Grumbling, Mist stormed through the forest, throwing caution to the wind as he crashed through the undergrowth in frustration. Liz had sent him to track down the Eyylik who had saved them - who had insulted him! - and beg him to return. Was she insane?!
The woods were beginning to get dark, making his progress more difficult as the sun dropped behind the horizon. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he had goosebumps all over his body as the feeling in the air shifted and nighttime descended. Spitting curses under his breath, he didn't notice the two figures' approach until it was too late to avoid them.
He turned instinctively as he felt their approach, two twisted shapes seemingly gliding along the ground, making not a whisper. They were pure black, their forms obscured like they were made of living shadow. Vaguely humanoid in shape, their elongated arms reached out at the Sorcerer, each of their long fingers ending in a curved claw like something from a nightmare. They reached out to attack Mist, their eyes nothing more than two dots of light aimlessly staring.
With a startled cry, Mist threw himself aside to avoid their long claws, inadvertently moving into one of the creatures' path. It did not stop, its forward momentum pulling it's incorporeal form forward and through Mist's body completely.
Mist stood there, momentarily stunned as the shadowy being passed through him. His skin where the creature had touched erupted in burning agony, like his flesh had been set on fire. The pain abated quickly as the creature passed through him, leaving Mist standing in shock and confusion as the shadowy beings turned to attack him again, reaching mindlessly forward with their long claws.
One of the creatures was flung aside with a terrifying wail like a drowning woman's gurgling shriek, causing an involuntary chill to run down Mist's spine. It shimmered in the air for a moment and then dissipated like a cloud. Vyre stepped into view, his mace in hand.
Seeing the Eyylik snapped Mist back to the fight at hand. The other creature, oblivious to it's companion's pain, lunged forward at Mist, who tried to step back. He was too slow, however, and the creature's claws reached out, carving red gouges onto the skin of his chest. Crying out in pain as the burning sensation from the creature's touch returned, Mist continued to step back, preventing the claws from digging deeper into his flesh.
Vyre swung his mace, hitting the creature with a backhand that sent it stumbling a few steps to the side, its razor-sharp claws twisting and pulling out of Mist painfully as it was forced away. With a small cry, Vyre brought his mace down on it, crushing the creature. It dissipated with a wail as Mist fell back against a tree, his hand desperately covering the painful punctures on his chest as blood dripped down.
Vyre looked around, his keen eyes searching for any residual magic from the Shades, searching for any more of them.
Mist winced in pain as he examined his wounds. They were not overly deep thanks to Vyre's intervention and Mist's quick-stepping backwards. They burned slightly, though, like some residual piece of the creature was still present. "Shit," he mumbled as he looked at the blood making lines down his torso, "my healer's not going to be happy..."
"That's the second time I've saved you, Balghra." Vyre stated, still searching around the forest, his eyes glowing slightly as he looked at the place the creatures had come from.
"Don't call me that." Mist remarked off-handedly, watching the Eyylik carefully. Without the heavy armour he had worn when Mist first met him, Vyre didn't look quite as imposing. He wore a dark sleeveless gambeson over a sleeved tunic and chausses on his legs. Heavy boots completed the ensemble. "Were those...?"
"Shades." Vyre confirmed, and Mist felt a sudden chill creep up his spine at the word.
Satisfied, Vyre allowed himself to relax, his arms dropping to his sides. "Go back to your camp," he commanded the amputee as he moved to leave.
"Wait!" Mist rushed forward, moving in front of him and trying to stop the Eyylik from leaving. "Liz sent me to find you."
Vyre stopped in his tracks. "Liz?"
"The girl you saved."
Vyre nodded. "You found me," he said, shouldering Mist aside.
"Wait!" Mist regained his balance and walked backwards in front of Vyre, wincing at the pain the wounds in his chest caused him. "You promised you'd keep her safe."
"I will." Vyre did not even look at Mist as he spoke, his gaze turned downward.
"How? You're all the way over here!"
Vyre shook his head and increased his pace, trying to lose the Sorcerer. Mist quickened his own pace with a small groan. "I promised her I'd bring you back there!"
"You should not make promises you cannot keep, Balghra." Vyre managed to overtake Mist, pulling past him angrily.
Mist stopped as the Eyylik went past him, sighing heavily and looking up at the sky before shouting in frustration. "Yes, I am a balghra," he admitted. "I am not whole. I am weak. I am helpless and hopeless and I cannot help anyone survive out here!"
Vyre shook his head and continued walking. Realising he wasn't going to stop, Mist hurried to catch up, trailing behind him as the Eyylik stormed through the woods.
"I can't save anyone. I can't save her!" he continued, his frustration peaking. "But you? You can! And you have!"
Vyre slowed his pace, allowing Mist to circle around in front of him. "If you don't want to help me, then don't! But don't let her die out here simply because she chose to put her faith in me!"
Vyre raised his head and looked at the half-man standing in front of him, visibly shaken and angry. The air shimmered around him with a power the Eyylik had never seen before, the light blue aura of his magic abilities overwhelmingly strong and strange, like it was from another world. His gaze traced its way down the slope of the amputee's neck to the scar at his shoulder, the source of the man's weakness. So strong magically, yet so weak physically. The balghra was an enigma. He could not deny the desire he felt to explore the source of that magic, different from anything he had ever seen before.
"Well?" Mist prodded, the determination in his gaze telling Vyre that he would not take no for an answer. He looked down Mist's chest to the gouges he had received from the fight, the blood already beginning to clot. He had received those scars for the young blond girl - Liz - when she made him promise to locate a man he hated. the balghra had gotten those wounds for her. Perhaps his bravery can make up for his weakness?
"You saved us both. I'm not sure why, but it doesn't matter," Mist continued, oblivious to the dilemma in Vyre's mind. "You did. But if you leave us, all that will be for nothing."
After a moment of strained silence, Vyre nodded. "Very well," he agreed.
Mist perked up immediately. "You'll help us?"
Vyre nodded again and started moving forward again, slowly. "Allow me to return to my camp, Balghra. I must collect my belongings."
"Yes!" Mist jumped, throwing his arm up in the air in victory. The movement hurt his new wounds, however, and he doubled over, immediately regretting his outburst. Vyre ignored him and kept walking.572Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ00E3nBRJqR
"Hey!" Mist smiled as he bounded after the Eyylik, his stomach gurgling loudly as he realized he hadn't eaten all day. "If you have food, Eyylik, do you think you could bring that too?"
Rolling his eyes, Vyre couldn't help but smile. It was going to an interesting night.
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