A Game of Flags

Chapter Eight: The Chase to Brookrill

𝗔s Perrin laid there, with Evera and Gimitri holding the blood in, Arathor looked around to see if Syldi had come or not, he could tell if she was because her horse was white, very fast aswell, but he was uncertain.
"It's clearly obvious he's fading!" said Gimitri, looking at Perrin. "Look at him! He is fading!"
"Syldi will be here soon," said Arathor, "keep holding the blood in!"
"I don't know, man," said Evera, "this blood is starting to make me sick - it's going everywhere!"
"Do the best! Warden, help him!"
The Man with the two katanas nodded as he kneeled down next to Gimitri and Evera, holding the blood in aswell, as Arathor was on the look-out, but then he heard a horse in the distance.
"Good gracious!" said Arathor. "Hope has arrived! Syldi the Vylven Ranger!"
Syldi had got off her horse. "At your service, Arathór," she said, as she turned to Perrin, "this is the boy?"
"Yes," said Arathor. "He was stabbed by one of the twelve, he needs valven healing, quick."
Syldi kneeled down as she looked into Perrin's eyes, as Perrin's eyes were glowing light blue. "I can not heal him here," she said. "I have to take him."
"Take him where?" asked Gimitri.
"To Brookrill," said Syldi, "it is a few floors up. My fast horse can get there in no time."
"Floors?"
"Yes, Floors," she got up, picking Perrin up along, "the one-hundred floors, the main valley of Brookrill is on the forty-fifth, i shall see you guys there. Yes?"
"Yes," said Arathor, turning to Gimitri and Evera, "i found a fountain nearby, wash your hands there."
They nodded, as Perrin got on the horse, very weak and fading, with Syldi climbing up behind, as the Horse roared.
Gimitri approached Syldi. "He will make it, right?"
"Oh, i hope," said Syldi, "let us not waste time. I shall make the run. Good-bye!"
And then the horse set off.

The Horse zoomed through the Forests, before Syldi even knew it herself. They had exited the current floor they were on, as the Horse seemed to have a mind of its own, like it knew where it was going, and it most likely did. Considering Syldi could speak the Mithranda language.
But unfortunately, they would attract foreign folk as she heard the infamous screech, it was the Members of The Twelve; they were right behind her.
"Curse those Riders," murmured Syldi, as Perrin was whimpering in pain, "run! Fast as you can! Like the wind!"
The Horses on both sides started going faster, The Twelve were catching up, of course, with Syldi occasionally looking behind her, this was no joke; she could seriously get her and Merry killed, was she going to back down? No. She was going to push her horse to its limits.
The Horse jumped off the steep cliff and landed safely on a bridge, followed by the Horses of The Twelve, unfortunately that risky jump did not do much; as The Twelve had catched up.
Syldi and Perrin were now on the forty-second floor, just three floors away from the valley, if she could make it to the forty-third in time, she would be on the border between Brookrill and The Weather Collessium.
She had now made it to the forty-third floor, as the Horse flew over a large river, as it stopped, with Syldi turning around, watching the Twelve from the other side.
Syldi drew her sword. "You will not have him!" she said. "I swear on the sacred oath of the Vylves; you will not have him! Whether you like it or not!"
Screeches could be heard from the other side, with The Twelve beginning to run across the River, as Syldi began to murmur: I waters -o i bloomime mountains, send your ven anas haut- sí rasto temporarilime; váre- i rámalóce!
And before her eyes, waves of water came; and The Twelve were blown away.
Syldi turned to the Gate infront of her, as it opened for her; as she and Perrin were now in Brookrill; safe and sound.

The Group were now making their way to Brookrill slowly, as most were shoved into the back of the Cart, with Arathor in the front.
"When we get to Brookrill Perrin better be alive," said Gimitri, "oh, lord please! Please spare the Bethel!"
"Relax," said Arathor. "Syldi knows what she is doing. I trust her."
"You may trust her, but i don't," Gimitri continued munching on his sandwich, "but she just showed up out of the blue and took Merry away! What if she slipped off and now they're both dead. Huh?!"
"Do not speak of such things!" said Arathor. "I told you, Syldi knows what she is doing. Now shut up, you stupid boy!"
Gimitri remained quiet, as he made a whimper, but Arathor sighed and said: "I did not mean it like that, i promise. But please, do not complain about everything in new hands, Syldi is a qualified ranger of the valley's of Brookrill, trust me; and trust her."
Gimitri was quiet, before he finally responded, "I trust you," he said, "- and her."
And then no one said a sound for the rest of the journey.

Nine is soon!