35. Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
Rawn
T hey were everywhere. Rawn dashed into a dark alleyway with Zev and Elon following on his heels. Red Highland soldiers marched past them, their dark red cloaks fluttering in their wake. He hid behind a set of broken barrels and crates as he listened to the voices on the wind past the prattle of rain.
“First unit take the east. Second unit cover the west. The hounds tracked him here. Find him!”
Rawn closed his eyes while the thud of boots splashed into rain puddles and beat against the roads, along with the snarls of the Bloodhounds. They were ugly, massive beasts from the dry Erdas Mountains in Red Highland, and the best hunters to track down prey even through the rain. They would eventually be found, no matter the cloaking spell.
The voices of the soldiers faded. Rawn remained still, attempting to listen past the patter of rain. He looked to Elon who had his back to him as he kept eyes on the alley’s other end, his hands alight with magic.
They never did make it to the pier.
“I think it is here we part ways, Lord Norrlen,” he said under his breath.
Rawn stood. “I agree. Return to your family, Elon. Thank you for coming with us as far as you did.”
Elon glanced at him over his shoulder with unreadable amber eyes.
“They’re here,” Zev snarled, immediately alerting them.
A Bloodhounds hound filled the entry to both ends of the alley. The massive beasts were about seven feet tall with thick bulky bodies and ruddy fur that matched the sands of Red Highland. Their sharp teeth dripped down drool as they stalked forward, their short ears twitching. Each one carried an elf rider.
One shouted, “Here—”. Rawn’s arrow pierced his gullet.
Elon cast out a bolt of blue lightning, taking out the second rider.
But it was too late.
The charge of horses and cries of his pursuers echoed in the streets.
Both he and Elon chose a hound to take down. They sprinted toward their targets, swords in hand.
Elon dropped, and slid on the ground beneath the Bloodhouse, the greaves on his knees and shins screeching. He lifted his hand, bracing it with the other, and blue magic shot from his hands, spiraling into a rune-filled hexagon. The air ruptured as power blasted outward in a blazing detonation that threw the beast and rider back. Rawn shuddered under the impact, bracing against a wall.
The Bloodhound, now headless, toppled over dead. Elon rose to his feet with ease.
Zev sprinted past him and leaped into the air, falling on another Bloodhound stalking into the alley. His claws tore out its nape, but the creature was double his size and had a hide too thick. Rawn slid on the ground beneath it and struck with his sword, gutting it as he went. Guts and blood splattered on the ground as he came out from behind it. Elon had slain his with a swipe of his sword. The hounds head hit the ground at his feet. But it was a short victory.
More were coming.
“Flee north,” Rawn told Elon. “Too many are coming from the south. Let us take them.”
A charge of power crackled in the air as blue magic electricity sparked around Elon’s weapon, reflecting the glow in his eyes. A rare hint of a smirk lifted to his face as he glanced at him over his shoulder.
“It is you who should flee, Norrlen.” He confidently strode for the oncoming swarm of Red Highland soldiers.
“Surrender in the name of King Altham!”
“I have no king.” Elon broke into a sprint and leaped into the air, breathing one word. “ Ogap’maler.”
A surge of electricity sprouted from his hands and wove around his blade in brilliant vines. He fell upon the red elves and hit the ground with a boom . A massive barrage of thunderbolts blasted in a violent wave. The force threw Rawn and Zev backward out of the alley.
He rolled to his feet and sprinted away with Zev beside him. Buildings shook and screams rang out. Magic swarmed through the air with another pull of massive energy. It was Rawn’s only warning before a beam of blue light flared beyond the rooftops and buildings crumbled where they stood.
The Blue Scythe.
Rawn kept running, realizing Elon may not need his help at all.
Growls rumbled from up ahead. Three Bloodhounds hounds were on his tail.
Zev skid to a halt and looked at him with those bright yellow eyes. “Let’s split up. You go left, I take right.”
Rawn shook his head and shot two arrows, taking down a hound. “We stay together.”
Zev cursed under his breath as six more Bloodhounds surrounded them on the street. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his tunic. “Go, Rawn. Get out of here while you still can. I will find Dyna and meet you in the White Woods.”
“There are too many, Zev. You will die if I leave you to face them alone.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice a deep rumble as his wolf began to take over. “If I have learned one thing, when outnumbered by beasts, it won’t go down without a fight.”
Rawn stilled at the implication. Did he mean to call out his beast as well?
“Go,” Zev snarled as black claws extended from his fingers. You don’t want to be around me when the Other appears.”
Then his yellow eyes rolled as his body warped and grew. He cried out with every brutal snap of bones, black fur sprouting across his skin. A long snout extended from his face as he rose on two legs. Beast of a man that was part wolf. It howled and sprang on the hounds. Its claws ripped off the head of one and he tore into the other.
The Other tore into them viciously.
Its feral eyes fixed on him.
Rawn tripped backward and he sprinted down the alleyway. He knew better than to stay. The sounds of carnage and keens followed him.
It did him no good to keep running like this. He needed to leave Dwarf Shoe first then regroup. As if by miracle, he spotted a ladder resting against the wall of a distillery. He rapidly climbed up to the roof and kept running. The roads were full of soldiers. He kept low on the roof, using the shadows and crevices for cover. He wasn’t far from the ocean?—
An explosion tore through the air. It rocked through the town of Argent Cove in a sharp wave and knocked Rawn back into the building. His ears rang from the sound, and he shook his head to focus. Then all he saw was orange. Flames flared high from the docks at the pier. What happened? A ship was on fire.
“Roof!” Came a cry from below and an arrow zipped past his head.
A unit of Red Highland archers stood below with loaded bows pointed at him. Rawn threw himself out of the way as arrows rained down. Scrambling to his feet, he ran across the rooftop and leaped for the next. He kept going, loading his bow as he leaped. He spun around and released his arrow. It shot through the shaft of another that would have taken his back. He landed on a cloth canopy over a merchant stall and bounced off to land on the ground in a crouch.
Whickering called from a distance.
The familiar call had Rawn spinning around. Fair came galloping around the corner and he smiled with such immense relief, his eyes welled. Rawn sprinted toward his horse. Fair greeted him with a head bump to his shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, old friend.” Rawn patted Fair’s neck and leaped up onto the saddle.
The rattle of horses and shouts of soldiers interrupted the reunion. Red Highland soldiers were spilling in from every street and crawling over the roofs like ants.
There were too many.
A mist stung Rawn’s eyes, and he took a breath as he accepted one thing.
He would not make it out.
After twenty years of running from his past, it had finally caught up to him. The image of his wife carrying their son surfaced in his mind. If it was his time, then that was his fate. But when she received word of his death, it would be said he fought to the death and took as many red elves as he could with him.
“What do you say old friend?” Rawn asked as he took Fair’s reins. “One last ride.”
Fair reared with a neigh what could only be a war cry. Kicking his heels, they raced down the street. Rawn shot arrow after arrow at the archers posted on the roofs, hitting every mark. Arrows came for him in return. Fair galloped with the speed of invisible wings. They managed to dodge as close as they could. A couple nearly took his head. An arrow sliced past his arm, but his adrenaline took the pain. He kept shooting every target that came his way until his quiver was empty.
Magic came next.
Spells blasted through the air for him. Rawn dropped his bow and whipped out his sword. He may not have learned new spells, but he certainly learned how to move faster. His blade cut through each attack until one got past his defenses. Rawn was too late to react, but the spell bounced off an invisible shield and disintegrated.
The clover Dyna had pinned to his shirt was still there.
Rawn almost laughed from the shock.
The elves were startled, some moving too slow to dodge as he sent their attacks right back to them. Blasts roared through the town as the shocks destroyed building and black smoke spiraled into the sky. Bodies were scattered in their wake.
Rawn moved on instinct. He was fighting on pure instinct now. There was no reason to think, only the action of swiftly ending as many lives as possible.
He waited for a blade or for an arrow to finally hit him.
Yet he rode through the burning streets and left the veil of smoke alive.
Rawn tugged on the reins as they came at a crossroads. His heart hammered in his chest; his breaths ragged as he saw no one else perused him.
Had he made it?
But as his eyes swept across the demolished streets, he heard the steps of a lone figure striding through the smoke. He squinted, trying to make out if it was friend or foe. The answer came when he recognized that face.
The male elf strode forward in black armor, his red cloak rippling in the wind. Dark haired, dark eyes. A face Rawn would never forget.
“Anon…”
The Red Highland prince smiled sharply. He paused there on the street and canted his head. “We met like this once before,” Anon said. “And here I am chasing you again. Yet there is only you this time.” He stroked the pin in the shape of a horse pinning his red cloak to his shoulder.
Nisa’s cloak pin.
“The road is clear behind you,” Anon continued, a mocking glint in his gaze. “Please run. I find the chase more enjoyable if you do.”
There would be no running. Not when Rawn had waited years to face his sister’s killer.
Kicking his heels, Rawn charged for the prince and readied his sword.
The infuriating smile didn’t leave Anon’s face. His body glowed muddled red as a charge of power filled the air. The ground rumbled with Anon’s incantation, and cobblestones tore free from the ground, blasting toward him like cannonballs.
Rawn dodged and ducked. More of the ground tore away, opening holes to impede him. Fair leaped and bound at quick speed. Anon jerked up his fist and barricade of rock formed between them. Rawn kicked his heels, and they broke into a burst of speed. There was no hesitation or break in his gallop. Fair was one with him in that moment.
They had both been waiting for this.
Nisa’s voice murmured in his ear with the rush of the wind. Slaw him, Rawn. Even if it’s the last thing you do.
Fair leaped. They soared over the barricade in a perfect arc.
Anon waited right behind it.
It all happened so fast.
Rawn saw only a flash of black then he felt a burst of pain tear through his chest. Fair went down and he went flying. Rawn hit the ground hard. All he knew was pain. The force of the fall sent his body rolling until he came to a breathless halt. Rawn wheezed for hair, pressing on his chest for the wound he felt it but there was none.
Fear stopped his heart for a split second. Then he pushed himself up, wincing and gasping. “Fair?” he called, searching for him in the smoke. “Fair!”
His eyes locked on the rivulets of blood filling the cracks in the cobblestone. The soft keens of a horse led him to spot Fair laying on the ground … with a black shaft jutted though its chest.
“FAIR!”
Rawn scrambled up. The smoke cleared, revealing Anon standing above his horse. He took hold of the spear’s shaft and met Rawn’s gaze.
Anon twisted it with a brutal snap. Fair’s neigh cut off and he felt the pain slice him through the center of his being. A sound caught in Rawn’s throat. A cry. A scream. A choking gasp for air. His entire body spasmed as he felt the death of his friend tear through him.
Anon ripped out the spear. Dark blood spilled from the long thick blade. “You should have run.”
Rawn dropped to his knees. Fair’s blood dripped down the edge of the spear’s blade. He heard each drop echo as they splattered on the ground.
The world seemed to darken around him with the pelt of rain.
Anon laughed. “You look as if your soul has died. As your sister did that day in Erendor.” He walked toward him. Sparks scattered out with the drag of his spear over the cobblestone.
The mention of his sister carried him back to that summer day. The night around the campfire, beneath the sky lit up with fireworks. Rawn heard the merry sound of Sylar’s lyre. He felt Aerina’s hand in his. He saw Nisa laugh. That was the last day they were all together.
The last day his sister smiled.
“It’s true what they say about green elves,” Anon said above him as he lifted his spear. “To kill one, simply kill their horse.”
…if it’s the last thing you do.
Rawn snatched his sword’s hilt and swung. His blade clashed with Anon’s spear and he parried the blow. Rolling out of the way, Rawn stumbled to his feet.
Metal rang with the drawing of Anon’s sword, and he grinned. “Ah, there is still fight in you left.”
Rawn attacked. The clash of their swords rang out with each meeting of their blades. But the strength had been drained out of him, his speed and strength stunted as if he fought with weights on his body.
Anon overcame him with three moves and slashed Rawn across the stomach. He stumbled back with a wince. Anon came at him and Rawn barely blocked the next blow before it took his head. He was too slow. Anon’s elbow rammed him in the face, and Rawn staggard back, his vision swaying.
“Inept,” Anon sneered. Their swords crossed, bringing them face to face. “Disgraceful.” He head-butted Rawn in the face, and he fell. Anon’s boot struck into his gut, winding him. “ Pitiful .”
Rawn pushed back to his feet, but a blow knocked the air out of his lungs. He looked down at the arrow embedded on the left side of his chest. His wavering sight lifted to the archer standing behind Anon with a unit of Red Highland soldiers. Another arrow whistled through the air pierced him in the stomach. He stumbled back as blood spilled down his tunic. A third arrow took out his leg and he plummeted to the ground.
Boots traveled over the ground for him, and his weak fingers tried to reach for the hilt of his sword. There was no strength in him left.
“How disappointing.” Anon kicked the sword out of the way and it skittered across the ground beneath a wagon. “You neglect to live up to your legend, Norrlen.”
Red Highland soldiers came forward and seized his arms. They dragged him away to a wheeled cell and threw him inside. He slumped against the wall, blinded by pain and on the verge of unconsciousness as he bled out.
Nisa had asked him only one thing and he failed.
Her. His wife. His son.
His Fair.
He failed them all.
“Rawn!” A faint voice gasped his name. In the alley across from him, he spotted Lucenna and Klyde, their eyes wide with horror. She took a step, but Rawn shook his head.
He will not make the mistake of involving others in his troubles again.
This was not their fight.
And it was not one they could win. Red Highland soldiers marched past in a stream. So many sent just to capture him.
Surely, he was off to his death. All he could ask of them now was to let his family know he would never come home.
The realization nearly killed him then. Slipping off his signet ring, Rawn let it roll out of his cell. It clinked faintly on the ground.
Reins snapped and wheels creaked as the they took him away. His waning sight peered past the bars to the smudge of white in the rain.
Forgive me…