Last Light #3
This Kindreth swept forth against the monsters.
With powerful sweeps of a thin, curved sword, he destroyed dozens of the creatures.
They fell back at the sheer courage and ferocity of his blows.
His expression was determined, but not angry.
He moved lightning fast, nearly dancing through his enemies, and, in that moment, Rhalyf thought of Declan.
He saw his cousin frowning, clearly seeing this vision, too, and perhaps recognizing his own grace.
That’s your uncle, Declan, Rhalyf thought. Lysanthir.
“He was the best of us. Perhaps the best there would ever be,” Cynda sang. “And those that saw him joined the fight. Their lives, their blood, their very souls alight!”
The tide was turning! Rhalyf’s hands fisted at his sides. He dug his fingernails into his palms. Because he knew how this story ended, which was not well.
Cynda let out a shout. A sound from deep in the back of her throat.
One of determination and fear. And then he saw she was speaking for the young elf–so thin as to almost be emaciated and so magically insignificant as to almost be missed in the rush of monstrous bodies–pick up a blade and attempt to help Lysanthir.
But instead of taking a few monsters down, this thin, pathetic creature that he almost didn’t recognize was nearly taken down himself.
Vex!
It was a young Vex. A Vex before his power awakened. A Vex that was thought useless. Less than useless. His lack of power had supposedly undermined their whole family’s rule.
And as he fell and cried out, Lysanthir turned. He jumped to Vex’s defense, killing the monsters that would have taken his life with a single sweep of his blade. He offered his brother a grin and a hand up. Vex stared at Lysanthir as if he was looking at a god. He reached for that hand.
But in those few moments of inattention to the horde, the monsters crested again. They broke through the few defenders remaining. They were sweeping up to the very heart of the town. Lysanthir saw this. Vex did too. Their twin looks of abject horror had all the air leaving Rhalyf’s lungs.
Where was the great magics of the Kindreth? Where were the Blood Weapons? Where were the shouts of Iefyr? All of their people were being taken down, crushed under waves of monsters, defeated. Soon there would be no Kindreth left.
At that moment a figure strode out of that final ragged tent.
He was a Kindreth, too, but much older. Dressed in the robes of a king that were tattered and worn, but they were still kingly.
His expression was terrible. He carried a golden sword, but the sword looked inert.
It had no power. No magic. Nothing. It was just a sword.
It would do less than what Lysanthir’s had against the horde.
“It is time! There is only one way! You know this! You owe this!” Cynda sang as the music went soft, dangerously soft and low as the cries of the dying Kindreth filled Rhalyf’s ears.
These words–or something like them–had been spoken by the terrible king to Lysanthir. Vex had jumped to his feet and stood by his brother’s side. It was clear from the look of disgust that passed over his thin, but still beautiful features that he hated this king and feared him too.
“There is no time left! You would die for them! Why not live for them? Give up your life for them! Make life eternal again!” Cynda sang.
Lysanthir took a step towards the king. His father. Vex’s father. Rhalyf’s grandfather. Of course, it had to be. His grandfather held out the sword to Lysanthir. His uncle’s shoulders slumped. His head lowered. Vex grabbed his brother’s arm.
“No! No! No!” Cynda sang into the skies.
But Lysanthir turned. He knelt on one knee. He took Vex’s face in his hands and smiled at his little brother with all his love and goodness and…
Darkness passed between Vex and Lysanthir. Vex’s lips parted. His eyes widened. For his brother was no longer there. The sword he carried fell to the ground.
“Gone! Swallowed! Gone! The imprint of your hands on my skin still there after all these eons!” Cynda’s voice was ragged and filled with agony.
Vex slowly turned, expression blasted, towards his father, Rhalyf’s grandfather, who now held a golden sword that no longer was a useless, dead piece of metal. No. It glowed like the Sun. And in the Under Dark, light was the death of all.
His grandfather’s lips writhed back from too white, too sharp teeth.
His expression triumphant. He raised the sword towards the cavern’s ceiling.
It blazed with power. Lysanthir’s power.
Lysanthir’s life. But he seemed to not care that it was his son that fueled the sword’s fire.
Vex gasped and reached for that sword in his father’s hand.
But with a backward swipe of his free hand, Vex was sent sprawling on the ground.
“If only you had power to give. If only you had something of worth. If only you could die and live a great death. If only,” Cynda’s voice dropped into the earth.
And then Rhalyf saw his grandfather march out into the streets of Last Light, wielding the golden blade, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, laughing with a wild, mad joy. The young Vex, still on the ground, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, watched his father with narrowed eyes.
The music was waning. The people were starting to blink as if coming from a deep sleep.
Rhalyf realized he had drawn blood from his own palms. Finley turned to him, expression filled with such grief.
He brought Finley into his arms. The young man’s warm weight was a balm even as blood trickled between his fingers.
The last few notes of the guitar sang through the air. Vex was alone on the stage somehow even with the other bandmates there. A spotlight was on him as that last note faded.
Alone.
Alone.
Rhalyf couldn’t breathe. He held Finley tighter to him.
Alone.
Alone.
The note was about to end, but then…
Declan leaped up onto the stage. Rhalyf blinked.
The absolute last person to wish to draw attention to himself–to go on a stage–was his cousin.
Was Declan up there to comfort Vex? But that seemed unwise.
His uncle radiated an utter cold despair.
He wanted no one and nothing near him. He was like a dry ice bomb.
Touch him and he would go off and freeze everything around him.
Don’t do it, Declan!
But that was when Declan took the microphone from Cynda.
And he began to sing…