The Sworn Defender
Page 21
One of the Seekers took a step forward but froze in its tracks. Slowly, the other three began to huddle together and dissolve. The gray smoke that had once encompassed four creatures melded into one colossal lumbering mass. A black axe sprouted from each hand as it trudged onward, groaning and growling. It wailed as it ran forward.
"Crap!" Eren shrieked, rolling out of the massive Seeker's path.
He fell to one side and counted himself lucky until he saw the monster had continued to charge ahead.
"Eilon!" he screamed, leaping to his feet and chasing after the creature.
The wizard tiredly looked his way and tensed up when his eyes fell on the monster. He forced his legs to move as fast as they could and struggled to close the distance without falling into the slush at his feet. It would be close, very close, but he knew… he could reach them in time.
The Seeker was seconds from ending the mage's life when Eren sailed into the air and thrust his sword through the monster's ribs, giving himself a hold over it. With all his weight, he attempted to steer the creature away, but his grip was insufficient. He repeatedly smacked the Seeker's torso with his leg as he repositioned his blade, allowing him to hold it with both hands. The sword's edge cut into Eren's fingers and palm, but it allowed the blade to act as a rein. He forced the creature to crash into a small shed to their left while he flew off its back and tumbled through the snow.
He only had moments to catch his breath before the Seeker rose from beneath the scattered debris. He grimaced when he laid his eyes on it: bright, yellow cracks had begun to appear across its form.
"D-did I do that?" Eren groaned, climbing to his feet.
"No, i-it wasn't you— it came too close to the stream," Eilon revealed.
"Wait, then why am I trying to keep it away?" he returned, his focus on the growling Seeker. "Why not let it kill itself?"
"Because it would still take time for the gathered magic to seep into its bones," the mage explained. "Much more time than it would need to kill the both of us."
"Ah, understood. Let it get close, but not too close. Repeat until dead."
He wiped the snow off his face and noticed some of it had reddened. He paid it no mind, allowing the crimson-streaked slush to drip back to the ground.
"Be careful," Eilon advised.
Eren turned back to him for a moment and flashed the widest smile he could manage.
"We don't know each other well, but don't think I'd let myself get killed in some backwater village like this one. I intend to die somewhere with a little more grace."
Yet, he knew better than some that not all desires were attainable.
He slowly shifted his stance, carefully shuffling his feet so that his back faced Eilon and the golden fountain the wizard had created. Eren eyed the monster, waiting for it to gather itself and repeat its charge, yet it did not. Instead, it delicately made its way forward, purposeful in each measured step, and maintained its focus on him. The Seeker raised its dark axes and struck them against each other, the bright light that had begun to split them sparking with each impact.
Eren swallowed a groan as the creature performed its first coordinated strike, slicing the air an inch above his now bowed head and leaving a ringing in his ears from the cracking wind. It moved surprisingly fast for its size and the injuries that were beginning to envelop its cursed body.
Eren had managed to avoid the first swing but was too slow to dodge the second, forcing him to raise his blade and intercept the blow. He pushed against the flat of his sword with his free hand as the black axe crashed into it. He felt his fingers tremble beneath the monster's incredible strength and grunted as the creature pulled its weapon back, leaving his blade splintered where the axe had cut into it.
The amazement that his sword had been cut was replaced by a renewed fear as the Seeker brought its axe down on him again.
He crumbled to the ground, falling on his stomach to avoid the strike that would have split his chest. He looked up in time to see a third and final bash racing to greet him. Eren lifted his blade, hoping it would be enough to withstand the attack, but his sword shattered when it met the axe. Shards of steel flew across the air and pierced the snow, the light that had graced them dissipating into the air.
Eren clutched his hand and cried out as it began to bleed where a fragment bit into his flesh. He gritted his teeth as he cast his eyes upwards onto his enemy. The Seeker raised its axe, and it shot down towards him— determined to spill his innards.
Without thinking, he reached over his shoulder and gripped the coarse, dense limb he had been carrying. Eren brought Torfir's arm down in front of the attack and caught it. The axe chipped the limb but was quickly coated in an odd, viscous brown liquid that seeped from within it.
The Seeker pulled its axe away, and with it, Torfir's arm, as it had bonded itself to the weapon. Almost as if angered by the intrusion, the monster tossed the defective axe away and raised its foot— slamming it into Eren's chest. He coughed as the attack landed and could taste blood lingering in his mouth. He squirmed beneath the creature, attempting to escape, but he was pinned under the monster's foot.
The Seeker watched Eren, steadily raising its remaining weapon into the air. He could already feel his energy draining from the injuries he had sustained and into the frost that laid around him. He realized this would very likely be his final failure.
The Seeker froze just before it could cleave Eren in two, and an instant later, a flash of golden light soaked its dark form. The monster raised its axe to its face to protect itself, yet all but a quarter of its body was drenched in the radiant energy. Eren turned his head and saw Eilon had redirected some of the stream's power against the creature.
It flailed as it stumbled backward, its dark bones liquefying and trickling to the ground as the Seeker groaned. It collapsed into the snow, and the light returned to the wizard as he drove the magic upwards, back into the barrier.
He crawled closer to Eilon and forced himself to rise. It took every shred of strength he had left to stand.
"I'm pretty sure you just saved my life," he groaned, his legs swaying.
"Well, consider it a professional courtesy," Eilon chuckled, wincing when he did.
Eren's eyes widened when they fell on the wizard's arm; the skin around the mark of his Blessing had cracked and begun to bleed.
"Will that be a problem?" he pointed. "Will it stop you from healing me once this whole mess is done, I mean."
"No, it's just a sign that I've started to reach my limit. I can still hold on for a bit longer, though. I just hope that we-" the mage began to answer, his face contorting in fear. "Eren! Behind you!"
Eren turned in time to glimpse the swinging blade as it cut his throat and left him feeling hollow. He crumpled to the ground while Eilon averted the stream onto the last Seeker, destroying it.
"Sit up, let me see," the mage commanded, leaving his post. "Look me in the eyes! I-I can heal you, just give me a moment…"
Eren had only felt a slight sting when the monster struck him— not at all the pain he would've expected. Instead, he felt himself choke and gurgle as blood leaked into his throat. It became much harder to concentrate.
"More," he croaked, his finger pointing behind the wizard.
With Eilon attempting to save his life, he had stopped feeding power into the veil, and it crumbled. As Solton's magical defense dissipated, Soul Seekers began to materialize all around them. One charged towards the pair, but Eilon was too focused on Eren's wound to notice the approaching enemy. It would kill the sorcerer and rid Solton of its only healer. He knew if Eilon was felled, none of the injured could be saved.
The Seeker rushing to them had its blade stretched ahead of it, aimed at the wizard's back. Eren winced as he rocked his body forward and pushed the healer away from him. He raised his own hand and let the Seeker's blade impale his palm in an attempt to restrain it.
Tears fell from his eyes as a muffled scream escaped his lips, and he held onto the See
ker and its weapon. The sorcerer quickly moved to the monster and banished it, but there were too many surrounding them. The Soul Seekers eyed them with the same dark intention that had killed so many in the Ashlands. Eren felt defeat sink its teeth into his bones; he knew it as soon as Eilon scrambled in front of him in hopes of holding off the vicious Seekers on his own.
Eren closed his eyes and felt his breaths begin to slow. Then, suddenly, he started to feel his body enveloped in a strange warmth and undeniable comfort. He was tired.
Chapter Seventeen
Khora
Khora felt the rainwater run down her spine as it pricked the back of her neck. The sudden downpour through Solton's barrier had surprised her and served as a reminder that their time was limited.
"Damn," the wizard grumbled, staring upwards. "The veil's decline has quickened."
Her eyes flew to Richard, who had spared a glance at Eren. He tried to hide it, but concern sat plainly on his face.
"We'll be fine, go," their friend urged. "I'll keep an eye on Mister Magic; you just help the big man take care of things."
"Of course," Richard agreed. "Don't annoy Eilon. And be careful, all of you."
She gave a quick nod to him as he spun on his heel to race after the Sentinel. She had wanted to stand her ground and follow the others into battle, but she knew Richard was right. Khora could still feel fatigue swirling within her, just as persistent as the whipping winds. She needed to conserve her strength, even if it meant staying behind.
She looked at Jira and saw the old man raise his eyebrows slightly. It was time for them to go, as well.
"Keep your sword up, do not waver," she told Eren, setting her hand on Edmund's shoulder.
"I will," he nodded. "You two keep your eyes open. Don't step on any babies."
Khora forced a slight smile as she pushed Edmund forward, both of them trailing after Jira. She noticed the young boy had looked back at their friend, a cold expression hanging in his eyes. He remained silent, though, leading Ranger forward along with them.
"Khora," the old man called. "I must go to the healing house to help them prepare. While I do that, I need you to make your way to the edge of the village. There, you'll find a small structure— just larger than a shed. Within it, there will be a chest. I need you to retrieve it for me, please."
He raised his hand timidly and pointed his finger towards their far left. Khora squinted her eyes and thought she could see the hovel he was directing her towards. It seemed isolated and set apart from the other buildings.
"That is Andros' home, so be careful not to disturb the place," Jira suggested. "Other than the chest, of course."
"I'll go with you, in case it's too heav-" Edmund began.
"No, it's fine," she interrupted. "Be sure to do everything you can to help Jira. I will handle this myself."
Khora moved to turn away but quickly stopped and returned her attention to her friend.
"I may need both hands… here, take my spear," she murmured, passing him the weapon. "Set it aside in a place it won't be bothered."
He nodded awkwardly as he took the spear into his hands. He looked at it as if he were carrying the most fragile object in all the realm.
"Act swiftly, Khora," Jira suggested. "These people depend on more than our frontline forces."
"Of course. I'll be gone only a moment."
She jogged off to her destination, taking only a second to look at them as they trudged away.
Khora quickly made her way to Solton's edge, watching her surroundings carefully with every step. The notion of a wandering Seeker finding a path through the barrier sat heavy in her mind, but she felt the thought slip away when she found Andros' home.
It was just barely nestled within Eilon's veil, and it jut up from the ground humbly. She might have mistaken it for a storeroom, or a large outhouse, had she glanced at it from afar. It looked nothing like the other homes that resided further away.
She approached Andros' home cautiously and saw that neither a lock nor a doorknob graced its entrance. She pushed the door open and slowly stepped inside.
It had, of course, only a single room and was incredibly bare; there were no windows, no decorations, and hardly any items strewn about. In the farthest corner of the room, there laid a long cot with a few folded linens at its feet. Beneath them, there was a thick, fur blanket; it looked to be the most luxurious item in the whole place, which seemed a bit miserable even to Khora's eyes.
Near the cot, surrounded by unlit candles, there stood a small figure. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was an idol sculpted of iron; it depicted the form of a man clad in robes with his arms stretched forward and his palms facing upwards. In one hand, he held what she assumed was a crown, and in the other, a common spade.
At the figure's feet, there was a weathered and discolored plaque bearing the inscription "Revan ar Vainir" on one side and "Justice is Great" on the other.
Khora recognized the words as Mirin, the language of the elves, but knew little else of the foreign tongue. The elves were neither allies nor enemies to the Norfolk and were hardly seen near the Norva; thus, they were considered largely inconsequential by her people.
She traced her fingers over the words and opened her mouth— almost as if compelled to read them aloud. However, the impulse was interrupted by the sound of clashing weapons that broke across the sky. She shifted her attention to the source of the noise and realized the fighting had begun.
She abruptly backed away from the idol and scanned her surroundings. She saw the chest Jira had sent her to procure in the opposite corner of the room; it was nearly hidden by the darkness gathered around it.
She gripped the handle at its side and pulled it away from the wall. It was heavier than she hoped it would be, but Khora paid it no mind as her hand darted to the opposite handle. She heaved as she pulled the chest off the floor and rushed out the door towards the healing house. Even with her thoughts on the battle just beyond the veil and her efforts focused on returning to Jira— she could almost sense a strange energy within the chest she carried. Something pulsed within it.
Khora climbed up the few steps that led to the healing house's entrance and shifted her stance so she could knock on the door with her knuckles. A stranger opened it cautiously before his eyes widened, and his hands stretched to hover near the chest.
"I can take it," he offered, his fingers twitching slightly.
The stranger sported a shaved head and slight stubble across his chin. His hazel eyes seemed anxious as they peered at her, but she could sense no ill-intent within them. While the door still partially hid his form, she could see he was wearing thick, leather armor and had a large quiver fastened to the rear of his hips.
"I have no need for assistance," she said stiffly, attempting to scoot past him.
The man stepped closer to her and blocked the entrance.
"I hope you'll excuse me, but I'll have to insis-" he started.
"She's here to help, Roland," Jira waived from within. "I sent her to retrieve that for me."
The man sighed and stepped out of Khora's way. She marched past him, making a substantial effort not to disclose how winded she was after hauling the chest halfway across the village.
"You know I hold your judgment in high regard," Roland murmured. "But, I genuinely do not think that should be here."
Khora set the chest on the floor, near the same corner her spear was leaning against. Jira waddled over to her and offered her a nod before placing his hand on the chest. With a groan, he pulled the lip open and unveiled what she had been lugging around.
The chest was partially filled with weapons: a few shortswords, a handful of clubs, and a mace or two. Khora thought she could see something glimmering beneath the other armaments, but she stepped away as the old man motioned to the chest.
"It's just a few weapons, Roland," he sighed. "We need to arm the others."
"You know what I'm talking about, Jira," he muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Khora took another step back as the younger man trudged forward and began taking stock of the chest. A slight cough reminded her where she was and brought her attention to the rest of the healing house.
The cots that had neatly adorned the room before had been pushed against the walls to allow a large clearing in the center, where a few furs were stretched out for the children to sit on. She counted seven of them rolling around the clearing. Their exhausted and panicked mothers sat on the cots nearest to them; Khora tallied eight women, five of which held at least one infant in their arms, and three were visibly pregnant.
She shivered at the thought of having to nurse children during a battle.
Khora glanced towards Edmund, who sat on a cot as well, but maintained a bit of distance between himself and the women. They were watching him warily, as if he might leap forward with his axe if they grew careless. It was a look they had begun to turn onto her, but only for a moment before Jira spared a slight nod in their direction. She did not fault them for their distrust; it was a sensible feeling— especially now.
Khora could feel the agitation in the air around them. It seemed to cascade off Roland the most and was seconded, barely, by Edmund. The children appeared to be the only ones unaffected by the dark presence just outside their home and instead filled their time playing with an equally oblivious Ranger.
"There are more arms if needed, although I doubt it will be necessary," Jira mumbled, passing Roland a sheathed shortsword.
"And the Vi-" he began to ask.
"As I said, I will deal with it myself. Now go, turn those over to the rest."
The man nodded curtly before stumbling out of the healing house, his arms burdened with a tangled pile of weapons. Edmund moved closer to them, but he was overlooked as both Khora and Jira watched Roland clumsily lumber towards the others who had stayed behind. They stared for a few moments and watched him awkwardly try to knock on one of the guarded homes. The door opened abruptly, causing him to move back and drop one of the shortswords. She looked on while he, and the man who opened the door, clumsily tried to pick it up.