MOTH: Chapter 40

The arrow blurred from the string, wreathed in rippling in blue-white magic. It crossed the distance between Darian and Garnak in the space of a heartbeat...and took the gnoll warlock straight through the heart.

Garnak had just enough time to look surprised. Then he was crumpling, Rondar's blood still dripping from his claws as he toppled over.

In the sudden, ringing silence that followed, Darian could hear his own frantic heartbeat. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, he lowered his bow.

"R-Rondar?"

"I'm here, lad." Rondar's voice, weak with pain but alive. "Ye just grazed me shoulder. Nothin' Kelv can't patch up."

"Oh." Darian felt his knees give out. He sat down hard. "Oh. That's...that's good."

And then he was laughing. He hadn't killed Rondar. Against all odds, his desperate shot had flown true. Garnak was dead, and the dwarves were saved.

They had done it. They had won!

Dimly, he was aware of Rondar calling his name, of heavy dwarven hands helping him to his feet, steadying him. He heard Kelvhan shouting for Durek to find some supplies, they needed to see to the captain's shoulder. But it all seemed very far away, muffled by the joy still ballooning in his chest.

At least until an unnatural chill rolled through the clearing, raising goosebumps on Darian's arms. He jerked his head up, the feeling of victory evaporating as dread settled like a stone in his gut.

No. Oh no, not now, not when we were so close...

A pressure descended on them, heavy and smothering. Darian saw a figure drop from the trees, landing in a crouch. It straightened slowly and Darian's breath caught.

It was a gnoll, but unlike any he had seen before. Tattered robes hung from its sickly frame, adorned with bones and strange fetishes. Runes glowed with eerie light on its mottled fur. But it was the eyes that snared Darian - red as blood and glinting with malice.

"Shaman," Rondar growled. The dwarf tried to push himself up, face paling as his injured arm gave out. "It's...it's over."

"Over?" The shaman threw back its head and laughed, sharp and cruel. "No, dwarf. It is only beginning."

The shaman raised a clawed hand, dark energy swirling around its fingers. The dwarven battlemages rushed forward, placing themselves between the shaman and Rondar.

"Go, Captain!" Kelvhan shouted over her shoulder. Runes flared to life on her mace as she braced for the shaman's attack. "Get the lad out of here!"

Rondar struggled to his feet, snatching up his fallen axe with a wince. He grabbed Darian's arm, propelling him towards the trees.

"Run, lad!" the dwarf roared. "Don't look back, just run!"

Darian stumbled, mind reeling. This can't be happening. They had won, Garnak was dead, they were supposed to be safe. How could it all fall apart so quickly?

He froze, torn between the urge to flee and the need to stand and fight. I can't leave them. Not after everything...

"Darian, go!" Rondar gave him a rough shove, desperation shining in his eyes. "Get out of here!"

That galvanized Darian into action. He whirled and plunged into the trees, Rondar's shout and the shaman's laughter chasing him. Branches whipped at his face and roots grabbed at his ankles, but his legs moved on their own accord, carrying him deeper into the forest.

Minutes felt like hours, each step taking him further from Rondar and the others. From their screams. Darian's stomach clenched as he remembered the desperation in the dwarf's eyes, the grim set of the battlemages' faces as they prepared to buy him time to escape.

They're dying back there, a small, cruel voice whispered in his mind. Dying so you can run away like a coward.

Tears streamed down Darian's cheeks, blurring the trees into a shapeless green smear. He wanted to stop, to turn back and stand with his friends...but the memory of the shaman's burning eyes and vicious claws kept his feet moving.

The sounds of combat had long since faded, leaving only the rasp of Darian's breathing and the thud of his own heart. He clapped his hands over his ears anyway, trying to block out the accusing voices in his head.

I'm sorry, he thought miserably, squeezing his eyes shut. I'm so sorry.

Darian's foot caught on a root and he stumbled, arms wheeling. He managed to catch himself on a tree trunk, chest heaving as he tried to regain his balance.

A figure stepped out from behind a broad oak, stopping him short. Darian’s head jerked up, hope flaring in his chest. Had Rondar caught up to him? Had the others escaped after all?

Then the figure moved fully into the light...and Darian's blood turned to ice in his veins.

It was the shaman. The creature's muzzle split into a cruel leer as it regarded Darian, eyes glinting with malice.

"Hello again, man-cub," it hissed, stalking forward. "Did you truly think you could escape me so easily?

A lumpy sack dangled from one clawed hand, stained with blood. With a vicious grin, the shaman flipped the bag upside down. Something rolled out, bumping against Darian's boots.

He looked down...and screamed. Rondar's head stared back at him, features frozen in agony. The dwarf's beard was matted with blood, his mouth open in an eternal silent howl.

Darian scrambled back. No. No, no, no...

"What's the matter, whelp?" The shaman stalked forward, chuckling darkly. "Not going to thank me for reuniting you with your pet dwarf?"

White-hot rage surged through Darian's veins, momentarily drowning his fear and grief. With a snarl, he snatched an arrow from his quiver and fired. The shaft flew straight and true...only to shatter against the wall of force that sprang up around the shaman.

Darian gaped, then frantically loosed arrow after arrow. Each one met the same fate, splintering into dust as it struck the shaman's shield. The creature laughed, flicking its hand almost lazily.

An invisible force slammed into Darian like a battering ram, flinging him backwards into a tree. All the air whooshed out of his lungs and stars burst behind his eyes. His bow fell from his fingers as he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

"Pathetic." The shaman glided forward, red eyes glowing like embers. "Did you truly think your little toy could harm me?"

It seized Darian by the throat, claws digging into his flesh as it hauled him into the air. The boy choked and kicked, scrabbling at the shaman's wrist. Black spots danced in his vision as the creature's grip tightened.

The shaman brought its muzzle close to Darian's face, its foul breath washing over him. "It has been too long since I feasted on man-flesh. I shall enjoy picking my teeth with your bones, whelp."

This is it, Darian realized. I'm going to die. Even if he somehow broke free, there would be no escaping the shaman's magic.

As the edges of his vision began to turn grey, Darian found himself hoping his death would be quick. That it wouldn't hurt too badly.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The shaman froze, its snarl turning to a mask. The forest fell utterly silent and still, like a painting.

Darian's eyes widened as he hung there, the only thing still moving. He recognized the prickling sensation spreading through his body, the strange heaviness to the air. It had happened again - time itself had ground to a halt. Just like before, when the panther’s claws had been about to rip out his throat.

But something was different this time. A tingling warmth suffused Darian's limbs, flowing through his chest and down to his fingertips. It felt both alien and oddly familiar, like a half-forgotten memory surfacing from a dream.

Then it clicked. It was the same as the spellbook's description of magical energy. He was feeling his own power, stirring to life inside him!

Before Darian could do more than marvel at the realization, time stuttered back into motion. The shaman's claws flashed, slicing across his throat.

Searing agony ripped through him. His mouth worked soundlessly, trying to draw breath through a ruined windpipe. Hot blood poured down his front as the world spun dizzyingly.

The shaman released him with a flick of its wrist. Darian toppled backwards as his vision dimmed.

I'm sorry, Ma. The words echoed through his mind as the darkness rushed up to claim him. I tried...

But even as he fell, a brilliant light bloomed before Darian's fading sight. It resolved into a glowing blue rectangle hovering in the air, strange script shimmering on its surface:

Naer: Arkanias

Phaalowrss: 14 vielleon

Aesvali kai'dari:

Kyvral – ∞

Draesuun – ∞

Vaelkiir – ∞ 

Shanlui – ∞

Torwyn – ∞

Grothuum – ∞

Maerdre shaelkiis:

Zah'nier – ∞-1

Kae'lashi – ∞-1       

Eil'thor – ∞-1

Vae'duur – ∞-1

Sylnae – ∞-1

Kyshae v'elthyrin:

- Syr'kaes

- Eiel'vaelar

- Drafe'solern

- Shar'thaelar

- Zhor'kaenrir

- Vel'skaeleoth

- Naer'vyernh

Darian stared at the words, feeling the last threads of his consciousness unravelling.

It’s this strange language again...what does it mean?

Then the world shattered into a thousand glittering shards and Darian knew no more.