Lissandra watched as the first flake of snow whirled past her. Then another. Soon, the dancing crystals swept all around her, a few of them brushing her lips like an icy kiss. The terrain beneath her was wild and dark, gray craggy rocks and steep mountain faces. Every color was vanishing beneath of coat of white.
With her keen eyes she saw the army of trolls approaching from miles away, a brown mass against the ivory ground. Until they arrived, she contented herself with the company of the snow. Each flake seemed to whisper a different story – a tale of winter.
It was good to be home.
Ez was startled awake by the horse's sudden halt. The others stumbled to a stop, some of them uttering curses, others trying to calm their horses with soft words or gentle pats. Ezreal squinted.
A forest lay before them. The trees reached their branches upward, tasting the sky.
Erinae turned her horse so that she faced the rest of the travelers. She fiddled with her blonde hair nervously. "I'm not sure we should go in there. Perhaps it would be best to go around."
Varadi scoffed. "The fastest way through is the forest. Going around will cost time, and Lissandra is already far ahead. Don't tell me your courage fails you now."
Inclining her head, Erinae said, "I've heard terrible things about this area. Folktales from my people."
"We have warriors enough," grunted Tryndamere. Jayce and Jarvan exchanged glances.
Erinae nodded and dismounted her horse. The others followed suit.
"What's the point of having this stupid beast if I can't ride it?" Katarina grumbled.
"Do you want to break your neck?" Ryland patted his horse's side as they walked into the woods. The thick, leafy canopy blocked out much of the sun, leaving only slanting light that reminded Ezreal of cathedral windows. "We obviously don't know what's in there."
"Shouldn't the barbarian know?" Ezreal slowed his walk, falling into step with Ryland.
"The Skelgarn," Ryland explained. "He was in a complete daze."
"Makes you wonder how he got to the League," Ezreal said, nibbling his thumbnail. "Might have been the Skelgarn telling him to come. Like it wants us to find the generators."
"Thanks for the cheery outlook." Kat laughed bitterly.
"It makes sense, doesn't it? Varadi said he was following his own heart, but he looked pretty corrupted to me." Ezreal intently watched the barbarian at the head of the congregation.
"So what would that mean in terms of the journey?" Ryland looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Oh. The journey's a trap."
"Lovely," Ryland growled. "And we have to spring it regardless, or else the Skelgarn spreads."
"That's what makes it a good trap," Ezreal said patiently. "It plays with your mind, makes you doubt other people."
"He's right," Kat added. A small moth fluttered into her hair, and she brushed it away. "Noxians know all about them."
They walked onward in silence. Ezreal could understand Erinae's hesitation to enter the forest. The tree branches arched overhead, dappling the world with mysterious green shadows. He heard a brook trickling nearby, and felt the ground change to a springy cushion of moss. The names of trees – vitae, arlan – came to mind as they pressed forward.
Maybe Ryland was right – maybe exploring would be enough to soothe his troubled heart. Until he heard Jarvan say something. Then he was immediately irritated again.
"I side with the barbarian guide – this forest doesn't appear to be dangerous."
"Probably wouldn't know a margot wolf if it ate his head," Ez muttered. Katarina glanced at him, humor dancing in her eyes.
"No offense, doll, but you seem incredibly ignorant of Demacia's royal family."
"My specialty is more about artifacts. Shamans, tribal practice. The royal family is boring."
Kat lowered her voice. "Even I know that Jarvan spent many years training in forests, proving himself to be a man. Some say that when he returned, he was different somehow. Like the forest had changed him. Thought he might be possessed."
Ezreal gritted his teeth, wincing when his boot sank into a hidden mud puddle. He's an explorer, too? God, I don't stand a chance with Lux.
Behind him, Soraka suddenly cried out. Ezreal whirled. An arrow tufted with blood-red feathers jutted from beneath her breastbone. Her golden eyes were wide and blank with shock.
The group stared slack-jawed as blood oozed from the wound. Then another arrow whizzed past Ez's face, almost striking him or his horse. It grazed his cheek.
"We're being attacked!" he called. "Get down!"
Ashe's horse whinnied and reared, forelegs striking the air. Ashe scrabbled at its neck but fell to the ground, just as another arrow pierced her horse beneath the jaw. Ryland threw himself in front of Soraka, blocking her from the assault.
Ez rubbed his eyes. Months on the Rift as a Marksman had trained him to fight, but he still had to evaluate the situation. He noticed Katarina doing the same thing – breathing slowly, steadily, ignoring the chaos as the Freljordians struggled to restrain their spirited stallions.
The arrows were coming from all directions at random intervals. Ezreal's eyes caught a flicker of movement darting to his right. It was a shadow among shadows.
He and Kat bolted towards it simultaneously. Kat's dagger reached the thing's throat before Ezreal's Mystic Shot did. The gnarled form fell to the ground with a whimper.
"Trolls," Kat muttered beneath her breath.
Ezreal spat. "Doesn't matter. There's more of them. Let's find them."
As Jayce fired shots of energy into the forest, Kat and Ezreal chased the other creatures down. They were surprisingly nimble for having legs knotted and rough like tree trunks.
It became a game, a race to see who shed the most enemy blood. Ez called on his power to speed him, and left trails of gold sparks dancing in the dim forest behind him. Kat melded with the shade, leaping from tree to tree and hurling daggers.
Exhilaration filled Ezreal with each new target he brought down. Maybe there's something to being in the military after all. The exercise banished all thoughts of Lux from his mind.
When they felled the last one, Kat and Ezreal waited beside its corpse, listening for the whistling cry of the arrow. None came.
Ez knelt beside the dead creature, frowning. About three feet tall, lean and bony, with cracked green skin and pointed ears, it had to be a troll of some sort.
Kat sat beside him, panting. "I'm so out of shape." She pushed strands of red hair from her face and leaned back, chest heaving. Ezreal looked at her.
For a moment, he felt lust. Her breasts swelled against the outline of her tight shirt provacatively. Her sweat-streaked body, pale skin and mussed hair made her look so vulnerable, but he knew she was deadly as the tips of her knives. He yearned to touch her and almost did.
She saw him looking and responded with a slight frown. "So what was it?"
"What?"
"The thing shooting at us."
"I'm not sure. I thought it was a troll, like you suggested earlier, but…" Ezreal sighed. "They don't generally use bows and arrows. They prefer to club their prey. Which means they may have picked up the practice from another tribe or –"
"Someone taught them." Katarina coughed. "I'm leaning towards that."
"The trap, huh? You really think we're walking into one?"
Kat looked up at the trees. "Most likely. From what I've heard, Lissandra is cunning."
Ezreal's expression softened. "You are, too."
Katarina pointedly ignored him, instead leaning closer to the thing's corpse, lips and nose wrinkling as the thing's pungent odor struck her. A mixture of raw meat and swamp gas churned her stomach.
She stood up, wiping her blood-stained hands on her pants. One troll had required her to stab it, as it was too swift, even for her bouncing blades. "The group probably needs us and knowing what these things are probably won't help too much if Soraka's dead."
Ezreal nodded. With one more glance at Katarina's body, he stood up and headed to the group.
The chaos was only beginning to die down. Ryland sat with Soraka cradled in his arms. Two of the Freljord horses had bolted, along with Erinae's. Tryndamere and Varadi were dotted with tiny cuts where arrows grazed them. Ashe's horse was dead.
Ezreal felt nausea broil in his stomach. When he explored alone, he fixed his own problems. He repaired his own tents, soled his shoes, found enough food for himself. But some part of him ached to protect the group, to be their guardian.
"Start with one thing at a time," Kat said softly, beside him. "I'll go talk to the Freljordians. You talk to Soraka and Ryland."
Ezreal ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and approached Ryland and Soraka.
Ryland looked up. The irises of his eyes were glowing silver, soft beacons of light in the forest gloom. "I think the arrow was poisoned," he said abruptly.
Soraka's chest moved up and down rapidly. Her eyes were shut, but her pain was betrayed in her face.
"Can she hear you?" Ezreal said quietly. He sat down in front of them. "What do we do?"
"I'm trying to get her to a place where she can heal herself, but I'm not sure I can." The silver light slowly left his eyes, transferring to his hands. He rubbed them rhythmically over her shoulders. When Ezreal didn't say anything else, he began to chant.
Ezreal caught snatches of the Ionian healing song. He closed his eyes and instinctively put his hands on Ryland's knees. After a few moments, he felt portions of his energy flow out of his body. It felt like a river pouring into an ocean.
Is Ryland converting it? Taking my Standard power and turning it into healing energy? Ezreal felt a tinge of fear. Because Ryland was so nosy and overprotective, it was easy to forget that his friend was one of the most powerful sorcerers Ezreal had ever met. Perhaps ever would meet.
Ezreal could feel Ryland's mind merging with Soraka's, though he himself didn't feel anything. He was an outsider, a spectator.
It wasn't quite an Overflow, but it was very close. An influx of energy poured into Soraka's body even as his and Ryland's muscles began to screech in protest.
Then she went limp.
Ez's eyes snapped open, fearing the worst. But Soraka's chest now moved with a slow, steady motion. Ryland leaned over her, visibly shaken. Two tears fell on the fabric of the healer's travelling dress.
"What's wrong?" Ezreal asked. His throat was dry and itchy, his lips sticky with sweat. "She looks like she's going to be okay now."
Ryland swiped at his eyes. Being that close to Soraka, he'd finally felt what she felt.
He's becoming so strong, so powerful. I'm fortunate enough that I got to witness his growing up. A teacher becoming attracted to a student is the worst kind of abuse. Besides, I'm not human. I told him to stay with Katarina. I've never felt such human urges before…I have no idea how to deal with them…I can solve every problem but my own.
He'd felt her admiration growing into fondness, which led to attraction. Then her desperate attempts to deny or bury it. Ryland thought back to when he'd sacrificed himself for Ezreal. When Soraka had embraced him, hadn't he felt something?
Ezreal hesitated, then patted Ryland's head. The Empath was completely closed off from him, something that seemed to be happening more and more in recent weeks. "Hey, buddy. It's alright. Relax." Ezreal rearranged himself so Ryland could lean on his shoulder. He saw Jarvan shoot them a disparaging look and scowled.
I guess he thinks compassion isn't manly, Ezreal thought. Well, too bad. The world needs healers and counselors just as much as it needs soldiers.
Ryland rubbed at his face. "I can't tell if these complications are from the Skelgarn or –"
"What complications? The arrows? Kat and I think they were set up."
"The emotional complications. Didn't Varadi say that people got wilder and wilder before they were fully corrupted? Or – or does it just uncover things that were already there?" He looked back down at Soraka, shivering as another thought of hers echoed in his mind.
I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking of him. Taric and Sona both know something's happening, but are too polite to say anything. My healing arts are muted because my mind isn't in the right place…but he's such a good boy. Perhaps this is how he feels about Ezreal…ah, well. The stars reveal every path. Perhaps my attraction to him is part of my incomprehensible fate.
Ryland doubled over, let out one harsh sob, then pressed his clenched fist to his mouth. The rest of the group looked over, more concerned now. Ez ignored them, instead focusing on calming Ryland down. "You can tell me. What's wrong?"
Ryland shook his head. The feeling was impossible to explain to Ezreal. Everyone always adored the Explorer. Ryland couldn't articulate the remorse he felt for putting Soraka in so much pain. She was one of three people who even came close to loving him.
Every time I was near her I was hurting her, he thought, shivering.
"I'm about to punch Jarvan in the face," Ezreal muttered. That brought Ryland around.
"What? Why?"
"I think he's making fun of you."
Ryland snorted and dried his tears on his arm. "If it makes him feel better, I don't care."
"He's almost soulless," Ezreal said, then sighed. "We might all be by the end of this."
Jarvan surveyed the blank faces around him. He felt annoyance stir within him and quickly quashed it. "Did anyone appoint a leader for this expedition? Is there any command structure?" He was greeted by silence.
"Very well. Does anyone object to my leading?"
The Freljordians collectively shrugged. Erinae stood, staring bleakly at the ground. Jarvan looked to Kat, expecting the fiery assassin to say something. All he got was an unimpressed raise of her eyebrows.
He itched to slap her – she always looked so insolent – but stopped himself. She'd probably been beaten enough by the Noxian army. Hell, she probably enjoyed it.
Now, that was an idea…
He saw the eyes of the travellers upon him and shook his head. "I believe the Skelgarn has already affected us to some degree. Do we have preventions?"
"The healers charged totems for us, Honorable Jarvan," Kat said. Jarvan blinked. She didn't sound sarcastic at all. With a little curtsy, she continued, "I'll fetch them. I advise you to wear them at all times."
"Thank you." Jarvan clenched his teeth. Katarina was very attractive – why had he not seen it before?
Because she's Noxian, you fool.
He forced himself to stop watching her retreating form, from admiring her ass, and focused on other women. Shyvana's slim hips, Lux's warm smile…Aloud he said, "Redistribute the packs. We'll need multiple people to a horse now. We'll stop for the night."
"Lissandra is already many leagues away," Varadi said uncomfortably. "If we stop, we have no chance of overtaking her."
Jarvan considered this. "I don't think we'd catch her anyways. A few hours wouldn't make a difference."
"He's right." Tryndamere let his eyes roam over the carnage. "We wouldn't make it much farther today anyways."