniacle smile danced on his face. It lit up every time his sword ended another life. Elyar hated him with every fiber of his being. But he knew he could not fight him. Lyrandionus was stronger than him when Elyar was rested. Now that he was near deaths door? Lyrandionus would be death’s doorman.
Elyar lifted his sword halfway up. Even with its blessing it was still heavy. His muscles were so weak. He did the best he could to stand at the ready. His muscles just would not do as he commanded. Instead of standing tall his back bent, his sword’s tip scratched against the stone, and his head tilted in exhaustion.
Lyrandionus slashed the last man between him and Elyar. Now there was nothing between them. The first strike came toward his head. He was slow, but Elyar was able to block it. He barely blocked the next two as well. The next attack slashed him across his left arm. Pain and blood exploded. Elyar dropped his sword as he grabbed his arm. Lyrandionus swung at Elyar again. Elyar ducked, barely dodging the attack. But the movement made him fall to his knee. Before he could move hot steel slashed across his back. His armor protected some of him, but pain erupted across his back.
A scream ripped from Elyar as his back arched. Elyar vaguelly saw
Jerome swing his sword toward Lyr. The fae sidestepped before kicking Jerome away launching him into a group of asheros. Ruzur attacked while Lyrandionus was kicking Jerome. He landed one swing of his axe into Lyr’s shoulder producing a yell of pain. Blood dripped from his shoulder as Ruzur ripped the axe back out. Lyr swung his sword at Ruzur with one hand. Ruzur used his sword to block the strike. A few strikes were exchanged between Ruzur and Lyr. After one aggressive strike by Ruzur Lyrandionus used his opening to slice Ruzur across the chest.
Clutching his chest Ruzur stumbled backward into the sea of warriors. Elyar was alone. Again.
He knew his time had come. Closing his eyes he welcomed what was to come.