The Conquest of Mytheyr

“No.” Morgan said in disbelief. “No. No. No, no, no, no, no!” She took Vath’s wrists in her hands, and her Light magic surged through his blood, gold tendrils wrapping around her hands and wrists as it did. Vath caught broken glimpses of the memories that fueled her magic. A black haired girl, giving her a crooked smile. Pushing a blond boy off a cliff into the water below. A small, blue dragon curled up against her stomach.

It wasn’t working. Vath tried to force his eyes open, but his eyelids seemed so heavy. He couldn’t move his limbs; it felt almost like he was detached from his body. Morgan felt his heartbeat growing fainter.

“No…” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. “Please work… don’t leave, Vath… please…”

His heart beat was almost gone. Her magic couldn’t heal whatever this poison was. She couldn’t even find what the poison was attacking.

“Vath… please.” she sobbed. “I… I saw the way you looked at me… I want you to know… I was falling in love with you, too.”

Vath’s eyes closed, and he couldn’t open them again. His heart beat faded completely. Morgan closed her eyes, hot tears streaming down her face. The Light faded.

“I’m sorry… maybe if I wasn’t weakened, I could have saved you. If Raven were here… she might have known what the poison was. I’m sorry… Vath… please don’t…”

Bas stood over Vath, whinnying gently. He nudged Vath face with his nose, snorting. Morgan cupped her hands around her mouth, whispering in Elvish. She pulled her hands away and pressed a small object into Vath’s hand, closing his fingers around it. She leaned down and kissed his lips softly, her tears dripping down into his hair.

The magic Morgan had used was taking its toll. Her head was spinning, and her vision was blurry. Everything turned black, and she collapsed next to Vath’s body.

“I don’t see anyone who remotely looks like that.”

“Just Dark Elves here.”

“Fan out! Find her! Semele wants her alive!”

“This way! She’s over here!”

“She must have tried to flee.”

Their target lay in the underbrush, her face tearstained and red, with dark circles under her eyes. There were leaves sticking out of her braid, and dirt streaked her clothes. She hardly looked like a great queen. A male Dark Elf lay nearby, his snow white hair splayed out on the leaves. His beige clothing marked him out to be a desert elf. He seemed to be in a much better state than the female, and he did not look as travel worn.

Bas stood protectively over his master and Morgan, and he bared his blunt teeth at the thralls. One of the thralls raised a bow, and the arrow hit Bas’s shoulder.

“Don’t do that!” one of the thralls scolded, “If you kill it, its body could crush her.” Bas seemed unfazed by his injury. His eyes almost seemed to be alight with flames as he challenged the thralls.

“You there,” the second thrall said to one with a spear, “take care of it.”

The speared thrall nodded, and approached the horse. Bas reared, hooves aimed for the thrall’s head. The thrall drove the spear into Bas’s heart, using the shaft as a lever to push his body away from Morgan. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, crushing small plants beneath him. The first thrall picked up Morgan’s limp body.

“She’s not poisoned.” the first thrall noted. “Just unconscious. That one is, though.”

“What should we do with him?”

“I say take him too. He was with her; Semele might find his memories useful.” The third thrall picked up Vath, slinging him over his shoulder with unnatural strength.

None of them paid any mind to Bas’s body, which, as soon as the thralls turned their backs, dissolved into gray smoke, and blew away with the faithful Wind.