Lost in the Light Ch. 11

Lysia had to rely on Rollis for guidance. They had been running hard for some breathless moments. Despite favoring ground transportation he was far better at tracking than she was. It was her opinion that taking to the trees would be better to track a flying creature, but thus far Rollis hadn't failed.

"Fuck." He cursed in his abrasive growl as he pulled up on a lone, blood covered arrow. He collected it and looked frantically from tree to tree. "I can't find it now, I was locked onto the arrow." He spat and paced back and forth in frustration. Something made a sound, and he hushed Lysia to listen. Lysia tried to do what she had been taught, and listened to the forest. The normal sounds drowned away and she heard... nothing. Nothing but Rollis's angry pacing. But once that was pushed away to the rest of the background she heard a heavy woosh of air, it was rhythmic, like the beating of large bat wings. She concentrated on it, and felt confident in its direction.

"I've got it! This way!" she said, elated, and took off running. Rollis followed with bow at the ready. Lysia wasn't sure what to do once she found it, but she was certain this sound was it. It wasn't far away, and it was flying in a straight line, as if it had a purpose or somewhere to be.

Something shot past her head. Lysia rolled into a tumble and looked back where it went. An arrow of Elthairin make struck Rollis in the shoulder and threw him back with a grunt. A slender form flew right over her from behind, and Lysia saw the glint of twin steel blades drawn to engage Rollis.

"Look out!" she shouted. The form pulled up short, startled, and a foot slammed into her gut tossing her backwards and stealing her breath. She didn't know who it was, but she knew Rollis was in terrible danger.

Rollis tore the arrow from his shoulder with a cry of pain and a brief spray of blood. His own knife came up to deflect the first slash for his head, but the second thrust caught his gut in the side. Had it not been for his air-shield magic both strikes would have killed him outright. But that wouldn't last much longer the way this fight was going. His assailant was an Elthairin woman with twin tattoos of vines on her shoulders and a long brown braid of hair behind her. It was all the detail he could take in before she threw her forehead into his face and shattered his nose. Rollis fell backwards. This fight was now over, he knew it.

The lady knight spun in place and he saw that steel coming for his neck just as the white dots of pain cleared enough for his eyes to work properly. He brought his knife up in time to block it and it skidded off the short steel, but cut half of his ear off on its way by. That jolt of cold pain finally woke him from his shock and he roared. He stabbed out with his knife and dug it into her thigh. Using it as a hand-hold he grabbed it and pulled himself up, slamming his head into her chin and knocking them both to the ground. He was going to take this bitch with him to the afterlife.
Dazed, but not disarmed she staggered backwards and swung out reactively. Rollis sidestepped and threw his fist into her chin again and knocked her further back. This time she was ready for it and rolled with it, spinning into a crouch and sweeping his legs out from under him. She was on him in an instant, her legs pinning his side to the ground. She had his knife in her hands and she was slamming it into his chest. He caught her wrists before it made him, with only the tip uncomfortably pressing into his chest right above his heart. There they locked and held, fighting for dominance through brute strength, snarling at each other as they threw their whole bodies into their arms to win the battle of strength with Rollis's life as the prize.

"Shoot her" he growled through gritted teeth as his face pulsed with the blood of exertion. Ordinarily he was content to let a fair fight play out, but it was her eyes that had changed this. He saw the coldness of a killer - indiscriminate, unyielding, incoercible, death. But also therein was the purest of hate that twists the soul and poisons the mind and makes one's killer grin from ear to ear as they make their kill.

She was grinning from ear to ear.
"Shoot her!" he screamed again. He was losing the battle, and the blade was cutting into his flesh. Blood pooled at its tip, and the pain was stealing more of his strength away. Confused as to why this bitch wasn't dead with a arrow in her temple, he took his eyes off that hideous grin for a moment and found Lysia standing beside them with his bow. Recognition was in her eyes, she knew this woman, and she wouldn't shoot.

'But there is a darkness in her that wants to tear us apart.' He remembered Corella's words. Rollis laughed madly as the blade dug deeper and bit into a rib.

Lysia winced, knowing full well the pain of a blade through the heart. Her shock shattered. Her body drew back in one fluid, determined motion, and her trembling ceased.

Revenge had cooled her.

Lysia pulled back the arrow. Another flying form distracted her. And that breathless moment where time slowed for her happened for the second time today.
Valel glided through the air feet first with his swords drawn out beside him, and the edges of his cloak held in his hands to slow his descent. When she glimpsed him, the cold hatred in her heart didn't care. That dream had been dispelled by the knife through her ribs. But it was the white gleam of his teeth that made her look again. She had never seen him make such a face. This chivalrous gentleman of knights had always been kind, compassionate, and even tempered. She had never thought he could be angry. It wasn't anger actually, it was Wrath.

Valel collided boot first into Iala's head. She was sent tumbling across the ground with a grunt of pain, the first she had made this entire battle. Rollis's gasp of relief was cut short by the sharp twang of Lysia's bowstring. Valel was a quick flash of gleaming steel as one blade deflected the arrow harmlessly away, and the other sliced through the bowstring as he strode by.

Lysia fell on her haunches. Shocked, and uncertain as to what had just happened. She didn't know why she loosed the shot. She didn't know why she shot at him. All she could do was stare at the ruined weapon on the ground.

Valel was atop his mother with one leg pinning her arm to the ground, one sword edge on her wrist, and the other pressing that razor edge to her throat.

"Valel, what are you doing?" Iala scolded him coldly. She was furious with him. But she had never seen him angry before either, and it gave her serious pause. This Valel was an uncertainty.

"You disobeyed your Queen," Valel growled, his face a grotesque contortion of unrestrained anger. "...traitor..." He seethed quietly through gritted teeth, and the blade pressed into her jugular drawing a thin line of blood. "He is one of The Discarded."

The uncomfortable silence around them was palpable. Iala had nothing more to say. There was no innocent explanation to give, no confounding spin to weave, and no way to wrest herself free, she knew her son better than that. The girl was just as useless, she had done something foolish she could not take back, and what remained of her honor wouldn't let her run away or assist Iala in overpowering her reckless son. A soft gust of wind blew over the area.

"Enough Valel," Tamain's voice called out as he staggered wearily into view. "Enough...it's settled." Valel's snarling countenance reluctantly dissolved. He withdrew slowly, and rose. Yet he did not sheath his weapons.

"Iala," Valel said discourteously. "Tamain of the Discarded." He introduced the Zecairin tending to his comrade's injuries. Rollis had crawled away and tucked himself beside a fallen log. But the blood trail he had left behind was severe.

"Let me," Valel offered when he saw the poor state Rollis was in and the pallor of Tamain's face. Having seen this Zecairin at his best, he could tell that Tamain was running low. He wondered what they could have faced to have drained him so. The tone in which he said it however discouraged argument, and Tamain was in no mood to argue. Valel sheathed his weapons and set to mending Rollis's wounds as Tamain approached Lysia and collected the broken bow. She wouldn't meet his gaze. She stared at the ground wide-eyed and vacant. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek, to try and sooth the turmoil of emotions waging war within her. But she turned away from it, and when she looked up there was cold murder in her eyes. Something Tamain recognized had finally broken free to the surface. She couldn't look at him for long.

"I am sorry, my beautiful mouse." He spoke softly. His magic carried those words on the wind and made sure only her ears heard them. "I was insensitive to what they did to you. I should have been more gentle and given you more time to heal."

Lysia pulled her knees to her chest. Her cold, stoic stare was betrayed by the tears that were escaping despite her efforts. Tamain wanted to say more, but he feared he would break her if he continued. So he let her go with one last thought. "I will be here when you need me, and when you are ready. Go with them. Struggle, and make it right. They are not your enemies anymore. "

Tamain came to stand before Iala as she picked herself up. The woman shifted her pose, taking an aggressive stance ready to throw the first blow.

"They were tracking a freshly born Denaos" he said using the Elthairin word for Demon-spawn. "Thanks to you, it got away, and that plague has been released upon this world." Iala scoffed.

"You cannot shame me with a child's story." Iala snorted.

"It is true." Lysia said. Tamain raised an eyebrow and glanced back her way before returning to Iala.

"You have made your anger into a weapon." Tamain said looking down his nose at her haughtily. "Unfortunately a weapon made thus can never be sheathed, it rules its master and leads one down a path of brutality or madness. It is one of the reasons why our two people continue to commit atrocities upon each other. I will not be ruled by a weapon, nor will I let one of mine be so. Until Lysia of Elthair expresses her wishes to leave The Discarded, she is still one of mine. If you encourage her anger again... I will ask your Queen to intervene on my behalf. I believe she has sent you to deliver a favorable response to my request to an alliance, no? Otherwise you would not be here, you would be spying on that Monastery she is so preoccupied with. Should I report to her that you sabotaged those efforts before they were given their fair trial?"

Iala was speechless. She had expected threats upon her person, vows of revenge, or boastful posturing. But this Zecairin was... odd. She looked him over again. Tamain was a simple man dressed in dark clothes for concealment in shadows, and no weapons. Foolish. His skill at camouflage was perfect - she hadn't detected his presence, but he was also a coward for not assisting his friend until help had already arrived. He was a fool indeed, one that ruled through theatrics and intimidation. She looked to Valel, he was listening to everything they were saying, but he was preoccupied reattaching an ear. Tactically unsound. This whole situation was some sort of maddening farce. She closed her eyes and settled her nerves. Her toned arms came to fold over her chest and she calmed.

"I saw a Zek chasing one of my own, and I reacted poorly." She conceded.

"Apology accepted." Tamain said wearily. Iala balked, taken aback. "Now if you fools are finished, we have a demon to kill."