25. There Are No Heroes
Chapter 25
There Are No Heroes
E lnok knew he’d made a gamble when he sprinted away from Sylzenya and towards the Dynameis. He’d been far outmatched, the warriors’ magic enough to kill him in a blink of an eye, the serpentums even more so. But at the end of the day, he trusted Sylzenya, and he believed she would sooner use her magic than forfeit his life, even if it meant putting others in danger. And he needed her to use it. Her magic was the key to making it through Lhaal Forest alive, and he couldn’t let her guilty conscience get in the way.
The night they’d spent together may have been a mistake, especially since the truth of her magic had been made known, but he couldn’t deny the thin web spun between them, its material threaded with the strength of Vutrorian steel.
Even if he was supposed to hate her, he wasn’t sure he could find the will to do so.
“We should rest,” he finally spoke, voice hoarse from thirst.
They’d walked somewhere around ten miles, and he could tell Sylzenya was feeling the strain as well. Her speed had significantly decreased in the last mile or so.
“We don’t have time,” she replied.
“If we keep this pace for much longer, we’ll lose our strength and only further delay ourselves.”
Sylzenya glanced over her shoulder, the yellow glow of his sword illuminating her face in such a way she looked like a goddess amidst the dark crooked trees. Her eyes looked determined, her full lips set in a calculated line, and her muscles shifting in the shadow and light. Of all the times for his cock to get hard, of course it would be in a deadly forest with a woman whose magic had been stripping his land of its ability to survive.
“Inconvenient” was an understatement.
“Fine, but it’ll need to be short,” she replied, “We can’t risk the tree changing locations.”
“Agreed.”
They traveled a little ways further until they found a small clearing. Quietly, they surveyed the trees, careful to identify any serpentum skins or arachni webs. They found none. Head teetering on the brink of a throbbing ache, Elnok sat, leaning against a petrified log as he took two large gulps of water from the stolen waterskin. The dead warrior had only carried one waterskin, suggesting he’d thought they’d capture him and Sylzenya with ease.
They didn’t take into account just how powerful she’d become.
Idiots.
At the thought of Kharis’ escape, the headache won. Sylzenya was right—they hadn’t seen the last of him. Perhaps he’d come back with more reinforcements, or perhaps even Distrathrus himself. He took a bite of the dried meat. Although it was stringy and caught in his teeth, it didn’t make him puke like the rest of their godsdamn food.
“So is he… talking to you?” Elnok asked. “In your mind?”
Sylzenya sat across from him, eating a cluster of nuts and berries.
“Not since I killed the serpentums,” she replied.
Elnok swallowed the meat. “Suppose that’s good news.”
She met him with cold silence.
“You seemed to have figured out Distrathrus’ poisoning of the wine long before you admitted it in the Willow Grove,” Elnok said, tearing at another piece of meat.
“I’d begun to suspect something, but I wasn’t sure what until Kharis and Nyla came to take the compass.”
“You could’ve told me you had your suspicions,” he paused, spinning his gold ring, “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want it to be true, so I ignored it.” Sylzenya sighed. “I chose to ignore many things.”
“You certainly did,” Elnok muttered.
Her eyes drifted to a dirt pile in the center of the clearing, her forefinger scraping at her thumb, a drop of blood blooming from the cut.
“I should’ve never doubted my parents,” she said, her nose crinkling and eyes shining, “what kind of daughter abandons her love for those who gave her life to a man who only cared about the power she possessed? I was a fool. A young, naive, idiotic fool.”
“You were manipulated by a centuries-old god who’d poisoned everyone to be on his side,” Elnok retorted, “you probably would’ve been killed if you’d seen through all of his bullshit from the beginning.”
A tear fell down her cheek. “Doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done.”
Elnok stopped spinning his ring, leaning forward. “You’re right, it doesn’t.”
Sylzenya didn’t respond, her eyes glazing over, her mind traveling somewhere else. Taking a deep breath, Elnok tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the dark treetops.
“But just because you’ve committed atrocities doesn’t mean sitting around and sulking is the answer,” he continued.
“Then what should I do?” she whispered.
He looked at her face, but she turned away. Another tear fell down her cheek, dripping onto her robe.
“I think you already know the answer to that question.”
She paused, taking a heavy, shaking breath. “Even if we somehow find the willow and it gives us a way to stop him, it doesn’t take back all the damage my people and I have done to yours.”
“The more you linger on the past, the harder it will be to see that there’s a future worth living for.”
“What if there isn’t?” she replied, “What if it’s my fault?”
Elnok sighed, leaving his petrified log to sit next to her. Her fingers fidgeted with her white robe, the fabric stained in blood and caked with mud. Grabbing her hand, he brushed his thumb over her skin. She turned to him, but he kept his stare on her dirt-covered fingers.
“You want so badly to be a hero, and it terrifies you to think you’ve failed,” Elnok said, “But heroes are just people who tried their best and fucked up along the way. The more time passes, the more their story is made into one of perfection and glory. No one wants to remember the awful things they did to get where they wanted to be. No one wants to acknowledge they were just as selfish as any other person in the end.”
She shook her head. “I just want to make sure my people are safe. I just want to make sure this world is safe.”
“Why? And don’t bullshit me by saying it’s the right thing .”
She let out a hushed breath, her back muscles constricting as she sat up a bit taller. “I suppose… I want to feel like I did something meaningful. I need to know I did something worthwhile, otherwise my life will amount to nothing. And what’s more valuable than saving my people when they need it?”
“Then you’re right,” he replied, “You did fail. Pretty miserably, too.”
Her body stilled, fingernails digging into his skin. “I didn’t mean to. That has to count for something.”
“Sure it can, but it doesn’t change anything. Everyone fails, even you, it’s just that your mistakes cost a whole lot more than most.”
Silence.
She removed her hand from his. “I’d hoped for something a bit more… comforting than this.”
Elnok sighed, “Would it have actually been comforting to hear me tell you lies? That you’re a hero in shining armor with so much good intention it’ll wipe away all the sins you’ve committed in your temple? All the devastation you’ve sown on this continent?”
“By Aretta’s blood, I get it, Elnok.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he retorted. “You aren’t a good or bad person, Sylzenya. You’re just… human. A human with magic, which means your consequences reach farther than mine ever could. Ever since I first heard you on your temple’s balcony, I saw what Distrathrus was trying to display: that you’re different. Special. And in ways, you are, just like anyone is with their intricacies. But even with all your magic and pageantry, you were still no better than anyone else down in those gardens.” He paused, swiping his thumb along his gold ring. “You’re not separate from this world like Distrathrus wants you to believe, you’re a part of it.”
She sat in silence until she said, “Are you always this scathingly honest?”
He huffed a laugh. “No, actually. But I guess… I really believe in you.” His eyes caught her gaze. “And I suppose I feel like I can be honest with you because of that.”
“Well, it hurts. A lot.”
He smiled. “Good. Because if it didn’t, then I’d be concerned.”
The scowl on her face relaxed, her rigidness melting away. “How are you doing that? Tell me what a fuck up I am and yet still look at me like you don’t want to see me dead?”
“It’d be hard to have a conversation with a dead person,” he chided. But all humor left his bones as he sat up straight. “I’m with you until the very end of this, Sylzenya. We’re going to find that willow.”
Slowly, she lifted her head.
“Do you promise?” she asked.
He could feel the hopelessness in her words, the loneliness in how she hugged her knees to her chest. This woman who’d commanded roots out of the ground and killed three serpentums now sat as if she held no power at all. For the first time since meeting her, he finally saw in full clarity what Distrathrus had done to her:
Reduced her to believe she was nothing without him.
Every wall Elnok had built around himself crumbled. Suddenly he was back by the cliffside, his tears mingling with the rain; his own body trembling as he grasped for a reason to continue listening to his heart beat instead of throwing himself into the sea.
“I promise.”
A stream of tears trailed down her face, meeting the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
Elnok brushed her hair away from her face before embracing her, his hand sliding up and down her arm. He knew he should’ve kept his distance, her naked body still fresh on his tongue, but what kind of person withholds comfort in these moments? He wanted to whisper to her how everything would be alright, how they’d defeat Distrathrus and life would become something beautiful and wonderful. But it wouldn’t be the truth, for they still hadn’t found the tree and they didn’t know what it would take to stop a god from destroying humanity.
He warred with himself, holding her close. If it wasn’t for her and her people, he might’ve lived a normal life free of hunger and pain.
And yet, he didn’t want to let her go, hadn’t since he’d first seen her smile talking about her people’s history; since she slammed her fist into the wall and decided she would find the compass instead of bow to the High One’s threats; since he’d first heard her laugh in the temple gardens; since she’d removed the hanging sheet between them and touched his body as if he’d been everything she’d been looking for.
And he’d be lying if he denied feeling the exact same way about her.
Fingers digging into his shoulders, she leaned back, her shimmering eyes searching his. Gently, he brushed the remaining tears from her face, wiping them on his cloak as if to say her burdens would be his.
She whispered so soft he barely heard her, “I want to be free of him . ”
He leaned forward, unable to stop himself as he combed his fingers through her hair.
“Your power far outweighs Distrathrus’, can’t you see that?”
Her eyes dipped to his mouth as her fingers traced his chest. Heat rising in his body, Elnok leaned down; her mouth slightly parted, and damn him because he didn’t want to hold back. If last night was a mistake, then why had it felt so right even after learning the truth?
“No, I can’t,” she whispered.
She removed her hand, turning away.
Elnok gently grabbed her chin, tipping her face to meet his.
“I can,” he said.
He studied her face with his eyes—her strong chin, slender nose, deep blue eyes, and full lips. Silence hung over them both, her breath dancing along his mouth, a fire lighting in his body.
“Last night was a mistake,” she whispered, her half-lidded eyes staring at his mouth.
Everything within him ordered him to back away. Nothing would come of this. He knew this, and so did she. Once they found the willow, he’d part from her and go to Orym, and she’d stay.
Best not to get more attached.
And yet, as he brushed his thumb along the column of her throat, her soft skin sliding under his touch, his heart betrayed him.
“Yes,” Elnok agreed, “a grievous mistake.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, her throat bobbing against his thumb. “A horrible mistake.”
“The very worst.”
She paused. “I think I like making mistakes with you.”
Heat and want rushed through him at her words. As he gripped her throat, angling her lips to his?—
A shrill screech pierced their ears. Everything between them broke into iced veins and dark fear as they pushed off one another, fumbling for their leather pouches and weapons. Elnok swiped his sword through the air, a trail of thin glimmering threads wrapping around the blade.
Webs.
“ Fuck ,” Elnok muttered.
Eight glossy eyes blinked from the shadows, multiplying into numbers he could hardly fathom.
Arachnis.
Metallic chitters echoed through the trees. Elnok slowly stood up, lifting his sword, the yellow glow piercing through the shadows and crooked forest. His blood turned to ice as bulbous bodies black as obsidian twitched in the light, the arachnis’ long sharp legs piercing into the earth as they each snapped their fangs together.
It was far too dark, even with the lit blade, to determine their number.
Elnok turned to find Sylzenya sitting perfectly still. "Sylzenya," he urged, placing a hand on her shoulder, "now would be the time for your power."
“I’m well aware,” she replied through gritted teeth as she stood, pressing her back against his.
A shriek shattered the air as one of the arachnis skittered forward, its glossy sheen shining against the sword’s light, black liquid dripping from its fangs. Elnok’s chest squeezed.
“They’re most vulnerable at the juncture between their legs and body as well as their throats,” Elnok said as another arachni twitched forward, its eyes scanning them frantically.
“Have you killed one before?” she asked.
“Almost.”
Sylzenya cursed as he felt her body heat rise, her back seeming to convulse against him.
“I can’t do it,” she gasped, “Distrathrus’ blood. It’s blocking me.”
Blood drained from his face. “You can do this. I know you can.”
“He isn’t letting me this time,” she grunted, “I can’t get past him.”
This would be it then.
Gulping, he said a silent prayer to whatever deity might listen to him that Orym would be saved and that, by some miracle, this wouldn’t be his and Sylzenya’s last stand.
“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, readjusting his grip on his sword and handing her his extra blade, “We stick together and we fight until we can’t any longer, understood?”
She cursed again, taking the sword with a trembling hand. “I can barely hold this damned weapon.”
Elnok’s arms dared to shake, but he forced his body to remain poised. The monster that lived within himself roared to life—death or not, he would take as many arachnis to their graves as he could manage.
If he was to fight, it would be to his last breath.
“We can do this,” he breathed, for while he knew Sylzenya was no warrior, she needed to believe she could be. “Are you with me?”
Her breaths shook as her muscles tensed against his back.
“Always,” she replied.
He grabbed Sylzenya’s wrist and wrenched her to the ground with him, both of them barely dodging an arachni as it flew over their heads, colliding into one of its own.
Their screeches reverberated along his bones, sending panic into his heart. But his fear became fire as another arachni skittered towards them. Eyes wide and focus sharpened, he jumped to his feet, sword ready to pierce the monster through its jaw.
It vanished.
Shock ruptured through his spine. Then, he remembered.
They can move in and out of sight, Kharis had told him . It’s not due to swiftness, as they’re rather slow creatures, but they’re able to render themselves invisible.
A gust of air whooshed past him.
“ Sylzenya, ” he shouted, “Watch out!”
But it was too late. She screamed as it crashed into her, its fangs aimed for her chest.
Instinct pulsed through Elnok as he swiped the sword through one of its legs, amputating it from its body. It sliced through easily, as if it was nothing more than a piece of thin cloth. The arachni shrieked, falling to its side. Elnok cut off another leg, and then another, yelling at Sylzenya to move.
A weight heavy as an anchor crashed into him from behind. All air left his lungs as he slammed into the musty earth, his shoulder cracking on impact.
“ Elnok! ”
He quickly flipped to his back, the arachni screeching above him, jaws wide. Black slimy liquid dripped onto his face. He gripped his sword, aiming to slice it through its mouth?—
Red filled his vision as pain ruptured through his arm.
He screamed.
Sylzenya raised her sword, aiming to slice the leg that speared through his bicep, but she was too late; the arachni’s fangs dug into his chest. The last thing he saw was Sylzenya’s ash-colored hair fluttering through the air like a silver wave crashing against a wall of jagged rock, and then, pain consumed him.