Forged

Chapter Six: Elfish remnants and the Jungle Hell.

The lush jungle was all around them, the humid air making the armor that they wore almost a crime to be in. The heat worked its way through the armor, Rrendal and Eltharan burning up. The latter seemed to be unable to sweat, but se was burned by the intense glare of the sun upon the day-time, enough that it made her a horror to be around. Her whole mood seemed to be in the lowest of the low dregs, as Rendal barely spoke.

They had come to an understanding after Rendal had crossed the border, back to the country where he’d come from originally. He would do his business and afterwards, she would get to drink his blood. It was only fair to her, that she drink from him, as his will to live seemed to have drained from him. Her body shuddered lightly with the thought of drinking that rich blood once more. She wanted it and he had not given any visible indication that he had no desire to share it. He seemed to be almost… guilty.

She reflected upon that, as her mouth felt somewhat dry and she raised the small potion bottle to her lips, within it contained the blood that Rendal had donated to her by shoving his finger into it after making a cut upon it. The taste was rich and it filled her with energy, as Rendal seemed to almost waste away. Light concern could go through her body every once in a while.

He felt… bad. As if the whole world had shattered underneath him and he had been left there to pick up the pieces. He was responsible for this, he was responsible for it all. Those thoughts haunted him, as the journey took almost two months. His beard returned in full force, the hair seemingly springing up out of the blue, bringing with it itching skin and a mildly scruffy look that seemed to draw at Eltharan’s ire. He didn’t understand why the elf would mind so much, she got her blood, didn’t she? He was the one that had made the world so messed up as it was, he was the one who had not reined them in…

To any observer, Rendal would not have been guilty of anything. He had only brute strength and skill with the blade as his credit, not any magical prowess, and the assault upon himself had only been the wizard’s treachery. To himself though, it was like he had caused all of this to happen.

Within the ruins of what had been a cathedral once, she languished upon her throne, vines stretching around the stone posts, her face tanned and with a certain feminine glee within the curve of her lips. She seemed to be at ease, yet her motivations were naught but ill. She was now the sole possessor of the skills and essence that her fellows had once had, the burden of magic upon her mind already stretching her mind thin. She had been slightly vain before she had inherited the power, the extreme personas that her fellow wizards had themselves, exaggerated within her. She could not bear the thought of any flaw happening upon her, her body kept in pristine condition by encasing it within healing energies, channeled straight from the ground and the core of nature itself. It was good in a way, because it was limitless, within this verdant realm. The people of her realm almost did not suffer, as long as they did not harm the plant life about her domain. She was the power of the realm now with almost nobody to oppose her in magical prowess…

None that had stood against the might of that warrior had been able to tell the tale. She had been playing the waiting game, as Jurrem seemed to have been untouched. It was almost a mockery of the way that they had all been ended, their lives cut short because of one person. She knew that it was but one, the trees and the leaves of the world told her. A man, traveling with a companion that reeked of death. Perchance some forsaken soul that had tried a dark art, she mused. Her eyes glanced at the twin cocoons in her throne room. They would do well to be kept further hidden, but it was not easy to come within her throne room, so why bother at all? There would be plenty to keep that man occupied for as long as he drew breath to even get to her.

Rendal gave a soft sigh, as he looked at Eltharan, who seemed to have foregone her helm to reveal her face to the world. There was no hint of pain or discomfort from the elf, but she didn’t have to say anything to let him know that there was something not entirely right with the woman, her tense body betraying the stress that came with the sunlight, its intensity so harsh that it was as if Mother Nature itself conspired against her. She seemed to more or less grow more and more against him. Her actions seemed more to the point and to get rid of him than of any sort of beneficial need. The need for companionship that had been strong in him at the beginning of their journey had slackened now that she acted so different than before. He had difficulty accepting that this was going to be the relationship they had. He could understand her drive to try and find some place for herself in the world, but that…