E05 - Ch 20: Dread

Sylvara felt a mix of tremulous emotions. Rage. Disbelief. Confusion. Worst of all, she was in a murderous mood. She needed to cool her head, but that wasn't easy when the demon you've summoned to do your dirty work had run off, leaving you to do it yourself.

She had never known or even heard of a demon choosing destruction over an instruction to kill. She had been careless of course. She could have told the demon to kill the hunters first then destroy the village. And perhaps if she had offered a sacrifice, then the demon would have obeyed her intentions.

The plan would have worked well. She knew how villages reacted to demon summonings. By the time it was over and done and rumor had spread to the nearby towns and cities, all sorts of wild tales would have been spun. But the demon was gone, and there was no telling how long it would take for it to circle back around to finish its pact. In fact, if enough damage was done, the villagers might flee, Brint included, before she could complete her mission.

The truth was, she knew what had to be done. So why was she stalling? There was no difference between ordering a beheading and doing the job yourself. She knew that, but she stayed still while her mind raced with conflicting thoughts.

The image of the Mother flashed through her head again, her gaze boring into Sylvara's soul. She had to act. There was no other alternative. And she knew exactly how the Mother would want it done. She knew it all too well.

Dread slipped down her throat and filled her belly. She had to complete the task herself, and there was something else wrong about that summoning. She could feel it. The kingstone told her nothing of what it was as such a summoning always made it erratic. This was somehow different than before.

She had to put the problem of the demon aside for now for the hunters were only moments away from confrontation. The sky had turned completely dark and clouds had blown in blocking out much of the stars and moonlight. But she could sense them stepping through the cloud of arcana she had spread across the forest around her. Two of them were climbing trees just beyond the edge of the clearing. Three more hid behind thick trunks.

Brint had come with them, trailing them from behind, and then Sylvara realized that he had come unbeknownst to the others. She could easily sense his arcumen's signature now.

His father, she guessed, was one of the three behind the trunks. His arcavoir was the greatest amongst them, but it was nothing compared to his son’s when the boy was not fully spent. Although such things could be masked, it was unlikely the hunter knew how.

He stepped forward into the clearing between the trees while the others stayed behind. The men on the trees drew arrows, and the men below drew knives. She wondered how they had tracked her. Hunters had their ways, she knew. A sniffer spell was the most common method.

"High One," he called out, his voice firm and strong. "I am certain you have sensed our approach. I do not know what has caused you to bring harm to my son and Aelric, but all is forgiven if you leave now and promise to never return. Legionnaire Kallow has been notified of your presence, and his men will soon follow us. Please, leave us and be on your way."

The mention of the legionnaire brought a frown to Sylvara’s lips. The arrival of his men could be problematic. She had gathered from the elders that Kallow owned the land the village worked upon. She thought she might have even heard the name before though she could not think of it. But he would be distinguished or infamous for an Ironbled if his name had reached her ears.

Time to end this quickly then.

Sylvara stepped forward as the clouds parted allowing for moonlight to reveal them both standing in clearing amongst the tree stumps. But even without the moon's light, she could see him easily with her arcanist's eyes in the darkness. And she knew the hunters could see her just as well.

"You want me to leave?" she said, her voice dripping with mockery. She needed to play her part perfectly now. "But I've only just arrived, and I have yet to attain what I've come for."

Brant’s face betrayed no emotion. "What do you want?"

Sylvara smiled. "You know what I want."

Brant's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"You know what I am."

There was a subtle shift in his body as if he were preparing himself. "You belong to the Dark Conclave.”

Sylvara curtsied. She was playing a role, but this part was in fact true.

"What does the Nyx want with my son?"

Sylvara smiled again. "My apologies, hunter. But that is none of your concern."

Brant gave a signal with his hand and the hidden archers let loose their arrows. Silvara had seen it coming, in fact she knew where each man was hiding. The arrows were far too slow, and her body was enhanced not only by the support of her arcumen, but also the tinctures of her guild that made her muscles agile and strong.

She dodged the arrows easily while the hunter cast a movement spell. He darted forward, and she tilted her head backward as his knife came up, flashing past her face. A second knife, normally used for skinning, hooked around to take her throat. She moved out of the way before it even came near. The hunter’s movements were graceful, but they were just too slow. He was no faster than Silvara's natural speed.

They danced together in the darkness, the hunter's knives flashing against moonlight as Sylvara glided around his strikes.

In a short few moments, she could have killed him a hundred times over. But that's not how the Mother would have wanted it.

Remember this moment, little one, and burn it into your mind so that you may remember it in each and every passing of your tiny life. Then you will be strong.

They were only peasants, but this time Silvara gave the battle her full awareness, her full presence. She told herself it was to ensure she did not underestimate them again. Not to direct herself away from the dread of what was coming next.

Arrows fell from the sky everytime they broke away from each other, but she moved through them effortlessly. These hunters were within the fine mist of her arcavoir, and she knew every movement within it. Especially when the movements were so slow.

Brant had begun to sweat as they continued their fruitless dance. His breath came faster. He was already tiring. The movement spell had long worn off and he had yet to cast another. She wondered if he were saving his arcana for something bigger.

She, on the other hand, moved with the aid of her arcumen, giving her the gentle aided thrust in every direction she wished to move. Unlike the wasteful push she had used to escape Brint's burial, she had trained these gentle pushes of arcana for years, and they were precise and efficient. So efficient that they came at almost no cost to her arcavoir and all the while, she thickened her arcana in the air.

The hunter finally came to a stop. He was panting now and he had not touched a single hair on her head.

"Need a break?" Sylvara asked.

Brant stared at her with hard eyes as sweat ran down between his temples. Then he held up the back of his hand, a signal to the men behind him. A signal that usually meant only one thing.

"What is this?" Sylvara said. The man had dropped his knives, and was now stripping his belt. "What are you doing?"

The hunter was wordless as he stripped off his frayed leather armor, leaving him shirtless.

"I cannot defeat you," he said plainly. "So I submit myself."

"Surrender is not an option," Sylvara spat. "There is only death."

"Father!" Brint called from the trees.

The first sign of emotion flashed in the hunter’s eyes and he turned to see his son stepping out of the bank of trees.

"Stay back," Brant shouted, his voice suddenly firm and harsh, the voice of a father. "We cannot defeat her. The rest of you take him and go!"

But none of them moved.

“We won’t leave you here with her!” one of them called back.

"Go, I said!"

"Have you lost your mind?" Sylvara said. Could none of her plans go accordingly?

The hunter faced her then. “I cannot defeat you. There are no other choices for me.”

“Fight me!”

“No.”

“I said fight me, damn you!”

Brant shook his head. "Take my life if you must. Use me however way you wish. Sacrifice me to your demons. I am at your mercy. Let me take the place of my son." Then the hunter kneeled before her. "I beg it of you."

Something dropped in Sylvara's chest. She didn't want to do this anymore. She had set her mind to it, but this was just more than what she'd bargained for. She did not want to kill this man. She did not want to kill any of them. And then, for the first time in a very long time, she considered running.

It lasted a moment.

"Halysis," she said, opening her hand. Great orange chains materialized around the hunter and as she clasped her hand, they snapped together binding the hunter’s arms tightly to his torso. He let out a cry, his feet kicking as the chains lifted him into the air.

"Father!" Brint cried.

Sylvara turned her hand to Brint now, and arcana chains swung around his feet and wrists, pulling him in opposing directions, and locking him in place. She did not want any more trouble out of the boy and ignored his cries.

"You are a fool," she said to Brant, meeting his eyes. "You do not beg mercy from the Nyx. No one does."

She spread her other hand toward the air above him. "Anekakris."

Two dozen daggers made of orange arcana were shaped into the air from the arcana she had spread during their dance. They surrounded the hunter, each pointed at his body.

"No!" Brint cried. "Stop this! Stop!"

The other hunters jerked into motion. The two archers fired arcana-glazed arrows while the two below charged from their positions, unsheathing long knives from their belts.

Sylvara made a twirl with her hand and two of the orange daggers flitted through the air and intercepted the incoming arrows, while four others spun and shot into the hearts of the four hunters. They fell where they were struck, wordlessly, only their bodies making sound as they hit the earth.

"Varun… Kiryan…" Brint said, his voice trembling as he gazed upon the two fallen hunters before him laying unmoving in the forest grass.

"As your teacher, Brint,” Sylvara called, “this is the first lesson you shall learn from the Nyx. The weak do not get to make demands. They do not get to surrender unless bidden to. And I did not offer such an option tonight."

Brant cried out as a dagger shot into Brant's abdomen, between the gaps in the chains.

"Nooooo!" Brint cried out. "Please! Please don't kill my father. I will go with you. I will do whatever you say!"

"You already had that chance!"

Another dagger flew into the front of his shoulder, bursting out his back.

"Stop!" Brint cried out, misery and desperation immense in his features. "Stop! Stop! Stop! Anything you want! Forever! Please!"

Sylvara swallowed back something hot and sour at the back of her throat, the Mother’s words ringing loudly in her mind.

Remember this moment, little one, and burn it into your mind.

"Look away, Brint," Brant gasped, blood spilling from his mouth.

“No, Father!” Brint cried, tears flowing from his eyes for he knew what was to come.

So that you may remember it in each and every passing of your tiny life.

"Survive. Never forget your upbringing. Never forget you are my-"

The third dagger struck the hunter in the heart and Brint screamed. The boy had no more words, and with each gasp of breath he let out another scream.

Then you will be strong.

Sylvara released the daggers, letting them melt away in the sky. She lowered the hunter's limp body and laid him on the ground.

The boy finally stopped screaming. His face was still wet with tears, but his wide eyes gleamed with an intense hate. The look on his face chilled Sylvara to the bone.

"I'll never come with you. I'll never obey you. I'll kick and scream and fight you every inch of the way. And at every chance I have, I'll try to kill you."

Sylvara laughed a hollow laugh. "Oh Brint, do you really think I need you to force you to come with me now? I'll be waiting for you in Elduros."

She drew a black circle in the air, and spoke the familiar incantation, "Demon tongue, Doze."

A long serpent-like creature extended out of her hand and into the air, the pod on its head drooping down toward the boy.

"Not again," Brint cried.

The pod’s mouth opened, speaking words that did not reach Sylvara’s ears, and the boy blinked, his head lolling downward.

Sylvara laid the unconscious boy down beside his father's body and released his chains. Then she stepped past them, heading in the direction of the village.

She did not make it far before she caught herself against a tree, leaning against the trunk as she slid to her knees.

There, she wept.