Chapter 613: An Elf’s Tale, Part 2
Nothing else seemed to matter.
Every sound, every feeling, everything-as if sucked away from reality, a reality now a void of nothingness, a blackness, an emptiness.
If not for instinct, a pulsing impulse rapidly coursing through her, she would have remained frozen in place. Forgetting her position, forgetting her circumstance, Eshwlyn bolted forward.
Her voice pierced through the storming silence, but she did not remember shouting her name. A dampness smudging her vision, but she did not remember the tears falling for her sister. All that mattered to her, all that she knew, was that Lenora was here, was right there, and that she needed her, now more than ever.
She needed to be there. She needed to reach her, hold her-there were cuts on her pale skin, bright bruises swelling on her sunken cheeks-she needed to tend to them, she was always frail, she did do well with pain, they must hurt so much, too much... save her... please save her...
“Stay where you are!”
A deep shout boomed tumultuously with the crackling thunder, and her ankles nearly twisted into a dangerous angle, screeching hard into a reluctant halt.
.....
No more than a few feet, no more than an arm’s reach, she was so nearly there, her hold, her embrace, her aid... a wisp of silver dangling between the gaps of the iron bars... just a little more perhaps, she could have touched it, touched her... but she couldn’t, as much as she wanted to, needed to, she couldn’t even raise an arm out to know... to hope that she could...
It was maddening, despairing, and finally, she felt the bitter tears falling, leaving scorching streaks as they continued to fall from her face. Again, she was shouting, screaming, her name the only word her lips knew to utter, over and over, like echoes only growing stronger.
Eshwlyn wanted Lenora to hear, to know, to see that she was there, that she was right there, and that she was here now, and that everything was going to be alright, no matter what, she will make it alright.
if only she would just stir, if only she would offer a hint of recognition, that she knew, that she understood... why wasn’t she blinking? why does she just stare? Those painfully familiar green eyes that she had yearned to see once more for so long, now only bearing the ghost of a warmth, a light that no longer shone.
Alas, desperation impeded her ability to see and think reason, and Eshwlyn continued shouting herself to a breathless hoarse, calling for her sister in attempts growing more and more frantic, yet, not once, not even the slightest quiver, twitch, did Lenora’s slumped ears rouse to her sister’s wails.
“Silence,” came a softer, calmer command from before. “I stress again-keep silent. Truly, sincerely, I understand your grief, but we must not alert anyone of your presence here... His Majesty’s rules are quite-”
“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR RULES!”
It was like a fire exploding inside of her, a chaotic crack of lightning and thunder bursting her chains loose, and the flames swelled larger, fiercer, roaring with an intensity so blinding.
Humans. These damned humans! Taking! Always taking! Her strength, her spirit, her body, even her will... and now her sister...
No more.
“NO MORE!”
Before she even knew, even felt... a rattling clangor filled the heavy air, the earth shaking, and Wilvur was suddenly before her blurred, trembling gaze-his expression tightening a painful grimace, and the back of his head pressing hard against the solid bars of a vacant metal cage-struggling hard for a breath that would not come to him.
The flames simmered, waning, and a flash of lightning briefly lit the tent ablaze, illuminating in blinding white, Eshwlyn’s hand delving deep between the seams of Wilvur’s pointed collar, frozen in a straining hold. She could feel the warmth of his skin on the surface of her palm, the lump of bone pressing crudely against her soft fingertips.
It was so tempting.
Easily, so easily it would be to grind those bones to nothing more than spilling mounds of white dust trickling from within... had there only been a bit more force... had she only used just a little more pressure... but yet, just as Wilvur gasped and choked under her constricting hold, an even heavier, stronger force prevented her quivering fingers from sinking, piercing into his throat any more.
And he dared laugh still. In the face of death deterred by inches, in the face of the almost blazing intensity of her gaze, his lips contorting to a wide smile, sounding out into the buzzing silence, mirthful suffocated laughter. Delight, not fear, shimmered brightly in his joyful scarlet eyes.
“You see? Do you see now?” He hissed at her in a raspy whisper, wheezing from the tightness of her hold. “Subjugated! Stripped completely of all free will! Compelled to obey, to serve. In a circumstance, not even the most skilled sorceress may pry themselves free from! And yet you alone, you’ve the spirit, the strength, to briefly break free from my hold regardless! Now, do you see why you hold such great fascination in my eyes? Why you, of all Elvenkind, I personally handpicked to serve the prestigious role as my one and only loyal Knight?”
“I DON’T CARE!” She blared, no longer listening to his words. Enough of him, enough of his reasons, his motives. Be damned with them! It was her turn to speak now, and his turn to obey. “LENORA! MY SISTER! WHAT-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?! TELL ME!”
But he only let out another bout of silent laughter. Her anger seemingly only a source of amusement for him that not even strangling pain could dampen.
“And yes, your sister... your Lenora... a finer example of my words, your actions, there can never be,” Stiffly, he turned a marveling gaze to the small haggard silhouette laying still behind iron bars. “The lengths you go for her! The sufferings you are willing to undergo! For family, for your own kin... such fierce, undying loyalty you possess, together with such strength, why... it is a burning curiosity for me to know that, if for your Master, for your one above all else-how much then, will you be willing to give your all? What are the limits of your seemingly infinite loyalty? How far would you go? If for him? If for me?”
Then, evidently reaching his own limits, Wilvur feebly commanded, “Let me go.”
And so she did; Wilvur immediately succumbing to a coughing fit with the relieving of pressure. He staggered in place and took in a freeing breath... unruffling his clothes, straightening his collar, and brushing away loose strands of silver-white that fell over his crimson eyes, he looked back at her.
“Your sister is still alive,” was his first unsuppressed words to her, and deep inside, Eshwlyn felt a relief like no other, before being washed away once more by the peril of her current circumstance. “Merely glazed-awake but unknowing, hearing but unheeding-a common symptom of a soul, a will, too heavily suppressed. My subordinates... I regret to inform... have not taken her young age into careful consideration when applying their magic. See, we do not usually take children. They have no use for us. Too weak to undergo conversion, too long to wait for them to fully grow-simply a waste to do so-but for you, only for you, I’ve made another exception.”
Eshwlyn was too enraged to speak, too many, far too many thoughts were assailing every quiet space she scoured for in her mind. Noticing her deafening silence, the side of Wilvur’s lip began curling yet again.
“You’re her mirror image, you know? She bears the promising signs of your blossomed beauty. And yes-I confess what many others would choose to remain unspoken-you are truly a gem to behold. Beauty, true beauty, knows no race, no species, after all. But apart from that, I suspect ill that she sadly does not inherit your strength nor your spirit... as evident before us now... but, hey, look... she has your eyes too... hmm, like glittering emeralds...”
“Do. Not.” Eshwlyn growled, a hushed rage somehow more chilling than her shouts. “Speak. Of. My. Sister.”
“Let us speak of you, then, if not her,” Wilvur suggested, regaining back the strength in his commanding voice. “You. You alone will be what Dilactus, in all his living years, had failed to truly achieve. You will be the sole reason for my continued remembrance, reverence! For the ages to come. Another Hendrick that will drastically alter the course of future history. Just as my great ancestor had done long before me.”
There was then a radiant glimmer in his eyes, and he gazed at her as she had never noticed before. Her confounded expression reflected clearly in his wide, crimson eyes, bleeding a greater fascination, a greater wonder, that no human ever showed her.
“Dilactus was a genius, you see... but he was not infallible,” He went on, pacing short lines around the barren soil. “The Elves he had produced, while a force to be reckoned with, was merely an added fraction to their usual strength. Most had died in the final clash against the Bright Lord alone, with the rest ultimately succumbing to their wounds. In short, he had chosen quantity over quality. His biggest mistake.”
Wilvur glanced at her again, his smile wider than ever before.
“I took the opposite approach. The Elves I produce, while scarce, while rare, will not be bested by grievous injury, will not be hampered by the most potent of spells. Most do not survive the conversion I make them undergo, but the rare, scarce few that do live to be the most loyal, most powerful Elf-Knights the realm of Astra has ever known!”
“And it is you, Eshwlyn!” He proclaimed, pointing at her, leering at her, a lascivious hunger prominently displayed in his growing smile. “That will live to be the greatest of them all!”
At once, impulse shot up the back of her throat, words of defiance, of refusal, brinking at the edge of her narrowed lips.
But before she could say, before she could even utter a word, Wilvur quickly interjected.
“Deny me. Defy me. Feel free, the choice is now yours to make, I will not stop you. After all, if for me, you will not be swayed,” He then raised a curious brow, closely assessing the glare on her face. “But say, if for your sister, if for her sake, her well-being... I wonder then... what would be your answer now?”
Suddenly, Eshwlyn caught a twitch in the corner of her eyes-the faintest flicker of movement-and Lenora’s dim, vacant gaze stared back at her once more, almost pleading, almost begging... in the faintest of unheard whispers... she could hear the word, her voice, resounding loudly in her ears...
‘Veelana’ma...’
Help me.
‘Lenar...’
Please.
‘Eshwlyn...’
And at once, her defiance, her refusal... that fire.... completely died away inside her.
“Such fierce dedication indeed,” Wilvur approvingly muttered, seeing her expression utterly falter. “I have told you, haven’t I? Remember? Back in the carriage. I’ve begged you for your compliance, I’ve pleaded with you for another way, a different solution... this, I didn’t want this. But you’ve continued to argue, you continue to be stubborn. So now, I regret to say, you’ve left me with no other choice but to come to this.”
Her fists were trembling, pinching, piercing hard into her palms, and she felt a prick-a warm tingling flow trickling down her wrist shortly after. Her teeth were clenched, but no longer in a surge of rage... the looming feeling of fright trembling the green in her eyes.
“Let us try this again, shall we? Make this... officially official, to put it crudely...” Wilvur cleared his throat, and immediately straightened his stance. “Eshwlyn, to all my orders, to all my commands, to all my desires... will you finally comply, obey? Will you finally relinquish to me the whole of your undying loyalty?”
Instinct clamped her throat tightly. A rush of warning impulse pulling back at her tongue. But for her sister, for Lenora, Eshwlyn broke through them all, and finally spoke.
“I will, you will have them all...” and then willingly, unforcefully, she slowly moved herself into the shape of a proper bow, and she saw her falling tears being swallowed into the earth. “Master...”
And Wilvur, politely with a smile, simply nodded.
“Very good.”
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