Heir of Obsidian (A Throne of Glass Fanfic)

16 - Blunt as a Butter Knife

Luka sprinted through the cobbled streets, his shoes thumping against the solid stone beneath him. Where the hell was Benji? His panting breath shattered through the soundless streets, his throat rasping as he called out for the golden-haired male. He'd left him, gone once again without forming even a semblance of a plan. What had his friend been thinking? That he could single-handedly defeat the Valg?

The streets of the once prosperous sea town were in disarray. The doors of the vibrant houses were shut tight, the streets which he was sure would have once been filled with gleeful children, now empty and lifeless. Flower pots were overturned, the cobblestone cracked. Two Valg, the man at the outpost had said. Two Valg had done this. Caused so much fear.

Luka blanched; he had to find Benji.

He was in the wrong sector of the town; the townhouses were too large here, too grand. Flowers draped their windowsills, great, golden doorknockers graced the front doors. Where were the slums?

Luka doubted he'd ever moved so quickly in his life, not even in races to the chicken coup. His feet barely touched the pavement before his eyes were roving the streets furiously until the gigantic townhouses became slowly replaced with older, smaller homes. The paint was more faded here, the gardens less grand - but, they still showed signs of care, with tenderly planted daisies peppering most lawns.

Luka slowed, his sprint morphing to a steady gait. He had to move slowly, tentatively, lest his loud footsteps expose him. He'd never been good at fighting, never enjoyed the violence that accompanied it; he'd need any element of surprise he could muster.

He peered through the window of one of the small houses, nothing more than a glassless, crudely cut square. But the interior was empty, completely devoid of life. Luka prayed the owners were safe - that they had fled, and not experience the same fate as the man they had found.

Every once in a while, Luka would spot the terrified faces of someone peeking at him through the windows of their home and as he paced toward the next corner he say a body, lifeless and drained...as if the life had been sucked out of them... A girl with large, brown eyes even beckoned to him, urging him to join them, but... He had to find Benji.

Finally, as Luka rounded the corner into the edge of the slums, he found what he was looking for.

Benji stood in the centre of the dirt courtyard bordering the seawall, his arms stretched wide as he shouted obscenities at a dark eyed man fifty feet away from him. He'd heard the myths, read the stories... But, the Valg was more horrifying than he ever could have imagined. So still, as if human movement was clumsy, foreign and its eyes; black pools promising violence. So eerily human but... Not.

"So, you think you can take me, punk?" Benji shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. A wave crashed violently against the seawall, showering the courtyard with fresh, salty sea spray. The Valg smiled maliciously, its fingers dancing nimbly upon the handle of the pitchfork it held, as if it had plucked it from one of these very gardens. It took a quick step towards Benji, its movements so smooth Luka almost missed it. Gods, Benji was in way over his head.

"Yeah, you should be scared!" Benji intoned, taking the Valg's restlessness as a sign of fear. His friend turned towards the corner of the courtyard, where the villagers, huddling behind barrels and bricks, watched in terror. Benji inclined his head towards them, giving them a small wink. A young girl in drab clothing smiled nervously at him before retreating behind the folds of her mother's sodden dress.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Luka would have cringed.

Benji started forward, a grin emerging on his face as he spied Luka. Another wave crashed against the town, agitated. Benji drew his long, metal capped staff from where it was neatly strapped across his back. Carved along it's length were black, swirling symbols - the wrydmarks of Eyllwe. The staff had been a gift - from his mother. When Aelin had visited Eyllwe after the great war, the King and Queen had bestowed the staff upon her in thanks for her dedication to them and to their daughter.