Forged

Chapter Seven: The confrontation with the lady of Life

 The two stood before the ruins of what had been once a castle, grown over with trees and vines. The jungle had been cleared away some years before, which showed at the lack of trees around the castle, yet the subtle regrowth wof trees starting to inch their way up to the sky again spoke that nature was about to reclaim itsel. Rendal looked at Eltharan,as she seemed to regard him with eyes that held within them quite a bit of emotion. ”I think we should get to it.” She said softly, her eyes silently agreeing to something, he could notice it in detail, the way that her jaw set.

“Yes, we should.” He said, looking at the huge entrance to the place where their last enemy dwelt. Vines seemed to creep up over the walls suddenly, a form twisted from their entangling strands. Rendal glanced at Eltharan to see that she had taken a stance that was defensive, at least by his critical eye. Which was quite good, having had formal training when he had still been named Renard.

“Hello there, Elfling.” The voice spoke, Eltharan looking up and raising an eyebrow, her hair disturbed by a sudden breeze that appeared. She didn’t respond, looking instead around for any obvious way of assault that could be perpetrated by the woman. Her senses flared out, despite the mid-day conditions of the place they stood and found nothing. “Come to avenge your kind, have you?” There was an almost mocking tone within the voice of the wizard as she swayed lightly, raising a hand that seemed to have been made from vines, the organic appearance of the limb not detracting from its use. “And you, human? You dare to come to face me, Ashtara the beautiful? You will regret your choice soon, I promise.” Her voice ended in a soft purr, as she glanced up and down Rendal’s form, her facial features not even shifting. Rendal looked resolutely at her, watching how her facial expression seemed to shift between mild curiosity and outright hostility. “Quite a notable specimen…. But please, do enter.” The vines crept back onto the wall and there seemed to be a groaning sound as the doors opened. Rendal had a slight notion that these spirits and sorcerors all seemed to have some sort of fascination with appearing to be fancy and letting doors open themselves. What was wrong with sending some servants to do it?

He entered the castle’s grounds with Eltharan at his side, a carpet of soft green moss under his boots as they strode in the direction that it led, the arrogance of this wizard being great enough to let them go unmolested. Either she was so confident in her powers that she thought that they could be bested, or the mere thought of ending them had led her to invite them to their certain death. He was certain though, that hubris would lead to the woman’s demise. They had all been so certain of themselves, that they could not be beaten, yet they lay dead.

His armor shone within the light of the sun as it burned above their heads, the courtyard they found themselves on being almost empty, save for a huge throne that was made of plants and slabs of rock held up by plants. Ashtara sat upon the throne, a little smile playing about her lips, her eyes almost an emerald green. Her hair, which had been brown for the time that he had known her, seemed to have an almost earthen quality to it, her cheeks seeming to have a bark-like texture to them. “So you’ve came.” She said softly, her voice carrying easily to them.

“The ones that destiny spoke of, The Man with the weapons Forged, the Woman with Eternal Thirst.” The capitalization could be felt of their names and Eltharan and Rendal both nodded, Eltharan’s hands holding the rapiers with their tips pointed downward, the tips beginning to glow with a magical aura, already having the magical talent channeled through them. “You shouldn’t have come. Now you must die.” Regret seemed to have been within her voice, as she rose quickly and then glanced at Rendal, whose face seemed to interest her. “Your face becomes me, Man with the Forged Weapons.” She said as her arms rose in the air, a greenish glow pulled from her fingers, striking the ground around her. Thorny vines slithered up from the ground, wrapping around her body and almost seeming to make strong lashes around her wrists, the sorceress pulling lightly, loosening the thorny vines and twirling her hands around, the thorns grazing the ground, sparks kicked up from the place they had touched, long scratches almost leaving little grooves.