The Shadow of Elventree

Part 4

Pushing through the dense underbrush with urgency, Thalion moved toward the chaos. Shadows of doubt clung heavily to him, suffocating in their persistence. Each shadow seemed to echo his earlier inaction, each rustle of leaves sounded like a taunt. Nearing the forest's edge, the sounds of battle grew alarmingly clear. He crouched low, observing the chaos from a safe distance through the foliage. Flames licked at the structures closest to the forest, casting a hellish glow over drow soldiers advancing toward the town with cold, methodical precision. His muscles tensed involuntarily, a vivid image of the blade sinking into Larae's back flashing before his eyes. His breath hitched, his heart pounding against his ribs. The crackle of fire, the distant shouts of townsfolk rallying to defend their homes—it all blended into a cacophony that seemed to pulse with his quickening heartbeat. He felt the old, familiar urge to retreat into the shadows, to disappear as he had done so many times before.

But the stakes were now higher than his own fears. With a shuddering breath, Thalion forced his legs to move, each step a conscious defiance of the dread that sought to cripple him. Stealth became his ally once more as he darted from tree to tree. He slipped through shadows, barely a whisper in the wind, his focus narrowing to the path ahead. His fear slowly transformed into a sharp edge of determination. With every avoided patrol and every silently counted breath, Thalion rebuilt himself from the spectral figure of doubt into a man of purpose. Elventree needed him, his brother needed him, and he would not be found wanting again.

Reaching Elventree's outskirts, Thalion took cover behind a massive oak that stood sentinel at the edge of town. He watched as Elventree transformed into a bastion of frantic activity: residents hastily erected barricades using fallen branches and debris from the nearby ruins, their movements swift and desperate against the encroaching danger. Children were hurried towards the safety of the Halls of the Unicorn, its hollowed trunks now a makeshift refuge. Emerging from the shadows, Thalion sprinted towards the town, his silhouette blending with the moving tapestry of townsfolk and defenders. He darted from the ground-level chaos to the tree-bound structures. As he passed above The Gold Cave, its proprietor, Amaril Sweetwater, was distributing what supplies remained to the defenders—arrows, ropes, and the occasional shield fetched from deep within the cramped, rocky confines.

Navigating the rope bridges and planked walkways, Thalion moved with a focus honed by years of lurking in the margins. Burning pine and the sharp tang of iron from clashing swords filled the air. The chaos of battle swirled as townspeople scrambled to defend their homes.

He neared the Listening Tree, which now served as a lookout point, its branches filled with archers whose eyes were trained on the advancing threat. His swift movement halted as Thalion caught sight of his friend Eldric. Eldric was not typically a man of the front lines, having been raised more with reins and saddles than with bows and arrows. Yet there he stood, an embodiment of the very courage Thalion felt he lacked, not just firing arrows—but defending his home.

Thalion silently slipped into cover beside him. "Ducking and shooting now, Eldric?"
Eldric flashed a brief grin, his focus still on the battlefield. "Can't let you have all the fun hidin' in the shadows, Everwood." his voice carrying a tremor that belied his calm exterior. He peeked over the barricade to fire another arrow, his movements precise yet laden with a tension that mirrored the tightness in Thalion's chest. The battle raged closer, the air thick with cries of pain and the metallic clang of steel.

Eldric glanced at Thalion, noticing the knives at his belt. "Remember all them afternoons we spent chuckin' at targets in the woods? Never figured we'd need them skills for somethin' like this..."

With a tight nod, Thalion drew two knives, the familiar feel of the handles a cold comfort. As Eldric shot another arrow, clanging harmlessly off a drow shield, Thalion's arm whipped forward, sending the knives spinning through the air. They whistled past Eldric's target, finding their mark as the drow lowered his shield, one knife following the other in quick succession. The drow fell with a thud.

Eldric exhaled sharply, the sound almost a scoff. "Reckon them games turned out to be useful for somethin', huh?"

But the lightness of his words belied the shadow that crossed his eyes—a darkness mirrored in Thalion's own as the gravity of his actions sank in. For a fleeting moment, Thalion felt the weight of the life he had just extinguished. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realised his own lethal capacity. He stood there, his breathing shallow, as the finality of death manifested not just around him, but by his own hands. Yet, as he glanced toward the chaos swirling through Elventree, the urgent need to protect his family surged stronger than his dread. The image of Erevan, possibly endangered, sharpened his focus. Clenching his fists, Thalion pushed the horror to the back of his mind, steadying his breath. There was no time to dwell on thoughts; every moment he hesitated, his brother's peril grew. "I need to go find Erevan," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eldric nodded. "We'll hold 'em here, don't you fret."

They shared a look, an entire childhood flashed between them—games in the forest now replaced by this grim dance of death. With a heavy heart, Thalion darted off towards the palace. Eldric turned back to the fray, knocking another arrow into his bow.

"Stay safe out there," he murmured into the wind, hoping the trees would carry his words to his friend.