The Conquest of Mytheyr

The camp was packed, and the journey to Rimcenter continued. Morgan leaned on Caspian more than she led him, and Indigo was looking a little translucent. Vath stayed nearby her, and was so distracted that he didn’t notice Bas acting strangely. The gray stallion’s ears were laid back, and every so often he’d nudge Vath’s shoulder, as if trying to call his attention to something. The horse’s behavior, however, was not lost on Teren. He thought it odd that a horse that was so calm and stoic, even during a battle, would be acting this fidgety. Teren dismissed it, however, and forgot all about it when one of his friends from his village asked him for help. The friend’s shoulder had been injured in battle, and healing magic wasn’t working right. It had to be re-bandaged periodically.

The sky was clouded over. The wind carried whispers of rain on it, though many wished it was whispering other things. Morgan wasn’t the only one who noticed the silence of the tree’s voices. Though the Dark Elves weren’t as sensitive to it, its prolonged absence was starting to be noticed. Some began listening intently for the voice of any of the other elements, but they were met with the same silence. Only the Wind stayed with them, but even it feared to sing. Bas let out an urgent whinny, and Morgan snapped to attention.

Vath looked up at his horse in alarm.

“Bas? What’s wrong?” the horse balked and refused to move, tossing his head and snorting. His antics had an effect on Caspian, who shifted his weight uncomfortably. Just then, a raven burst out of a nearby tree, cawing ominously. Morgan wings buzzed, lifting her about two feet off the ground, and she hoped the increase of her heart rate would wake her up.

“Asa! Teren!” Morgan yelled. “Something’s coming.”

“What?” sneered an elf, “Random birds fly off all the time.”

“They don’t usually fly off screaming about more undead in their woods.” Morgan said gravely. Everyone went on alert, Asa barking orders. They arranged themselves in a loose circle like before, though this time Morgan’s silver bracelet took the form of a bow, and she hovered near the center of the ring, an arrow on string.

The desert elves peered between the trees, but the experienced forest elves turned their gaze upwards, searching among the boughs and leaves. However, neither of them were right.

The serpent made no noise before it exploded out of the ground, breaking apart their circle.

“Sand snake!” cried Teren, “Spears, to me!” Some of the desert elves sheathed their swords and pulled off spears that were strapped to their backs, creating a half circle around the serpent, careful not to get too close. Morgan put her wings to use, trying to irritate the snake and get it to rise. The scales on its back were too hard to be pierced, but its stomach was soft. The snake was in fact a thrall, but it was a violent, bloodthirsty beast to begin with. Though Morgan could easily speak to reptiles, any words would be wasted on such a creature.

However, before the shock of the forest elves wore off, the thralls leapt down from the trees. Though none of the company had died in the first battle, they were now overwhelmed. There seemed to be no end to the thrall’s numbers, and the desert elves that fought the sand snake couldn’t make enough headway to take it down. There were a few spears broken off in its underside, but all in the wrong places.

Morgan was swatted out of the air by the thing’s tail, and she hit the ground yards away and skidded. As she pushed herself up, a horse stopped in front of her. Vath held his hand out, and Morgan took the invitation, allowing him to pull her up on the horse. Her weapon reassumed the shape of a bow, and she put silver arrows through the thralls, refusing to think about it.

“Indigo!” Morgan cried, as the felt a burning pain in her side that wasn’t from an injury of her own. She felt her familiar’s spirit return to his resting place, licking his wounds. She wouldn’t be able to summon him again anytime soon. She growled, and focused on shooting. She took note of where Vath was aiming, simply so that she didn’t waste his bolt by shooting at the same target. Her arrows appeared in her hand as she needed them, but Vath had a finite supply.

Finally, what Morgan had been expecting all along happened.

“I’m out.” Vath said as his hand grasped empty air in his quiver. Morgan took in the battlefield, her eyes roving across the chaos. The company was scattered, and not just thrall’s bodies lay on the ground. Asa was still up, trying to pull the remaining elves together. Teren was no where to be seen, but the sand snake’s corpse was hard to miss. Caspian was missing, too.

Without warning, Bas wheeled about, and Vath cried out in pain. Before anyone could protest, Bas took off at a full gallop away form the battle.

“Whoa, steady!” Morgan said, reaching past Vath and grabbing the reigns. She couldn’t see what was wrong with Vath, and her mind was in overdrive. “Steady, Bas!”

The horse stopped nearly as quickly as it started, and Morgan jumped down, pulling Vath off and laying him down. A knife was lodged in his left shoulder, and Morgan quickly pulled it out and healed the wound with Light magic. Gold tendrils wrapped around the wound, and it closed slowly, sealing itself like it was never there. Something was wrong. The wound closed, but Vath didn’t respond.

“Hey, Vath! Look at me. Come on, you haven’t lost that much blood….” she trailed off as Vath looked up at her weakly, his eyes half lidded. She snatched the dagger off the ground next to her, and was horrified to see a liquid blue substance coating the blade.