by Coty Schwabe
CHAPTER TWO
1
About ten machs out (just under five miles) from the village, Acbain had come to Pyorich Plains. Here is where he finally slowed Vandomare - completely worn out, even if she was of the fastest, sturdiest known breed - to a gait, then a sluggish walk.
With every passing minute, Acbain glanced over his shoulder to see if the Shadows were coming. He saw none, but knew they would be.
Above, the moon cast its blue glow upon him, and he gazed at it, thinking about how fast everything had happened. As he gazed, he noticed another color to the east; a lavender-violet color. The sun was coming. Thank the Father.
All that death, Acbain thought. And for what? A piece of Cross-shaped metal? But why? He chided himself. I know why. It’s the only thing that will stand against Denteroth when he returns and they want it gone.
He sighed, both out of exhaustion and depression. These creatures would not give up their pursuit of the blade, he knew that. He also knew that he had to cover a distance of hundreds of miles before he reached the Crossblade's Sanctuary. But he was tired. He'd ridden all night to get to the castle in the first place, and now this! He sighed again. Vandomare shared his feeling, and snorted loudly.
He was tired, and he wanted to rest. Just an hour of sleep, that would be nice, he thought.
No sooner had he thought this, did he hear a rumbling in the distance.
2
The first thing to assume is that the sound came from the NeverShadows that followed him. And in assuming this, you'd be correct.
They came thundering in from the direction he'd come, and they came in full force. Their numbers appeared to have dwindled a minute amount, but they came anyway - bear creatures, warriors on steeds, even one that looked like a giant scorpion.
For a second, the sight paralyzed him. Their numbers remained uncountable, but it could be described as a minor army. Dozens of them were bearing down on our dark elf friend, and they rode their steeds (both real horses and Shadow versions) into the ground.
“Ride, Vandomare!” The horse, tired but compliant, whinnied, snorted and broke into a canter, then a gallop.
Towards the rising sun they went.
3
In under a dozen miles, the creatures had closed in within fifty yards of Acbain.
It occurred to him that he may not make it to the appointed place in time, that he may in fact fall well before that. And it made his heart heavy. Thinking of disappointing the king, the other Palladium Knights, his mentor, propelled him on and he pushed the former idea from his head.
If he couldn't seal the blade, what good was he?
The pre-dawn morning was filled with an odd sound and scene if you can imagine it: A dark elf, racing east, with say five dozen mysterious Shadow monsters chasing, gradually closing the gap - fifty yards becoming forty, then thirty, then twenty - and the only sounds in the morning is that of breathing and stomping.
Acbain could feel them gaining, could sense their auras. He was in fact, magic himself, and as magic was energy (something he used quite a bit of himself) he could feel the energy they radiated; a dark, ominous, murderous thing that almost smothered him. He knew little about them, but recognized that their ability to morph into the first creature they chose made them dangerous foes. That scorpion looked particularly dreadful.
The sun continued its upward arc and began to show visible hints that it was going to break the horizon. The sky looked as if it were bursting into flames, with orange rays breaking ahead of him, dispelling the darkness of night for good.
Almost! Father protect me just a bit longer! Maybe I will live through this...
An obnoxious chattering erupted behind him, and he sensed it came from their recognition of the sun. The light was a killer for them. Literally. For Acbain, the light spelled salvation. Salvation and pain.
At least for a day.
4
Three days.
This is how long Acbain pushed through to clear the mountains that stood between him and the Sanctuary. These mountains had no name, but they gave him and Vandomare much trouble. Every time Acbain thought he’d gotten a safe distance from the creatures, he would catch them further back along the mountain trails.
For every advantage he found, it also came with a disadvantage.
It was hard going, and the path through them was tight. This actually was to his advantage, for it slowed the army of creatures a good deal. But the terrain was hard for Vandomare to traverse, and he could not push her fast as he would have liked on the slippery rocks.
They escaped the mountains with their lives intact, and crossed a thin forest, followed by another stretch of barren plains. He hated the plains. While the creatures would not openly cross it, the heat was dreadful. Being of the dark places, heat was the opposite climate native to his kind, and it nearly killed him. Several times.
When he came to water, he would drink and bathe in it, drenching his clothes, and then he would be off again.
Rest was also hard to come by. Knowing that the Shadows chased him every time there was darkness ruined his dreams. He slept in short fits, grabbing what little rest he could whenever it would come to him.
5
Ahead, large rocks rose from the ground like giants. He recognized the place as the Xerta Outcropping, a huge up and down valley of boulders and outcrops.
He went straight for it, hoping to slow down his pursuers by zigzagging through the rocks. The creatures had come within yards again over the night, and he could almost feel them breathing on him, reaching for his robe.
He entered the rocky terrain at full speed, galloping to and fro between the rocks. He yanked the reins one way, then another, almost clipping his shoulder on a rock that jutted up and out at him. A low hanging rock tunnel created yet another barrier for him, and he dropped down, lying flat (as possible) on Vandomare's back, with Vandomare also lowering her head. The tunnel's ceiling scraped his back once, sending sharp pain through his entire spine. A burning, tingling sensation rippled through his back, but he had to ignore it.
They came to the exit, and he sat bolt upright, feeling the pain dissipate through his legs and arms. He didn't know it, but he was bleeding.
When they cleared the tunnel, he had to shield his eyes from the blinding glare that met him. The sun had risen, showering him in its blistering radiance.
He rode towards it, its warmth at first filling him, renewing him, energizing him, and he dashed past the stones and boulders at a mach a minute. The warmth, slight compared to the warmth he'd feel later that day, was both pleasing and grating.
He, like these Shadows of another world, was a creature of the dark. And his saving grace came at a price. Acbain threw the hood of his robe over his head, casting shadow upon his face. The warmth had stung his face, his eyes, but after a few moments, the stinging subsided.
He glanced over his shoulder to see that the creatures had stopped in the tunnel and underneath overhangs of rocks. One dipped its arm into the sun, and there came a sizzling noise, followed by a howl of pain. The creatures did not emerge. But come sundrop, they would.
Acbain and Vandomare dashed on, through the rocks, two lone figures riding on into the daylight.
5
Morning came fully and once they'd traversed Xerta, Acbain slowed once again. They'd come out on a dirt road used by other horse riders, ones on the trek to the now forlorn city of the great King Myza. Tears came to his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
The bright orb in the sky had crested completely, and bathed the dark elf and his mare in sunshine.
Acbain's body began to overheat. He needed shade, somewhere to rest, and to let Vandomare do the same. It was said that horses of the Sulnderond line, such as Vandomare, could cover over a hundred miles in a single day, sometimes twice that stretching it, but they still required rest. Vandomare was a gift, and he would take care of her as best as he could.
What they really needed was water.
Acbain pulled the map Rarhot had g
iven him. The map was an archaic, ramshackle thing, made of reed-parchment and hard to read. The thing must have gotten wet somewhere (sweat, perchance), for the lines had blurred, and the notes written upon it were indiscernible. He cast the wretched thing aside.
I'll just follow the road, and see where it leads. There should be a river somewhere.
If only I could remember how far out.
6
Two hours passed, and the heat intensified, almost cooking him. He wanted to strip free of the rags, to peel off the layers, but knew the summer sun would burn him without hesitation. He even kept his hands retracted into the long sleeves of his robe, holding the reins from within them.
Vandomare's pace had dropped to a lumbering stroll. She needed water as much as he did, and he deigned to stop, but found nowhere to do so. Grass stretched in every direction, though there was no sign of water. Where in the Father's name is this damn thing?
They came to a lonely tree, and Acbain could not stand it any longer. His throat had tightened, and his skin sweat so profusely it felt like it would slide right off his bones.
Gods he was thirsty. And tired.
He thought about binding some of the water in the air together, creating an ice crystal to melt and drink. But there were two reasons he did not:
One: The air was hot. It would take an immense amount of water vapor to create such a crystal, and two: he was too tired to do it.
Acbain made for the tree, and he tied