XL. A DREAM RESIGNED
Osric snapped the ear off an elf warrior, frozen in stone, a look of abject terror written across her face in perpetuity. The ear crumbled in his hands, and he sprinkled the dust on the undulating road beneath his feet. The city of Mossroot was built in the roots of massive trees, broadleaf yet evergreen behemoths that rivaled any castle tower or redwood. The canopy of leaves obscured the sun, and the only light afforded them came from ornate lanterns hanging from the bowers, and the glowing motes of faery light that floated aimlessly above, like stars in various shades of yellow and blue.
Women clutched children in the doorways of their hovels built under the gnarled roots, now consigned to stone. The twisting road between the stalwart oaks, moss covered beeches and ancient alders. The streets were littered with the elves turned to stone, like some sort of grotesque lawn ornaments. He found them oddly beautiful, capturing life in all its minute detail better than the finest sculptors could ever hope to. The spell, the third of the four forbidden texts, had only cost him a paltry six years of his already damned life.
He abruptly broke from his thoughts as he felt the eyes of Morana upon his back, causing his skin to crawl and heart to race. Silently, she opened a portal bridging space and time, and snatched Renata from her dungeon in Aglaë. Legless and emaciated, the woman was a mere husk of her former self. Her eyes were lifeless, and she was covered in filth. Osric felt a twinge of pity and looked away, glad only that his task was nearly complete.
“Who knew you had such an artistic flair Ozzy.” Morana purred, her eyes gleaming with bloodlust and sadistic glee. “I particularly love how you captured the essence of pain and suffering.” She looked down to the still reticent Renata and prodded her with her foot. “Don’t you agree?”
Renata continued to stare blankly, not moving and barely even breathing. “Why have you brought her here?” Osric asked softly, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
Morana knelt and forcefully turned Renata’s head, digging her metal finger-claws into the broken woman’s flesh. “I wished to see the look of despair, to gaze into a broken soul, to see my reflection in eyes that were once shining jewels now devoid of life.” She smiled and looked up to Osric. “I hope to see this look more on them, no, that’s not grand enough. It would be more fitting of my legacy to have that very look of defeat and hopelessness on all people. For them to pray to their impotent gods for release of death that only I can provide, as she undoubtedly has, to relish in their misery as the child gods turn a deaf ear to their tortured pleas.”
Morana shoved Renata away, knocking the helpless woman over as she stood.
Osric looked down at the woman, feeling pity and anger at his own weakness, he could have stopped this long ago. “That’s not why I do this…”
“So you say…”
“How long must we keep her like this?” Osric blurted, surprised by his own compassion.
Morana narrowed her ice blue eyes. “Long enough. Why the concern for this whore and puppet to the oppressors?”
Osric bowed his head, not really having an answer, or rather, not willing to tell her how he felt. “It seems…unnecessary.”
Morana’s nostrils flared as she prepared to rebuke him, but her demeanor abruptly changed and a smile crossed her lips, painted bluish purple like the frozen dead. The sick amusement that emanated from her caused Osric to shudder, as she playfully tapped her claw against her chin.
“We have company.” She sang.
Osric followed her gaze and his shoulders sagged. He had come so far, and had hoped he would suffer no more interruptions at least until they reached the world tree. A forest elf woman, a dark skinned and broad-shouldered Colby-Nau warrior and the undead knight approached with an infuriatingly resolute look in their eyes.
“Did you do this, you fiend?” The elf woman shrieked as she drew her sword.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she drank in the horrified faces of her people, etched in stone for eternity. If they were here, it meant Alden had fallen. Osric frowned and reluctantly stepped forward. He was in no mood for further delays, and certainly not for their self-righteous indignation.
* * *
“Rowena, wait.” Aichlan, called out.
“You should listen to him.” Morana teased, tracing the contours of a petrified elf’s face with her nails.
Osric held out his hand to equally halt Morana. “You are irritatingly persistent.”
Aichlan froze upon spotting the broken Priestess at their feet. Osric stepped aside for him to get a better look, and the color drained from his face. She was literally half the woman she once was, and the empty husk of what was once someone he loved. However, upon seeing her, his anger and passions were decidedly muted. Despite her being the very impetus for this journey, their reunion, such as it was, was not even bittersweet. It simply was.
“What have you done to her?” Aichlan demanded.
Osric glanced down at Renata before turning his cold gaze to Aichlan. “It was my intent to leave her whole, however…”
“I hate the bitch.” Morana said with glee. “I hate you as well.”
“I’ll distract them with fire.” Donough whispered. “Ye and Rowena flank ‘em and I’ll rush in from the center.”
Aichlan nodded slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the broken figure that was once his love. “We take the witch first.”
Donough cracked his knuckles and drew his sword. “Aye.”
Rowena continued to edge closer to the duo, gripping her silver blade with white knuckled, trembling hands. Stinging tears of hot rage and bitter sorrow streamed down her face. She was going to do something foolish and regrettable, it was a look Aichlan knew all too well.
“Rowena…” Aichlan cautioned, holding out his arm to stop her.
No sooner the words left Aichlan’s lips, Rowena lunged towards the pair, propelled by a powerful gust of wind at her feet. Donough raised his hand and shot out a column of searing flames, creating a wall of fire between the sorcerer and the witch. Aichlan ducked under Donough’s arm and made a beeline towards Morana as Donough shot out two more blasts, putting up walls of fire before her and Osric.
Aichlan stopped short in shock and terror as Morana casually stepped through the flames, not even a singe on her hair or clothing. He barely raised his shield in time to block an ice spike she shot from her fingers with neither symbol or incantation. The ice began to creep across the metal and seep through his gloves to chill his very bones. Aichlan banged his sword against the targe, shattering the ice and halting its spread, though his fingers still felt numb with the early onset of frostbite. Before he could steady his footing, he was forced into a dive to avoid another blast of ice. The witch had halted his momentum, and stopped her advance, he was effectively at her mercy.
Rowena let out a primal shout with each swing of her blade, attacks which Osric effortlessly rebuffed or redirected with a wave of his hand. Despite her innate wind magic to bolster her speed and considerable agility, she was unable to close the distance with her foe. Frustrated, she struck at the dirt with her blade, sending up clods of dirt. As Osric instinctively raised his hands to shield his face, she quickly unslung her bow and notched an arrow, firing at half pull. Osric sidestepped the first, but she had already notched the second arrow and pulled it back to its apex, firing the missile imbued with the power of the wind at the mage.
Caught off guard and unbalanced, Osric stumbled back and launched a fireball from his palm in an attempt to incinerate the arrow. Sheathed in a turbulent air vane, the arrow broke through and struck him in the shoulder. The impact sent him careening back, knocking over a petrified elf and shattering the once living statue. As he pulled himself up from the rubble, Donough barreled down upon him with his sword leveled at his head. Osric raised his hand and fired a bolt of black lightning into the elf’s chest, and quickly launched another volley of malevolent energies at Rowena just before her third arrow stuck him in the chest.
Rowena dove out of the way, and the lightning arced past her, striking a tree home; the blast withering the plant instantly. Black tongues of malefic energy swirled around Osric as a dazzling light shrouded him. The shriveled and smoldering leaves of the recently killed tree cascaded down from the sky as the dead timber creaked and groaned under its own weight. Osric coughed and slashed at the air before him, sending forth a wave of black fire. Rowena flipped back and scrambled up a stone pillar, leaping up to grab a low hanging branch as the wave passed, leaving decay and ruin in its wake.
Below, Aichlan dodged ice spikes and gales of arctic wind, the wind instantly freezing solid whatever it connected with. Each attack the witch sent sent him scurrying further back, allowing her more space and time to cast multiple spells his way. Rowena fired two arrows at the witch as a diversion, dropping down to the ground as Morana turned to swat them from the air. The young forest elf fired a third arrow before she hit the ground, notching and firing the fourth just as her toes touched the scorched soil. No sooner the missile was loosed, Rowena vanished in a gust of wind and swirling leaves, avoiding Osric’s dark energy javelins and Morana’s frost.
The witch barely avoided the third arrow, but was struck in the stomach by the fourth. She shuddered, though her expression was more orgasmic than pained. Morana bit her lower lip and moaned in pleasure as she ripped the arrow from her gut. With one hand, she sealed the wound and imbued the arrow with dark magic in the other, setting the missile loose to seek out the one who fired it.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Aichlan sprinted towards Morana, leaping over a cowering statue and aiming his blade at her head. His reckless leap was summarily halted however by a wraith like hand that grabbed him by the leg, slamming Aichlan to the ground. He clawed at the dirt as the ghoulish hand dragged him backwards towards a gaping wound in the ground filled with gnashing teeth and eerily yonic in shape.
Aichlan plunged his sword into the dirt, in an effort to halt his current trajectory, but to no avail. A lance of flame caused the creature to let out an ear-splitting hiss and release Aichlan from its grasp. He scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily as he clutched his sides. To his left, Donough propped himself up with his sword, residual embers still dancing across his fingertips as smoke rose from his ruined chest piece.
Above, Rowena bounded across the branches and swung from the limbs of trees as her magicked arrow chased her like a bloodhound on her scent. Morana sent forth a blast of frigid air that froze a branch solid just as Rowena was about to land on it. The elf slipped with a startled cry, falling nearly a full story before catching herself on another limb. As she pulled herself up, the arrow struck her in the stomach, just as it had Morana, and she tumbled down to hit the ground with a sickening thud.
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Aichlan attempted to render aid, but was blocked by Osric. As the sorcerer raised his hand to cast, Aichlan’s rage blinded him to the pain, granting him an unexpected burst of speed. Osric launches a barrage of black energies from his palm, striking Aichlan with the intensity of a hurricane. Aichlan’s sword glows as the runes etched upon the blade attempt to ward off the malevolent energies, but the meager defense was quickly overwhelmed. Aichlan cried out as he was blown back by black javelins of dark energy that tore through his body.
Content that Aichlan was down, Osric summoned a ball of pulsating black energy between his hands and fired it at Donough. Still weak and half collapsed, Donough only just dove behind a petrified elf for cover. The orb of concentrated malice exploded upon a tree in a magnificent and paradoxical aurora of light and color. By sheer force of will, Aichlan pulled himself to his feet and charged Osric yet again. He made it half a dozen steps before running face first into a wall of translucent black energy erected by Osric. Aichlan furiously slashed at the wall with his sword several, but could not break through. He attempted to go around, but was halted by three more walls, caging him.
“Come out and fight me wizard!” Aichlan demanded.
“I think not.” Osric removed the arrows from his body with a grimace and healed the wounds with a wave of the hand. “I gain nothing from such an engagement.”
Aichlan stared into the eyes of his nemesis for several moments, and uttered a defeated curse under his breath. He was reminded of his meeting with the Eloi, their manipulations and how pointless this conflict was. Aichlan swore again and planted his sword in the dirt, reluctantly raising his hands to chest level.
“What do you hope to accomplish by consorting with demons? You can’t possibly imagine what you’ve brought upon yourself.”
Osric regarded him curiously for several moments before relenting and dropping his own castings. “You wouldn’t understand even if I had time or desire to explain.”
“Is madness all that is left in your heart?” Aichlan demanded. “What of your sister, who loves you still?”
“Love?” Morana barked through laughter, the word dripping with disdain.
The witch teleported through time and space, reappearing by Renata’s side, surrounded by smoke and fog. She reached down and yanked Renata up by her hair, forcing the woman to stand on the nubs that remained of her legs.
“What of this bitch?” Morana demanded. “She’s held on by the faintest glimmer of hope that the knight she whored herself to would save her. Why not tell her about that elf bitch you impregnated? Hmm Aichlan?”
Renata gasped and turned a doleful and teary-eyed gaze towards Aichlan. He drew back a step, struck by both fear of his opponent’s power and shame at having his affairs aired so casually. More importantly, he wondered how the witch had even learned of Ashe and Aelfric, and if she had done something to them.
“Shit…” Aichlan could not bear to look at Morana and his erstwhile lover, focusing his ire on Osric.
“That was cruel even for you.” Osric quipped with an impressed smirk.
“Put her down.” Aichlan pleaded. “She has nothing to do with this.”
A motley band of undead and humanoid demons appeared from behind some bushes, dragging a hand cart with an egg the size of a child. The egg was a golden brown, with specks of red and orange, and it looked insistently familiar to Aichlan, though he could not place it from where.
“You bastard!” Donough roared as flames erupted around him. “My people died over that!”
Before Aichlan could stop him or ask any questions, Donough let loose a burst of flames, propelling himself forward through the barrier, shattering it like so much glass. He cut through two of the demons like they were warm butter, and just as he was about to kill a third, Osric flicked his wrist and sent a pillar of stone shooting up from the ground. The impact hit Donough square in the chin and chest, knocking him out instantly with a sickening crack of bone.
Without a moment’s thought or hesitation, Aichlan charged through the breach after Donough, adroitly evading more stone columns as he made a mad dash towards Osric. Rowena fired a quick volley of arrows, taking out the demon that hauled the cart, and diverting Osric’s attention. In response, Osric rips open several portals through space and time simultaneously, stepping into one as a dozen undead soldiers shamble out from the others.
Aichlan slide tackled one of the creatures to avoid the rusty implement swung by another, cutting two more down at the knees as he rose up. His blood froze, however upon catching sight of Morana, insouciantly standing in the midst of the chaos, still clutching Renata by the hair. She grinned and shrugged her shoulders, ostensibly to say she had no idea where Osric had disappeared to. Aichlan paused for a beat too long, unwilling to engage the woman head on, but knowing he was duty bound to do so. During his moment of hesitation, he was struck in the back by a painted skull. He whipped around to see a grinning Osric disappear into another portal, as more undead spilled out from the others.
Aichlan ground his teeth and charged blindly after him, effortlessly cutting down the undead that rose to oppose him. He shook his head as he skid to a stop, debating on whether he should turn back for Renata. The terror gripped his heart as he fought off a company of undead, unwilling to admit he was so desperate to avoid confronting the witch again that he blindly sought a confrontation with Osric, a man who was equally dangerous. Beside him, Rowena took out three more undead that had snuck up on him with well-placed arrows, discarding the bow and empty quiver as she drew her sword and shield.
Aichlan glanced over his shoulder to see Morana still watching him, a bemused look on her face. The woman terrified him on an instinctual level, and he wanted desperately to flee back into the woods and be away from her and all she had wrought. In that instant of weakness, a large, red, glowing glyph appeared over Aichlan’s torso. As he attempted in vain to wipe the glowing symbol off, a flock of ravenous demon crows swooped down from the trees and attacked him. Each had six glowing red eyes and the hindquarters of a lizard; with mottled feathers mixing with the grey scales. Aichlan swung at them as he stumbled back, but the glyph seemed to serve as a target, drawing them towards him.
Rowena danced across the clearing like a leaf upon a breeze, avoiding and riposting the undead in a mad rush towards Morana from her flank. The young warrior was rebuffed effortlessly before she could even swing her blade, as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer. More disconcerting was how Morana had not so much as looked in the girl’s direction, let alone raise a finger to cast.
Aichlan tried to shield his eyes from pecking and dirty talons as he continued to stumble and swipe blindly. Just as he felt hopelessness creep into his heart, Donough, cloaked in flame and smoke, ran past in a blur. Aichlan dove to the ground with a startled cry as the heat burned his flesh, though thankfully roasting his pursuers as well. As he looked down in horror to the blackened flesh, he was further startled when it appeared to be growing anew. He looked around as his left eye began to regrow, he lay in the shadow of the stolen phoenix egg and the cart.
“Stay put.” Rowena ordered as she took cover beside him, clutching her ribs. “What twisted luck that the fool would bring along such a treasure.”
Aichlan looked down at his hands, the flesh looked cleaner and smoother than before. “What?”
“Just stay put.” Rowena said as she forced him back down to the ground. “Donough will take care of things from here. I hope…”
Donough himself looked like a demon, his eyes were obsidian orbs with pupils of fire, his dreaded locks like black whips of smoke and fire. Already a muscular man, he appeared several times larger, his bulging biceps wreathed in white flames. The petrified elves melted in his presence and the undead spontaneously combust.
Osric stepped out from a portal to meet his foe, a spell ready to be loosed from his hands, but Donough was on him in seconds. With the fury of his ruined homeland and scattered people, he grabbed the sorcerer by the throat and slammed him into the stone, the sound of breaking bones rising above the cacophony of the burning undead. The water spell osric held splashed harmlessly where Donough once was.
The elf raised Osric from the dirt and slammed him down again with greater fury. There is a sickening crack of the sorcerer's skull and breaks against the stone. Donough charges towards Morana, dragging Osric through the dirt and slamming his body into anything and everything that got in his way. Morana sighs and releases her hostage, holding out her hand to summon several wraiths to pin the rampaging elf in place.
With a snap of her fingers, she teleports Osric to her feet, his body is battered, broken and burned. About his blackened neck is the burned in handprint of Donough.
“Did you almost die fool?” Morana chastised, but Osric made no sound.
The wraiths holding Donough erupted into shrieking balls of flame, but continued to dig their boney claws into his flesh, pinning him in place. Morana knelt down and placed her hand to Osric’s chest, not breaking eye contact with Donough as he thrashed about and gnashed his teeth. Slowly, and by Osric’s tortured cries, painfully, Morana undid the damage to his body. The process did not so much resemble a healing so much as it looked like she was undoing time itself.
“Now, as for you.” Morana stood and dusted off her hands. “Your kind don’t usually get so worked up over such a trivial matter…”
Morana summoned the phoenix egg to her side and slowly approached with the Colby-Nau treasure hovering beside her. She slipped through space, disappearing to reappear directly before Donough, seemingly unfazed by the intense heat that melted or ignited everything else around him. With a look of indifference upon her face, she turned her left hand to solid ice and placed it to Donough’s chest. The mighty elf warrior howled as the heat was drained from him, extinguishing the fires, coating his body in frost.
“That’s better.” Morana tilted his head up by the chin, looking into his vacant eyes. “Ahhh…so she has returned, and named you champion no less.” Morana dismissed her wraiths with a wave, allowing Donough to collapse into a motionless heap at her feet. “You should be honored.”
Aichlan leapt to his feet and charged towards the witch. She looked upon him with mild annoyance, and flicked her wrist in his direction. Aichlan braced himself as an icy wind washed over him, nearly toppling him with the force. When the winds subsided, he felt as if he had spent hours in subarctic temperatures. His entire body was numb, he felt tired and could not recall where he was exactly or why, only that he was going forward and needed to continue. He took one trembling step forward as his teeth chattered uncontrollably, each breath was a chore, and he could not be certain his hands still gripped his weapon and small shield.
“Oh-ho?” Morana sang with mild amusement. “How precious, such resolve sir knight!”
Morana held out her arm and summoned Renata into her grasp once more. Aichlan stopped in his tracks, his body trembling and shivering uncontrollably.
“However,” Morana said sweetly, “I must insist you stop, or the bitch dies.” Morana cocked her head to the side and sighed. “That means the elf girl in the trees as well.”
Aichlan glanced up and saw Rowena in a branch nearly two stories up, her blade glistening in the fairy light as she prepared to drop attack the witch. Aichlan shook his head and stiffly bent down to put his weapon on the ground. They were more or less useless against their foes anyway.
“Rowena, hold!” Aichlan said weakly through chattering teeth. “You can’t, she can’t die, not after all this.” Aichlan raised his hands in surrender. “Please, let her go.”
Rowena dropped silently from the trees, her impact softened by a cushion of air at her feet. She glared first to Aichlan, then to Morana before defiantly taking a fighting stance.
“Rowena, please…” Aichlan entreated with outstretched arm and watery eyes.
“Listen you, I don’t know what you two had together, nor do I bloody care. But whatever it was, it’s over now and I won’t let your romantic life’s bullshit rob me of this chance for vengeance. Now step back.”
“I can’t let you.”
“Heed me Aichlan;” Rowena warned ominously, “you shall not stop me from avenging my people! I will cut through all three of you if necessary. Now take up arms to assist me or step aside.”
“You’re all so predictable!” Morana cackled with glee.” Do you not get weary of your pathetic lives? You just live life following the motions. You sicken me.”
Rowena lunged and Morana flung Renata onto the elf’s blade. She tried to turn the blade or at least push the flying priestess away, but was unable to prevent the silver blade from entering the battered woman’s chest. Taking advantage of his stunned horror, Morana stepped through a fold in space and reappeared inches from Aichlan’s face. She cradled his face in her hand, tracing the contours of his jaw with her metal claws, a bewitching grin on her full red lips. Sweat ran down Aichlan’s face as she seemed to stare into his soul with fetching blue eyes. Her proximity elicited feelings of lust and terror in him, as his heart beat so fast he thought it would burst.
“I’m faced with a bit of a dilemma, dear Aichlan,” Her breath was sweet and chilled, like winter mint, “I do so wish to kill you, but I also think it would be simply hilarious to leave you alive with these feelings of guilt, failure, and despair. Whatever shall I do?”
A wicked smile crossed parted the witches mouth as an idea struck. Morana leaned in closer and kissed Aichlan on the lips with an open mouth. He felt as if the warmth was being sucked from his very bones, and everything went black.