The Lone Rider

Chapter 11

It seemed like a long time had passed when he opened his eyes again. Felt like an eternity. But when his eyes did open, blinking away the light, he noticed a crimson sun aloft in the winter sky, shaking in a mist of blood. The air hung yellow and orange and with it came a sting like needles and force that pressed against his temples.

Everything was foggy, the world a haze of swirls and dancing lights. Kell had to shake himself awake, force feeling back into his numb limbs. The feeling told him his limbs were tied. The feeling told him something was rubbing his thigh. Every part of his body stung, and he uttered a painful groan.

"I'm glad you're okay," a voice said, blurred to his ears.

Quickly, as awareness found its way back to him, he took a look around. He still lay in the courtyard of the ruined mass, the limestone on his back cold and hard. The memories began coming back to him as he glanced around, squinting. Adaline kneeled next to him, a bit dirty and bruised but whole. Faundell stood facing away, arms crossed, staring at the cloudless sky with hints of red, yellow, pink, and orange coalescing into a blueish fugue of color. It was snowing.

Kell looked up. Not snow, but ash fell into his hair and onto his face.

"How are you feeling?" Adaline's question pulled his attention.

"What is happening?" he asked in return.

"I can't really say..."

He finally picked up on slight vibrations from the floor. The place was shaking. "Is it over?"

"Not quite. There's still one thing left undone."

He looked at her again. She wore a quiet smile. A guilty, apologetic smile. She was attentive wrapping a thin strip of cloth around his bleeding thigh where the hag had stabbed him. She was taking her time, he noticed, breathing slowly, working slower. Something about her face told him she wished to freeze time and remain forever. But she could not freeze time nor remain forever. That's what her face told him.

"It's almost ready," Faundell said, unmoving.

"Okay..." Adaline whispered.

She finished wrapping the bandage, then took a skin from the ground and held it to Kell. His throat was stripped and dry, so he took it and said thanks, drinking deeply of the crisp, welcoming water.

"Faundell," Kell said, spitting. "What are you doing?" His breath was hoarse; speaking pained him. Faundell finally turned to face him, the same look of disappointment in his eyes. "Why am I tied?"

"Because you were becoming a nuisance," Faundell shrugged. "Because you can't see what I see. What we see." The last words were aimed at Adaline. "Still, you did well enough that we are here. It is... commendable."

"Thanks," Kell muttered. "Tell me what—"

He was suddenly cut off when a beam of sunlight, as if from nowhere, crossed in front of him and behind Adaline, who turned to watch it as well. He remembered then, the hag and her floating blood. It still hovered in the light, moving ever so slowly towards the center of the court near where Faundell stood.

"Adaline, come." Faundell commanded.

Adaline froze, her eyes wide.

A rush of adrenaline pushed Kell up. "What are you doing!" he yelled. "You can't... you don't really mean to... after everything? You promised me..."

The questions were meant for both of them. Faundell shook his head and turned away once more. Adaline stared at the ground, frightened.

"I am sorry," she said after a moment.