Chapter 639: An Elf’s Tale, Part 4
It was a tense and brittle evening mood. Lenora had settled down slightly, her grievances no longer sounding in words but in a reclusive quiet. Eshwlyn had approached at all angles to lift her spirits, with every attempt ending only in a resounding failure.
Her eyes had long lost their green luster, and with every passing second, it seemed she was on the verge of bursting into tears again, ready to fight, to deny... all reason and rationality surrendering to overwhelming emotions.
But she remained quiet, huddled over by the foot of the bed, nested atop Eshlwyn’s lap-and there she stayed, wrapping her big sister’s arms around her body like a blanket of sorts. And that was it, apparently. There was Nothing else they could do, nothing else that needed to be said.
Just alone together, peering out the window, the glass panes tinting the evening skies a light hue... minutes passing, seconds passings... alone together, they simply waited.
The world had completely disappeared in her eyes, any form of awareness blending and succumbing to the silent ambiance, so it came almost like a panic when suddenly the bedroom door swung open.
A book flew inside, its hardcover a brilliant jet-black and with a golden-etched crest gleaming at its center. Then another book slowly hovered beside it, and this one in particular had its ruffled pages bound in a familiar leathery finish.
Two cloaked figures then walked into the room. Eshwlyn felt her alarm dwindling immediately spotting Terra as one of them garbed in her usual drab robes, while the other... more elegant, more ornate, robes in royal blue... she could not recognize the other.
.....
“So this is her, the Elf, then?” with eyes dismissive, the stranger, a man took a single glimpse at her, assessing, studying, old bony hands stroking a long-aged beard. He shut his eyes for a moment, before springing open again in the next instant.
“Yes, I can feel it. Powerful, dangerous, useful. Very useful,” He blinked at her. “Very well. Elf, you are instructed to follow my lead. Come now.”
“What?” It was Lenora who asked. Lenora, who held even tighter to her sister’s arms. “Why? What are you going to do to her?”
“It’s only temporary,” Terra quickly chimed in, her tone lacking any sort of emotion. “It’s preparations for tomorrow. The participating Magus requires a full assessment of the Elf in question beforehand. It’ll only be for a while.”
Already striding away, the black book hovering close, the Magus gave a sigh.
“I do not know why you bother even wasting your breath, Terra. Elves, as if they are worthy of any regard. But still...” briefly, he whirled back around again, his wrinkled eyes resting upon Lenora. “A child Elf conversing in our tongue? Even old age cannot better anticipate the surprises of our world, it seems.”
“You, Elf,” Terra demanded, the edge in her voice only equaled by the hard glare in her blue eyes. “Come along now.”
Without question, Eshwlyn did as told, gently lifting a reluctant Lenora from her lap, and throwing back a quick reassuring smile at her as she was escorted out of the room and into the hallway, where there, she was then led back into the wide expanse of the courtyard, with the evidence of the fierce battle prior, still streaked, sliced and stomped into the earth.
“You pick quite the peculiar time for a change of heart, Terra,” The stranger spoke, and amidst the flutter of pages and a flourish of hands, glowing inscriptions began to be scorched into the soil around them. “I know a great many collectors that would be happy to have you as a host to their Knight’s Conversion, and yet it’s only now you wish to be taught how?”
“I know how it works,” Terra said, an idle bystander lurking on the sidelines. “I understand the theory, the procedure. What I only lack is experience. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I relish any second of this, but... better skilled than skilless-knowledge is knowledge, I suppose.”
‘In that case, then bear close witness, my fellow Magus,” He said. “For this is a knowledge priceless beyond all worth.”
The stranger had drawn a large ring of light and runes, and encased in its center, Eshwlyn was basked in a glow of pure white, offset by half, as the stranger stepped inside, introducing his own bright gleam of blue.
A vast array of strange symbols burnt into the earth, there was something about them that struck her as peculiar, familiar-yet she couldn’t fathom just what it is precisely.
“You recognize the letters, Elf? I don’t suppose you can read it, could you?” The Magus waved a hand, his book settling adrift before him, a contemptuous sneer showing from under his hood. “It’s written in your tongue, after all.”
“You mean the Divines’ tongue,” Terra interjected.
“That the Elves somehow adopted for their own,” The Magus clarified, battering pondering eyes. “Curiously, the only known race still retaining the knowledge of such an unknown, chaotic language.”
Eshwlyn glanced down again, focusing on another rune shining a pure white. The origins of her tongue has never been something that she thought about it, and right then, fascinating as it was... there were far more pressing matters to tend to in her eyes.
And yet the Magus seemed to be still adrift in thought, thinking, as if he had been thinking this, wondering this, for what seemed like decades now, muttering wistfully away to no one in particular, “Of course, it’s been studied, you’ve been studied, in vain, centuries deciphering, understanding, and yet... it appears certain kinds of knowledge will forever be beyond humanity’s grasp, sadly.”
After a moment, in seamless, practiced motions, the Magus outstretched a skinny, trembling palm, and at its surface, emerged a small sphere of ethereal blue, then from the ring sprouted thin lines of interweaving white and blue, converging and connecting into the sphere, before the lines formed as one redirecting and basking Eshwlyn in an expanding cascade of the two colors, like a net, like narrows rays of sunlight, they glazed her.
It was perhaps the strangest feeling she’s ever felt. A tingle in her skin where the bundle of lights had landed, slowly drifting, as they began to scour every inch of her body. For a long while, it was just the same tingling sensation as the Magus slowly ambled around her, the sphere in his palms still glowing, swiveling, at times, briefly feeling a part of her body with an ascertaining touch before withdrawing away and grumbling something that only he understood.
Then suddenly the rays, the glow, the sphere, the sensation, they’ve all immediately ceased, and with the resounding slam of a closed book, the Magus rounded back at her, his hand still outstretched, only this time in waiting, anticipation, as if he was almost expecting her to...
“Put your hand on mine, Elf,” He commanded. “Clenched it tight. And no matter what, do not let go of me.”
Warily, Eshwlyn complied with the order, raising her hand, holding it above his, before slowly lowering it down. The touch of a human, a stranger, she almost recoiled, but as her fingers slid down between his, she repressed her emotions... and gave it a firm grip.
That’s when it happened.
Pain.
Fire.
A scream.
Suddenly Eshwlyn was on her knees, her cries escaping her beyond her control. Every part of her body felt as if it was scorching from within, like every nerve, every muscle, every bone, was being torn and broken apart, crushed, grounded to dust, and it was only worsening as every second passed.
A stinging flowed from her eyes, heavily blurring her sights, but through the pain, through overflowing tears, she could see her arm still outstretched, and the old Magus standing tall, unaffected, brazenly apathetic, and where their hands intertwined, she could a blinding white light completely consuming where her wrist should be... and it was slowly spreading... like blood dribbling, coating her skin, only it burned, it seared... like nothing she has ever felt before.
So badly, so, so, badly, she wanted to let go... please let go...
But the Magus would not let go.
Eshwlyn desperately tried to pull back, tugging away, her strength completely leaving her, her screams gouging at her throat.
But he still would not let go.
The light was coursing still, trickling further, her elbow tinge in the same harsh glow of light.
Let go.
“Let go!”
In a blur of movements, suddenly Terra entered her sights, her drabby clothes fluttering forward in haste, and at once, the light died away, the pain stopped, as her arm and herself immediately fell onto the ground.
“Now you’re just being uselessly cruel,” Eshwlyn heard faintly from above. “What are you hoping to gain for keeping her that long? It was supposed to be a test. Only a Master should be forging that bond. She’s not loyal to you! She could have died if you kept that up any longer! You think Wilvur would be happy knowing you killed his would-be Knight?”
“But she’s not dead now, is she?” spoke a colder, calmer voice immediately right after. “Which is curious, because a regular Elf would have died already after persisting for that long. I was merely curious, my dear Terra. I sensed overwhelming strength, I just wanted to know just how strong exactly.”
“And now?”
“And now I know,” He simply replied. “This Elf is like no other before her, indeed.”
There was quiet for a while as Eshwlyn slowly regained her composure, the dim green of the earth staring back at her unblinking bleary eyes... then quietly resounded the brisk pace of footsteps shuffling away, a sway of blue leaving the corner of her sights.
“That will be all, I suppose,” came the Magus’ voice, fading away into the distance. “Terra, if you truly insist upon staying here, then I shall leave it to you to escort the Elf back into her chambers. I shall be back tomorrow for the actual ceremony itself. Be sure to pay close attention then, I daresay you will not receive a better tutelage than what I have to provide.”
“Yes, that is certainly without a doubt...” Terra answered, then lowering herself to Eshwlyn’s side, and placing a gentle hand upon her still writhing body, she spoke again in a whisper. “...you dick.”
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