Chapter 67 #3
Suddenly, I feel so alone all the way out here. I look down, run my hand down her cheek one last time, and then I stand and sprint toward the thick of the battle. If I can get under his back legs, he can’t roast me from down there. Kezra and I will fight with the only two people we have left.
I’m getting closer to the thick of the elven soldiers when a bone-splitting shriek pierces the battlefield.
My blood turns cold as I whip my head toward Raef, the red and black dragon, becoming overwhelmed with an incoming horde from the far side.
From this distance, with little light cutting through the battlefield, everything blurs into chaos—fire, water, vines, arrows, spears, and more tangled together in motion.
It’s absolute mayhem. Daegan comes to his aid, blasting those in front of them, but more remain.
Suddenly, the dragons are gone, and I freeze, trying to figure out where they went. Were they getting overwhelmed, being such big targets? Was this a tactic to become invisible?
The barrage of elements and weapons finally stops, and the night goes still. Utterly quiet.
A sudden crash of metal shatters the silence, followed by harsh grunts. They found them. Or at least one of them.
Finally, it seems like the right time for the plan I formulated earlier, when they first ambushed us.
I sprint to get closer, pumping my arms and legs like I never have before.
My body is numb. My mind is numb. The magic that I feel inside of me is feeling low.
But I push forward with a vengeance so powerful it feels like I could burn this entire battlefield with it.
But I don’t have fire. I have water.
And I use every ounce of energy, every ounce of power that I have, and I push a thin spray of water over the entirety of the battlefield, dousing every single torch in sight.
It’s the middle of the night. The entire field goes black.
Though I can’t see anything or anyone, shock and confusion seem to be thick in the air as rumblings and murmurs begin. It won’t last long. There are fire wielders out there.
This should give Daegan and Raef the moment they needed, though. Their odds couldn’t have been good as soon as they shifted back, and this will hopefully give them a life-saving chance to escape the onslaught.
Tiny flickers begin to light up, scattered all around. I douse them again.
But they keep coming.
Seeing a clear path, I make a decision. With one last glance at the battlefield, I run for the trees.
I now hold the necklace and the blood. I cannot let them be taken and destroyed.
I really hope that I’m not leaving them behind, but I believe they’ll take this opportunity to escape and head for the rendezvous point, knowing I’m doing the same.
The sword remains with Raef. He said he has a way of keeping it within his scales when he shifts. I have no idea how. Magic is rarely understood, though. If there were no mystery around it, it probably wouldn’t be considered magic at all, but something common that we do.
Lights begin to illuminate the scene behind me again, but everyone seems to be at a standstill.
That’s good. There are at least a hundred elves still left out there, and only two dragon shifters.
I hope and wish that the field will remain still, that it means Daegan and Raef are escaping too. I cannot think otherwise.
A brilliant white light emerges from where I was fighting not long ago, like a bright star in the night. A figure with glowing white hair and a white gown appears. Maethrel. Looking like an ethereal savior, come to help us.
I hope.
Behind him, shadows dance on the wind, howling and wailing.
Wraiths.
And there are others behind him. I have to squint to see, because at first it looks like an army of elves. But then I spot golden wings illuminated by their torches. The Arryzans. Maethrel brought them as reinforcements.
He knew about this battle.
Of course he knew.
Maethrel wastes no time giving the signal, and the black shadows move at an unnatural speed, taking on the army.
The Arryzans hang back as they unleash their arrows into the fray.
Hundreds of arrows soar through the sky, many of them meeting their mark.
At this rate, what’s left of the elves will be cleared out within a few moments.
The wraiths draining them of life is a terrifying sight to behold.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess herself.”
My heart leaps as I jump, holding my sword out toward the incoming voice.
At least a dozen soldiers approach me, pushing me back toward the trees. Leading the pack is a fool who’s about to meet his death.
Syrus Soraya. Meela’s father.
He picked the wrong time to try to corner me.
“You,” I say with disgust.
He has the audacity to look bored as he lifts his hands, readying to use his magic on me, but taking his time. He underestimates me.
“For Meela. And for Zave,” I say, sounding deadly calm.
He still doesn’t care. Nothing even flashes across his face as I say the names of the lives that were taken thanks to him.
My hands begin to glow blue. I release a raw, throat-ripping scream as I muster every trace of magic left in me and quickly freeze the water I’ve summoned into the sharpest spears of ice I can manage.
He doesn’t stand a chance. In a blink, there are a dozen piercing his body in different places. One is straight through his eye. Deep.
He falls to the ground, dead on impact.
A couple of the guards behind him are hit, but there are still plenty of capable fighters among them. Luckily, I have a moment of shock on my side, as they look at me with surprise and a little fear.
I take a few tentative steps back. We’re so far from anyone else. Can I take on this many when they all have their attention focused solely on me?
My magic feels severely weak. Drained.
I use what little I have left, douse their torches, and sprint into the forest.
I quickly run into a tree and fall down, straight onto my back. My nose took the brunt of it.
I guess I have to move more carefully, considering I can’t see a damn thing.
I stop, listening to the quiet darkness, but all I can hear is my heavy, ragged breathing. I wait, and I wait, thinking I must have lost them, until finally, I hear careful footsteps coming my way. I can risk them finding me if I hide here, or I can run for it.
I turn, reaching my hands out, and walk deeper into the dense forest as fast as I can.
I stumble over unknown things a few times, but I remain standing.
Up ahead, a very faint light illuminates a clearing, showing me the silhouettes of several large trees.
I swerve and avoid the light, going deeper into the darkness.
It was probably just a cluster of luminescent plants.
I keep going, deeper into the unimaginable darkness of the forest, with no hint of anyone following me and no idea where I’m going. I don’t dare pull out my last light from my bag. Not yet.
The farther I go, the more I feel like something is off. I should have waited. I stop, leaning against what I’m fairly certain is a tree.
“Kezra?” I whisper so quietly I doubt even the trees can hear me. I’m not sure where she’s hiding now, but I’ve sensed her presence through this entire blind hike.
She emerges from my bag. Her gold figure glows, lighting up a small section of the space in front of me.
“You wish for me to go back, to make certain the scaled ones escaped harm, that they’ll live to fight another day?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please. I can’t leave them.”
“You also cannot throw yourself back into that deadly skirmish. It’s too risky.”
“I know,” I whisper, sorrow tingeing my voice.
“I will go. But prepare yourself for even the worst of news.”
“Thank you.”
She flies back the way we came, her gold dust trailing behind her, and the departure leaves me alone in darkness again.
I slide down the tree and sit, wrapping my arms around my legs.
It’s cold, it’s dark, and it’s eerily quiet.
Images from the battle begin to flash in front of me, the truth of what I did filling me like a poison that I’m not sure there’s an antidote for.
I killed people. Viciously. I witnessed the most brutal of deaths.
And the sounds I heard as males and females alike took their final breaths…
I tuck my head into my knees, and I begin to sob silently.