As the cloud of cold dissipated, Ferathavel lowered his sword and examined the area around him. The entire area around him was frozen over with a layer of ice, but a small, five-foot circle around him was not. In fact, the snow in that small circle had melted, exposing the rock below and leaving Ferathavel in a puddle of ankle-deep water, which began warm, then suddenly became ice-cold as soon as the moonblade's enchantment ended.
Strange , he thought, I always believed that moonblade enchantments were constant, or at least lasted as long as I needed it. He began to feel the cold of the wind again as the sky grew darker with a coming thunderstorm. He had to be fast if he wanted to defeat the dragon without getting himself killed. He spread his wings as wide as they could go-- a full twelve feet from tip to tip. With one flap, he was eye level with the beast, heading towards it. Another flap brought him just above the dragon's head just as it released another, seemingly weaker blast of breath energy. He spun in midair, landing on the dragon's large head, fighting to keep his balance as the dragon began flailing about. He raised the sword above him, pointing it downwards, straight towards where the dragon's brain should be, and he stopped.
The blade did not glow. It did not shine with the brilliant white light that it emitted earlier. Something was wrong.
The dragon suddenly whipped its head around, throwing Ferathavel off balance and causing him to fall headfirst-- right in front of the dragon.
He fought desperately to gain control of his fall, but stopped when he saw the dragon, upside down from his vantage point, raise a huge claw, poised to strike at his vulnerable form. He panicked. Frantically, he put in between him and the dragons claw the one useful thing he could find-- his sword.
The dragon swung its huge claw at him with terrifying speed and power, and the moonblade began to glow again, but much weaker this time, glowing with a shade more akin to gray than the pure white it was earlier. Something was definitely wrong.
The dragon's claw went straight towards Ferathavel, but stopped a meter away from him, as if an invisible wall had suddenly been conjured up in between them. Ferathavel sighed his relief, but as soon as the sound escaped his lips, another sound echoed in the air, then another. The first was another thunderous roar from the dragon, probably the most powerful he had heard the entire day, but it was the sound that came after it that wracked his soul with more fear than anything else-- the sound of something shattering. The sound created by a shattering wall of magic to be exact.
He realized then that it was over. The dragon's claw continued to swing towards him, though weaker this time, most of its momentum taken by the wall of protection-- and hit him, hard.
He felt the air blasted from his lungs at the impact, and he felt himself being stabbed in different places on his chest, and he thought for a while that it was the claw's doing, but he soon realized, to his horror, that the moonblade had shattered, and now he was being killed by the shards of his own blade. He felt (and heard!) his hollow ribs break apart as if they were nothing but dried twigs. He tried to scream out as waves of pain more intense than he could have ever imagined shot through his body, but he couldn't scream, couldn't even breathe as his lungs were crushed with that single blow.
After a moment that seemed as though it had lasted forever, he felt himself airborne again, thrown by the dragon's mighty claw. For a passing moment, he had felt peaceful as he began to succumb to the numbing pain. All he felt at that moment was the wind on his back and wings as he began to fall, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot all his worries, one by one. Then he remembered.
Ellithiel! He thought, jerking violently and causing more waves of pain to surge through his body. He screamed in agony as he remembered that he had left her outside the cave, as vulnerable as a child. Tears began to form in his eyes, not from the excruciating pain that he experienced, but from the realization that he had left the one he loved in the claws of a white dragon, the sworn enemy of his race. He cried for Ellithiel, who would definitely be dead if the dragon would find her, and thought how much he wanted to forsake his life for being so foolish.
He opened his eyes and saw his own chest, bleeding from several wounds caused by the shards of the shattered moonblade. He stared at the wounds in utter disbelief. Elven weapons were some of the best crafted weapons in the Realms, rivaled only by the weapons of the dwarves, and the weapon he had wielded was a moonblade, a legendary blade with extraordinary powers and strengthened by numerous enchantments. How could it break so easily?
He moved his gaze upwards, to the sky above him, and was amazed at the sight that greeted his weary eyes. The storm that had been forming during the battle with the dragon was no ordinary storm; It was made up of clouds the darkest black, and instead of lightning, blue flames leaped from cloud to cloud and occasionally struck the ground below, casting an eerie glow on the land.
This was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the pain once more, no longer expecting to awaken.
In these moments, Ferathavel could only think one thing. A sentence he mouthed once as his eyes closed, seemingly for the last time.
"I'm sorry, Ellithiel… I... couldn't... protect you…"
~- ~- ~- End Of Chapter 1 -~ -~ -~
I've already started working on the Prologue of Dead Princess Duet: Nightmares, so visit in a few days or so. Please comment. :D
No comments:
Post a Comment