Chapter Text
Yvir didn’t think that having to go at everyone else’s pace has ever been so horrifically terrible before. Or slow. Or terrifying. Every inch of him wanted to fly ahead, to find Yalathas, to do something other than meander with a group that didn’t seem to share his sense of urgency. Alright, well, maybe that’s not fair, but they still aren’t fast enough for his tastes, and the pace is killing him.
As it stands, all that restless energy inside him had manifested into a gale that trailed after his heels, kicking up pine needles and dead leaves every which way.
Nyras, evidently, found it more annoying than most, finally turning to him after another leaf swatted her in the face and saying, “Yvir, please, calm yourself! Yalathas and the others are more than capable of taking care of themselves until we find them!”
“I’d like to hear you say that if Korval was the one in the swamp,” Yvir grumbled hotly, only feeling his temper mount.
Nyras’ fact knit in aggravation, but, in a rare switch of positions, Korval reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, then released it, forcing her shoulders to relax, “Alright. Then at the very least can you tell us more about this Deadmire?”
“I’ve told you.”
“You’ve told us it’s the domain of the wraith you called Laila. While that is understandably urgent, I would like us to not walk in blind,” Nyras crossed her arms, eyes glancing around as the trees gradually grew more and more ghastly and gnarled, “And I would like to know more of her weaknesses and strategies. As someone who evidently has a connection to her, you would know better than anyone.”
“The Deadmire’s a place that drains the life out of you if you aren’t careful, makes you see things that aren’t there, and there’s undead practically everywhere. I’d stay away from the pools, too. What else is there to know?” Yvir replied curtly, deliberately keeping his eyes on the path ahead.
“Yvir-,”
He hated the tone in her voice, the kind that meant she wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. Most of the time it was just irksome, but now, wired as he is, it just rubbed Yvir in all the sorest spots possible.
Thankfully, Ylvaria intervened before he opened his mouth and said something he’d later regret, “Please, Nyras, whatever connection is there doesn’t matter right now. What matters is finding the others and regrouping. I think you can agree with that.”
Nyras frowned, but thankfully took the hint and stopped pressing. Instead, she turned and carried on faster than before, loading a bolt as she readied her crossbow.
“Oof, talk about testy,” he heard Tirin mumble from the back, hands laced behind his head. Unnaturally nonchalant still, that one, but Tirin had always been an enigma to him, even after so long. Stranger now, it felt like, considering how his young counterpart often acted.
“She’s stressed,” Korval snapped, gaze flashing to the gloaming, “Just like the rest of ya. So stuff it.”
Tirin held up his hands in capitulation, even as the large half-orc turned away to follow Nyras. Yvir moved just a little faster too, trying to ignore the prickling dread that had crept beneath his skin, growing worse as the trees grew less and less thriving, the ground turned to marsh, and a dour mist began to steadily spread through the branches. It seemed like no one really talked after that, to intent on what they had to do.
It felt like an eternity passed and yet like no time at all before Yvir felt it; an invisible shift in front of him that leeched the air of life, stagnating and suffocating. All around, the greenery of the Spidersilk Forest had long since vanished, replaced by trees of rotten bark and frail, skeletal branches that hung stiff above their heads. There was no underbrush anymore, just damp loam and muck that sucked at the boot, as if it was trying to drag them under the murk that dominated this place. The air was marshy, a heavy fog settling over the ground, and even though Yvir didn’t need to breathe, he could still feel the heaviness on his face and tongue, the haze tasting sour and rank with decay.
He was there. Right at the border.
Despite the unnatural cold in the air, it felt like he couldn’t stop sweating, floating frozen and unable to move, no Aife at his side to distract him with a gentle warble. Somewhere beyond in that mire and mist, Laila waited. For what, Yvir didn’t know and did not want to know. But Yalathas had been lured inside, and he can’t leave him in there, no matter what. Which made this hesitation all the worse, because he’s supposed to fly in fearlessly to the rescue, not dawdle around like a helpless peasant!
“Yvir?” Ylvaria asked, turning back to him. He knew she must have noticed the change in the air, the darkness that touched this place was hard to miss. But she carried on forward, undaunted. Yvir wished he could be more like her right now.
It wasn’t long before he realized that everyone was looking at him as well in return, waiting. Ah, how foolish must this look to them? A powerful sorcerer with mythic in hand, blessed by the fae themselves, dithering on an invisible border none of them could see like an overreactive child. He must look like an idiot . . .
“I’m fine,” he managed to grind out, feeling like his mouth was suddenly full of cotton, “Just . . . its been a long time . . . since I was anywhere near this place.”
A long time now . . . but right then it felt like it was only a matter of days ago . . .
Suddenly, an arm hooked itself around his, puling him down, and Yvir’s startled eyes turned to find Tirin grinning at him, somehow still in unabashed good cheer despite the tension that filled the air, “Aw, come on, Yvir! A little mud never hurt anybody, and a nasty old lich can’t hold a candle to our splendor! Why, one look at me or Korval, and she’d turn tail and run back into her swamp! If she hasn’t already run away from Yalathas and his holy magnificence!”
Without waiting for Yvir’s response, the gloaming suddenly pulled him forward with a strength unbefitting someone so lithe, jerking him over that invisible line no one else could see.
And . . . nothing happens. Nothing at all. No ghouls rise from the depths, no hands reach out from the fog, and no undead wraith that had shadowed some of his worst nightmares for so long appeared in the gloom.
Yvir glanced at Tirin, who’s still grinning like an idiot, and belatedly realized what the other was trying to do. Distract. And, somewhat amazingly, it was working!
Alright, I’ll play your game, he thought, giving the rogue a wry side-eye. Besides, it was far better than dwelling in his own thoughts right now. So, sliding his arm free, Yvir looked at him and said, “Korval and Yalathas, maybe, but I doubt anyone would find you very intimidating.”
Tirin let out scandalized gasp, feigning hurt, “Now, how could you say something so horribly untrue! Really, I’m hurt, Yvir!”
“Tch, yer squirrelly, but you ain’t exactly threatenin’,” Korval chimed in, a half-smirk on his face.
Tirin frowned at him, propping one hand on his hip and the back of his opposite one on his forehead, leaning back with a sigh of overdramatic shock, “And a low blow from the side, how uncouth!”
“And while you’re all posturing, Cahira would have dealt with problem.”
The men’s eyes all turned to Ylvaria, and though the elf hadn’t looked their way, the self-assured look she had on her face was telling of how confident she was in her statement. And . . . perhaps there was a little truth to it.
“If you would, please,” Nyras cut in, looking unamused by the bantering, “We have a lot of ground to cover. Best not to tarry.”
Yvir had already begun to move forward, for distraction or not, he wouldn’t truly rest easy until they were out of the swamp and Yalathas was back in his arms. As terribly sappy as that sounded and all, he would like for nothing better. Movement, at least, felt like doing something.
Footsteps caught his attention, and he looked to see that Ylvaria had come to walk beside him then, as if still sensing his internal turmoil, and she whispered softly, “We’ll find them. I know we will."
Yvir nodded at her, “I know. I just worry about what Laila is trying to do.”
The elf looked at him, an inscrutable look in her gold-flecked eyes, “I know that . . . she’s an uncomfortable subject for you. But do you think this is a part of that group’s plan, or is this something more . . . personal?”
Yvir sighed, face dropping, “That’s the thing. I really have no idea.”
“I see . . .” Ylvaria turned her gaze back to the road ahead, but not before reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Yvir’s elbow, “Well, whatever her plan, you have a team this time. And whatever happened in the past will not be what happens in the now.”
And that was true, wasn’t it? Even now, he had friends by his side, and he was sure Yalathas had the other half with him as well. If nothing else, there was that comfort, and he knew they would look out for each other as they always did. They all just had to hold out until they found each other again.
Ylvaria let go of his elbow, hand going to cradle the divine holy symbol she always kept on her person. Yvir smiled a little, touched by her words, and emboldened by them, “Thank you, Ylvaria. I think Cahira couldn’t have said it any better.”
Ylvaria didn’t reply, but her faint smile was all he needed.
“Yvir!”
The sylph rolled his eyes as he looked at Nyras, already hearing the interrogative tone in her voice. Sighing, he floated up to her, doing his best to ignore the irritation flaring up inside, “Yes, Nyras?”
“Is there any reliable way to navigate this bog?” was the ranger’s question, “Landmarks and the like?”
Yvir pursed his lips, nose scrunching, “None that I really know of. Because I don’t exactly come here regularly.”
“Well, d’ya at least know where we can go when we find everyone?” Korval cut in, shrugging his hammer a little higher up his shoulder. To the untrained observer, he looked relaxed, but Yvir could see the way his fingers were wound tight around the haft, the way his eyes continuously scanned the bog, ready to swing at a moment’s notice.
Yvir fell silent, tapping his fingers against his arm in thought. Hm, maybe he could . . .
Closing his eyes, Yvir focused his concentration on feeling. Ever since he’d been young, he’d always been sensitive to the ebb and flow of magic. Inundated as he was to the fae’s world, as well, further honed that skill to a polished shine. And even here, where the earth was dead and the air was still, he could still feel that faint call of wildlands still distant, the wildlands he’d grown up in . . . but not as distant as they otherwise could be.
“South,” he eventually said, opening his eyes, “We go south.”
Korval and Nyras exchanged a glance, but the ranger nodded, “Very well. South it is.”
There were no noises in the Deadmire like there would be in another swamp. No rasping of insects or chirring of animals, no stir of leaves in a tepid wind, or even the splash of fish in the muddy pools . . . just the whisk of the fog over their shoes and their own breaths. Yvir genuinely feared what it would mean should they hear anything else. It was hard enough just being here, where the memories once shoved so far down began to inch themselves up to the surface, begging to be made known, to be remembered. It’s only the four living presences around him that keep Yvir grounded and remind him he wasn’t a youngling again, wandering alone in the fog.
“So . . .” Korval said as they skirted the edge of shallow pool, the surface covered by a film of rotten moss, “Where d’ya think the others are?”
Nyras, who had been carefully observing the roots and mud for signs of tracks, looked at him, “Not around here, that is for certain. They may have entered from a different location.”
“It’s possible,” Yvir conceded softly, “But this place likes to play tricks. Keep that in mind.”
“Then where do we go?” Ylvaria asked, sounding frustrated as she tried to peer through the fog, hand clenched tight around her holy symbol.
Yvir frowned hard. He wanted to fly, to find his friends and his fiancé . . . but flying was dangerous, so dangerous. You never knew what could be lurking in the fog, just waiting for a headstrong idiot to plunge into their depths alone.
A faint, upset muttering from behind him drew his attention, and Yvir looked to see that Tirin had fallen behind them. His eyes were focused on something in his hands, a deep frown and a pinched expression of strong aggravation on his face, though what could have done that Yvir couldn’t even begin to guess. He’d seemed in a fine mood earlier, despite everything . . .
He was still grumbling too, and more irritably than before, almost like he was arguing with whatever he was holding. It had Yvir cocking a puzzled eyebrow in the rogue’s direction, curious and a little suspicious.
“Tirin, the hell are ya doin’back there?” Korval said, voice raised but not quite yelling as he looked back at the gloaming.
Startled, the rogue looked up, apparently not realizing he was being loud enough for the others to hear. Not surprising. For a rogue, Tirin could be very bad about keeping quiet even when circumstances demanded it.
Yvir’s suspicion grew a little stronger when the rogue quickly pocketed whatever he was holding, waving a dismissive hand at the half-orc and blithely saying, “Communing with the darkness. You know, shadowdancer stuff.”
Yvir felt the corner of his lip curl, teetering between calling him out on the blatant lie or just letting it go so he could focus on what they had to do, when the rogue suddenly-and completely without warning-veered to the right and said, “Let’s go this way.”
“Tirin-,” Nyras started, not looking amused in the slightest.
“This way.”
“Why are you-?” Ylvaria pressed, lips pursed in bemusement.
“This way!”
Yvir frowned at the gloaming, feeling a flicker of annoyance, “Tirin, we can’t just go off and-!”
“Am I speaking in tongues? This way!”
It appeared Tirin wasn’t going to listen to any of them, continuing on his sudden and set course with a very stubborn kick in his step. And he wasn’t waiting around for any of them either, it seemed, galivanting off into the mist like they were in a healthy forest-side glen rather than a dead and rotting bog.
“Tirin!” Yvir shouted, following the stupid gloaming into the foggy unknown. Really now, just where had this sudden suicidal bent come from? What death wish had he developed?!
The others were given no choice but to follow, and soon they descended deeper into the swamp. The air had already felt heavy in the beginning, but going further in made it worse, like it was actively trying to drag him down. It was an effect of the fog that permeated this place, the rank mist attempting to steal their life away through its cold and wispy fingers, and as time passed its clutch grew ever stronger. Nothing living lasted long in the Deadmire . . . if they didn’t succumb to the mist, the dead of this place would finish the job.
The path they walked was drier than most, though still marshy and soft, dead fronds and cattails lining the side. A raised embankment rose to the left of them, the trees along it appearing even larger with the added height, their gnarled dead roots dipping in and out of the earthen wall like fingers attempting to breach through the packed soil of a buried grave. To the right, a river had begun to run, though its pace was languid and slow, turgid and thick and near soup-like in consistency. Sometimes, if he looked to closely, Yvir thought he could see the gleam of bones at the murky bottom whenever the film at the top broke apart. He tried not to dwell on them for long . . . dwelling never ended well.
Suddenly, Ylvaria stiffened, her ears twitching very minutely as she listened. And beside her, Yvir could sense something to, a shift on the air that rippled with energy, coming from ahead; magic.
“There’s something going on up ahead!” Ylvaria started, “It sounds like a battle!”
“Be careful . . .” Yvir warned, drawing his staff ready, “This place messes with your senses.”
Nyras nodded in understanding, bringing her crossbow up, “Then we will be cautious. Let’s go.”
They followed the river’s edge, the ‘water’ sluicing against the muddy banks, the only sound beside their own footsteps. Around them, the trees began to bulge with tufts of slimy white lichen that oozed and stank of something dead. Red apple-like fruits blossomed from the trees’ branches, although he could see the black rot lining their surfaces, maggots occasionally falling from their putrid skin.
And slowly, though it sounded muted in the fog, Yvir began to hear the tell-tale sounds of a fight up ahead.
A warm light suddenly surrounded him, and Yvir felt heartened as Ylvaria’s protective spell encased him in a shroud of safety. He knew just how potent her magic was against the undead, they would have a hard time breaching this shield.
A sudden wild scream sounded off ahead of them, a rough, hissing roar that set his teeth on edge, his already stressed nerves lighting up in anticipation. That sounded like nothing in the natural world. Nothing at all . . .
“C’mon!” Korval said, swinging his hammer into his hands, ready for the worst. They all followed, and inwardly, Yvir hoped that whatever they were chasing wasn’t a trick.
It wasn’t very long at all before they came to the edge of a huge gray pit, the cliff they now stood on slanting at a sharp and steep incline draped in muck and wet, mossy stone. The river beside them changed into a thick, murky waterfall, that formed a deep pool that filled nearly half the area along with several others just like that fell at intermittent points along the walls. What dry land did exist was muddy and slick, barely land at all. Trees surrounded the hollow arena, like an audience of ghostly viewers watching the spectacle below, for within was the battle they had heard.
Within the thick swells of the water, something massive lurked, a black-scaled beast that slithered through the muck with disturbing grace. Its elongated form resembled a snake save for its massive size, with spines like iron spears jutting down its back. Yvir had a chilling suspicion that he was only seeing a fraction of the thing’s body, the rest of it submerged beneath the water. But even what he could see, it was hard to miss the huge, gaping chunks in its body were flesh should be, revealing the ivory gleam of bones and pustulating scales bleached of color, the stench nearly overwhelming. Its coils were wound around a small island of drier land near the center, where he could easily pick out several shapes standing back to back, and he didn’t need to look much harder to see a flash of silver hair he’d seen so many times before.
“Yalathas!”
He was about to fly out, already gathering magic into his hands as he prepared to fight, when a hand suddenly gripped his wrist. Startled, he looked to see Nyras was the one who had grabbed him, her lips set into hard line, “Yvir, wait!”
Yvir stared at her, disbelieving, “We can’t wait, they’re-!”
“You said this place plays tricks on you!” Nyras interjected, squeezing his wrist forcefully, “If this is one, we could be heading into a trap!”
Yvir cringed, hating that she was right. Despairingly, he turned back to the scene in front of him, torn on what to do. He wanted to go, to fight, to help, but knowing what this place was capable of . . .
“Well, what do we do?” Korval asked, and its clear in every tense muscle and his grinding jaw that he is itching to dive headfirst into the fray.
Beside him, Ylvaria hadn’t taken her eyes off the battle, worrying at her bottom lip. Then, she closed her eyes and began to whisper, and held her holy symbol aloft. Light began to radiate around it, its shine falling around Ylvaria’s head like a halo, before she reopened them and peered at the fight with a scrutiny she didn’t have before.
“I don’t think this is a trick,” she finally said, “I still see them as they are, even with Arhelios’ blessing of sight.”
“Then what the hell are we waitin’ for?!” Korval demanded, muscles bunching with anticipation. He didn’t wait on anything else, either, launching himself over the edge and falling straight down into the pit where the fighting was taking place.
And probably regretting it right after, when he sank waist deep into the watery mud . . .
“Ah, grak-!”
Nyras sighed, “I continue to warn him about his armor’s weight . . .”
“He’ll pull himself out,” Ylvaria said with certainly, and Yvir had to avert his eyes when the golden feathers of her cape began to shimmer and melt away into bright, burning flanges of flame. A wave of heat washed over his skin as she beat her new wings down, embers blowing by his face as she took to the sky, “Let’s go!”
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Yvir said, rising up as well. He glanced back to Nyras, “Stay on the land, if you can. Tirin-!”
He trialed off when he realized the gloaming was nowhere in sight. He sighed, “Nevermind . . .”
And with that, he was off. Thankfully, the other half of their group wasn’t too far, and a cursory glance told him they were holding up alright. Natalia was a blessing for that, and he made it a personal quest for later to both thank her for that and apologizing for this mess.
It seemed that their arrival couldn’t have been better, either, for it was that exact moment the mud beside the islet suddenly swelled up and exploded in a shower of detritus and filth, and the creature’s head rose up in full. Or more accurately, heads, as the beast bore two; a pair of long, dragon-like snouts coated in black scales, a frill of torn black webbing sweeping between two sets of dark, broken horns. Both heads bore signs of rot, noses stripped nearly to the bone and eyes a bright milky white, and the jaw of the right one was missing completely, continuously dripping green bile into the murk below that sizzled where it struck.
A half-remembered memory rose up within him, of seeing such a beast in the past within the far-away fens of the south. A linnorm?
Whatever the case, Yvir wasted no time. Flying up to hover above, his hands were already moving in motions long remembered, calling forth the power inherit in his blood. Then, holding his hand out and pointing at the beast’s head, he set it loose in the form of three rays of scorching flame.
Two struck the rightmost head right between the eyes, washing its face in sweltering flames. The other scoured the left across the cheek, singeing but not doing the true damage he had been hoping for. Both roared, one in pain and the other in aggravation, the left one turning its eyes up to the sky.
Nearly in the same moment, Ylvaria lifted her holy symbol high, a single spoken word falling from her lips before a light of ember red burst from her body, radiating out in a sphere and basking the area in its glow. The undead abomination twisted from the shine, the divine light searing its flesh to bone.
“I hope you don’t mind us shaking the leaves on your party!” Yvir called out, remaining where he was and mindful of the great linnorm’s massive coils. But already, having Yalathas and the rest in his sights was a balm on his nerves, making even that great monster seem a lesser threat that it really was.
Yalathas looked at him, the silver of his eyes as striking as anything, a smile on his face that made Yvir want to melt, “Not at all! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t get here in time!”
“Would never miss it!” he said back.
“Give each other moon eyes later!” Cahira shouted, already running headlong for the monster. Her staff was on her back, relying instead on her fists and feet as she lashed against the linnorm’s scaled body. The beast growled, one head jerking down to snap at her in a bite that could swallow her whole, a ferocious move she narrowly dodged. At the same time, a half-submerged claw erupted from the mire and lashed at the woman, catching her in the side and rending the flesh through. Cahira kept her feet, and even though she’d weathered worse, he could see from her pinched expression that the bleeding rents in her torso certainly felt like no small thing.
“Cahira!” Ylvaria shouted, fearful.
“I’m fine!”
Music rose up over the clashing, Rhysana strumming away and swaying in time to her song, letting her melody do the talking for her. Still, she had a smile on her face as she focused on the linnorm, saying, “As far as dramatic entrances go, I’d give it a fair pass!”
Yvir huffed slightly, already gathering more magic to him, “Glad to have your seal of approval.”
As they spoke, the other head craned its face up to peer at the ones hovering above it, and Yvir could tell by the way the acidic bile drooling from its maw increased in flow that it was getting ready to attack. He couldn’t have been more right, for its head suddenly jerked up, and a spray of viscous, vile-smelling liquid erupted from its exposed throat. The cone of acid hit both of them, and Yvir covered his face on reflex to protect himself. Ylvaria’s shield blocked some of the acidic bile, but some made it through, and Yvir cried out in pain as the liquid sizzled through his skin, a burning agony that only seemed to grow worse the longer it clung to him.
Shit-! He thought, feeling it sink even deeper, the searing pain biting to the bone.
Then, a healing light surrounded him, banishing the acid and the wounds they had wrought like a cleansing rain. He noticed Natalia lower her hands from where she was standing, safely at the center of the group. A faint ripple of force was around her, a shield of some kind, and sitting cross-legged behind her was . . . Arkelos. The tiefling looked only mildly concerned with what was happening around him, chin cupped in one hand and tail flicking agitatedly over the ground as he observed the battle, and Yvir had to fight down a flare of abhorrence at the realization that he’d have to protect the man from this thing. From the look of it, he was still thankfully wearing his shackles, so he didn’t have to worry overmuch about the criminal trying to hurt Natalia in the meantime.
Yalathas made his move next, sword flashing as he unfurled his metallic wings to take flight. He struck at the left head, one, two, three, four times with his blade and leaving deep gouges behind, his blows seeming to cause the creature a severe amount of pain, before finally lashing out with his own wings, bladed flanges scouring deep. Yvir began to call up another spell, winds whipping around him in a flurry before thrusting his arms out, guiding them to the linnorm below. The harsh winds slammed into the beast, strong enough to nearly knock it sideways, its right head even being thrust back and smashing into its companion with a loud crack of bone.
No sooner had the winds died did the left head suddenly spasm, screaming out in pain before shaking itself hard, and Yvir just caught sight of it when something was dislodged from the base of the creature’s neck.
“WAH!”
Ah, so that’s where he went, he thought as Tirin hit the muck below the beast, nearly vanishing beneath the mire. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes when the gloaming popped back up, spitting out the mud he’d inadvertently swallowed. Its what he got for a stupid idea like that . . .
Ylvaria cast another spell as well, a column of divine fire slamming down on both heads, the holy flame wreaking havoc on their undead flesh. More physical blows were exchanged between Cahira, Yalathas and the beast, both heads spraying another cone of its vile slime upon the group, coating the area in a layer of acid.
Its when it reached down to bite at Yalathas when the far away coils of its body jerked in pain, and the infuriated roaring he heard brought an almost amused smile to Yvir’s face. It seemed Korval had finally managed to free himself. At the same time, several golden bolts sailed through the air, hitting both heads.
Distantly, he heard Rhysana trill, “Glad you could join us, Korval! Although, a delayed entrance never stirs an audience!”
“SHUT IT!”
Yvir could tell it was just hanging on. Its body was sagging, full of newly acquired holes that weren’t regenerating fast enough, scorched and maimed and barely keeping itself together. But the fury in its eyes banished any notion that it was going to try to flee, seeming determined to take as many of them with it as it could.
Suddenly, the linnorm slammed its front legs down into the muddy swells it dwelled in, using the land to leap over the group, its sinuous body casting a long shadow over the ground. It hit the other side with huge splash, the force of the impact shaking the earth and sending waves washing over the land and rising around his earthbound companions’ legs as the beast submerged itself back beneath the swamp.
Disturbing, how quickly it seemed to vanish, not even a ripple betraying its position. Yvir began to prepare another attack, while Ylvaria spread the blessing of her shield to the others below them, every nerve tense.
“Oh golly, I wonder where it went.”
Arkelos’ nonchalant comment made him bristle. Ugh, of all the irritating-!
A swoop of wings beside him and an armored hand on his shoulder gave pause to his annoyance, and he turned to see Yalathas beside him, face as calm as a serene lake. Yvir winced a little, knowing how plain his irritation must have been. He knew better. He shouldn’t bother. They had a fight still to win.
All at once, the fog around them seemed to swirl, and a choir of laughter rose up from the trees towering around the edge of the pit. Yvir glanced around warily, and thought he could make out humanoid shadows among the trunks, shadows that shook and trembled like wisps in the wind with the force of their laughter. A chill crawled up his spine at the sound, a niggling dread worming its way into his heart.
Making you see things . . .
Its then he heard it, just barely; the sound of water sloshing right below them.
It all happened in seconds. Yalathas must have heard it too, because suddenly Yvir is being thrown back through the air. Not a moment later did the water below where they flew burst upward, two great heads rearing up out of the muck, jaw spreading so impossibly wide it seemed a cavern was flying towards them rather than a beast. At the same time, the coils of its long body broke through the surface, and its long tail rose up and slammed down on the island where the others stood, crushing stone and tree and root alike, staggering everyone as it tried to smother the islet and everyone on it beneath its great girth.
Yalathas, still floating where they had once hovered together, faced the monster’s approaching mouth with nary a trace of fear, and Yvir could see the glow of his sword as it began to shine with holy light.
It did nothing to banish the sheer innate terror that welled up inside Yvir’s core when the monster’s great mouth slammed closed around the paladin, and both he and the blade vanished from sight.
“YALATHAS!”
Without bidding, only with surge of instinct and desire, Yvir flew at it, and as he flew, he felt his solid form begin to melt away. His skin became as the clouds, his blood a tempest of torrential winds, his senses expanding out to encompass everything within sight, until only a massive vortex of air remained, one that rammed into the beast headfirst.
The creature roared within the swirling gravity of Yvir’s new body, and he gave it no quarter as he latched onto it as if with hands of steel instead of sky. Trapped, the beast thrashed, trying to pull itself free of his sucking winds, even as Yvir attempted to pry the beast’s mouth open. Acid sprayed from the linnorm’s gullet, but he paid it no mind at all.
Though he no longer had eyes in the physical sense, Yvir knew what was transpiring around him. So he saw it when he wrenched at the creature’s mouth, its teeth grinding in an attempt to fight back, the bright white light that shone deep within the creature’s throat, sparkling and pure.
The head he was wrestling with suddenly jerked, a terrible scream rising out before it just as abruptly choked to silence, and the light within flared out from the side of its rotten neck as a sudden tear was rent through its flesh. In the same instance, a shape burst through it, and Yalathas emerged, untouched despite the fact that he had just been swallowed whole by an undead abomination.
Scaring Yvir to death like that, who did he think he was?!
Rather than take it out on the paladin, however, Yvir instead focused all his aggression onto the beast, and as weak as it already was, head hanging on by tatters, the force of his gales proved too much for it. With a wet, grisly tear of flesh and a crack of snapping bone, it’s head came clean off and proceeded to fall into the murk below with a heavy splash.
The remaining head panicked, long, tattered wings unfurling and flapping madly as it attempted to fly and break free, stirring up the mud and detritus in the air, but the others took care of it quickly. Holy flames cascaded over its body and the heavy-hitters crushed its scales to pulp, Yvir’s own winds tearing through it all the while. It’s not until, with one last sad flap, that entire creature fell limp and unmoving that Yvir knew it was over. With no fanfare, he allowed it to fall, watching the tremendous beast crash into the mire it had called home, lifeless once more. With its collapse, the laughter from the trees subsided to nothing, until only silence remained.
As the roar of battle subsided, Yvir allowed the shape he was holding to dissipate, returning to his original form. Without pause, he immediately flew to where Yalathas now was, and while one side wanted to punch the man in the face for scaring him, the other, more relieved side simply wanted to embrace him.
Unsurprisingly, it was the side that won, disregarding the armor and the mud as he wrapped his arms around the man’s middle.
Yalathas’ wings flared to accommodate the sudden movement, but that didn’t stop the paladin from returning it, and Yvir can feel in that tight hold that the relief for the other’s safety is very much a mutual feeling.
Still . . .
“I’m going to kill you,” Yvir said, pulling back to look into the man’s silver eyes, making an effort to get across just how displeased he was with him for his stunt.
Yalathas chuckled slightly, obviously not taking his threat to heart, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just . . . saw an opportunity.”
“A reckless one!”
“Perhaps. But it worked,” the paladin replied, unrepentant.
Profoundly unimpressed (at least, that’s what he told himself), Yvir narrowed his eyes before he lightly tapped the other on the chest, “I’d like to remind my fiancé that I grew up around fae. Who are notorious pranksters, known for making the lives of ones who displease them an utter hell.”
Yalathas made a light noise in the back of his throat, and its close enough to worry that Yvir takes satisfaction in it, “Ah, well, I’ll make an effort not to displease you anymore, shall I?”
“Yes, you shall,” Yvir said, crossing his arms.
“Would you two get down here!”
Both glanced down, seeing that Cahira was waving at them meaningfully even as Ylvaria continued to fuss over her. Her other hand was linked between the elf’s fingers, who seemed to be clutching it with an iron grip, refusing to let go.
They shared a glance, then descended, Yvir stopping just short of touching the ground while Yalathas landed in full, retracting his wings.
“Natalia?” Yalathas questioned first, glancing to his young sister to ascertain her wellbeing.
“We’re fine,” she replied, though there’s a glint in her eyes and a purse in her lips that verges on disapproval, “But I’d like it if you didn’t scare me like that, brother!”
Yalathas was very good at keeping his emotions under wraps under the worst of circumstances, but beneath his sister’s glare, Yvir can see the beginning of a faint cringe forming on his face.
“Really, what is wrong with you?” Rhysana admonished sternly, flicking her fingers across the paladin’s temple, “I know a classic show of heroism emboldens even the most gutless of knights, but that was reckless even for you!”
“I-,”
“We could have resolved this issue without such an irresponsible display,” Nyras put in as well, frowning even though her eyes were on Korval, wiping away the acidic slime on his cheek even though the other hardly needed it.
“This-,”
“Please be more careful in the future,” Ylvaria said, moving closer to the pair, hand still linked with Cahira’s. Behind them, he noticed Tirin had come over as well, covered head-to-toe in mud and looking very displeased by that fact, uselessly trying to wipe the mud out of his hair and grousing all the while.
Seeing the ring of disapproving faces around him, Yalathas finally relented, bowing his head, “. . . I will. I apologize.”
Yvir looked at his heartmate, arms crossed and still a little sore at Yalathas’ carelessness but hoping it would stick, at least for a while. But, as the fog slowly rolled back over the ground and wisped over his skin, bringing back its chill, Yvir was reminded of where they stood and how much danger they were still in.
“Alright, we should more than likely leave now,” he said, casting a wary glance around them.
“Agreed,” Yalathas and Nyras said at the same time.
The paladin then moved over to where Natalia stood, though this time, he was looking over her at the figure who was still sitting on the ground, “Are you well enough to travel still?”
Arkelos gave him a flat stare, not moving, “Actually, about that; from where I’m sitting, this whole thing isn’t turning out all that great, can I just go back to my cell?”
Yalathas sighed, “You know we cannot do that.”
A damn shame about that . . .
The tiefling shrugged, “Ah, well, worth a shot.”
“We’ll reach safety soon. I’m sure the trees of the Green Wood will be beautiful to see, once we get there,” Natalia said, and Yvir wondered if she was trying to be enticing with that.
Arkelos only gave her a soft tsk, clambering up to his feet, “Sure, and filled with lots of other things to kill us too. I can’t wait.”
Kill you, maybe . . .
He knew it was bitter, but regardless of the Mother’s summoning, knowing he’d have to put up with the criminal until they reached the Wilds by foot was utterly appalling to think about. It was not going to be a pleasant journey . . .
Someone clapped.
Yvir turned, brow knitting in puzzlement, searching for who was responsible for the noise. But at the sight of the others bewildered faces, he began to become aware that the clapping . . . didn’t seem to have a real source. It was coming from . . . everywhere, all around, lonely like a single person on their own in a theater, but echoing stridently over the field like it was many, many more than that.
Weapons were being drawn again, everyone circling around to watch each other’s backs, wary and suspicious. Yvir already knew . . . this must be another one of the swamp’s tricks.
The clapping continued, a slow, steady cadence that never grew faster or slower, louder or softer. It didn’t change at all, a static noise that was almost maddening to listen too. Yvir waited, muscles tense, waiting for whatever it was to quit playing around and show itself.
Until it abruptly went silent.
That’s when he heard the laugh, a single, cheerful noise that did not fit in the dour, dark setting of their locale, rising up from everywhere and nowhere all at once. And when the laughter turned into a voice, a voice that spoke in chirping, delighted tones full of glee, Yvir realized too late that it wasn’t just a trick.
It was so much worse.
“Bravo, bravo, encore for all! What a delightful little show, full of actors’ brave and bold!”
Yvir had already spun around to where the voice was coming from, to a large, overturned tree buried in the water, half-obscured in the fog. Its roots extended up to the sky, like a gnarled hand reaching for a forgotten freedom, and nestled among them, he could see her.
Laila grinned when she saw him looking, head tilting to the left in a sharp, exaggerated angle that would be painful for a living being, hands pressed together and voice filled with utter delight, “Hello, my stars! Its so good to see you again!~”