A third horror had fallen by the time the companions had dispatched the monsters, but two more remained and began advancing towards them. The high elves were no longer directing their deadly barrages at the monsters, having instead turned their attentions upon the ghouls that were moving steadily forward.
Gubriel selected his arrows from the quiver carefully, reaching for Azarielle’s enchanted missiles only when a particularly large group of monsters gathered before him. The Old One sometimes enchanted their weapons before they wandered forth from the forest, but she had never done anything quite so… flashy. The arrows Azarielle handed back to him seared through the air like streaks of fire and erupted the moment it came in contact with the ghoulish flesh.
High elves, even those who were not born with the Arcane Gift, typically had some affinity to Arcane Power. And he was no exception. When his fingers touched the shaft of the arrow, he could feel the mage’s power flowing through it like a living thing.
She was powerful, frighteningly so. He remembered again the vision of the forest awash in fire and her standing there like a creature of power and flame.
Azarielle, in the meantime, had taken on one of the remaining horrors, hopping lightly onto its arm and running up the massive limb as nimbly as if she were running on flat ground. Her lips as she formed her power into a small globe of energy swirling in the palm of her hand. When she was only a few feet away from the creature's hideous face, Azarille flicked her fingers at the creature and the small globe struck it in the face.
The ensuing explosion burned away half of the creature face and it opened its mouth and howled in pain. Its breath was so rancid that Azarielle gagged despite the fact that she had tried to prepare herself. Raising its other hand, the creature tried to swat the young mage as if she was a bug.
Knowing how strong this monster was, Azarielle gathered her power to shield herself. She gritted her teeth as she braced for the foreful blow. But what came instead was a surge of heat from within her own body. For one instant, it felt as though she had been submerged into a hot spring. So sudden and so intense the sensation that her vision swam and her ears buzzed. She was only vaguely aware of power rushing out of her palms before another horrible shriek from the creature snapped her from her stupor.
"What is the matter with you, mage?"
Breaker was clinging to his monster's grotesque flesh, having leaped desperately when a sudden gout of fire had burst from Azarielle's oustretched hands. She had burned away her monster's arm though it would seem that that had not been her intention. She looked dazed and a little confused, but what truly alarmed him was the strange light glowing in her amber eyes. He would not soon forget how her eyes had glowed like miniature suns when she had set the forest ablaze.
Azarielle didn't reply but she did blink and whatever trance she had fallen into was lifted. Apparently deciding to switch tactics, the young mage pulled out a short sword she had attacked Lucien with earlier. Her lips moved and she was suddenly airborne, hurtling toward the horror's face so hard that she struck it full force.
The impact was so hard that Azarielle was momentarily stunned. But when she recovered, she saw with some satisfaction that the sword was buried to the hilt into the monster's face. A sickening green ooze leaked out from the wound and tricked down her arm. She bit back a hiss of pain when she felt it eating away her skin.
But the creature had stopped moving.
She could feel the hilt of her sword grow cool to the touch. And then, to her shock, the monster's face began to shrivel and collapse in on itself. The skin dried up and became stretched out over a skull that was soon crumbling like dust.
With nothing to hold onto, Azarielle dropped to the ground, landing with a great "umph". Her short sword was now blazing with an eerie blue light and humming as if it were one of Breaker's knives. The monster itself crashed to the ground, felled as if it were a great tree.
Remembering the shadowy beings that came out of this monster, Azarielle prepared to incant the words of an attack to crush them. But, as if knowing her thoughts, the sword's blue intensified. And just as the dark form began rising from the dead horror's corpse, her weapon flashed once and blasted the smoky creatures out of existence before they could properly form.
"Well,"Azarielle remarked looking at her weapon in suprise, "That's handy."
She turned her attention to where Luthien and Breaker were still battling their monster just in time to see the gray elf slice the abomination's head from its shoulders. The slim elf had had to put his full strength behind the blow, and it was with an almost artistic flare that he completed his swing. Then, without wasting a moment, he hopped gracefully off the creature's falling body.
Luthien, who had been keep the wretch's many arms at bay, stepped back, letting out a sigh of relief. At some point, he had been grazed by one of the horror's many bladed hands and blood oozed from a gash on his shoulder. A prayer offered up to the Eternal Father and the shadowy being emerging from the monster’s severed neck was destroyed.
As one, the companions turned to see how the high elves were doing. Gubriel and his hardy kin were holding their ground. Red, or rather, Cedriel, had already worked his power on them such that if they made a shot, the unholy power animating the bodies would unravel.
To think that all those living in Everstar Spire survived with the protection of one who had once devoted himself to the Abyssal Acedia. Or perhaps that was what Ellucielle Gwenevar had hoped would happen.
Did that mean there was still hope for Theredoniel?
The image of her friend surrounded by darkness came once again to her mind and she felt herself shudder almost involuntarily. She wondered what was more was frightening to her, that he was damning himself or how easy it would be for the same fate to befall her?
She could feel that fiery, destructive power burning deep inside her, a maelstrom simply waiting to be unleashed. Though her memory of what had happened was hazy, Azarielle remembered the thrill of having that power surge through her. It was painful but also pleasurable. It would be so easy to lose herself in it, to close her eyes and let the flames consume everything around her…
“Azarielle!”
Arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her to her feet. She hadn’t even realized that she had fallen to the ground. The sword slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
“Blessed Abihayil. Azarielle, what is the matter?”
The young mage shook her head, “Just a little tired, haven’t had the proper beauty rest.”
“Your eyes are shinning like the time in the forest,” Breaker replied, looking at her grimly.
Cocking her head to the side, she regarded him for a moment, “And what of it, slayer. Do you intend to turn your blade against me?’
“I would kill you before I let you burn anything to the ground.”
Luthien turned to the gray elf, “Breaker! This is not…”
“But I would not wish to do so, at least not now,” the elf turned to her. “As cursed as your powers may be…”
“… You need me alive?” Azarielle smiled widely at the gray elf as she took hold of Luthien’s hand and climbed to her feet.
Breaker smiled in response, holding out his hand towards her. Azarielle opened her mouth to say something, but for one of the few times, she decided against making any flippant remarks. Instead, she simply took his hand as well.
Her fingers were incredibly warm to the touch, as if she was feverish in fact. Both Luthien and Breaker noticed this and exchanged concerned looks over the young mage’s hand. Her eyes were no longer shinning like suns, but they were still glimmering ever so slightly, an echo of the power roiling through her body.
Unaware of the thoughts going through her companions’ minds, Azarielle suddenly turned her attention to a surge of power some distance away from her.
“We have got new company,” she whispered.
Luthien and Breaker both readied their weapons and Gubriel and his companions turned toward them, their weapons readied.
A silvery light flickered in front of them and an oval doorway snapped open before them. Azarielle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her turbulent mind. She allowed the foreign power to flow over her.
Mages and someone else who was not a mage.
Two unfamiliar mages, one whose power reminded him of swiftly flowing river and the other whose power was like the autumn breeze. But amidst these unfamiliar powers, there was one, the warm spring breeze that was very familiar.
“Ofeera.”
“Azarielle! Breaker! Luthien!”
Ofeera rushed towards her friends, tears of relief running freely from her face.
“Abihayil be praised!” Ofeera sobbed as she hugged her three companions one after another. “I felt…”
“My lady, we were not able to stop your brother-in-law in time. He has given himself over to the Abyssal One, Aceida, as her servant,” Breaker was the first to speak.
Ofeera drew back in shock, her mouth forming a perfect “O”.
“And by servant, he means, avatar,” Azarielle sighed. “Who are your friends?”
Still shaken by what she had heard, Ofeera blinked in incomprehension as she looked between Breaker and Azarielle.
“My name is Tomlin and my apprentice is Dezeiriel,” Tomlin replied, stepping forward. “This is dire news indeed. Do I understand you correctly, Sister? Are you saying that an Avatar walks the grounds once more.”
Azarielle regarded him for a moment. The man looked to be his mid-forties with gray touched temples and the beginning of lines forming beneath his eyes. But as his power that carried the sweet scent of red leaves brushed past her, it belied his true age. He had seen the passage of at least six centuries, the same age as her master.
“Are you the high mage of Shiftingstar Spire?” she asked.
His apprentice, Dezeiriel, who had the features of high elf but hair as dark as her own, stepped forward with a glower, “You will address my teacher as Lord Tomlin.”
The dark brown of his eyes and the paleness of his skin told Azarielle that she was looking at one of the moon elves. In times long past, the moon elves and high elves were once kin. However, a civil war tore the empire into and two elven natures were formed – the now fallen Aztur and the mystical Celathur that few outsiders have laid their foot upon.
“Dezeiriel, really, that’s really not necessary!” Tomlin turned to his apprentice with a sigh.
“Well, if you must have it the proper elven way, then…. Greetings, Lord Tomlin, High Mage of Shiftingstar and Dezeiriel of House Quentenar. My companions are Prince Luthien of Achienda Empire - you wouldn’t have heard of it… it didn’t exist ‘til after the fall of Aztur – and Breaker of the Brotherhood of the Red Hand. You also wouldn’t have heard of that, but they are… um… skilled monster slayers.”
The moon elf regarded the mage with suspicion, “How would you know of my House, human?”
“House Quentenar was the only moon elf House that sided with the war. You are a moon elf in ancient Aztur so I took a wild guess.”
The moon elves’ lips drew together in a tight line, “You have presented your companions but not yourself. Who are you?”
Azarielle let out another sigh, “I am Azarielle Yongan Gwenevar.”
Shock passed over both Tomlin and Dezeiriel’s faces, but it was the moon elf who found his voice first, “You lie! A human would not be a member of House Gwenevar.”
“You are most certainly right. I am not a member of House Gwenevar, but that is the name my teacher gave me. And, Azariel pretty much does what he pleases regardless of how displeased his House might be,” Azarielle replied with a shrug.
“That weapon you carry… it is a leech blade is it not?” Tomlin interrupted before Dezeiriel had a chance to speak again. “I am not seen such a weapon for a very long time.”
“Good eye, high mage.”
Tomlin smiled, “My teacher spoke of weapons like this before Aztur…fell, as you said. They were rare even in those ancient days. “That you hold such a weapon is proof enough for me. The Gwenevars are known to have had such artifacts in their position.”
No comments:
Post a Comment