The Warlord

Chapter 47: Lorelei

I grit my teeth and tighten my grip around the strange man. He is still cackling, laughing so hard that my stomach hurts just listening to him. "Speak, stranger!" I growl. "What nonsense are you spewing?"

"Don't waste your breath trying to talk to him. He won't break." The other stranger, the woman with blonde hair and a piercing gaze, appears at my side. A glint catches my eye, and I tilt my head to see that Lera has pressed a knife against the woman's neck.

"Who are you people?" I ask, ignoring the ground rumbling beneath my feet from the creature that Calthius has become.

"That is not important. Kill him, and be done with it." The woman's hand leaps to her side, resting on the hilt of her sword. Lera's hand starts to tremble as the blade of her knife draws blood. It runs down in thin streams, but the woman still stands tall, unbothered and unworried, her attention wholly focused on the man.

"Daimus! Daimus!" He is screaming again, raving on and on like a blind prophet. "Destruction for all! Daimus has arrived!"

"Witchling! Watch it!" The woman elbows Lera back and rushes forward in the span of a second. Her blade whirls out in front of her; a deadly, silver butterfly's wing. In the blip of a moment, the man roars and breaks through my tendrils, snapping them into smithereens. I am pushed back with a rough hand, and the crunch of metal against bone rings into the air.

One. Two. A burst of quick movements, and then the man's hands are on the ground, lying in puddles of blood. I can feel Lera clawing at my cloak, searching for something to hold on to. But I cannot give her comfort, for I am frozen in place, a statue of a spectator as the woman points her blade at the man's neck. He is hunched over on the ground, strangely silent as he stares at the two stumps he now has for arms. I suck in a breath as his red blood turns to black and starts to steam. A rotten stench fills the air, and Lera starts to retch behind me.

"You would kill me, my daughter?" The man finally speaks. He lifts his head and looks towards Ansel. His eyes hold nothing within them, nothing but the emptiness of the void. 

"You are not my father." The woman raises her blade and cuts right through his neck.

My hand goes up to my mouth as his head tumbles onto the grass. I can still see a hint of his maniacal smile, now forever frozen on his lips. His headless corpse sends up a soft thump as it too flattens out onto the field. The woman turns towards me and Lera, wiping her blade in one clean motion and sheathing it away.

"It has been done. Do not cry for him." Even though she stares at me as she talks, her words seem to be more for herself than for anyone else.

"My, my. You wouldn't even cry for me, Ansel?"

My blood runs cold as the man emerges from thin air, spreading his arms wide, as if to welcome the woman into his arms. Impossible. I stumble to my feet and shoot out my magic, urging the vines to snatch him up and hold him tight. They burst from the ground in great swells of leafy green, but he swats them away as if they are flies. They crack and snap underneath his touch, exploding into bundles of broken stalks. His eyes focus on me, and a chill spikes up my spine from the murderous intent in his gaze.

One moment, he is stalking towards me. The next, his hand is wrapped around my throat. I start to choke as he squeezes the air out of my lungs. Lera flies at him in a burst of gleaming talons and feathers, but he slaps her aside. She tumbles away, spinning out of my view. I start to claw at his hand, but the pressure is already building up, I am already starting to lose consciousness.

"Leave them alone, Varlock! It's me you want!" The woman, Ansel, cries out from somewhere behind me. Varlock! The name is like a curse on my lips. This man... he is the one that wishes to destroy the world. A new kind of terror settles in my veins, making me thrash and convulse in his grip. Then Ansel, who must be Calthius' sister, comes racing into view. In a blur of blonde hair and fury, she pushes Varlock, back. He lets go of my neck, and I drop to the ground, coughing and hacking my lungs out. As I struggle to breathe again, I hear the sounds of battle; magic against magic, metal against metal.

I keep low to the ground, half-crawling half-dragging myself across the upturned grass towards Lera. She is curled up in the fetal position, her inky-black wings following the curve of her back to shield her. I place a hand on her arm and start to shake her.

"Lera, Lera! Wake up! We need to leave!" I hiss in her ear, crouching over her, my desperation rolling down my skin in drops of sweat. She... She isn't responding. 

A loud clang of steel meeting steel gets me awake and moving. I hoist Lera up and throw one of her arms over my shoulders. Her head droops and her feet drag behind her, but I push forward, trudging away from the battle raging behind us. I barely get through ten steps when a roar shakes the world, causing stars to spin in my head and in my eyes. Calthius. He is now making his way towards this little clearing, each step causing the ground to quiver and filling the air with the gruff breaths of a thousand men. He nears from behind me, and I start to run for my life, lugging Lera along, tripping and stumbling over my own feet. Fear places its cold hands over my body, and I call forth my vines once more. The propel me away from the battle, away from Calthius, and into the woods.

"Take us to Serestine!" I hiss, and the vines fall behind me as the wind takes their place. Lera and I soar beneath the canopy of leaves and sunlight, whisking away from the bloodied field. "Hide us! Hide us from sight and sound and scent!" I can hear the trees creak and bend as their branches thicken to block any pursuers. Masses of leaves fall to the ground, stirring up dirt and dust and creating a thick smoke that starts to spread in between the trunks of the forest. I glance over my shoulder and see nothing but browning air and blockades of thick, gnarled wood.

In no time at all, we break through the forest. The wind keeps us low against the sloping hills of grass. Together, we flee from the bloodstained field, leaving Calthius and Ansel behind.