9 - Confrontation #3
He closed his eyes, squeezing his eyelids shut and praying to whoever would listen that he wouldn’t hurt himself too badly.
Then, while holding his breath, Tariel jumped.
He rolled on the ground once, twice, three times, breathless and aching all over, before pushing off with his hands and getting back to his feet.
Out of breath, covered in dirt and ash, he drew on what little strength he had left…
and felt something strange pulsing within him.
A new, burning energy, almost alien. Without really thinking, he raised his hands and summoned a power he didn’t know he possessed.
His chest began to burn painfully as the words of the incantation poured from his lips—he who, ordinarily, almost never spoke them.
The night seemed to freeze.
Not a sound. Had his horse stopped…?
A light burst forth between his palms as the syllables cascaded to his fingertips, and then… the phoenix appeared.
Colossal, larger than the previous one, but it wasn’t its size that sent a chill down Tariel’s spine. It was the color of its flames.
Blue, blazing, terrifyingly beautiful.
He didn’t have the luxury of marveling at the sight.
He sensed that Cassian’s time was running out.
With a sharp gesture, Tariel directed the creature, and the phoenix soared into the air, its blue flames illuminating the grayish lands with an almost blinding glow, cutting through the night at an unreal speed toward the castle.
Its cry pierced the silence, and Tariel stood there, torn between fascination and dread at the power he had just unleashed.
That was something he would explore later.
If there was a later.
When the phoenix reached Cassian, perched on the griffin, it dodged him with a scorching flap of its wings, soaring over him. The heat radiating from it was anything but natural: it was alive, hungry.
His pursuers weren’t so lucky. Griffins, foot soldiers… all were engulfed by the blue flames, reduced to ashes before they could even realize what was happening.
Tariel, for his part, had fallen to his knees. Through a bond he shared with each of his familiars, he sent and received energy from the phoenix relentlessly, until exhaustion nearly overwhelmed him. His body begged for mercy, but his mind refused to stop.
He had done what was necessary, so he would wait; he would push his limits.
The elf refused to go on without Cassian.
He refused, once again, to be “saved” against his will.
They would have a very opinionated conversation very soon.
But for now, Tariel waited, without even knowing if the man he might have just saved was the very one who, at the end of this journey, would take his life.
Every loss tied a knot in his stomach. He could feel them. All of them.
And yet, he continued to fuel his creation.
Finally, a familiar energy had mingled with his spell: a sign that the mercenary was still alive. Relief had hit him full force… though the pain wouldn’t go away.
For Tariel knew this: death hung heavy over the lands of Morgraves, and he had just contributed to it. Perhaps he was no better than the rest of his people. Perhaps taking lives was in his blood.
At that moment, he felt utterly lonely.
Guilt descended upon him like a shadow, absorbing all light.
In the distance, the kingdom’s bells rang out, though he didn’t know exactly why.
But deep down… didn’t he already suspect the reason?
Whatever Cassian had done with that phoenix, whatever that magic was that he sensed resonating with his own, none of it could be innocent.
Such was the price he had to pay to move forward freely.
He couldn’t tell when the tears began to stream down his porcelain cheeks. He could think of only one thing: going home. Refusing this quest. Staying in the safety of his library, far from death, far from history, far from all this chaos.
He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to see, and yet he was being forced to. He held his head up, his eyes open, while the world burned. Perhaps he was weak…
His magic, however, was not.
But emotionally… he didn’t feel up to it. How many other kings, princes, or tyrants in this vast world were already out to get him? How was he supposed to keep going when death lurked at every corner?
The flapping of wings, followed by a thud, snapped him out of his thoughts.
He looked up.
Cassian was dismounting the griffin they had freed from the dungeon the day before.
The day before…
To him, it felt like another lifetime. Objectively speaking, his journey had only begun a few weeks ago—a few months at most—and yet it all seemed to have stretched out into years.
The mercenary’s apology took him by surprise.
Even more so than the dragon behind him.
A dragon.
And this dragon was, quite obviously, the phoenix he had sent away earlier.
Then, the dragon imploded.
The elf wasn’t breathing anymore. The shock that coursed through him dried his tears, freezing Tariel in a bewildered expression. His phoenix had been transformed into a dragon and then imploded.
He snapped back to reality when he realized the mercenary kept talking, murmuring soft apologies and reassurances against him. Was he in his arms? He was suffocating.
He’d known that death weighed heavily on the Morgrave lands, and Tariel had just played a part in its doom.