Hail, sleet, snow and ice drove themselves in vain against the strong buttressed double walls of Castle Arakull. Both its armoury and its occupants were unparalleled in the land, for Arakull was home to the most elite of the king’s royal knights. Arakull was built aeons ago, by the kings of the north, and to the north it had always belonged.
Firelight threw a warm orange glow out the frosted windows of the upper hall, as servants scurried to serve pheasant and wine. The great feast was raucous with merriment, so loud that no knight in the upper hall could hear anything at the other end of the hall, let alone at the great outer portcullis. Nor would any have taken the immense effort to clear the window of frost and look out. If any had, they would have seen nothing but a sea of white, for the swirling storm rendered invisible any unlucky travelers still outside.
***
“We’re going to die, aren’t we, Nephamael?” The elf moaned and stumbled again in the snow. A great snow leopard staggered to his master’s side and pressed against the elf’s frozen body. Inch by inch, the daemon managed to prise the elf’s boot from where it was caught in a snowdrift.
“No, master, don’t lose hope. We’ll get there.”
As they continued their struggle up the desolate hill, the wind roared again, determined to thwart their advance to the only avenue of safety they had left.
***
The great snow leopard’s silvery-white coat was matted with dried blood from a deep tear across his left shoulder. Numerous slashes covered his body, and the least, yet now greatest, of his sufferings, was a thorn embedded deep in the pads of his paw. With each step that he took, it stabbed agonizingly into swollen flesh. Yet he fought the pain, concentrating instead on the task at hand.
The elf wanted to be known as sellsword, but looked nothing like one. The elf’s lips were blue with cold, and miniscule icicles hung from pointed ears. Frost clung to the lining of a thick black cloak thrown carelessly about the elf’s shoulders, the sable contrasting sharply with the long silver-blonde hair that trailed down the back. What had once been a golden circlet had been horribly bashed into the side of the elf’s head, covering the pale face with dried blood. It had caked solidly over both the elf’s eyes, effectively rendering the supposed sellsword blind. When the elf put a hand to the wound, it came away bright red. The leopard jumped back as bright red drops fell and stained the snow.
They were barely halfway up the hill when the elf collapsed, breathing laboured.
“Save yourself.. Nephamael.. I can’t..”
“No!”
The leopard growled angrily and went back to the fallen elf. He pushed his noble head under the elf’s left arm and winced as the elf’s hand brushed his torn left shoulder. The daemon felt his own strength ebbing with the collapse of his master. Half lifting, half dragging, he tugged the limp form up the hill, looking over his shoulder from time to time.
***
How long it took them, neither knew, but the journey up was an eternity of stabbing pain and biting cold. The daemon kept stopping more and more frequently as sleet got in his wounds and the elf’s wound froze. Their bodies were wracked with a pain like they had never imagined could exist.
Eventually, when they reached the great portcullis, they were worn out and completely exhausted. The leopard gasped with the effort, collapsing in the snow. Thankfully Castle Arakull now shielded them from the worst of the storm, and they rested for awhile as a strong but bearable wind blew around them.
“Master.. we’re here...”
The leopard’s voice brought the elf out of dazed stupor. He had done the impossible, getting them both to the Castle. Now, pain or no pain, the elf had to gain entrance before they froze to death.
Slowly, agonizingly, the elf fell from the leopard’s shoulder into a kneeling position. The elf swayed slightly, head resting against the daemon’s cold fur. A small tear slowly wound its way down onto the leopard’s neck, where it froze instantly.
“Nephamael.. I love you. Thank you..”
The leopard nosed his master’s shoulder absently, but his senses were tingling. Something was wrong...
As elf turned away from daemon, the snow on the ground shifted, throwing both off their feet. The impact of the elf’s head on the door drove the shining circlet deeper into the wound, elucidating a strangled cry of pain. The daemon winced too, the pain shared in the inconceivable link between elf and daemon. Blood was flowing freely now, falling in crimson splashes over the ground. The elf put every single last ounce of strength into staying upright.
One last heave..
The elf was finally standing, using the door as a support, when the snow cruelly shifted again. It grabbed at the elf’s boots and pulled hard. Every jarring movement amplified the pain of existing wounds as the elf slid back down. One hand was pressed against the door in a futile attempt to stay upright, but to no avail. A streak of dark blood ran down the unmarked wood, and the elf never got back up again.
The leopard moaned, feeling more and more dizzy as his master fainted away. But he had barely opened his mouth to call for help when a long iron shaft punched down and buried itself in his throat. The daemon’s blood arced out instantly to join that of the elf’s on the door. His cry was swallowed by the wind as he fell beside his master.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
The Last Dance (I)
Inspired by Learn To Do It (Reprise) from Anastasia
It’s one-two-three
And suddenly
I see it at a glance -
“That is my decision. We will discuss it no more.”
“You will be killed!”
“No…”
An evil smile wound its way across Jerael’s face.
“I know the laws of this land. Now take my message to the king.”
His wolf daemon bowed mockingly, then scampered up the stairs to find the head gaoler.
***
She’s radiant
And confident
And born to take this chance.
Stelmaryn looked at the head gaoler, then at her father seated upon his throne, then at the prisoner. Her eyes lingered longest on the great grey wolf, paws bound together with magical bonds, prostrate at the foot of the throne. The Elf's knuckles turned white where her left hand gripped the hilt of Astarael. The longsword that bore the name of her House in fiery letters along the blade.
First the pain of Awakening, the thrill of Nephamael taking fixed shape – a silvery-white snow leopard – and now this.
“She is my only daughter! I will not have her put in such danger!”
The king slammed his fist down on the ornate carvings that ran along the sides of the throne. The noise startled both gaoler and wolf, and they jumped. Only Stelmaryn remained calm, the only outward sign of her emotions being the shimmering violet aura about both her left hand and Astarael.
“The laws that govern your very throne state that upon Awakening, the Princess will have to fight for the State in any trial by combat, Sire. Even you cannot change that. Unless you accept another as heir…”
“The only other heir is locked up in that cell and I will not have him!”
The king’s unicorn daemon pawed her hooves upon the wooden planks and snorted with displeasure as the grey wolf smiled craftily.
“It looks like we leave you no choice then."
The unicorn stamped her hooves again and glared at the wolf.
"Mind your manners before the High King of the Elves, daughter of the West Wind. Bad tidings thou dost bring, yet noble your race was and still is. Do not dishonour thine lineage."
The wolf glared as the unicorn glided over to Stelmaryn. The Elven princess knelt, conscious of her golden circlet starting to slip. She fervently hoped it wouldn't fall off, especially not in front of that wolf... The unicorn smiled, as if she had read the Elf's thoughts, and used her horn to catch the circlet, pushing it back into position on Stelmaryn's brow. Then she lowered the tip of her horn so it rested upon the elf’s breast.
“My blessings upon you,” the unicorn murmured. A silver light shone from the pearlescent horn and descended upon the startled Elf in a brilliant silver-and-gold aura. While the silver light remained surrounding the Elf, the sparkling golden motes disappeared into Stelmaryn's body.
Then the unicorn dropped her voice to the barest of whispers, moving even closer to the Elf. Her breath was warm and urgent in Stelmaryn's ear.
“You are of Astarael, the House of Sorrow, and if you call, Astarael will save you. But she will claim you if you do not stand firm.”
Stelmaryn felt raw power surging through her as the silver light died and the unicorn glided back to the king. Then the Princess turned and held the wolf’s stare until the latter was forced to look away.
“Tell your master that I accept his trial by combat."
"I will fight.”
***
I taught her well
I planned it all
I just forgot -
Romance!
Stelmaryn kept to the shadows as she made her way down the spiraling stairway towards the cells. Her heart was pounding loudly, and she would keep looking back over her shoulder, back towards the warmth of the king's hall, back towards her father, back towards Nephamael...
Nephamael. The snow leopard would not approve of what she was doing. It had taken lots of stealth, skill, and cunning, to escape her daemon's ever-watchful eyes and shut out the psychic bond that linked their minds. She could still feel Nephamael struggling to contact her, but her training had taught her how to focus her mind to the extreme degree where nothing else mattered.
The Elf stifled a cry as she stumbled on the uneven steps. Her hand went to her sword instinctively, belted to her side. The usually-warm gold was now cold and clammy. Even the crystal set in Astarael's hilt had lost its lustre, shining palely in the gloom. Astarael did not approve either. But still she went on.
All was quiet in the gaol, save the slow drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling. Most of the cells were empty, but the one right at the far end, in the gloomiest corner, was occupied. A bowl of porridge-meal and another with water had been placed just outside the cell. And she could hear the soft sound of someone singing softly to himself.
"Jerael..?"
Her voice quivered as it echoed about the gaol. The singing stopped.
Stelmaryn ran down the corridor.
She cared not for the moss underfoot that threatened to trip her up, nor for the fact that if she were caught here - of all places, for the king's daughter to be! - she would be severely punished. All that mattered to her now was Jerael in that cell.
He seemed shocked to see her, scrambling to get up and dust his tunic off. The tunic of the Royal Guard had suffered during his sojourn in the cell, for the green had faded and the gold trimmings dulled. Yet he still looked more regal than the young girl outside who was inexpertly balancing a coronet and wearing a sword too big for her.
Jerael smiled and reached out his long fingers through the bars to touch her face. She smiled back at him, positively melting with the warmth of his touch as she stretched out her own hand to him. Gently she pushed back the raven-black hair hanging over his face to reveal his eyes.
"Why did you come?"
His voice was soft and sweet as fresh honey. She never could understand why Nephamael would always bristle and growl at hearing him.
"I can't bear.. to see you.. here.. like this..."
Tears began to fall from her cheeks, and Jerael gently brushed them away.
"Don't cry, dearest. Tell me again what I am to you."
It was more command than plea. But Stelmaryn hung onto his every word, and threw herself against the bars in the desperate hope that he would hold her, kiss her, whisper sweet words of love into her ears... "You.. mean everything.. to me..." And as Jerael gently kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through the silver-blonde hair, a malicious gleam shone in his ice-blue eyes.
***
How could you do this
How will we get through this
I never should have let them dance!
Nephaemael was weary from the mental strain of having tried to contact Stelmaryn scores of times. Each time he had been forcefully pushed back, until he eventually gave up. It was not like the Elf to push her daemon to the deep recesses of her mind. There was something that was seriously wrong here.
Outwardly, he was the picture of calmness as he padded noiselessly about the palace. His tail twitched occasionally and he kept perking up his ears, hoping to catch any sign, any lead, any hope.
He eavesdropped shamelessly on gossip about sordid affairs, shook his head in disdain at soldiers complaining about guard duties, and fled from two lovestruck fools pledging troth to each other in a corner of the garden.
On his way past the king's hall, he picked up a familiar scent. He was nosing around the door when he suddenly heard voices within.
"You know I love her more than any other... Trials are dangerous enough with judging morality, but when you mix swordplay and sorcery with justice.."
"Thou overlooks Stelmaryn's skills too much. Is she not known among the people as the Deftblade? Truth be told, if she were a boy, thou wouldst have to have knighted her by no-"
"I care not if she was the best swordbearer in the kingdom! She is my daughter!"
There was the sound of something thrown in anger, and a shattering. Then total silence.
Nephamael had to lean against the door and strain his ears to hear the whispered reply.
"She is both."
Trial by combat?
The leopard had cocked his head to one side, struggling to figure it out. There were only two prisoners, one human caught red-handed in the act of stealing, and that traitorous bastard.
Why would the human demand trial by combat? Elves were one of the best fighters of all races, their quick reflexes and intense stamina making them virtually invincible in battle. With exception of the peace-loving Earth mages, Elves were so adept with the blade that it was almost one of them.
And what did Stelmaryn have to do with this?
Then it all clicked.
O gods!
Like lightning he bounded, past surprised pages and upsetting the Royal Guard at their posts. He leapt, racing as fast as he could to the dungeons - but even then it was too late.
It’s one-two-three
And suddenly
I see it at a glance -
“That is my decision. We will discuss it no more.”
“You will be killed!”
“No…”
An evil smile wound its way across Jerael’s face.
“I know the laws of this land. Now take my message to the king.”
His wolf daemon bowed mockingly, then scampered up the stairs to find the head gaoler.
***
She’s radiant
And confident
And born to take this chance.
Stelmaryn looked at the head gaoler, then at her father seated upon his throne, then at the prisoner. Her eyes lingered longest on the great grey wolf, paws bound together with magical bonds, prostrate at the foot of the throne. The Elf's knuckles turned white where her left hand gripped the hilt of Astarael. The longsword that bore the name of her House in fiery letters along the blade.
First the pain of Awakening, the thrill of Nephamael taking fixed shape – a silvery-white snow leopard – and now this.
“She is my only daughter! I will not have her put in such danger!”
The king slammed his fist down on the ornate carvings that ran along the sides of the throne. The noise startled both gaoler and wolf, and they jumped. Only Stelmaryn remained calm, the only outward sign of her emotions being the shimmering violet aura about both her left hand and Astarael.
“The laws that govern your very throne state that upon Awakening, the Princess will have to fight for the State in any trial by combat, Sire. Even you cannot change that. Unless you accept another as heir…”
“The only other heir is locked up in that cell and I will not have him!”
The king’s unicorn daemon pawed her hooves upon the wooden planks and snorted with displeasure as the grey wolf smiled craftily.
“It looks like we leave you no choice then."
The unicorn stamped her hooves again and glared at the wolf.
"Mind your manners before the High King of the Elves, daughter of the West Wind. Bad tidings thou dost bring, yet noble your race was and still is. Do not dishonour thine lineage."
The wolf glared as the unicorn glided over to Stelmaryn. The Elven princess knelt, conscious of her golden circlet starting to slip. She fervently hoped it wouldn't fall off, especially not in front of that wolf... The unicorn smiled, as if she had read the Elf's thoughts, and used her horn to catch the circlet, pushing it back into position on Stelmaryn's brow. Then she lowered the tip of her horn so it rested upon the elf’s breast.
“My blessings upon you,” the unicorn murmured. A silver light shone from the pearlescent horn and descended upon the startled Elf in a brilliant silver-and-gold aura. While the silver light remained surrounding the Elf, the sparkling golden motes disappeared into Stelmaryn's body.
Then the unicorn dropped her voice to the barest of whispers, moving even closer to the Elf. Her breath was warm and urgent in Stelmaryn's ear.
“You are of Astarael, the House of Sorrow, and if you call, Astarael will save you. But she will claim you if you do not stand firm.”
Stelmaryn felt raw power surging through her as the silver light died and the unicorn glided back to the king. Then the Princess turned and held the wolf’s stare until the latter was forced to look away.
“Tell your master that I accept his trial by combat."
"I will fight.”
***
I taught her well
I planned it all
I just forgot -
Romance!
Stelmaryn kept to the shadows as she made her way down the spiraling stairway towards the cells. Her heart was pounding loudly, and she would keep looking back over her shoulder, back towards the warmth of the king's hall, back towards her father, back towards Nephamael...
Nephamael. The snow leopard would not approve of what she was doing. It had taken lots of stealth, skill, and cunning, to escape her daemon's ever-watchful eyes and shut out the psychic bond that linked their minds. She could still feel Nephamael struggling to contact her, but her training had taught her how to focus her mind to the extreme degree where nothing else mattered.
The Elf stifled a cry as she stumbled on the uneven steps. Her hand went to her sword instinctively, belted to her side. The usually-warm gold was now cold and clammy. Even the crystal set in Astarael's hilt had lost its lustre, shining palely in the gloom. Astarael did not approve either. But still she went on.
All was quiet in the gaol, save the slow drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling. Most of the cells were empty, but the one right at the far end, in the gloomiest corner, was occupied. A bowl of porridge-meal and another with water had been placed just outside the cell. And she could hear the soft sound of someone singing softly to himself.
"Jerael..?"
Her voice quivered as it echoed about the gaol. The singing stopped.
Stelmaryn ran down the corridor.
She cared not for the moss underfoot that threatened to trip her up, nor for the fact that if she were caught here - of all places, for the king's daughter to be! - she would be severely punished. All that mattered to her now was Jerael in that cell.
He seemed shocked to see her, scrambling to get up and dust his tunic off. The tunic of the Royal Guard had suffered during his sojourn in the cell, for the green had faded and the gold trimmings dulled. Yet he still looked more regal than the young girl outside who was inexpertly balancing a coronet and wearing a sword too big for her.
Jerael smiled and reached out his long fingers through the bars to touch her face. She smiled back at him, positively melting with the warmth of his touch as she stretched out her own hand to him. Gently she pushed back the raven-black hair hanging over his face to reveal his eyes.
"Why did you come?"
His voice was soft and sweet as fresh honey. She never could understand why Nephamael would always bristle and growl at hearing him.
"I can't bear.. to see you.. here.. like this..."
Tears began to fall from her cheeks, and Jerael gently brushed them away.
"Don't cry, dearest. Tell me again what I am to you."
It was more command than plea. But Stelmaryn hung onto his every word, and threw herself against the bars in the desperate hope that he would hold her, kiss her, whisper sweet words of love into her ears... "You.. mean everything.. to me..." And as Jerael gently kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through the silver-blonde hair, a malicious gleam shone in his ice-blue eyes.
***
How could you do this
How will we get through this
I never should have let them dance!
Nephaemael was weary from the mental strain of having tried to contact Stelmaryn scores of times. Each time he had been forcefully pushed back, until he eventually gave up. It was not like the Elf to push her daemon to the deep recesses of her mind. There was something that was seriously wrong here.
Outwardly, he was the picture of calmness as he padded noiselessly about the palace. His tail twitched occasionally and he kept perking up his ears, hoping to catch any sign, any lead, any hope.
He eavesdropped shamelessly on gossip about sordid affairs, shook his head in disdain at soldiers complaining about guard duties, and fled from two lovestruck fools pledging troth to each other in a corner of the garden.
On his way past the king's hall, he picked up a familiar scent. He was nosing around the door when he suddenly heard voices within.
"You know I love her more than any other... Trials are dangerous enough with judging morality, but when you mix swordplay and sorcery with justice.."
"Thou overlooks Stelmaryn's skills too much. Is she not known among the people as the Deftblade? Truth be told, if she were a boy, thou wouldst have to have knighted her by no-"
"I care not if she was the best swordbearer in the kingdom! She is my daughter!"
There was the sound of something thrown in anger, and a shattering. Then total silence.
Nephamael had to lean against the door and strain his ears to hear the whispered reply.
"She is both."
Trial by combat?
The leopard had cocked his head to one side, struggling to figure it out. There were only two prisoners, one human caught red-handed in the act of stealing, and that traitorous bastard.
Why would the human demand trial by combat? Elves were one of the best fighters of all races, their quick reflexes and intense stamina making them virtually invincible in battle. With exception of the peace-loving Earth mages, Elves were so adept with the blade that it was almost one of them.
And what did Stelmaryn have to do with this?
Then it all clicked.
O gods!
Like lightning he bounded, past surprised pages and upsetting the Royal Guard at their posts. He leapt, racing as fast as he could to the dungeons - but even then it was too late.
The Last Dance (II)
It’s one-two-three
And suddenly
I see it at a glance -
At the Deathwood Tree, the prevailing mood was sombre that morning.
The Tree stood tall in one corner, its silver bark and hanging branches arced over more than half of the clearing. A large crowd had already gathered by the time the sun was high, jostling and pressing against the stakes that fenced off an inner circle - the dueling area. The king's throne was brought out and placed under the Tree, and a hush fell over the crowd as the trumpeter blew a salute.
"The High King Jardeleth and Princess Stelmaryn!"
The crowd parted and fell to their knees as the king and his unicorn strode to take their seat. Stelmaryn followed close behind, trembling slightly as she wove her way through the crowd. She noticed that the crowd was made up of not only Elves, but also the occasional human. Nephamael constantly directed disapproving stares at her, and she averted her gaze. In her haste she nearly tripped over the roots of the Tree, and the leopard glided to steady her on the other side.
"Hear ye, that today we have Jerael of the Neralode demanding trial by combat! The Neralode claims innocence of treachery to the High King! Princess Stelmaryn will stand for the King and Neralode for himself!"
Stelmaryn hugged Nephamael, blinking back tears, hot salty drops that the snow leopard gently brushed away with a paw. The daemon let her hold him awhile, then stepped back and surveyed her with his large amber eyes.
The Elf princess was clad in a simple tunic and leggings. She wore soft boots upon her feet and the only armour she had were arm and leg greaves, emblazoned with the royal crest. She also wore light chain mail under her tunic, and a long dark-green cloak completed the look. Astarael hung by her side, crystal softly glimmering, and at her hip was another smaller dagger. Her father would leave nothing to chance. He would have had her wear a helmet, if not for the fact that the irritating coronet had to be worn even for such a duel. She had accepted a ruby-studded bracelet though, each crystal charged with extra power for use in sorcery.
Stelmaryn drew Astarael and handed the scabbard to Nephamael, brushing back more tears that threatened to fall over her cheeks. The leopard nuzzled up to her and gently licked her face. All this while, Jerael had been led out to the circle, and he armed himself similarly. A page handed him his sword Garscent - Elvish for Blizzard. Nephamael relaxed slightly.
"It's not even ensorcelled steel. Astarael will chop him to ribbons."
Stelmaryn wasn't listening. She was concentrating, falling into a world where nothing else mattered except her and Jerael. And their two swords.
The crowd roared as the Princess of the Elves stepped out into the arena.
***
She’s radiant
And confident
And born to take this chance.
Jerael raised Garscent in a mocking salute. Stelmaryn had no retort save a low growl, a feral snarl that seemed to break something within him. Without warning, Jerael charged.He swung Garscent in a crescent that threatened to cleave Stelmaryn at the waist. She jumped back, then brought Astarael down in a punishing blow that crashed upon Garscent and sent tremors rippling through its wielder's arm.
Jerael backed off, bewilderment showing in those dreamy eyes. That one moment of distraction was enough to cost Stelmaryn, and her opponent suddenly lunged forward. She parried awkwardly as Jerael brought his sword down hard upon her. The clash of steel rang about the clearing, echoing away in the silence as they separated, circling each other warily.
Impulsive by nature, the princess suddenly leapt towards her opponent, but Jerael was ready. He executed a perfect stop-block, as Stelmaryn struggled to cleave his sword with Astarael. Their faces were almost touching each other, and beads of sweat began to fall to the ground.
"I thought you told me something last night? Something about.. oh, love? And how much I meant to you?"
Jerael's whisper was innocently layered with honey. With a quick twist of the blade, he pushed Stelmaryn to the opposite side of the arena, and she stumbled, falling to one knee. Anger like she had never experienced before coursed through her. Without second thought, she raised her hand and made a throwing motion at her opponent.
"Mithro!"
The spell formed a violet ring of fire that flung itself at Jerael. The older Elf's eyes widened and he fumbled for his magic, barely casting a shield in time. The colliding of both magics resulted in a blinding flash of light, which Stelmaryn quickly took advantage of.
"Telsa! Lorni! Quaro!"
As a swarm of golden blades flashed towards Jerael, Stelmaryn swung Astarael.
"Ne'ra!"
Jerael brought Garscent up in a strong parry that sent Astarael thudding harmlessly into the ground. His spell threw up a wall of blue ice, sending the golden blades rebounding back towards the princess. Stelmaryn moaned in frustration as she dug Astarael back out from the ground. Then she made a deft motion with her hand, destroying the spell and absorbing what energy she could salvage.
"Temna!"
"Chira!"
A bolt of blue energy punched towards Stelmaryn as a violet one streaked in the opposite direction. Both Elves fumbled for the strongest shielding spells they knew. While Stelmaryn's absorbed the bolt; Jerael's not only absorbed it, but reflected it back. The princess ducked, wincing as a loud explosion rent the air and a hole appeared in the boundary fence where there was none before.
"Resmar!"
Jerael followed up with a swift attack of hail that pelted Stelmaryn on all sides. She passed her hand in front of her face to form a shield, then lifted Astarael and charged again.
"Ne'ra!"
Stelmaryn crashed into the wall of ice and fell again, dazed. She shook her head to clear her senses and saw Jerael pounding towards her, sword raised.
"Arrathelima Rhodir!"
The complex spell left her, and Jerael was thrown backwards. Garscent was flung into the far corner, where it stood upright, quivering in the ground. Stelmaryn was up and on him in a heartbeat, bringing Astarael up for the killing blow.
And stopped.
***
I taught her well
I planned it all
I just forgot -
Romance!
As she looked down upon her opponent, all she saw was the Jerael she loved. The Jerael who she dreamt would hold her, and kiss her, and make everything perfect in her life. Remorse filled her heart and Astarael wavered.
Astarael, High Elven for fidelity in love. And representative of Death himself.
She let the sword drop as the crowd gasped. It thudded harmlessly into the earth by Jerael's head.
But her senses screamed a warning, and she instinctively threw herself to the ground. The commotion in the crowd had not been for her almost-victory. A Dwarf had run through the hole in the perimeter, into the arena, defying all commands to halt.
He was wielding a great battleaxe.
"Telsa! Lorni! Quaro!"
Stelmaryn sent the golden blades flying towards him as she dove for Astarael - but Jerael was quicker. He tugged the sword free and faced her, double-bladed. Garscent hovered dangerously near, and she took a step back. Behind her, the Dwarf had parried the blades and was advancing upon the Elves.
Both charged at the same time.
"What quarrel do you have with me?!"
Stelmaryn cried out as two swords and a battleaxe descended upon her. The axe thudded into the wooden fence as she parried the sword slashes with her arm greaves. As the Dwarf struggled to free his weapon, she unceremoniously punched him in the face, then spun around and dealt a roundhouse kick to Jerael's jaw.
He staggered back, and Stelmaryn followed with a set of punishing blows - left hook, right hook, a double punch straight to the solar plexus, and a final scissor that dropped him. Stelmaryn took Astarael back from his unresisting hand, then used Garscent to pin his tunic to the ground.
"Ze'rael," she murmured, and violet links fell upon her foe, effectively immobilising him as he glared murderously up at her. Then his eyes widened. Stelmaryn felt nothing but the sharpest of pain as the Dwarf swung his axe and caught her full in the back. The mail turned the blade, but the impact sent her tumbling to the ground, crying out in pain.
"What.. is your.. quarrel.. with me.." Stelmaryn was gasping for breath as her fingers sketched runes for recovery and strength over her chest.
"Can you not see I am hurt enough alr-"
Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. The Dwarf swung the axe again, slicing off part of the Elf's cloak as she attempted to leap away. No blade, not even ensorcelled steel, would stand a chance against a heavy axe. Stelmaryn had to avoid a confrontation at all costs.
"You think you feel bad? How about a Dwarf, who tries so hard to change in order to get the girl he likes, only to find out that she wanted someone else? And that she lied, gods, she LIED, when she loved the Oracle? You never thought for another’s feelings, did you? Or was your whole life just about the Oracle and your precious Jerael?"
Stelmaryn’s mind went numb as the dwarf, face livid with anger, disengaged his axeblade and swung it at her again.
"No girl is gonna like that guy, eh, especially the little elf princess, after seeing all the bad things that he has done?"
Then it clicked.
Yrakka.
The dwarf had been imprisoned by her father, and she had been the one who had tracked his blundering path through the forest and brought him back. To face justice for slaying an innocent peasant. Back then his familiar had been an albino mole. But now...
Whatever dark magic he had used to change its form had warped his mind.
"I’m going to take you now by force! After all, you don’t have your precious Jerael, or your Oracle, any more, do you?"
"How did you know about.."
"There’s nothing you can keep from me now, Princess."
Was he mocking her?
"Either that, or you shall never live to love again."
Stelmaryn parried awkwardly. She felt detached from her sword. It was parrying, it was riposting, it was thrusting, but she thought nothing. Felt nothing. Heard nothing.
All that echoed in her mind was the thought of the Oracle and Jerael. The only two people she had ever loved more than Nephamael.
And so it was that she never noticed the breaking of her binding spell, nor heard Jerael as he sprang up behind her and drove his blade straight into her side.
***
How could you do this
How will we get through this
I never should have let them dance!
It was over.
Blood stained the field of combat, the site of the last dance of death.
The dwarf had long since left, for even he was unwilling to watch as Jerael took out his anger on the fallen princess, kicking her in the back, in the stomach, in the face, as she writhed and cried out, blood flowing out over her body, onto his boots... The crowd accepted the judgement, and drifted away. Yet Jerael didn't stop, continuing to beat the princess with the flat of his blade. No ears save that of the unconscious Stelmaryn were close enough to hear his words.
"Love? You loved me? Ah, fool that you were!"
The king bit his lip until it bled, and the unicorn bowed her head. Neither dared to look as Jerael used his bloody sword to lift the coronet from Stelmaryn's head and flung it away contemptuously.
And suddenly
I see it at a glance -
At the Deathwood Tree, the prevailing mood was sombre that morning.
The Tree stood tall in one corner, its silver bark and hanging branches arced over more than half of the clearing. A large crowd had already gathered by the time the sun was high, jostling and pressing against the stakes that fenced off an inner circle - the dueling area. The king's throne was brought out and placed under the Tree, and a hush fell over the crowd as the trumpeter blew a salute.
"The High King Jardeleth and Princess Stelmaryn!"
The crowd parted and fell to their knees as the king and his unicorn strode to take their seat. Stelmaryn followed close behind, trembling slightly as she wove her way through the crowd. She noticed that the crowd was made up of not only Elves, but also the occasional human. Nephamael constantly directed disapproving stares at her, and she averted her gaze. In her haste she nearly tripped over the roots of the Tree, and the leopard glided to steady her on the other side.
"Hear ye, that today we have Jerael of the Neralode demanding trial by combat! The Neralode claims innocence of treachery to the High King! Princess Stelmaryn will stand for the King and Neralode for himself!"
Stelmaryn hugged Nephamael, blinking back tears, hot salty drops that the snow leopard gently brushed away with a paw. The daemon let her hold him awhile, then stepped back and surveyed her with his large amber eyes.
The Elf princess was clad in a simple tunic and leggings. She wore soft boots upon her feet and the only armour she had were arm and leg greaves, emblazoned with the royal crest. She also wore light chain mail under her tunic, and a long dark-green cloak completed the look. Astarael hung by her side, crystal softly glimmering, and at her hip was another smaller dagger. Her father would leave nothing to chance. He would have had her wear a helmet, if not for the fact that the irritating coronet had to be worn even for such a duel. She had accepted a ruby-studded bracelet though, each crystal charged with extra power for use in sorcery.
Stelmaryn drew Astarael and handed the scabbard to Nephamael, brushing back more tears that threatened to fall over her cheeks. The leopard nuzzled up to her and gently licked her face. All this while, Jerael had been led out to the circle, and he armed himself similarly. A page handed him his sword Garscent - Elvish for Blizzard. Nephamael relaxed slightly.
"It's not even ensorcelled steel. Astarael will chop him to ribbons."
Stelmaryn wasn't listening. She was concentrating, falling into a world where nothing else mattered except her and Jerael. And their two swords.
The crowd roared as the Princess of the Elves stepped out into the arena.
***
She’s radiant
And confident
And born to take this chance.
Jerael raised Garscent in a mocking salute. Stelmaryn had no retort save a low growl, a feral snarl that seemed to break something within him. Without warning, Jerael charged.He swung Garscent in a crescent that threatened to cleave Stelmaryn at the waist. She jumped back, then brought Astarael down in a punishing blow that crashed upon Garscent and sent tremors rippling through its wielder's arm.
Jerael backed off, bewilderment showing in those dreamy eyes. That one moment of distraction was enough to cost Stelmaryn, and her opponent suddenly lunged forward. She parried awkwardly as Jerael brought his sword down hard upon her. The clash of steel rang about the clearing, echoing away in the silence as they separated, circling each other warily.
Impulsive by nature, the princess suddenly leapt towards her opponent, but Jerael was ready. He executed a perfect stop-block, as Stelmaryn struggled to cleave his sword with Astarael. Their faces were almost touching each other, and beads of sweat began to fall to the ground.
"I thought you told me something last night? Something about.. oh, love? And how much I meant to you?"
Jerael's whisper was innocently layered with honey. With a quick twist of the blade, he pushed Stelmaryn to the opposite side of the arena, and she stumbled, falling to one knee. Anger like she had never experienced before coursed through her. Without second thought, she raised her hand and made a throwing motion at her opponent.
"Mithro!"
The spell formed a violet ring of fire that flung itself at Jerael. The older Elf's eyes widened and he fumbled for his magic, barely casting a shield in time. The colliding of both magics resulted in a blinding flash of light, which Stelmaryn quickly took advantage of.
"Telsa! Lorni! Quaro!"
As a swarm of golden blades flashed towards Jerael, Stelmaryn swung Astarael.
"Ne'ra!"
Jerael brought Garscent up in a strong parry that sent Astarael thudding harmlessly into the ground. His spell threw up a wall of blue ice, sending the golden blades rebounding back towards the princess. Stelmaryn moaned in frustration as she dug Astarael back out from the ground. Then she made a deft motion with her hand, destroying the spell and absorbing what energy she could salvage.
"Temna!"
"Chira!"
A bolt of blue energy punched towards Stelmaryn as a violet one streaked in the opposite direction. Both Elves fumbled for the strongest shielding spells they knew. While Stelmaryn's absorbed the bolt; Jerael's not only absorbed it, but reflected it back. The princess ducked, wincing as a loud explosion rent the air and a hole appeared in the boundary fence where there was none before.
"Resmar!"
Jerael followed up with a swift attack of hail that pelted Stelmaryn on all sides. She passed her hand in front of her face to form a shield, then lifted Astarael and charged again.
"Ne'ra!"
Stelmaryn crashed into the wall of ice and fell again, dazed. She shook her head to clear her senses and saw Jerael pounding towards her, sword raised.
"Arrathelima Rhodir!"
The complex spell left her, and Jerael was thrown backwards. Garscent was flung into the far corner, where it stood upright, quivering in the ground. Stelmaryn was up and on him in a heartbeat, bringing Astarael up for the killing blow.
And stopped.
***
I taught her well
I planned it all
I just forgot -
Romance!
As she looked down upon her opponent, all she saw was the Jerael she loved. The Jerael who she dreamt would hold her, and kiss her, and make everything perfect in her life. Remorse filled her heart and Astarael wavered.
Astarael, High Elven for fidelity in love. And representative of Death himself.
She let the sword drop as the crowd gasped. It thudded harmlessly into the earth by Jerael's head.
But her senses screamed a warning, and she instinctively threw herself to the ground. The commotion in the crowd had not been for her almost-victory. A Dwarf had run through the hole in the perimeter, into the arena, defying all commands to halt.
He was wielding a great battleaxe.
"Telsa! Lorni! Quaro!"
Stelmaryn sent the golden blades flying towards him as she dove for Astarael - but Jerael was quicker. He tugged the sword free and faced her, double-bladed. Garscent hovered dangerously near, and she took a step back. Behind her, the Dwarf had parried the blades and was advancing upon the Elves.
Both charged at the same time.
"What quarrel do you have with me?!"
Stelmaryn cried out as two swords and a battleaxe descended upon her. The axe thudded into the wooden fence as she parried the sword slashes with her arm greaves. As the Dwarf struggled to free his weapon, she unceremoniously punched him in the face, then spun around and dealt a roundhouse kick to Jerael's jaw.
He staggered back, and Stelmaryn followed with a set of punishing blows - left hook, right hook, a double punch straight to the solar plexus, and a final scissor that dropped him. Stelmaryn took Astarael back from his unresisting hand, then used Garscent to pin his tunic to the ground.
"Ze'rael," she murmured, and violet links fell upon her foe, effectively immobilising him as he glared murderously up at her. Then his eyes widened. Stelmaryn felt nothing but the sharpest of pain as the Dwarf swung his axe and caught her full in the back. The mail turned the blade, but the impact sent her tumbling to the ground, crying out in pain.
"What.. is your.. quarrel.. with me.." Stelmaryn was gasping for breath as her fingers sketched runes for recovery and strength over her chest.
"Can you not see I am hurt enough alr-"
Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. The Dwarf swung the axe again, slicing off part of the Elf's cloak as she attempted to leap away. No blade, not even ensorcelled steel, would stand a chance against a heavy axe. Stelmaryn had to avoid a confrontation at all costs.
"You think you feel bad? How about a Dwarf, who tries so hard to change in order to get the girl he likes, only to find out that she wanted someone else? And that she lied, gods, she LIED, when she loved the Oracle? You never thought for another’s feelings, did you? Or was your whole life just about the Oracle and your precious Jerael?"
Stelmaryn’s mind went numb as the dwarf, face livid with anger, disengaged his axeblade and swung it at her again.
"No girl is gonna like that guy, eh, especially the little elf princess, after seeing all the bad things that he has done?"
Then it clicked.
Yrakka.
The dwarf had been imprisoned by her father, and she had been the one who had tracked his blundering path through the forest and brought him back. To face justice for slaying an innocent peasant. Back then his familiar had been an albino mole. But now...
Whatever dark magic he had used to change its form had warped his mind.
"I’m going to take you now by force! After all, you don’t have your precious Jerael, or your Oracle, any more, do you?"
"How did you know about.."
"There’s nothing you can keep from me now, Princess."
Was he mocking her?
"Either that, or you shall never live to love again."
Stelmaryn parried awkwardly. She felt detached from her sword. It was parrying, it was riposting, it was thrusting, but she thought nothing. Felt nothing. Heard nothing.
All that echoed in her mind was the thought of the Oracle and Jerael. The only two people she had ever loved more than Nephamael.
And so it was that she never noticed the breaking of her binding spell, nor heard Jerael as he sprang up behind her and drove his blade straight into her side.
***
How could you do this
How will we get through this
I never should have let them dance!
It was over.
Blood stained the field of combat, the site of the last dance of death.
The dwarf had long since left, for even he was unwilling to watch as Jerael took out his anger on the fallen princess, kicking her in the back, in the stomach, in the face, as she writhed and cried out, blood flowing out over her body, onto his boots... The crowd accepted the judgement, and drifted away. Yet Jerael didn't stop, continuing to beat the princess with the flat of his blade. No ears save that of the unconscious Stelmaryn were close enough to hear his words.
"Love? You loved me? Ah, fool that you were!"
The king bit his lip until it bled, and the unicorn bowed her head. Neither dared to look as Jerael used his bloody sword to lift the coronet from Stelmaryn's head and flung it away contemptuously.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Thursday, January 3, 2008
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