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Chapter 8
Part 1
Panting heavily, Fendrick watched as Tristan dealt the finishing blow to Holiwier; his axe finally passing through the treant’s body, severing the tree from its base. The group stood silently as the forest shifted beneath their feet. Holiwier’s roots retracted through the soil back to his body, causing the meadow to quake gently. Dai jammed his hands into the vine cocoon wrapped around Gabriel, and he cursed as the thorns stuck into his fingers.
“We’ll get you out of their Gabe, I promise.” Dai pulled apart the weaker of the vines, clinging desperately to their victim. Welk wiped the blood off his own face before peeling away the remnants of Holiwier that clung to his torso. During the battle, both he and Gabe had been encased in bramble, but his size allowed him to break free, while Gabriel was swallowed whole. His death was slow and painful, the vines suffocating him and piercing his lungs, while the thorns tore his flesh apart from the outside. The group persisted in their attack even as Gabe’s muffled cries filled the battlefield.
“I’ll deal with the Well now. Thank you for sacrifice, Gabriel,” bowing briefly at Gabriel, Fendrick made his way to the back of the meadow, further into the Hallowed Copse. Hacking away at the remaining, withered branches hiding a passageway towards the Well, Fendrick could feel the magic getting thicker. The air clung to his body and stung his eyes, but he persisted. A few moments later, he’d created a clearing and stepped deeper into the Copse. The trees opened up, revealing an open field, awash with unsullied wildflowers. Their vibrant colours sung in the viscous magic emanating from the Well toward the centre of the field. The magic became so thick as to be visible above the Well; bright purples and blues hung above its opening, slowly dissipating into the surrounding atmosphere. Fendrick stepped forward, shielding his face from its embrace. His boots stuck to the ground, and each step weighed on his soul. Permeating his being, he could feel the magic pouring into his body. Vallenfall Well emptied its being into Fendrick, who continued towards it, unwavering. Fendrick took step after step in silence, his body stiff and unmalleable.
Finally, he reached the Well. Staring into its being, he could make out an unending nothingness. A swirling mass of energy that poured out of the planet’s core, its power emanating from its opening in waves that threatened to push Fendrick back and away from the Well. Holding the Well’s thick stone walls, Fendrick undid his gambeson, reaching into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a small, black eye. The pupil shifted about its surface, pulsating in his gloved hand. He held it over the Well and dropped it into the abyss. The colours muted, and the waves of energy slowly abated. Fendrick felt the weight easing off his chest as he watched the eye explode, releasing a thick, black web that spread across the Well’s opening. The webbing ebbed and quaked, holding the magic at bay in its midst. Wiping away the sweat from his forehead, Fendrick sighed in relief. He knew he was resistant to raw magic, but had never felt such pressure, such a strain on his soul. Fendrick could feel the magic of the forest wane, the voices of the forest sprites cried out in his head. He winced, tightening his mouth while glancing around the Well’s private dwelling. “You’ll be back – eventually,” muttered Fendrick under his breath.
Fendrick looked back to the site of Holiwier’s death; the branches obscured the scene, but he could hear the cries of one of his ally’s. Stepping back to the meadow cautiously, he worked out who the cries belonged to. Welk. Panic struck Fendrick, as the thought of something strong enough to harm Welk crossed his mind. He picked up the pace. Pulling his sword and shield from his back, he broke out into a sprint, squashing the previously untouched flowers of the Well’s surroundings. Making it to the Well’s entrance, Fendrick clambered over the branches and vines still obscuring the exit before watching a white-haired assailant put his sword through Tristan’s back.
“NOOOO!” Fendrick stumbled over the overgrowth, falling over his feet as he passed Dai, still struggling to comprehend the scene. Striking out at the white-haired man, he let out a blood-curdling scream, alerting his prey to his attack. Quick as a flash, Tristan’s killer parried Fendrick’s stab; turning to face him. Fendrick stared upon the bloody visage of his mentor’s murderer; with piercing white, glowing eyes, his face was a mirror to Fendrick’s rage.
Catching the sword inches from his face, Ifan stared upon a man that he hadn’t seen in the meadow when he and Mari began their attack. His face was screwed up in anger, baring his teeth at Ifan. Ifan could feel the attacker’s breath on his face as they stood opposite each other – bathing in each other’s animosity for one another. Regaining an ounce of his composure, Ifan surveyed the scene – three of the enemy were still alive, one disabled. Functionally two versus one, Ifan licked his lower lip as he panted anxiously. He could see his opponent scan over to his ally, and Mari’s bloody torso. Despite their anger, Ifan felt a low level of understanding emerging amongst the pair. Pushing the attacker away, he could feel him step back gently in response. Ifan stepped over the corpse of the elf, slowly kneeling to Mari. His eyes darted between the man in front of him and the elf still stood by the thorny mass in the middle of the meadow. The man slowly nodded to Ifan, approaching him with sword and shield raised. Staring each other down like two worn out wolves, they each slowly lowered their weapons. Ifan could see that the man had sustained some injuries; his shoulder was exposed, revealing burnt and bloodied skin. Placing his longsword beside Mari, Ifan’s fingers stumbled over her face, “Shhh, shh – I’ll get you out of here.”
Mari’s eyes were glazing over; her eyes were full of tears and her face was pale and clammy with sweat. She was undergoing intense shock and Ifan knew he needed to act fast. “So-so-sorry, Ifa—” stammered Mari.
Ifan watched as his opponent knelt beside his ally, pressing gently on the wound that Ifan had inflicted. He whispered to himself, and pulled the body towards him, laying it in his lap. Ifan caught his gaze, and the pair quietly shared a nod. Tearing his shirt apart, Ifan wrapped Mari’s wound to stem the bleeding and then strapped his sword to his back. Grabbing her in his arms, he stumbled back towards his horses, making some space between Holiwier’s killers and his sister and himself. A few minutes later, and after he’d lost sight of the marauders, Ifan placed Mari down in a patch of downtrodden grass in amongst a small clearing. His eyes were still glowing white; his heart and mind refused to leave its heightened sense of anxiety and stress. Pulling the beads from his pocket, he performed a healing prayer on Mari, closing the wound on her waist. Ifan pressed his fingers to her neck and checked her pulse – it was hauntingly shallow, causing him to release an involuntary curse. Brushing her fringe from her sweat covered forehead, he tried to cool her down with the back of his hand. Mari had closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep while being carried by Ifan. He held her hand and gently stroked her cheek for nearly a half hour before she roused, her eyes sore and breath weak.
“Where… are we?” Mari craned her neck slowly, looking out into the depths of the forest past Ifan.
“Still in Fandelran. Don’t push yourself too much. You lost a lot of blood.” Ifan gripped her hand tightly and beamed at her as tears filled his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“You’re going to start me off, you softy.” Mari let out a light chuckle as she welled up as well. She tried to tense her legs to help herself upright and felt the absence below her hips. “So that did really happen?” she let out another small laugh, “Fuck sake.”
“I got the one that took them from you. But I had to get out. They killed Holiwier, but the human was somewhat reasonable at the very least. We came to somewhat of a truce.”
“Ifan, your eyes,” rasped Mari. Staring into Ifan’s glowing white eyes, her mouth settled into a frown.
“Still?” Ifan pressed his fingers to his temples, dancing them along the side of his face. “Looks like that whole ordeal got me worked up.”
“How long has it been?” Mari’s eyes darted around Ifan’s body, she could see his shirt was ripped to pieces, and his chest and face was covered in dried blood.
“Maybe 35, 40 minutes?”
“Your body’s not going to be able to hold up for much longer. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”
“Trust you to be worried about me in your state. I’ll be fine.” Ifan smiled at Mari, hoping to assuage her worries.
“We’re both going to be completely useless soon. And the sun’s going down.” Mari looked up past the forest’s canopy. The sky glowed a deep orange and the sun continued setting. Their surroundings were getting darker by the minute, and while Ifan’s eyes helped illuminate the immediate area, they couldn’t rely on it for much longer.
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” Ifan brushed her hair over her ear, her head still soaked with sweat. Mari smiled back to her brother, before closing her eyes once more. Ifan continued watching over her as his eyes filled with tears, feebly wiping them away with the back of his hand. “Now you’ve stopped bleeding, we need to move; otherwise they’ll find us too easily.” Lifting Mari onto his back, Ifan continued his way through the woods, his eyes continuing to light their path.