Desdin slowed his breathing as he concentrated on his stance in the forest. His mind was melting into his surroundings. He was mindful of the direction and temperature of the breeze. Through sensation alone, he could tell that the trees interfered with the breathing sky, and feel the pine needles carried away by the wind. He allowed his muscles to relax and become fluid and prepared to absorb whatever may come. His blade was in front of him, brandished by both hands. For the first time, he noticed the red pin Keoma had placed through the hilt when he repaired it. Desdin attuned back to reality and took a fresh view of the world around him. The Dragon’s Breath harmonized with his will to live through this encounter with the spider. His crimson eyes and glowing red blade were the only things the spider could make out as she reached him.
Her pale features were no longer sullied by the explosion. Wispy dark hair waved before her black and gold eyes. The black funeral dress she wore was a garment now shredded. Growing from behind her shoulders and lower back were additional appendages that coiled around her and looked thick and muscular. “This is the last dance on the taut web antlion,” the matriarch said as she moved swiftly, tearing bark, dirt and rock apart with her manifested tentacles of flesh, and blew them all at Desdin in her rapid approach.
He dashed behind the trees and while weaving in and out, he cleaved her tentacles with ease. He was moving closer and closer to her, slashing away at them. Shrinking her area of attack and diminishing her range. Her regenerative abilities struggled to keep up. He made it within the territory of her body and severed an arm with an upward slice. He brought it back down, cutting her chest. Fresh blood sprayed from her as she cast out her tendrils from all over her body to swing herself through the trees and out of range.
She formed two vast limbs with sharpened fangs and penetrated the earth as she swung herself down at it hard from an elevated position. Desdin flipped backwards, avoiding the first tentacle narrowly as it cracked open the ground, the second came out from behind him and raced past his head. Using the movement of her body and tendrils, she wrapped around a tree and slingshot the second limb to strike Desdin with a heavy blow on his right side. The fangs clutched him and the tips ripped into the makeshift leather repair of his armor, perforating his chest. The limb dragged him while he was still on his feet, smashing him into a tree. He sliced the limb off of him before sinking to his left side.
The jaw piece of Desdin’s helm had shattered and broken off into pieces. His mouth had filled with blood and red flowed out of the patched area of his armor at his chest. Desdin noticed she was trying to rejuvenate her arm he had amputated earlier. He refused to relent and gritted his teeth, dashing forward with his weapon gripped in both hands. She thrust out her one good arm at him and used it as a catalyst to call forth a volley of bone tipped tentacles. They tore Desdin’s helm off and clawed his face. He swung his sword, cleaving off the arm at the shoulder. She leaped up to kick him, but before she finished the motion, Desdin pivoted to a second swing of his blade that left behind a crimson line where he had severed both of her legs at an angle. While she was still in the air, he struck her with a solid kick to the chest, knocking her back against a tree where she lay motionless.
Desdin exhaled and nearly fell over before supporting himself with his sword. He looked down at the Fallen matriarch. Blood flowed like rivers over her delicate pale features. It painted her mouth and the remains of her limbs and the cut across her chest. The intense glare in her eyes were now dull. Desdin remarked to her, “Hey, you know if you hadn’t drained so much of your strength in producing so many offspring before fighting me, this would have ended much differently. Your risk in trying to make a small army didn’t pay off.”
Her lips spread into a forlorn smile. She looked up at him and declared in a coherent voice, “I didn’t want an army. I wanted my children back.”
Desdin’s expression softened. He spoke to her gently. “So, you regained your sanity Arling. I’m sorry. I can’t begin to imagine the hardship of the road you traveled in your long life.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
She looked away, pained. “I’m tired. The torrent that consumed my every thought for so long has died down. I can remember now. I will impart what wisdom I can. Dragsil, he tried to help us. He was hurt when our king and queen were deceived. He didn’t hate us even as we attacked him out of rage for the Oldest. Dragsil left his roots for anyone who wished to follow in his footsteps. They lie beneath the resting place of the Dragon’s mate. The Fallen that remained were cast out by the Oldest into the desert in a cage. We were hungry, desperate, and afraid for centuries. Will you go there, antlion? To the Roots of Dragsil?”
“It is in Dragonshead then,” Desdin said. “Yes, I will go. I want to see the legacy of forgiveness that Dragsil left behind. Because I too want to be forgiven.”
Desdin held his sword up. “I promised you something, Arling. I want you to think of your children from long ago. In the peaceful home you once had. Surrounded by friends and loved ones. I know the memory is there with you because I could feel it when you pulled me into that world with you. Where we sat as children watching a campfire. It wasn’t your first time being warmed in the cold. And I pray to whomever that it isn’t the last time you experience warmth.”
Arling shut her eyes with a bloodied tear streaking down her cheek. Before the tears rolled off her face, Desdin cleanly and mercifully swung his sword across her neck. Her head rolled down into her lap. Desdin respectfully lowered his head and sheathed his sword. He favored his right side as he turned away. He picked up his broken helm and started walking from his Fallen foe.
The sun was setting to the west over Leoris in the distance. The blood that stained the right half of his face failed to conceal the remorse he wore. He was aware of someone coming closer through the sound of breaking branches and light footsteps. It was Ingrid. She asked, “Are you okay?”
Desdin nodded solemnly. “I’m fine. The battle has concluded here. How are things back in Leoris?”
Ingrid said, “I’m not sure. I got separated from the townspeople in the chaos and saw you and the Devil Beast back there.”
“I see. Let’s head back then,” Desdin said while he continued his journey back to Leoris. “I’m hoping that Cherry and Demalyn are safe. The rest of your council were capable from what I saw of the battle. Tonight, we should rest easy.” Desdin faltered as he shuffled forward in discomfort.
Ingrid walked up behind him, taking his arm and touching the part of his armor that was flayed open. “You don’t seem okay,” she said. “I had read all about the eleventh warden in reports from the capital. It shocked me when you told me you were him. Amise and I destroyed most of those reports.”
Desdin turned back to her to see a flash of repulsion hidden in her features. “I thought you had said that you had no involvement in destroying information,” Desdin said before a dagger sliding into the exposed part of his armor interrupted him. He seized Ingrid’s hand, preventing her from driving the dagger further. Desdin fell back, grimacing in pain. He tried to scurry away, but he was completely drained of strength.
Ingrid fell on top of him, pinning his arms down with her knees. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the dagger with a bloodied tip. “If you listened, I said I destroyed no documents regarding Dragsil. The eleventh warden killed Allsin from Leoris in a skirmish at the Farland border. We couldn’t let the citizens know that some regular human that took our hero’s life. Allsin wasn’t even granted the dignity to be slain by a fellow descendant. You are dangerous. By some unholy miracle, you killed that monster back there. I watched you show pity and mercy for it. You sympathize with devils. The misfortune you carry with you follows you everywhere. It wasn’t enough you killed our hero. You brought this calamity upon us. Please die here and trouble no one else.”
Her eyes overflowed with tears and anger as she howled at him. Desdin didn’t resist as she raised the dagger up. He looked up at her with acceptance of his fate. As she was about to bring the dagger down for the fatal stab, a rifle fired, and a blue flame smacked her skull with a purple spark. Her eyes were staring very hard at something before they went blank. Blood sullied her pale hair. A bullet-sized hole was in the side of her head as she fell off to the side from Desdin.
Arata walked up to him with several Union troops behind him. He held the smoking rifle. He whistled at his entourage. “Gentlemen, I need all of you to back me up when we get to town to let Kurei know I actually saved the warden. He was worried for nothing.” Arata’s smile spread from ear to ear. He bent down to check on the prone Desdin who could only look back through a wave of sweat with eyes heavy from exhaustion. “You may not remember the first time, but you now owe me twice. My men are going to patch you up and bring you with us to town, where we are going to have a lovely dinner with your friends and the leadership that is left alive in the town.” Arata snapped his fingers, and several men ran forward to treat Desdin.