The Warlord

Chapter 27: Evelaen

I do not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower like a whimpering animal. Ever since I came back from the front lines to take a break, which was a few months ago, I have kept my power on a tight leash. Control has been my strength and my weakness. On the battlefield, I am a carefully crafted blade, whirling and slashing, never stopping. But the bloodlust is hard to come back from. War does something to magic users; it makes us on edge, it makes us crave more. If I had given the warrior in me one inch of space while I was in Serestine's peaceful palace, I would have wreaked havoc. But now, with my power swirling and roiling with agitation, I let it build up. I release the tight bonds and locks on it. The man does not have time to react as my magic boils over and explodes.

The haze of light almost blinds me as well, but I instantly turn away, and then I am running. Running like a coward. Running like a dog. But he is not someone I can take on; not when I have so much at stake. Serestine's only fighting chance lies in my power, and I will not let myself be slain far from home, my body a grave-less carcass rotting on a forest floor. I hear grunts of surprise and of shock, but I do not look back as I sling the familiar over my shoulder. Looking around wildly, I search for a way to escape. I cannot go into the town, where people will be put into danger. My heart hammers in my chest as my eyes sweep the area, my mind screaming at me to make haste and run. Seconds come off as eternity, and the light from my distraction slowly fades. Without thinking, I plunge straight into Briar Forest, drawing out my sword to hack my way through.

Tripping over roots, scraping my forehead against low-hanging branches, I stumble through the haze of twisted trees. Of all the places to flee into... I am not welcome here in Briar Forest. Maybe the presence of a familiar will be enough to keep away the faeries and elves for some time, but they will emerge sooner or later. I have never fought their kind before; beautiful beings with glowing skin and hair, unfathomable power swimming in their eyes, they are said to be as dangerous as they are alluring.

My nerves are frayed, and a sinking weight rests on my chest as I push deeper and deeper into the forest. For the first time in a long while, I feel true fear. Gobbling me up from head to toe, freezing over my mind, my breaths come out in shallow pants. I may very well not make it out of here alive. Behind me, the presence of the man - no, the god - lurks and writhes, chasing after me like a lost shadow. He will catch up to me soon enough, and when he has me in his clutches, nothing can save me. The sheer thought of failure is enough for me to start thinking clearly, to put make me cautious and analytical and calculating.

Time is not the same here in Briar Forest. It has become something warped and monstrous, a permanent cage in the shape of gnarled branches. Pockets of sun stream out between cracks in the dome of tangled briars above us, but as I flee, the colors change and shimmer. The grass withers in a few paces, then grows back in another three. The once golden light shifts to a deep and gauzy orange. Sunset red, sunrise pink, the pale yellow of pure day, everything is shifting in this forest. My head spins, the familiar becomes a burden to my strength, laughter creeps from between the trunks. Voices start to whisper, and I see twirling figures leap in the shadows of the forest. My footsteps start to leave a wobbly, half-delirious path, and I keep tripping over roots that were not there before. The sense of terror leaves, and the aura of the god fades as visions flash through my mind.

Cold, summer-less nights in Serestine. Dirtied streets and the mud-splattered bottoms of frostbitten feet. My own pale hands stretching out for help, my stick of a body hidden beneath thin blankets. Memories I tried so hard to forget begin to resurface, and in the background, the cursed laughter weaving through the forest. Stop. My parents waving goodbye and walking towards the war, hearts heavy and thoughts heavier. Stop. The letter from the army clutched in my fingers, shaking from my body trembling. Stop! The graves of my mother and my father, somber and haunting, their gravestones identical to the mass climbing over the hill and spreading through the valley. Two bodies rotting away amongst thousands.

The scream that leaves my mouth is unholy and primal, a shriek and a raging bellow slammed into something crying for help, crying for the pain to leave. My feet slow to a stop, trembling in the midst of the endless, cracked roots. The grip on the hilt loosens, and my sword crashes to the ground, the thumping onto the grass. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

I cannot think. I cannot see. I cannot breathe. A cold fist is closing over my heart, over my body, over my mind. Images of my suffering, of my broken skin, of my tear-drowned eyes. They won't stop.

"Breathe, warlord," a voice murmurs from behind me. The familiar stirs, her curly hair tickling my neck as she disentangles herself from my grip. "This forest is trying to kill you, to make you feel pain. Do not let it win." She picks up my sword and hands it to me. I am still in shock, but slowly, that shock fades.

"We cannot run from a god forever. There is only one place we can go that he will not dare tread." But instead of looking happy, the familiar looks miserable. Then, it dawns on me; the place that she speaks of.

"We will be killed!" I protest, finally snapping out of my daze.

"Do not forget that I am a demon, warlord. Your chances are better with me in Hell than with a god of death." The familiar rubs the wound on her stomach, and though it has faded, I can still feel the god's malicious power festering and steaming over it.

"And then what? We go into Hell, but do we ever leave?"

"There are many ways to leave Hell, and I know most of them. Make up your mind warlord: life or death." The familiar kneels and traces a simple circle on the dirt of the forest floor. She slams her palm down, and the circle glows red before the earth inside of it crumbles and falls away, revealing an abyss large enough for someone to jump through. "If you do not follow, I will find my master myself, and I will not bring her back to Serestine." Then the familiar leaps into the hole, her lithe body vanishing into the darkness.

Behind me, I hear the hurried footsteps of the pursuing god, and his deadly magic writhing around him. Gulping, I stare at the entrance to Hell. Life or death. Life or death. Life or death. Repeating the phrase in my head, I tighten my grip on my sword and jump, falling into the realm that lies deep below me.