5. Lysanthir #2
“Kindreth?” She lowered her voice just in case Rachel or Laura had come back.
But she knew they hadn’t. They wouldn’t dare.
It was starting to turn towards late afternoon.
The shadows were lengthening. She’d never been outside of the dome this late.
A trickle of unease moved through her. Maybe if she left now, she’d made it back well before the Sun set. But still… she’d be alone.
The whole reason she’d approached Darcassan in the first place was because she didn’t want to be alone.
So she’d decided to see what he was doing.
Maybe even ask if he’d ride back with her.
She firmly told herself that she wasn’t scared about being outside of the dome.
Not exactly. It was still a bright sunny day and the monsters–mostly–stayed away during daylight.
But just before Darcassan had ridden up, she’d noticed the trees had started to creak and she thought she’d glimpsed something moving in the thick canopies up above her.
It was likely her imagination, but… Well, she’d wanted some company.
And elven company meant she’d be quite safe.
At least, that’s what she’d thought before Darcassan had opened his mouth. Now she wasn’t quite sure.
“No, this isn’t a Kindreth weapon. It’s–it’s a sacred weapon of the Aravae Empire! Of my family!” Darcassan protested.
But his brows were furrowed and he was staring down at the sword as if it had betrayed him somehow.
She could tell that the sword was even heavy to hold up with the tip resting on the ground as sweat was pouring down Darcassan’s temples.
He swiped at it with one hand, but that meant he took that hand off the sword and he was nearly dragged down bodily to the ground.
“Put it down! It’s too heavy for you!” Gemma cried, slightly worried about him. He’d given out a little gasp like it hurt to hold the blade somehow.
There was a stirring in the trees behind her. She glanced back, but didn’t see anything. The leaves were too thick. There was likely nothing. There had to be nothing. Lord Darcassan was a powerful elf! He was the nephew of the Sun King! Surely nothing in the forest would attack them with him there.
But he’s getting weaker. The longer he holds the sword. Why doesn’t he put it away again? Or, at least, down?
“No, I… I must master it. This must be part of the trick or something,” Darcassan was really gasping now. “You–you need to leave. You’re distracting me and–and–”
“I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
Laura and Rachel had wanted her to leave too. Besides, there were definitely creaks coming from the trees and the insects that had been churring before had stopped. There was no way she was heading back through the woods to the road alone now!
“Not without you anyways,” she added, her voice trilling a little as fear threaded through it.
It’s just the wind. That’s all!
“Fine! If you must remain then be quiet!” he hissed.
She opened her mouth to object, but then quickly snapped it shut.
Maybe if he mastered the sword or whatever then they could leave.
Creak. Creak. Creak. CRACK! Gemma’s breath caught as she spun around and studied the forest’s line.
But she saw nothing. She rounded back towards Darcassan, but he appeared not to have heard it.
He didn’t hear the sword either!
Darcassan’s back was bent over almost like he was an old man. His face was pasty pale despite the sweat. He closed his eyes and muttered something in Katyr that she only half-followed. It was something like, “Ancestors, give me your strength to wield the Sunshard!”
She smelled ozone–the scent of magic–and saw golden light moving from him into the sword.
The blade greedily absorbed it almost as if it was thirsty and he was a cool drink.
The trees began to wave wildly all around them.
The grass and flowers swayed with the magic being output from Darcassan. The hair on the back of her neck rose.
“Ancestors, give me your strength! All of your strength!” Darcassan called out.
There was the rumble of thunder in the distance and the sunlight dimmed though she saw no clouds in the sky. Her shoulders curled inwards as her eyes tracked the swaying trees. Now she couldn’t tell what was his magic versus what was movement made by something else.
“The Sunshard is mine! It is mine!” he proclaimed in Katyr.
But she heard, despite the cracking of branches and the shushing of leaves and his screamed claims, the sword said quite clearly, Lysanthir!
Darcassan was straining with all his might to lift the sword. He let out a mighty roar as he attempted to heave it up, but not even the tip left the ground and the rest of the blade only raised a few inches before he collapsed forward.
“Lord Darcassan!” she cried and raced to him.
He stumbled into her as the sword clattered down onto the stone. He nearly bowled her over, but she had been prepared for his weight. She moved with his momentum as her father had taught her and helped him down on the grass.
The trees slowly stopped swaying. The grass and flowers went still. The insects did not trill however. Nor did the birds sing. There was a sense of watchfulness in the glade. She swallowed, but only a thin trickle of saliva trickled down her dry as dust throat.
“Lord Darcassan?” she creaked out and shook his shoulder.
But he didn’t make a sound.
“Lord Darcassan?!” she repeated.
He laid on his front like a dead thing for a very long time. His eyelids were closed and she saw that his eyes were flickering beneath them as if he were dreaming. Cold sweat coated his brown and stuck his golden curls to his face. She kneeled beside him, unsure of what to do.
If he was really hurt maybe she should take his horse and ride back to Tyrael.
But, even if she thought it was a good idea to leave him here unconscious, she’d never ridden a horse on her own!
Especially not one as big as his steed, which was standing at the other side of the glade, ears and tail twitching nervously.
Its eyes rolled. It was frightened, too.
Creak. Creak. Creak. Her heart was in her throat as she snapped around towards the sounds.
Nothing.
But the shadows between the trees were larger now. Either the Sun had sunk low enough that its golden rays weren’t reaching the ground any longer or something was there that absorbed all light. Her throat felt so tight!
“Lord Darcassan,” she whined low in her throat, “you really need to wake up! Please wake up!”
Lysanthir, the sword whispered.
She looked over at it. “That wasn’t very nice! You–you hurt him!”
She was certain that was true. It had taken his magic. Maybe some of his life, too. It had let him drain himself just to prove to him that it wasn’t his. But now it had left them both exposed to whatever walked these woods.
Lysanthir, the sword repeated. Unrepentant.
“We’re in trouble,” she whispered. “And he’s the only one who can wield magic here!”
The sword didn’t respond to that. Gemma read into that silence that the sword wasn’t terribly impressed with Darcassan’s abilities whatsoever.
Creak.
Creak.
CRACK!
She jumped to her feet and slowly spun in a circle.
What she saw did not cause her anxiety to bleed away this time.
In fact, it grew. The darkness was now thick as molasses between the trees.
It was not natural. Of that, she was certain.
In fact, the trees seemed to have moved towards them, threading their roots together.
That’s not possible! That’s not possible!
But even as she repeated that mantra in her head, she knew it was a lie. Everything was possible in this brave new world that contained unicorns and whatever this darkness between the trees was.
“Lord Darcassan?! Lord Darcassan?! You’ve got to wake up! You’ve got to WAKE UP!” She frantically shook him.
He groaned. His eyelids fluttered open for a moment and her heart lifted. Was he coming to? He was coming to! Surely, he was.
His eyelids fell shut again.
NO!
“Lord Darcassan, please!” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please!”
CREAK!
CREAK!
CRACK!