OathBlade (Wattys2015)

44. Restless*

Elery was more than happy to leave the dank prison behind, though sleep was still far from desirable. She felt more awake than ever and knew retiring to her bed would gain nothing but hours of staring at the ceiling. She bid Cylphi good night, urging her to return to the room and rest. It was a request that did not require much insistence. As stubborn as she was, the desire to remain at Elery's side did nothing to fight off her exhaustion.

Isandel, however, would not be persuaded to leave. He walked beside her, his tail rustling against the floor to break the monotony of their footsteps. The stone was frigid against her bare feet, prompting her to wish she'd worn shoes.

The soft hum of energy from the barrier filled the air as they drew closer to the fort entrance. The metal doors were shut though the barrier made such things pointless. If the barrier fell the doors would not last under the weight of the dragons outside. Closing them was an act of self-delusion—a desire to feel safe when the very notion of security was a farce.

She unbolted one and grasped the ring, struggling to open it with only one good arm. Isandel gripped with her and pulled. He showed no sign of remorse when the door squealed sharply.

The misty barrier, no different from that which surrounded the Dark Woods, lay a few paces beyond the door. She stepped out and reached forward to brush the mist away from the smooth surface then stiffened at the sight beyond.

The necrocaster sat on the other side. She stared at the barrier as if she'd had some premonition of the princess's arrival. "Had you come quietly you'd have suffered no injury. Our Lady does not wish her body to be broken, after all."

"This body will be dead before your mistress has it," she replied.

"Do not engage her, Princess," Isandel said.

Elery waved him off. She kept her feet planted firmly before the barrier.

The necrocaster sat still, her cloak bleeding into the night so that it seemed the sky itself was simply another part of her shroud. The barrier cast pale light on her, illuminating little, but giving a silver sheen to her plump cheeks and an eerie glow to her violet eyes.

"Tell me, death-walker...Who did you love so much? For whom have you betrayed our world and people?" Elery asked. "A lover? A family member?"

The necrocaster's gaze remained steadfast on Elery. "Are we bonding now? Might you have some delusion that I could be persuaded off this path?"

"Even if you turned your back on that foul creature you serve I would cut you down before your apologies could slip out of your mouth. You are a traitor."

"And you are a warmonger," the woman replied. "You would rather Leria remain steeped in suffering, doomed to forever spiral toward death, while you and your ilk take what you want at the point of a sword. Your life could have so much meaning if you would only open your eyes and understand what our Lady is offering. Instead you hide yourselves like pithyrits, struggling against the inevitable." She extended her hand and rested it on the barrier. Mist swirled across the surface as it began to condense again, threatening to obscure the necrocaster from her sight. It danced across her pale fingers and curled in delicate wisps over her arm before dripping off and falling to the ground.

"How long do you believe your barrier casters can maintain this? How much etherium is left?" The necrocaster smiled and pushed her hood back, exposing her face. She showed no pain from the barrier light, unlike her reaction to the sun. "How long until the barrier falls and we come to take Our Lady's prize?"

Elery's brows pinched and she firmly slapped her hand against the barrier. Leaning in, she spoke in low tones. "I would have your name, Necrocaster. I'll have need of it. When this fight is done and the great tales spread, I'll be sure your name is synonymous with 'turncoat'."