Illara Chronicles: Swordplay

Ties That Bind

 The full dark of the night had just begun to thin. A chill hung in the air, sunk deep beneath Keliths skin and married itself to his bones. The grass prickled his face. Kelith could feel Sprigs slight stirrings in the cowl of his cloak, but she made no large movements. The area stunk of the dew that was just forming on the grass, and the fallen fruit. The bodies of wolves. He could hear Taldren nearby. "Hey, hey open your eyes! You're supposed to be some big damn hero, hey." There was the sound of Kendreths armor shifting against itself as Taldren shook him by the shoulder. "He's not moving!" He called out loudly. His voice was terrified.

Taldren has been so brave for so long. He deserves better.

Kendreth drew in a slow and pained breath. "How do I look?" He smiled, and looked at his friend from under one heavy eyelid. Taldren set his forehead on Kendreths, and started to laugh but it was cut short, and he grimaced instead. 

Kelith began to shiver, as he sat up. A horrid ache split his head, and he put his fingers between his eyes to hold the pain at bay. "You're okay too!" Taldrens eyes lit up, as he crawled towards Kelith. He had Kendreths blood on his face, and kept one arm curled against his chest.

He wrapped the arm he'd used to crawl, around Keliths neck, and pulled him close. "When you rode off, I hadn't dared to hope that you'd ride back." Taldren was warm, and Kelith leaned into him. There was an empty look in Keliths eyes, and a hollow feeling in his chest. "Look at me." Emotion choked Taldrens tempered and collected tone into a worried gurgle.

Kelith tried to speak, he felt Taldrens fingers on his chin, steering his head. His friend was still talking but...he sounded so far away. Keliths vision blurred before it left him completely. He heard Taldren raise his voice, and someone called out in response.

Flintlen...perhaps?

But then everything was quiet, and he was claimed by a dark dream. 

//

A heavy mist settled at the height of his knees all around him, so that he couldn't see his feet. There was a tall dark figure ahead of him, with sharp ears and crimson eyes. He held a silver sword with an onyx pommel, that shimmered and dripped with red. His mane of white hair was singed and his flesh was burned badly. He stood over Jaskier, Keliths father.

"What have you done!?" Rage roiled in Keliths veins as he ripped his own sword out of its sheathe. 

Tosrin tilted his head and smiled, "Only what you were too weak to do yourself." His voice was lovely, and melodic. Keliths heart pounded against its confines, and he couldn't control his ragged breathing as he ran at the conjured image of his hero, unleashing a flurry of reckless and hateful attacks. Over the sound of Keliths unintelligible screaming, Tosrins snickering, and the loud ringing of their swords striking each other was Jaskiers omnipresent voice.

 "My Son, a blade cannot be brandished without a price."

Kelith chopped down on Tosrins horizontal block repeatedly, leaving no room for the elf to even think of making a counterattack.  "Every time you draw a sword, be prepared to find death."

"Ugh!!" Kelith struck Tosrins sword aside and kicked him in the chest, and the hero tumbled across the ground. Kelith had never felt so powerful. So alive. Kelith didn't hesitate, he lifted his blade high, to pin the elf to the ground.

"Even if you pick up a weapon with a noble desire to do good, be prepared to die a bit inside."

With a roar Kelith drove the blade into the ground, so that the crossguard pressed against Tosrins leather armor. The elf let out a shocked gasp. The light left his red eyes.