Chapter 3 - The Price of Brotherhood
Two youths stood rooted on their spots, watching with horrified fascination as several thousand pounds of bulging, scar-covered muscle pounded its furious way towards them. The troll had a vaguely humanoid shape, but its green skin was covered in matted blood and dirt, though they did little to conceal the countless scars that crisscrossed every inch of its body. A ferocious gleam burned in its eyes, and fangs that were over three inches long protruded from a mouth that had a green sludge continuously sliding down its chin.
Skyle was the first to react, as he grimly weighed the situation and realized his broken leg would become a huge liability in his ability to flee from this fight. In the other hand, standing his ground was not an option either, as during the crash he had somehow managed to maintain his grip on his precious bow, but his quiver had lost all its arrows. Then again, how much good would an arrow do against that monstruosity? Let alone piercing its thick hide, attempting to penetrate the thick muscle underneath would be like trying to drive a toothpick into a block of stone.
The only remaining option, at least for the time being, was to delay for the precious few seconds before the young noble’s escort finally caught up. The only ways to achieve thiss that he could think of were both outside of his control, and at this moment Skyle hated himself for his weakness. After all, Skyle couldn’t wield the power of the elements, not even for something as commonplace as strengthening his own body with elemental essence like every living being in Aeria learned to do during their first years of life. It was something that should come as naturally as learning to breathe, or walk. It was the reason why elemental warriors were the most commonly found and easily adopted path for manipulating the power of the elements. Not being able to absorb elemental essence was like a death-sentence.
A cripple.
That’s what Skyle was, plain and simple. No matter how much he tried, how hard he worked, until his lips were bleeding and his teeth ached from clenching them too hard, Skyle had never managed to maintain the most basic step in interacting with the elements, the spirit vision, for longer than a couple breaths.
If Skyle could have imbued his arms with the strength of the earth element, or imbued his arrowhead with the explosive power of fire, or enchanted the arrow shaft with the swiftness of the wind, then he might stand a fighting chance, even against the behemoth charging at him right now.
Instead, Skyle had to rely on the nobleman to snap out of his own private reverie, and call forth the legendary might of an elemental summoner to engage in a glorious battle against the savage beast.
Skyle found himself almost wishing the other youth wouldn’t, because if he did it would only drive Skyle's own powerlessness deeper into his own heart, like daggers that had silently been sharpened during the long 12 years of his own life, and would at last plunge deeply during this, his most vulnerable moment.
“If only I had a single drop of that great sea he draws from..” Skyle whispered in his own mind, with a despairing sigh.
“If only, if only, if only.. Losers spend lavishly on wishful thinking, while winners are misers who haggle shamelessly against reality,” Kendric Farrow’s pitiless snort rang out clearly in Skyle’s mind, and his ears felt hot as he recalled the many times he had been mocked out of his depression by his no-nonsense, down-to-earth father.
“Only you can write your own if onlys in life, Skyle Farrow.” His mother had once whispered in his ear while staring down his father as only Adrienne Farrow could, as though daring him to contradict her. She had tenderly drawn Skyle’s crying face into her warm embrace, before turning his gaze upward, towards the clear blue heavens and dazzling golden sun.
“You can do anything as long as you don’t give up. The sky is the limit, but only you can stretch out your hand. Remember, no matter how hard it is, how long it takes, I will always believe in you, my precious Little Sky,” his mother had finished, placing a loving kiss on Skyle’s forehead, as if to seal it into place. “Promise me you won’t forget.”
He had promised, but he had almost forgotten it again.
Right, second option. Distraction! That troll looked hungry enough to devour an entire horse, and Asarian purebred or not, it would just have to do. Skyle felt a pang of regret in his heart as he looked towards the spot where the poor horse lay, obviously crippled and unable to stand. Strangely, in the beast's eyes Skyle couldn’t find a trace of the terror he had expected, and instead could only see steely determination.
Only a moment had passed, but it was enough for Skyle to draw a rough plan in his head. He would drag the other youth with him so as to put the horse between them and the incoming troll. Trolls were naturally wary of fire, as their unnaturally high powers of regeneration would be suppressed by it. If the other youth could manage a few warning shots with those fireballs he had so casually waved back and forth earlier, they should be able to withdraw to a marginally safe distance while the noble’s escorts caught up. Already their sounds were drawing closer. Though they likely would not be riding Asarian purebreds, it should only take a minute or two, at most.
True, they would have to sacrifice the horse in order to delay the troll, but as unpleasant as the option was, it was better than Skyle and the other youth replacing the horse as the main dish.
Right when Skyle had been about to enact his plan, he turned his head to the side and realized the other youth was no longer standing still. Instead, he was advancing towards the incoming troll with grim, determined footsteps, all the while gesturing with one arm while the other hung limply by his side.
“What in the Ashen’s Abyss are you doing, you fool? Come back here!” Skyle growled, disbelief and fury pouring out of his lungs.
“Run, little peasant. Run while you still can, and tell my men that they have not failed in their oaths,” The nobleman replied in a somber tone, his gaze staring fixedly at the massive beast pounding its way forward. Trees in its path were knocked down and branches were snapped like twigs as it howled in ravenous expectation. Even in the face of all this, the youth’s face only grew more determined. “Tell them that I, Leon Draxas Di Adrausier, stared death in the eye rather than submit.”
Skyle grit his teeth, ignoring the flashing stabs of pain coming from his injured leg as he reached out and took hold of the suicidal noble’s massive shoulder. A simple tug did nothing to stop the youth’s forward movement, so Skyle grunted with the effort as he dug his one good leg into the ground and yanked as hard as he could with the added leverage.
“Are you insane? We can both live if we sacrifice the horse-” Skyle began.
Abruptly, Leon Draxas stopped in midstep and swiveled his head around to glare furiously over his shoulder. “His name is Tannos, and unless you let go of me in this instant, it is you who will be the sacrifice. It will be my life before I let Tannos come to harm.”
Skyle wanted to argue, but in Leon's amber eyes which were already starting to burn with that restless sea of elemental fire, Skyle could see that the formidable youth meant every word he had just said. Skyle's hand slowly relaxed its grip, and he once more glanced sideways at the horse. Surprisingly, it seemed to understand its master’s words, and it seemed to struggle with renewed determination, dragging itself forward on the ground and leaving a trail of blood behind.
“Damn you both for suicidal fools, master and mount alike,” Skyle growled, and he let go as he limped back painfully. “You will both die for no good reason when at least one could live!”
Leon had already turned back and resumed his resolute stride towards the troll. His massive shoulders twitched imperceptibly as he shrugged, “Tannos is no mere mount to me, and neither am I his master. We are brothers, but you wouldn’t understand.”
Skyle cursed vehemently under his breath as he continued limping back, all the while thinking furiously. Any other person, and they would have been cursing Leon for a deluded fool. Brothers with a horse? What sort of nonsense was this? Give your life for your mount? Snap out of your fancy tales of knights and chivalry. This was the real world, and life and death were at stake! Any other person, and that’s what would have been going through his head.
Not Skyle, however. Instead, he cursed at that bloody wildefox who had stolen his parents’ elenium crystal. He cursed at himself for being too stubborn to forget about the whole incident. He cursed at the damn noble who had charged at him instead of doing the sane thing and drawing back towards the escorts the moment Skyle’s arrow had been fired. Most of all, though, Skyle cursed vehemently at a certain ball of fur and claws always hovering near the edges of his mind.
“Damn Ash, I knew the tiger cub be the death of me one of these days. Never thought it’d be this soon..” Skyle muttered bitterly in his mind, as he bent down to pick up an arrow, then another, all the while ignoring the agony spiking from his leg. “Probably sprawled on his back on mom’s deck, lazy little bastard, snoring away the sun.”
After another few steps, Skyle bent down to pick up another object.
“Stupid mutt, it’s all your fault.”
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The troll was barely 40 feet away from Leon Draxas when he finally raised his arm high in the air, eyes closed while moving his lips in a rapid chant. Red spirals of fire energy slowly began to converge upon his fist.
It was slower than the previous fireballs. Too slow.
Tannos the horse was still valiantly trying to catch up to its master, but the crash had injured it far worse than either Skyle or Leon. By the time the first fiery projectile sprang forth from Leon’s hand in a streak of flames that sped off towards the incoming troll, it was barely 25 paces away from the nobleman, who was standing all alone.
With a flash of red, the fireball struck the troll directly in the middle of its chest, right where the heart should be, and the beast howled in agony as an explosion of flames rocked it back a couple steps. When the fire finally died out a few seconds later, a charred mess of blackened skin lay in a smoking crater around a wound that was about six inches in diameter.
To a human, such a blow would have been devastating. To the troll, however, it only served to incite a cry of rage as it beat its fists against its chest in a show of dominance, before resuming its charge towards Leon with renewed fury. Though Leon was bravely channeling another fireball while slowly retreating, the troll would be upon him in a mere instant. How many fireballs could he get off in the meantime? Two? Three?
Leon’s face turned darker as he grit his teeth and let out a low cry of his own, his hair fluttering though there was no wind, and his eyes flooding over with a torrent of fire that swam in their depths.
“If Leon Draxas falls today, he shall not fall alone!” Leon cried out, lifting another imperious fist high into the air and the strings of red elemental energy he was channeling suddenly thickened into veritable streams that glowed with intense power.
“That’s for damn sure, you fool,” a voice muttered darkly from behind Leon. A stroke of wind darted past Leon’s ear as something flickered in his vision. The troll once again stopped its charge, letting out another bellow of pain as it clutched a hand against the ruined mass of skin left by Leon’s first fireball. In the middle of the wound, the fletchings of an arrow could be seen quivering slightly. The rest of the arrow had been driven past the broken skin, and deep into the troll’s flesh, towards its heart.
Barely had the troll managed to stabilize itself and taken a hand away from the wound in order to let out another roar, when it turned into another howl of agony instead. The moment the wound was exposed, a second arrow buried itself into its chest, a scant inch away from the spot where the first arrow lay. The troll clutched at its chest and convulsed in agony, all the while drawing panting breaths that sent flecks of green sludge spurting out of the fresh wounds.
“Slowly make your way to me,” Skyle instructed calmly, another arrow already notched on his bow and sighting down its shaft. “I will cover you while you recover your source weapon.”
Leon’s eyes widened even more when he heard the words. Indeed, the reason his firebolts were not as strong or fast as before was because he had lost his source weapon in the mad crash from Tannos. An ordinary source weapon would raise the affinity of a wielder of the elements by 10%. However, his own source weapon had been crafted especially for him with mithril, vulcanite and other precious materials, raising that figure to over 20%.
“I don’t even know where to-” Leon began, his eyebrows tilting down vexedly, still gathering more fire power upon his upraised fist.
“Fifteen feet to your left, at the feet of the mature dacian cypress,” Skyle interrupted impatiently, his eyes still fixed upon the troll. “We only need to delay it a minute or two before your men arrive.”
“Let it come. I will teach it to fear the fury of the flames of the House of Draxas!” Leon cried out, finally bringing down his arm in an imposing gesture as another ball of fire streaked through the air, exploding against the troll’s head and sending it tumbling backwards with another howl of agony.
Skyle blinked as he watched the spectacle, impressed despite himself. True, a troll was naturally weak to the fire element. Still, the youth did not seem that much older than himself, yet he could almost single-handedly halt the troll’s rampage, even sending it crashing to the ground.
What impressed him the most, however, wasn’t only the power and speed of the fiery missile. As an accomplished marksman himself, he recalled his father’s admonitions against headshots. The head was a vital target, but it was also where the sensory organs were located. Any target would instinctively seek to first protect its head, and even without such a reflex, the head was a small, moving target protected by some of the most solid bones in a creature’s body, risking deflection.
All of that only made it that much more impressive that Leon had the presence of mind to aim for the troll’s head when it was distracted and unable to protect itself, as well as actually striking it dead on even in the midst of all the troll’s movements as it squirmed in pain from Skyle’s arrows.
Of course, Skyle was not one to be outdone, and he had also managed to send his third arrow on its way right along with the bolt of fire, also aiming for that same vulnerable head which had presented too tempting a target.
In truth, Skyle didn’t know and didn’t care if his arrow had actually struck. He had done his best with what he had at hand, and that had bought them enough time to withdraw. Perhaps this would be the end of it, and the troll would decide this target was simply too much trouble. Still, it would be best if they were ready for another fight.
Leon seemed to share similar thoughts, and promptly marched over to the left, obviously looking for his source sword - around the wrong tree.
“I said the dacian cyp.. The big tree with small, long leaves and yellow blossoms,” Skyle grunted, exasperated. What kind of fool didn’t know the difference between a weeping willow and a dacian cypress?
Leon had the grace to flush slightly as he moved over to the correct tree and began to look in earnest.
“Why did you come back?” Leon asked, not raising his eyes as he continued to search.
“Because I do understand,” Skyle sighed, still thinking of Ash and his great, gray-furred belly as he dozed under the fading light of dusk.
Leon looked up at that, his eyes asking a question while his mouth pressed into a faint line to hold back his tongue.
“My lord Draxas! My lord! Where are you?” came the frantic cries from beyond the trees.
“Here!” Leon cried on instantly, and his shoulders seemed to sag somewhat in relief. Now that Skyle had drawn closer, and without the heat of the moment, he could see how pale the young noble’s skin was, with a sickly tinge and a slight trembling to his arms. The constant summoning of elemental power had been incredible, almost unbelievably so for someone so young, and that final fire blast must have taken a heavy toll from him.
The sounds of voices and movement drew closer still, and Skyle relaxed the arm which held a fourth arrow notched on his bow. Maybe it would not be needed today.
“The sword is not here,” Leon mumbled, returning to his search.
“What do you mean? I saw it there a moment ago,” Skyle retorted, drawing closer.
“Exactly what I said. I would be able to feel its elemental resonance, to which I have been attuned, if I were standing this close to it,” Leon stated in an annoyed tone, with bone-deep weariness lingering just underneath the surface.
“Seriously, blind noblemen..” Skyle trailed off as he limped his painful way to the tree, and scratched his chin awkwardly while staring at the empty grass.
Skyle looked up to find Leon gazing back at him with satisfaction. “See? Not here. No matter, I will have another one forged later. Let us see to Tannos and withdraw before that foul beast recovers.”
“I know I saw it here,” Skyle muttered, craning his head here and there.
“Time presses..” Leon faltered.
“Skyle. Skyle Farrow,” Skyle replied, still furrowing his brow as he bit his lip thoughtfully. “And you’re right, of course. Lets see to Tannos, and get out of here while we still can.”
“So, young Skyle Farrow. Obediently assist me with Tannos, and I will see you well rewarded in spite of your many wrongdoings,” Leon waved a hand in an off-handed manner, as though he were granting Skyle a precious boon he was clearly undeserving of.
Skyle was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his rewards, and it sure wouldn’t be anywhere the sun shone, when Leon let out a cry of joy.
“Wait, I see it now! There’s my sword!” Leon cried out, pointing with his one good hand towards a crumbling structure of aged rock about 20 feet away, almost completely covered by green moss and vines. It was nearly eight feet tall and four feet wide, standing almost like some bizarre monument in the middle of a small clearing. Leon’s sword seemed to be gleaming with an unnatural sparkle, lying right in front of that monument.
Skyle paused abruptly, his breath suddenly catching in his throat. Skyle looked up at the deepening gloom, and tried to gather his bearings within the woods. A moment later, his blood ran cold and Skyle shouted out, “Stop! Don’t move!”
Leon looked back at him with a bewildered expression. “What?”
“Do. Not. Move. We have entered the Forbidden Forest’s inner reaches,” Skyle whispered hoarsely past the constriction in his throat, feeling sweat suddenly trickling down his face.
“Bah, superstitious nonsense. As expected of a peasant,” Leon muttered derisively.
Skyle did not mind the tone at all. Instead, he forced his hammering heart to slow down and spoke in soft, even tones.
“Ever since I reached the age of 9 and could competently fire my bow, father constantly found an excuse to send me into the forest, even to the outer borders of the Forbidden Forest. I have since killed timber wolves, red striped cougars, and even a couple dire bears, all in order to survive. However, in all this time father has always ordered me never, ever to set a foot into the inner reaches of the Forbidden Forest.”
“What of it?” Leon mumbled, clearly unnerved by Skyle’s words and expression, but still stubbornly looking towards the place where his sword lay on the ground.
“I’ve long learned to keep constant track of my surroundings. That stone structure wasn’t there a moment ago, and your sword was lying right here underneath this tree,” Skyle answered with a dead serious expression, then pointed back towards the gloom beyond, where a few fires were on the verge of sputtering out at the spot the troll had fallen at. “And that troll should by all rights be terrified of fire, but I have a feeling something unnatural is driving it to ignore all its instincts and push forward until it kills us.”
“I don't know how many more firebolts I can channel with my current strength,” Leon muttered glumly, brushing some errant sweat off his brow. “But as long as we can hold for thirty seconds, my men should arrive.”
“About that,” Skyle noted as turned his head towards the sounds of men and horses. “I wouldn't keep my hopes up.”
“What do you mean?”
“In spite of your shouts and the blazing flames from your firebolts, the sounds of your men are moving farther away. For whatever reason, something is drawing them away and they won’t get here anytime soon. Besides..”
Leon clenched his fist into a ball as he tilted his head to confirm Skyle's words. “Besides what?”
“That troll seems ready for round two and it does not look like it'll be sitting this one out,” Skyle sighed, lifting his bow once more and firing an arrow in one smooth motion, barely taking the time to aim.
A few dozen paces ahead, a roar shook the trees around them, but it was a cry that went far beyond simple pain.
It was a roar of rage, and a promise of bloody vengeance.