The Conquest of Mytheyr

Morgan shoved Vath to the ground. As he looked up, he saw a dark figure land sword first where he had been standing. Morgan’s sword appeared in her hands, swinging clean through the thrall’s neck.

Everyone looked up, drawing weapons and stepping closer to each other. Thralls dropped out of the trees, landing around them. Caspian reared, forcing Morgan to dodge around him, pulling her delicate wings out of the way of his hooves. She joined in the circle the company was creating, her sword raised.

This was wrong. She couldn’t feel any magic coming off the thralls. It took a powerful enchantment to do that, especially on such a large scale. There were at least a hundred of the undead, if not more. Calculations ran through her head. Their numbers were about even, but the desert elves wouldn’t be knowledgeable of forest combat. The trees shot down visibility. The thralls had the better armor and weapons. Morgan recognized the colors and designs worn by Mytheyr’s military on the thrall’s armor. Most of the company’s elves had leather armor, and homemade weapons. Surely, some were better blacksmiths and fletchers than others.

The first thrall attacked, and fell immediately with an arrow in his throat, shot by a female elf with a quick draw. Asa took command, organizing everyone in the circle into a decent battle strategy. Those with ranged weapons stood in the center, taking careful aim when they could. Anyone good with a sword kept the thralls at bay, taking care not to get too far away or too close to each other. Asa’s orders rang clearly across the small battle field, and it seemed the defenders might be winning.

But Morgan couldn’t seem distance herself this time. Last time she fought Semele’s thralls, the black magic they radiated was all she could focus on. Now she saw their blank eyes, their soul gone. She knew it was just a body. She knew that they felt no pain. But she saw their elvish faces, saw their red blood. She couldn’t bring her self to give a fatal blow. The first one had been one thing, a spur of the moment instinct. She needed to rely on that instinct, she told herself. Just the pure, bestial power of her dragon blood. She called the true name of her first familiar, a black winged wolf, and he materialized next to her. Their spirits linked together, and memories flowed through Morgan, both her own and those of Indigo. Her pupils constricted, almost into slits, and her irises darkened. The Darkness took over, and the two fell upon the thralls like a hurricane.

She was aware of what she was doing in this state. It only caused her to relive her worst experiences, and she used the emotions they invoked, the anger, the hopelessness, the sorrow, and the pain to fuel her magic. Her emotions also became fuel for Indigo, as he became stronger with the more energy he could pull off of his master. The thralls became enemies, nothing more. Morgan’s mouth twisted into a dragonish snarl as she and Indigo fell upon them, like a lighting storm.

A sword thrust, aimed at her torso. She twisted her body out of the way, allowing Indigo to launch forward and attach himself to the thrall’s neck. Morgan used the momentum of her twist to strike at another thrall, who was fighting one of the forest elves. Her unexpected attack broke through the iron defense of the once military thrall, and the forest elf was able to finish him. Indigo tripped one that Asa was fighting, staggering it with his black feathered wings. Morgan cut the throat of a thrall who had tried to sneak up behind her. Even dead, they still retained their skill. However, without an able leader, their attack had no strategy to it, and Asa’s quick thinking gave them an edge. Teren deferred to his judgment, falling in alongside his village and allowing Asa to direct them.

Vath stood with the ten others with bows and crossbows. He was shooting from Bas’ back, the higher vantage point giving him an andvantage. Only once had a thrall gotten close enough to them that Vath had pulled a knife from his boot, but someone shot the thrall before Vath could use it. Bas was relatively still, only wheeling around when Vath gave a tug on the reins. Vath found himself to be surprisingly good under pressure. He had not missed yet. He was almost unnaturally calm, time seeming to slow as he aimed. He’d take a deep breath, and pull the trigger. The string would release with a satisfying twang, and time would go back to normal as the bolt pierced its target. Then he’d reload and begin again.

Even Caspian wasn’t doing half bad, as he lashed at the thralls with his teeth and hooves, though he stayed close to the archers. One elf, following Vath’s example, leapt up onto the bay’s back. Caspian was content to allow him to do it, but he was not as still as Bas, making it slightly difficult for his rider.

As the battle progressed, Vath began to look for Morgan. He spotted her in flight, her blue wings a blur as she kicked a thrall away from a desert elf, but he had not caught sight of her since. He did see the black wolf trip Asa’s opponent, though he had little time to marvel at the legendary familiar.

Seemingly an eternity later, the forest quieted. There was an unnatural silence. The elves were hushed, and the birds had all fled. Morgan stood amidst the bodies, the last traces of her Dark magic fading. Her eyes reverted back to their normal color, her pupils relaxing. She went from fearsome predator back to her normal sympathetic self. The weight of the past ten minutes hit her, and she fell to her knees, the burden nearly crushing her. She gasped raggedly, choking back tears. All these elves… they were all gone. All of them, once single individuals, and the world would never be the same. She didn’t know them, but that only left her to wonder what they had been like, who their families were. So many… she would kill him. She would kill Semele for this. She’d…

An arm slipped under hers and pulled her up, putting her weight on his shoulder. She looked over to see Asa, which surprised her.

“Are you alright, Lady Morgan?” he asked her, his voice purely chivalrous. Vath caught sight of her, and rushed over, supporting Morgan’s other side. Morgan swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it impossible to answer.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Vath said, slight panic in his voice. He tried to discreetly take her weight off Asa, but couldn’t find a way to politely do it.

“No…” Morgan protested, pulling away from them both on shaky feet. Her voice was strained, and it took great effort for her to speak. “I’ll be fine. We should tend to the wounded.” Asa nodded in agreement, and immediately went to go assess the damage. Morgan plopped onto the ground, sitting cross-legged and putting her head in her hands. Her familiar heard her distress, and Indigo trotted over to her, nudging her shoulder with his snout and giving her a small growl. Morgan looked up and scratched the ruff of his neck.

“I don’t have your stone heart, Indigo.” Morgan whispered huskily. “Though your attempt at tough love is appreciated.”

“What’s wrong?” Vath asked, sitting in front of her. For some reason, the state she was in pained him. He couldn’t stand to see her so upset and didn’t know the reason why.

They sat like that a while, Morgan swallowing and taking great shuddering breaths, trying to compose herself long enough to speak. When the lump in her throat had subsided, she looked up at Vath with damp eyes.

“This is all Semele’s doing. All these dead elves… I’m going to make him pay. I’m going to make him regret every life he’s taken.” Her voice became stronger and angrier with each word. Indigo’s ears pricked up, and he gave Morgan an unsettling wolf grin. “I’m going to that palace, and I’m ending this, whether you are helping me or not.” she told Vath fiercely.

Vath was taken aback by her sudden change. There was almost a fire behind her eyes, her irises flickering. Something caught in Vath, a sense of pride and bravery, and maybe of things to come.

“I’ll go with you.” he nodded solemnly. “All the way into the throne room. I’ll help you take him down.”