The Master of Names

Chapter 21- Knife

  "W-what?!"

  The hollow plinks of rain pattered against the steely prison cart. Cold shackles loosely hung off the sides as thunder cracked the skies. But where there was supposed to be prisoners bound up by the dozens, nothing. Keldon stepped inside, his soaked boots dripping onto the moldy hay. He awkwardly waved his hands around as he felt for invisible prisoners, letting the logic slip from his grasp in place of hope. Hope that maybe it was just a trick of the eyes. Hope that he could come back to his friend and tell him he'd rescued the prisoners. Hope that he wouldn't have to tell Salem he failed.

  But hope was gone. Keldon clenched his fist. There were no prisoners in the cart. Why... what had he done wrong?! They were supposed to be here!

  However, as the rivers of bitter thoughts and swirling emotions flowed through his mind, slow revelations bubbled up from his subconscious.

  This entire trip, Keldon hadn't heard a peep of the prison crew boys talk or interact with the prisoners they were supposed to be transporting. He and Salem had been too occupied with sneaking away for training... Was there something they'd missed?

  An explosion echoed in the distance.

  Keldon bit his lip. He cast the prison cart a final long look, hoping he'd notice something, anything that he could have missed. But nothing. He swallowed the hope, and took off in the direction of the blast, leaving his hollow failure behind.

  The wind had picked up, whipping the cold rain as it pelted against his skin. He pulled his cloak closer to his face, shielding himself from the rainfall that sucked away what little body heat he had remaining.

  Cold. Damn it all it was so cold. He hadn't been conscious the last time he'd used the name of fire, so the bone-chillingly pins pricked his pain-addled mind. His breath was short and raspy, his muscles stiff and aching, and his chest pounded as his lungs (ironically) felt like they were on fire.

  Keldon tripped over an overgrown tree root, falling into a slick pile of soil and muck. He groaned, pulling himself out of the mud and wiping the sludge off his face with the back of his hand. Guess he wasn't allowed to crack a joke even at his own expense, apparently said the universe.

  An ear-piercing screech suddenly blindsided him as he dropped to his knees. His vision grew blurred, accompanied by the shrill ringing in his ears as he willed himself off the ground, propping himself up on his good leg. He leaned against a tree, trying to get stable footing as he sucked in a sharp breath. He gently slapped himself in the face, pulling up every ounce of willpower from his core and ever-so-cautiously calling on the name of fire, gaining the energy he needed to move forward.

The sounds of battle blasted Keldon in waves. The crackling roar of Salem's fire skills, the shaking rumble of Mitch's fists, the ghastly wails of Ad'Temorre, they assailed his senses, pushing back on the momentum he so desperately clung onto. He followed the flashes of heat and light, trailing signs of battle as he'd finally caught up to Salem's path of fury. But the carnage hadn't been as favored as he'd hoped.

  Liquid flame dripped off Salem's weary body as he stood his ground with ragged short breaths. The battle had dropped to a standstill; both sides suffering heavy losses. Mitch's skill was crumbling, reduced to one earth titan's arm as blood streaked down his bruised face. Mitch clutched Ernie who had been knocked unconscious and fell back to tend to his friend.

  However, there was nobody to aid Annos. His arm dangled limply at his side as he snapped the dislocated joint back into his shoulder with a cry of pain, willing Ad'Temorre to slowly reform at his feet. But the regeneration was slow, painfully slow. A pale face. Cold sweats. Trembles in the body. The signs were obvious, Annos was running out of mana and couldn't keep up the skill that maintained Ad'Temorre's form.