Continuing to hit the sides of the cage, Anita beckoned to Cullen to prepare. He stood up shakily, having restored some strength to his body, and resisted whatever pain that coursed through his fractured bones. Readying their wings, they prepared for the leap.
It would either be their last, or their new beginning.
With a thunderous roar the monster grabbed the cage and uttered a rapid spell. At the end of the last syllable the cage shone ruby red and broke apart in its hideous palm into fine dust. It was about to close its palm around the two creatures when the most unexpected thing happened.
Cullen grabbed a single steel arrow from his backpack and flung it far and straight towards the peak of the mountain. Whistling in its flight, it struck home swiftly to rip through layers of un-healed, raw flesh. In its target it continued to slice deeper still, propelled by the strength of the energy from which it had been shot.
The monster moaned and cried, flailing its arms wildly like a bee stung by fire.
With a desperate leap, they plunged into darkness and hoped their wings would take them far – oh how they flew! In the web of flailing hands, furious shrieks and dimly watching ghouls they darted from corner to corner to escape the monsters' aimless search, frantically looking for the signs of light to the exit. There was no telling clearly where up ceased to be down and down ceased to go up for everywhere was chaos, everywhere was turmoil.
Finally, when they reached a nook of what seemed to be a lower rung of the cave where the monster's torso was well above, they heard – the faint trickling of water – was it their imagination?
Something more lingered along their noses – the smell of damp moss! A flash of green swept their eyes – a ticket to freedom!
Stealthily, as the monster searched above for the escaped prisoners, they darted out of the nook, and flew towards the scent. Faint it was, but it grew stronger with each push of their wings – their efforts none for waste – for their eyes were soon blinded by a stinging white light – they had emerged from the cave!
Just as they felt a dizzying euphoria, however, came the wave of pain – the monster had moved towards the opening as well, following whispers of its gut, and reached as far as it could, blindly, but not in vain. With the edge of its right claw, it grabbed a piece of Anita's wing, and tore it with force.
The pain was stronger than her own screams. Anita fell to the ground, inches from the point where light dispelled darkness, and felt warm liquid ooze down her shoulders and spine. Shocked, Cullen grabbed her and made for the exit, but the monster was fast on their heels, having smelt freshly spilt blood.
In desperation and sweat the place was a blur with hope thinner than a fallen leaf. As he pushed towards the green fields, a deafening roar erupted behind them once more, only to end with an ear-splitting crash as pieces of pine and rock collapsed onto the beast.
Out of sheer fury, it had lost what little rationality still existed and swung blindly at the arches of the cave entrance. Searching for what it would never gain, and would never taste again, it had planted its own demise. The cave cracked and collapsed, burying rotted bone with stone, rock and pine. Alas, the Dark Elf was no more! And none left of the Tree Castle of Modriel.
In the hours of the setting sun it had been reduced to dust...and legend.
Cullen could not believe what he saw. Eyes still wide with shock and terror, the touch of soft moss was still distant and surreal. Yet, there they were, lying on the damp, sweet earth.
They were free!
"We made it..." he gasped, still settling with the unimaginable reality – the chance of one in a million.
"Anita...we are free..." he whispered, hugging her even tighter.
However, reply there was none.
"Anita?" He whispered, heart pounding. He looked down and saw a face cold as stone, stained with blood.
"Anita?" He whispered once more.
He touched her back. Warm liquid oozed from her wrinkled wing and shoulder blade. It was severe and raw.
Mind racing frantically, he tore a piece of his shirt with trembling hands and wrapped her wound. Still, there was no response.
No, no...
A seeping dread dug into his heart. It wouldn't stop.
No...
Placing both palms onto her forehead, he concentrated as intensely as he could, aiming all fibers in his soul onto the one heart he vowed never to part with. A steam of glowing azure rose from his fingertips, radiating around her like a crown.
Still, her eyelids did not flutter. He checked her pulse. Quiet.
Don't die on me!
Not giving up, he tried once more, and again, and again...
"Please..." tears dripped from his eyes.
"Don't go..."
There in the firelight he wept, hugging her small body close to his chest.
Azure sparks flew from his pores, spiraling around them like fireflies released from a dream. Without her, there would be no him, and without them, there would not be meaning. All his life she was his spark, his sun, his flower...his beloved.
There he wept, quietly, in the sun of dusk.
The clouds cleared, revealing a stream of light. The ground was stained golden.
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the Woodfolk: A collection of short stories
AdventureA shadow passes between two trees as you hear scurrying across the leaves. A wind blows through a curtain of swaying ivy. Flowers fall as a maiden kisses her lover's cheek, only to disappear in the light of dawn. Have we really listened to the tree...
