45. Esther #2
Her head tilts to the side slightly, most likely recalculating the inclusion of a blessed sword. “In that case.” She holds out her hand and chants. A breeze sweeps, sucking in a weapon to her hand that glows a deep blue at the handle. A randor blade. Vile greer.
The silver pole is long, the tip of it turning into a steely blade that pulses with the former greer’s magic living inside. She chants, a pump of magic coursing beneath her feet as she advances toward me with lightning speed.
I bring my sword up, barely defending myself in time, unsuspecting of her swift movement, but now better prepared.
Metal scrapes along metal as I fling her off, aiming for her stomach.
I’m shoved back by her defensive wind. She strikes for my legs, but I produce an earth pillar pushing back off it to give us some distance. The pillar splits in two.
Another wind sweeps, and as I dodge I realize my miscalculation as another comes for me.
I swing my blade to cut through it but awkwardly fall back onto my ankle as I rebalance.
My lungs burn as she begins another chant, slowly pulling at my lungs.
She can’t do it as quickly as she did in the carriage, but I understand immediately that if I don’t go all out on this wind greer, I might never make it to Regent in time.
I call forth water from the sea, leaving my soulless beast to rest. Using it would only damage me more against this greer, considering how efficient her strikes are. Balls of water surround me as my magic greedily enjoys the challenge.
Wanting and needing to strike this greer down.
I would happily cut through a thousand of her to get to him.
My water turns to ice, shattering into pieces with every wind blast she sends through.
But the ice takes the brunt of the force as it quickly reforms into water, only to turn into another shield while I minimize the distance between us.
She chants, stepping back, because doing so leaves her open in hand-to-hand combat.
Only those who have mastered their element can simultaneously do both.
And although this greer may be at that point, she is not me.
My magic rolls off me, like a snake shedding skin, as I feel liberated, knowing that the match is already won.
I will not fail.
I will not fall.
Strike after strike, our weapons collide, her offense slowing as her wind strikes grow more frenzied while she buckles under the pressure.
I imbue droplets of my water onto my blade to slowly freeze over, creating a more forceful blow as I strike at her.
The randor blade suddenly shifts into a rope-like weapon, wrapping around my defenses, and I only have a split second to defend myself as the blade’s end hooks toward my stomach.
An earthly barricade rises beside me, taking most of the blow as I slice my sword down her chest. She jumps back as wind daggers slip through my defenses, and I’m forced to dance on my tiptoes, only steps away from losing balance entirely.
One pierces into my shoulder, jarring me back as I curse, keeping control of my magic as I come to a stop and face the wind greer, who stumbles back two steps herself.
A deep red drips down my icy blade, and my magic begins pushing out the invisible wind blade from my shoulder. Her hand reaches up to her chest as if shocked to see her own blood as she rubs it between her fingers.
Two dark shadows fall upon me, Biscuit and Lovealots coming to defend my back, looming in height behind me, their black fur now glistening and matted with blood. It’s the first time I can take a shaky breath, reevaluating my surroundings and how everyone fares.
One of my invisible chains has remained with Regent, acting as a constant reassurance that he’s still alive. I check on the fire greer, noticing the dull leakage of his magic. Good, that means he’s been infected with Blaze’s poison, and it’s only a matter of time until Blaze trumps him.
All around me, greers and warriors fall, more from the Tahil clan as we further grow outnumbered, and then my magic snags on a familiar spirit greer.
I don’t look back, but my teeth grit, sensing that Sheila has walked past her barricade to join the fight, probably unable to watch the fallen any longer.
But I do not wish to see her fall either. I need to finish this.
The wind greer speaks. “I’m impressed, most usually can’t dodge my sneak attack. But now you’ve made me mad. I can’t remember the last time someone made me bleed. Perhaps my master, but I tend to like that about him. Though from an acclaimed omni greer, I expected more.”
It infuriates me that I have to try to reserve my magic, understanding it’s still not enough. I need more.
Clumps of rock and water float around me, the roots beneath the earth bending to my will.
Her mouth moves as she chants. Her wind dives for me, slice after slice, as I use the ice shields to break the wind and shoot clumps of the earth to distract her as I shift the roots beneath.
She attacks me head on with her chain-like blade, shifting erratically as I use a water whip with a similar technique to deflect it, waiting for my opening.
The feelopes zig-zag with wraith-like speed around me, keeping soldiers who try to interfere and attack me at bay. I notice a man crumple forward, his skin a gray that looks like the soul has been sucked out of him by Sheila, who comes into my peripheral vision.
I grow uneasy by the numbers that now begin to surround us.
I push my hand out, embodying the swell of water as a tidal wave to overthrow and pin six of them to the ground, remaining focused on the wind greer, my magic quickly depleting from its multiple uses.
My breath starts coming in erratically as I give in to my instinct and magic, guiding me to fight.
With lightning speed, the wind greer takes it as an opening, as she comes down to strike me.
I barely have enough time to raise my sword, relinquishing my control of the water wave.
Her might and randor blade shove down, almost dropping me onto my right knee.
A tiny splinter fractures my blade as I breathe on the greer’s face, imbuing it with my water to drive frost and ice over her features.
But it’s not effective enough to take her sight as my blade breaks in two, and she screams when the ice grows over her face.
The sword comes down, but a cane blocks its strike as I’m pushed out of the way. It happens too quickly, as the wind greer’s weapon slices down Sheila’s chest causing her to fall to the ground. Blood sprays into the air against the fiery backdrop of trees in flames.
An uneasy swirl in my magic comes to life, the gathering of enchantments and spells flickering through as my body moves toward Sheila, with only one thing in mind: to protect.
I scream as I turn toward the wind greer, my battle cry feral as I implore the ice particles to burrow deep and hurt.
Suffer.
Die.
The wind greer pitches her weapon toward Sheila, and I shadow her, crystallizing a shield in front of Sheila as the feelopes simultaneously dive to protect the matriarch.
The randor blade embeds into the ice, but instead of shattering this time, my magic pulses, eating at it, savoring the soul inside as it freezes it over so it cannot be called back by its master.
The wind greer shrieks as she steps back, tripping over herself as she scratches at her eyes, trying to claw my ice shards that drill into her bloodstream and crave her pain and demise.
I walk over to her, taking in the satisfaction of her blood pouring from her body as I grind my magic more painfully, enjoying the squirm.