A feminine yell came from his right. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see what the commotion was. A spear was sticking out of Lyrandionus’ chest. The fae, blood dripping from his wound, turned around and stabbed the spear’s wielder in the stomach. Smirking he pulled it out before turning back toward Elyar.
Kristiana fell to her knees her hands trying to stop the blood pouring from her stomach. Her blue eyes slowly looked up to Elyar. A weak smile crossed her lips. Screaming, Elyar used every ounce of strength he had to lift his sword. Before Lyr could react, Elyar drove his sword deep into Lyr’s stomach. Elyar stabbed him so hard he left the ground for a moment. Taking a step back, Elyar swung his sword decapitating Lyrandionus. His head bounced on the ground before his body slammed against the ground.
The asheros started falling the second Elyar killed Lyr. There were not many goblins still alive, but the ones left fled through the wreckage.
Elyar did not care. Stumbling, falling, and then crawling, Elyar made his way to his betrothed. He grabbed her just before she fell over. There was so much blood. Placing his hand over hers he tried to stop it. But it did not do much. Her head lulled over toward him. A smile stared up at him.
“It’s ok, Elyar…It’s O…K…” Kristiana’s voice trailed off.
“No! No! Please don’t go! Kristiana! Hold on!” Elyar’s voice broke as he tried to yell. Her eyes were still on him but they were slowly beginning to glaze over. “Please! Someone help!” Elyar looked around him hop ing someone would help. Everyone was busy ending the battle.
Mustering any last strands of strength he lifted her off the ground. Step by step he slowly stumbled toward the fortress. Holding her in his arms he felt her begin to go limp. “Please, no! Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered as he continued to stumble forward.
A hand brushed his back as Jerome, bruised and bloody, grabbed
Kristiana’s head. Another hand brushed his other shoulder as Ruzur grabbed her legs. Together they began rushing her toward the steps. Elyar fell to the ground watching his friends take her. Tears were streaming down his face.
As they disapeared into the fortress Elyar heard cheering erupt around him. Glancing around he noticed that they had won. There were not many victors. But they were victors. Lyr was dead, the asheros had crumbled back to their graves, and the last of the goblins had fled. Val was a wreck. About fifty feet of wall was completely destroyed, parts of the village was burning, and hundreds of villagers lay strewn around.
Some were still alive. Most were not.
Slowly, Elyar rose to his feet. He tried brushing off some of the gore, but there was too much. Sighing, Elyar began walking up the stairs to see what he could do for Kristiana. Each step hurt. Step by step he slowly rose up into the keep. Once he past the last step he began hobbling toward the healers dorms.
Before he could make it up the next flight of steps Jerome appeared. He did not look like he bore good new. Jerome placed his arm under Elyar’s and helped him continue. They made their way to the healer’s quarters. Once there, Elyar braced himself. Jerome opened the door and ushered him in.
The room looked clean and untouched by what happened outside.
There were not many healers within. Most had gone out to help the wounded and dying. But there was one older woman kneeling over Kristiana. She was laying on a bed with a white sheet over her. Her face was as pale as the clothe. Both arms were placed gently over her upper stomach like she was sleeping. The healer was dabbing a wet rag on her face. She looked so peaceful and beautiful. Like she had been taking a nap.
When the woman heard the door open she turned toward him. Her face looked sad.
“Please come in.” She said gently.
Elyar knew the state he had left her in, but he did not know if he could take the news. “Is she…did she…? He could not finish the statement. The words kept getting stuck in his throat. He tried holding back any tears, but he felt himself failing.
The woman walked over to him placing her hands on his. She slowly walked him over to her. Placing him on the bed next to her she sat down next to him. He could not take his eyes off her. The tears slowly started leaking.
“She was strong. A weaker woman would have not lasted so long with a wound like that. She fought well, but in the end, the wound was to severe. I am sorry.” The woman said with a soft voice. She had her hand on his back to comfort him. Her words broke the damn he was trying to keep up. Tears poured down his face. He started sobbing into his hands. She stayed with him while he cried.
She stayed with him the whole time. He did not know when Jerome came in and sat next to him. Eventually the tears dried up. Not because his sadness did, but because his body was dehydrated and tired. He could not cry any longer.
“Thank you.” Elyar said wiping the tears off his face.
“For what?” Jerome said quietly.
“For being there for her. For being there for me.”
“…It was nothing. I…I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.”
Sniffing, Elyar glanced at Kristiana. She still looked like she was sleeping. “I need to walk.” Elyar mumbled as he tried to stand up. His legs failed him.
“You need attention before you can go anywhere.” The healer said while making sure Elyar stayed seated. “My name is Suzzanna.” She said as she began cleaning his wounds with soft, gentle hands. Once she was finished with his arm she required Jerome’s help to remove his armor. He tried holding back tears of pain, but it was too much. The cut on his back was bad enough to require Jerome to hold him down. Spots appeared in his vision as they moved the leather over his half scabbed over wound.
The healer slowly turned Elyar onto his stomach. A long, shallow cut ran from the middle right side of his back down nearly to his hip bone. “You should be grateful this is not a deep cut. Otherwise you may not have ever walked again. He would have been glad, but in the his present state he did not feel much. A cold numbness hover over him like a storm cloud.
Over the next few minutes Suzzanna dabbed and cleaned. Once his back was clean enough she took out a set of needles. “Here,” Suzzanna said, offering him a thick leather strap, “bite on this.” Hesitantly, he placed the strap between his teeth. “This will stop you from biting your tongue.”
He lay there waiting for her to begin. He was not sure which was worse, the waiting, the pain he already felt, or the pain she would inflict. He figured it out quickly. Her needle was worse than it all. She stabbed and pulled his skin over and over again. It hurt a little at first. But as his back became more tender the pain slowly increased. Elyar blinked tears away multiple times before she was done.
“Finished. I need to wrap it up now.” Suzzanna said.
He slowly tried lifting himself off the bed. His arms quickly gave out. Jerome’s strong arm grabbed his shoulders as he helped Elyar sit up.
This time he succeeded in sitting.
Suzzanna spent the next few minutes taking long pieces of white cloth and wrapping it around his waist. There were some moments of tenderness, but the ointment she had placed before she started helped numb the pain. Once done she let Elyar stand up.
Elyar slowly rose using Jerome’s assistance. His legs were weak, his muscles sore, and he felt numb emotionally. Beside that he was in perfect health. Once standing, Elyar had a chance to look at Kristiana again. He imagined that she was sleeping. Maybe tired from a long day helping others. But not dead. She could not be dead. But she was. She had sacrifi-
ced herself for him. But why? Why would she do that for me? I’m not worth her sacrifice.
The green valley flashed through his mind. Their children, their home, the life they would now never have. A new tear slowly descended down his face. One last tear from his broken, exhausted body.
Suzzanna stood near Elyar and Jerome. Whispering, as if talking to herself,
“she was a strong woman. A lesser one would not have fought so
well. She will be missed by those who loved her.”
“She will…” Elyar had to leave it at that. He could not say more. “I need to walk.” His statement reminded Jerome. He gently started guiding Elyar toward the door. It took all of his strength, by Elyar finally tore his eyes away from Kristiana. He walked through the door, out of the healer’s quarters, and eventually out into the broken courtyard. Every door he passed seemed to close another in his mind. He felt the numbness grow. As if the farther he left her, the colder the world became.
The world opened up as they stepped through the large doors of Fort Val. The air was warm, though there was still a hint of the frost from the night. The dawn was breaking casting its golden glow upon the world. Large puffy clouds slowly wandered across the sky. It should have been a beautiful morning. But this dawn brought with it a better view of the devastation wrought upon Val.
The first thing that really struck Elyar was the smell. He smelled burnt bodies, iron from blood pooled on the stone, the stench of death, and sweat. It all mixed together into a horrific smell that almost made him lose whatever was left in his system.
Elyar tried finding the burning smell. Glancing around he finally saw a large pyre where the survivors were throwing the dead goblins. No ceremonial burial for them. He was not sure what god they worshiped or if they had any burial rituals. But he cared little.
Other warriors well enough to work were gathering their own dead. He could see priests scattered around praying over the dead. Elyar knew once the bodies were cleaned and dressed a large ceremony would happen. The head priest needed to bless the bodies so their souls could enter the throne room of Theos. There they would be welcomed or banished.
A shiver went down Elyar’s back. He bent his head a little as pain based through him as he moved his stitching to much. Jerome glanced at him but Elyar raised his hand to say he was fine. His friend nodded but kept a close eye on him. These men deserve the highest of honor before Theos. What if some get banished to eternal wandering? How did they deserve that?
He tried braking away from that train of thought. Luckily it was at that moment that Ruzur and Sanders walked up to them. It looked like they had been helping with burial preparations. They stunk.
“I see thee shalt make it, Fae Slayer?” Ruzur joked. Elyar smiled knowing he was trying to lighten the dark mood. But Elyar was not in much of a mood for jokes. He figured most of them weren’t.
Looking at Sanders, Jerome asked, “where did you go during the fight? You were there at the start, and then you weren’t.”
His head dropped a bit as his face showed a little shame, “I got into a fight with a goblin and he knocked me out,” pointing to a nasty bump on his left temple, “I fell after a bad block and hit my head on a rock or something. By time I came too the battle was over. Not my best of moments, eh?”
That did get a real laugh from Elyar and the others. The emptiness within Elyar lifted just a little, but it settled back again shortly after. Being with friends helped, but he did not know if he would ever be healed from her loss.
“ELYAR! By the laws of Korax, and the power bestowed upon me by Lord Cane, my father, you are under arrest for wild weaving! You are charged with illegal use of weaving, destruction of property by said weaving, and the cause of death! How do you plead?!” Lord Turon shouted while marching toward them with multiple guards. Men he had previously been fighting beside were now approaching with shackles.
Shocked and bewildered, Elyar did not know how to respond or react. Wild Weaving?! What in the name of Theos is he talking about?!
“Lord Turon, I don’t know what you are talking about!” Elyar protested. He could barely walk, he definitely could barely defend himself from a group of armed guards.
Immediately, Jerome, Ruzur, and Sanders all stepped between Elyar and the others. Jerome moved as much as he could, but he was still supporting him. Ruzur was the first to respond, “I don’t know what thee deemed as wild weaving, but thee are wrong. Elyar is a hero, not a villain. His power was from calligromancy, not weaving!”
Scoffing, Turon pointed, “you clearly do not know the bounds of calligromancy as I do. It cannot produce such reckless weaving like Elyar accomplished last night. Therefore, guards arrest him for conspiring with the enemy! He may not be in league with the goblins and whomever their master is, but he is no friend of the Empire!”
Three guards try pushing past Elyar’s vanguard. But they stay where they are. Ruzur glared at the men giving them a look that could kill. One cluster of dreadlock falls over his face giving him a menacing look. Sanders does the best he can, but Elyar can tell he still does not know what he is doing.
“Elyar, command your men to remove themselves. If they do not, this will turn into a battle neither of us want.” Turon glared at them. His arm was in a sling while a bandage covered the upper part of his head. He looked battered, but not defeated. Elyar knew there was still some fight left in the man. He did not want to provoke him. Not in this condition.
Feeling more defeated than he ever thought he could, Elyar lowered his head, “Jerome, Sanders, Ruzur. I will go with them. There is no need for bloodshed. Not after last night.”
“But, mi lord!” Jerome protested. Elyar raised his arm to stop him. Ruzur looked angry and hurt, but after a short pause, he nodded his head.
“As thee wish, Fae Slayer.” They let the guards pass. One grabbed Elyar’s good arm quite roughly while the other was more gentle with his bad arm. It almost looked to Elyar that the second did not want to be there.
“Remove him to the dungeons bellow the fortress. He will see trial after the burial ceremony.” Turon waved his hand gesturing for Elyar to be removed from his sight. Elyar wondered how a man could change his allegiances so quickly. Only a few hours ago they were fighting side by side against an enemy they thought they could not defeat. Now he was getting arrested by his sister-in-law’s brother.
Dejected, Elyar let the two men take him toward a pair of steps he had never paid attention too. They went down into the earth. Each step was steep and jagged.
Another guard opened the door at the bottom letting Elyar and his captors through. It was dark and musty. Elyar saw dirt, wet stone, and loose hay strewn across the corridor. He was quickly led passed a few empty cells as they dragged him toward one at the end. A guard unlocked the cell before they tossed him in. Elyar fell to the ground unable to keep weight on his legs yet. The sound of footsteps faded away as he tried lifting himself onto the cot.
This was not a great moment for Elyar. His back was on fire, his arm throbbed, his eyes stung a little from crying, and now he was stuck in prison. What does he mean, wild weaving? when did I weave?
Elyar slowly laid down on his straw cot and pondered his turn of events.