((Link to OOC if you're interested. You don't have to read everything, I went wild.
Freedom Forsaken OOC))
Night had spread her fine cloak over the land, darkening forests, adding mystery to the oceans, blackening fears. In the forest of Ædónï, small creatures went to sleep even as nocturnal life began to waken. The eldritch howl of a solitary wolf wove itself into the complex fabric of the twilight, sending several rabbits running for cover. A chill breeze snaked through the leaf-bare trees, caressing the tightly-furled buds of greenery; the nights and days of trees differ greatly from those of other beings. The wolf sang his song again, and now another joined the melancholy melody—perhaps the creature had some companion after all. A peaceful forest, a sanctuary in troubled times…
It was all an illusion. The earth thrummed with the vibrations of approaching horsemen, and soon the voices of men shouting and cursing became apparent. Then the steeds themselves became manifest as a lone rider’s beast rounded a bend, traversing with great effort an enormous log in its path. Eyes pinned on the trail ahead, bay sides soaked in sweat and mouth foaming, the horse was clearly giving its all in evading the two men in pursuit, urged onwards by his rider. His face was concealed by a traveling cloak of thick wool, whipped into frenzy by the wind and speed of his mount. A ball of pulsing cobalt energy flew by him, shattering the ground ahead. Swearing in a strangely soft voice, the man directed his spent horse around the obstacle. As the fine-boned bay skittered around, the moonlight caught and was reflected by two snowy wings.
A rough, coarse voice shouted in a foreign language, before switching tongues to Common. “Halt your beast!” He roared. “And there may be mercy for you yet!” The faery refrained from giving a reply, instead tightening his grip around a large object hidden within his cloak.
Foertis, where are you? Though the mounts of his hunters were large enough that their long legs could easily follow his smaller steed, he was not entirely helpless. Nudging his right knee into the heaving sides, his horse veered off of the easier path and into the woods.
In the skies shone countless stars, bright diamonds lending splendor to the inky expanse, scarcely dimmed by the full moon’s glow. Through the black bars of the trees, the faery could see, as well as hear, several large birds of prey working together to deter an enemy.
Raptors and other solitary species, all of them… yet they band together in this moment, against their will. Truly we are surrounded…Then a bright tongue of flame scythed through the darkness, followed by the sounds of avian bodies falling to the earth. The faery wrinkled his nose at the odor of burning flesh.
Taking a detour has won me time, but precious little. Foertis, hurry! Then another bright blue bolt of energy soared past him, breaking up the ground and splintering strong tree roots. With a shrill scream, the lithe horse pulled up, nostrils flaring, even as more earth was broken, making escape on land impossible. Continuing shrieks from the skies told him that flight was out of the question. Drawing their trembling steeds to a walk, the two men approached him carefully, as though he were a danger. “So you wish to fight?” The faery murmured. His hand, pale as ivory, snaked away from the object beneath his cloak to reveal that it held a long pole of ebony. “You do so at your peril,” he hissed, stalling, buying time. Tightening his grip around the middle, he twisted it, two shimmering steel blades sliding out of either end.
Laughing softly, one of the two men mocked, “oh, so the faery wishes to fight us now, does he? Ah, but he isn’t using magic.” This last comment was directed with arched brows to his companion, a stocky man of sleek, noble looks. “My good healer,” the fellow continued in scathing tones, “you seem to be under the delusion that we’ll do combat under your terms. Pitiful.” Dropping lithely down from his horse, the elven mage approached the tensed figure. Grinning with the languid air of one who knows victory is his, he raised his hand, summoning an orb of incandescent light, his elegant face thrown into stark contrast with their shadowy surroundings.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” A flash of fire, and another faery landed heavily on the ground, summer-blue eyes mixed with an orange inferno. With an oath, the other man ran to aid his burning fellow, but the new arrival turned on him, creating a ring of flames that, despite their white-hot hunger, never went to consume the dry leaves liberally covering the floor, nor to devour the bud-spotted branches. “No!” Roared the caged man. “Please, have mercy!” Clenching his hand into a fist, the faery allowed the flames around the elf to die down, leaving a putrid corpse, black and glistening with grease. With slow, deliberate steps, he entered his own ring, the fire parting to allow him safe passage before resealing.
He wore a tunic the blue color of midnight, and around his neck hung a thin leather necklace, on which was tied a white stone of quartz and a lock of hair like spun silver…he had azure wings, eyes no longer consumed by an inferno, though fire was now reflected off of golden hair. The trapped man stared at him then blanched. “You’re… you… I thought Leannán killed you.” Foertis Deus looked calmly at the trembling coward before him and scoffed, “Interesting theory, but do I look that bad?” The hungry circle tightened, turning into the man’s funeral pyre. A strange, derisive cackling reverberated from Foertis—ages ago, it would have seemed out of place on his once-comely features; now it matched. He turned to the cloaked figure. “There are sentries all over the skies,” he stated. “Keep to earth and—good light, man, what happened to Lysander’s horse, the poor creature looks fit to die!”
Lifting his ghostly hands, the other faery lowered his cowl. An angelical face looked back at him, it beauty enhanced all the more by the brooding grief that played across it. “You’re a fine one to ask. Maybe next time you should consider the dangers of the skies and stick to the ground, that I might not tax my mount so much.” Sighing, his accomplice replied, “no matter. You have them?” A soft, fiercely protective look settled on the angelic one’s features. “They’re right here,” he whispered, drawing back the cloak to reveal his precious bundles.
Curled tightly on either side of him were two young children, held in place by his arms. Raising a tear-streaked face, the little girl asked, “is it…gone?” Laying a cool hand on her cheek, he murmured, “almost. Soon you’ll be safe…” Her tiny face scrunched up as hot tears began to course down her round cheeks. A small, chubby hand reached out, firmly clutching that of her sleeping brother. “I w-want m-ma-mamie,” she choked out, trying to suppress the salty flow. It was futile. All of them knew it was; the Rau-lass wouldn’t have left the child’s parents alive when they ordered her capture. Wordlessly, the pale healer dismounted, turning to face the night. “
Where do you think you’re going?” Foertis hissed, gripping his shoulder. Raising the cowl again, the other said softly, “We’re but twenty minutes away from the border of Occalus. Where do you think I’m going?” The shorter man stood there for a moment, mute, until the child called, afraid, “d-don’t leave me!” Casting his friend a dark look, he dragged him back to the exhausted equine. “Signum,” he muttered, embracing the quietly sobbing toddler, “I can’t take all of the children on my own.”
“I know,” Signum replied. “It’ll be fast. You can expect me back before the morrow. The Rau-lass are but a day’s march from here, and when they come, I don’t entertain wistful notions about any Pardai being left to live. I—it’s what… it’ what
she would have wanted.” A terrible grief washed through the man’s soul; he averted his grey eyes from Foertis’s. Gently, but with an inflection of steel, the other faery said, “Sorea is gone, Signum. If you must go to fetch Anahita, don’t do it for her. Do it for our people, for hope. Not for a memory of what was.” The hood shadowed Signum’s pale face, making his expression inscrutable. “Signum? Answer me.”
“Fortune keep you,” he said, his impassive tone brooking no argument. Turning away, he was swallowed by the darkness. Foertis hesitated, and then grasped the weary horse’s bridle. “Go to sleep,” he told the frightful girl. Her eyes were haunted by pain, a pain everybody seemed to be feeling these days. With a heart-felt sigh, he mounted, nudging the horse to a walk. “Only a little farther,” he muttered.
Only a little farther, yet so great a distance.