The Wilting Ballad

22

Kaionira flickers her nostrils, consuming the familiar scent of putrid, rotting flesh. No matter how many times she goes here, the smell, for her, was always the same.

At the request of their master, Ill-Fated One. She and her Foerli had worn matching silver robes to demonstrate their welcoming of the new age. Though her horse was the same fades of pale as she rode out the Doorway of Ill.

At her tail Tentoria, Vanacius, Shick stepped out, hooves buried deep in the mud of the Shore. Their horses were too, the same as before, their robes glinting in the moonlight as Kaionira's.

The Doorway of Ill vanished from sight at the wave of Shick's hand. He undoes his belt carefully, clutching the handle of his thorny needle whip and loosen it. Its tip falls, reaching the ground, mud-stained them as he smile and whipped it in the air, snapping the attention of his comrade to him. His tongue was out, licking his lip without missing a spot.

It dawned on him the small fire that was flickering pitifully at the hill eight hundred strides away. "Heh!" he growled, "Time to hunt Shīzas."

Without warning or wasting even meager moments, the three in front of him went galloping at the beach of Hedreary, their determination clouded the fact that they were thundering their way up to the plain hills, announcing their arrival.

Riding fastest was Vanacius, his trail scorched the wet earth, and he was the one most clouded by determination. To him it was an insult of the most disgusting nature, to fail a task set by his master. He swore to himself that he would not fail to retrieve or eliminate the hybrid girl, along with all her friends. He had sworn with the price of his pride as Foerli, failure wasn't allowed. It need never be allowed.

Failure is for the peasants. His perfectly lined jaw hangs loose, he screams out, losing all control.

Kaionira thought of nagging him but thought better of it. No good will come out of it, at least this way, they have the high ground despite them being the one riding uphill. Tentoria veered off the group, going left. She jumped down from her horse as it faded like pipe blew smoke in heavy wind, becoming one with her shadows. Kaionira watches her merging her shadows into tentacles longer than that of squids, its tip having sharp claws like that of eagles.

She drilled her shadow claws deep at the side of the hill, stones ripple at its aftereffect, pulling, climbing where the moonlight cast no light and where her shadow was at advantage. Kaionira thought of nagging her as well, but again, thought better of it. At least she knows what she's doing.

Vanacius charges straight at the shield of blue mist, a human body shield. The force of the collision sent a crack at the neck of his horse.

Berick hears this, it seems, he changes all his steam focused of himself being a shield to his balled fist and swung it on the waist of Vanacius, another crack, the war representing Foerli got thrown sideways, his back bangs with a thud at the trunk of a tree.

Yet another crack, breaking the tree in half, birds sleeping on its branches took to the air, away from the ceaseless fighting of humans. Vanacius' body falls limply, his horse vanishing at sight like Tentoria's, protruding excruciating searing light brighter than the moon.

For what seemed like minutes was only seconds. Berick loses all the calmness and modesty bestowed on him, priding himself for what he had done. Instead of pursuing Vanacius, he stands towering, staring, the need for inflicting malignancy on his enemy burning in his eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no, Berick Drownstar." He heard a call from behind, the voice was familiarly irksome. Something solid coils around his body as he tries turning towards the voice, he knows who these shadow tentacles belong to. He wasn't prepared for this, "Your opponent is me." Tentoria hisses, her grip on him tightening. He felt himself ascending high in the air.