Chapter 32 Eveera
Eveera
One more day. I chant to myself, spinning another star around my finger before aiming it at the target. THWWUMMPP! It lands, sinking into the cork right next to the other five I've already thrown.
I reach down along my thigh and slide my dagger out next. Tossing the hilt in my palm, I feel the weight of it before sending it across the room to land in the "heart" of the target. "Whew." I blow out, dragging the back of my hand across my forehead, wiping away the sweat there.
My tendrils Wield out of my hands, fastening around each of my weapons and tugging them from their marks, guiding them back to the table.
"I'd hate to be the target."
My tendrils — weapons in tow — snap towards the voice as I spin around. Max stares wide-eyed at the seven sharp ends, inches from his face.
I relax, my guard coming down quickly, and I release the Wield, a cacophony of metal clattering to the ground around his feet.
"Do I need to guess who it is you're picturing?"
"Did you come here to talk or to train?"
He huffs out a laugh, a hand dragging down his face, "honest?"
"M-hmm."
"I'm really fucking tired of talking."
I motion towards the floor, and he meets me in the center. "Last thing and then the talking stops." His brows lift, "Wield or no Wield?" With little hesitation the both of us answer, "Wield" at the same time.
My magic surges to life underneath my skin, responding to the crackles of lightning flickering around his fists.
Max charges first, tucking his head in as he barrels towards me. He lets out a bolt by my feet, and I quickly throw up a wall of black, sending the electricity skittering back towards him. While he's distracted, I dive to the right and roll, careful to avoid the live energy.
The maneuver puts me slightly behind him, and while I'm still on the ground, I loose out a tendril at his ankle and pull. "OOF!" He falls to his knees, his face tilting to look over at me.
We both scramble to our feet, and he snaps out a bolt of lightning, the shock scorching up my arm. "Fuck!" I shriek, my right hand reflexively grabbing hold of my bicep and clutching it to me as I ride out the pain.
Shake it off. Bind his hands. My conscience snaps.
I Wield two tendrils out at his wrists, wrapping them tightly in the corporeal magic. Max grunts in frustration, fighting the hold when I yank down. I cross the tethers over each other and spin him around, pulling him towards me.
The motion contorts his arms behind his back, and I release a few more bands to bind around his torso.
He struggles against the makeshift cocoon, his Wield lighting him up like a bonfire as it adheres to the tendrils.
The magic climbs my tendrils like a disease, Max’s electricity surging through me, melting my insides.
"YIELD!" I shout, but he doesn't hear me over his own scream. Panicked, I feel my Wield take the helm, fully consuming my mind to drill into his.
-
"MILLIE!!"
The smell of charred flesh and blood fills my nostrils as I collapse onto the wet dirt. My head snaps in the direction of Max's scream, and I watch as he sprints towards Millicent. He looses out a bolt of lightning straight into the heart of her assailant, frying him where he stands.
To my left, I see a Naturist, Wielding a tangled and twisted web of vines behind them.
"MAX! MOVE!" I shout, but it's no use; no sound comes out of my mouth.
Staring in horror, I brace for the Naturist's magic to snare them when motion comes in from the right.
In a flash, the Naturist is blinked from existence, the two of them none the wiser as Orem Wields — giving Millie enough time to shield them.
Orem fights off a brutally large soldier, blinking in and out each time the man swings his sword.
My heart seizes with every arc of his blade, each cut through the air getting closer than the next.
Orem's blinks through time slow, exhaustion sweeping over him quickly.
That was the problem with Oblivionaries, their Wield used up so much of their energy that they burn out quicker than most if they aren't careful.
He cries out, clutching his bicep as red blood blooms between his fingers. The ruffian he fights, smiling wickedly at his success in nicking his opponent. Max stirs into a rage at the scene, his magic sparking around him.
"Max, be careful of the Shield!" Millie tries to warn, but he doesn't listen.
"WE NEED TO COVER OREM!"
"I'M TRYING! YOU'RE GOING TO brEAK THROUGH MY WIELD! BACK UP!"
Her face scrunches in focus as she tries to expand the shield over to Orem, Max screaming at him. As the two of them inch closer, Max's voice becomes louder, and Orem instinctively turns towards it.
That one small action would be his worst mistake.
The soldier uses his brief second of distractedness to spear the tip of his sword through Orem's throat. "NO!" I scream as Max and Millie stare in horror—
-
"STOP! P-PLEASE, EVEERA!" The choked sobs break through my concentration as my Wield recoils.
The impact of my power slamming into me tears the two of us apart.
We're both hunched over on the floor, the sound of tears and panting surrounding us, and I struggle lift my head to look at Max's prone form.
"Max…" I cry out, and his back bows, arms collapsing underneath his weight as he curls into the floor.
His wails are low and quiet as he rolls over, his body shaking from exhaustion and emotion.
I slowly crawl over to him, my tears and sweat staining the floor as I do. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, Maxwell."
We lay there on the floor until our bodies tingled with numbness, defeated and drained.
"I guess we should have thought that through a little better." He whispers.
My head lolls over to my left, his eyes are bloodshot, focused above us. I hum in agreement, and he sighs. "Are you alright?"
"A-hem. Yes, you?" He traces the burns where his Wield charged through me.
"Fine. I've been in worse shape."
Max laughs, the genuine sound of it jarring me, and the two of us burst out into a maniacal fit. Catching my breath, I press the heels of my palms over my eyes and will the ache behind them away.
"I miss them." He admits, his voice quieting again.
"I do too."
The tears fall freely down his cheeks, his lip quivering between his teeth. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
“About the necromancy?"
My lips flatten into a thin line, and I shake my head. "I should have worked it out sooner… I mean, the beasts didn't start showing up until after…" He nods as my voice trails off, “a-hem, if I had I wouldn't have—"
"Evie. Even if you knew — I don't think you would have reacted any differently. If I had your Wield, I wouldn't have either. We watched them die, E."
"I know."
"Don't torture yourself over something you couldn't control, and don't apologize for it either. It's painful to watch you apologize." My mouth parts, and I smack his arm, pushing him back over onto his back as I roll onto mine again.
"As much as I hate to break up this display—" Our heads snap up at the sound of Armond's voice, "your guests are preparing to see you a final time."
"Since when did you become a messenger? Isn't that Felix's job?" I snark, rising to my full height and extending a hand out to Max. He clasps my palm roughly, the contact sending a small shock through the skin, and I flinch. "So the leeches are waiting?"
Armond rolls his eyes and waves me ahead of him. "You invited them, your Majesty."
"Must you take all of my fun away, Monty?"
“Yes.” He deadpans.
I narrow my eyes and pat his chest. “Mmm – fine. Let’s go.”
Rorin was already there, waiting with Felix for me when I pushed through the council room doors — both of their expressions unenthused as I swept my way up to the head of the table.
I could feel Rorin's building irritation through our seal while I cleaned up after my spar, a feeling that has only amplified now that we're sharing the same space.
His eyes rove over my frame, raising the hair on the back of my neck as they drag slowly back up to my face. I cock my brow at him, daring the man to say something.
"Damn woman." He growls, more to himself than me, and a smirk twitches at the corner of my lips as I step in front of him. I take my seat, and the rest of the room follows suit, the sound of chairs scraping along the stone floor grating against our eardrums.
My lips part to speak when I notice General Imir still standing, “yes…?” I prompt, and he gives me a curt smile.
"Well — I'll be the first to admit that this has been an interesting welcome visit to the… lands… of Obsidian."
"And you needed to stand to say that?" I quip, inclining my head for him to sit.
He grunts uncomfortably in doing so, and Rorin pinches my shoulder for me to behave.
"A-hem, but thank you. We appreciate you coming at our request — I am eager to hear all of your thoughts on the deals I have proposed. "
From my peripheral vision, I see the three clan leaders stand, the Matriarch of the Serpentes sliding forward their stack of papers. "The clans have agreed to continue our standing arrangement."
“Thank you.” Rorin and I answer at the same time. Feeling no need to linger, they dismiss themselves. Turning my attention to the remaining leaders, General Imir rises back out of his seat.
“I’ll let you three speak. We’ll have plenty of time for my answer after.” The way he says it makes my skin crawl, and I watch as he trails after the others. I give Armond a look, and he steps out as well, keeping an eye on the shifty politician while we work things out with Sorrel.
King Eloden is silent, looking pensively at the wall in front of him while rubbing a wrinkled hand along his jawline. Rorin and I wait with bated breath for him to speak when his hand drops, slamming on top of the tabletop.