Act Two Chapter Eight: The Knight of Wands IV
Suprise, a double update in one week? What has the world come to? I had this chapter in the works, already near completion as I waited for my beta to get back to me on the last chapter (he didn't). Thus, you guys get the honor of getting another chapter almost immediately, yay.
Another note. I have a second story, a SNAFU/Familiar of Zero fic that is almost the opposite of this one in how depressing it is (being not at all compared to this sad story). The writing level is much lower than what I use for this story and the editing is also less meticulous. That story I only write for fun whereas this one I really try.
Statment about still needing a beta (since I chased one away).
Response time.
Urgazhi: I am glad you like my OC. I don't like relying on them, but I could not think of a cannon character that could fulfill the role I needed in Selphie. I tap my nose at the next sentence. I do not use soul bonds in the traditional sense, but if you define a soul bond as a magical back and forth which has empathetic effects then it could be called that. I hope this one is an even better supprise.
Pteaset: Thank you!
Procrastinatey: Thank you! I am glad it is making more sense. Hopefully, this does not throw a wrench into that.
As always thank you.
Time for the normal spiel.
Please review. I do love to get those reviews; they make me feel good. As always, I need a beta.
Rights are to JK Rowling and Warner brothers. Please write a review, feedback would go a long way to improve my work. I don't care if you want to tell me I am the worst writer ever (if you do please tell me why and what I can improve) just tell me what you think!
The conversation with the king of the forest, Faelar Silverleaf, went better than Harry originally predicted, benefiting his position was how Ildilyntra Silverleaf, the more passionate of the pair, had left on what Faelar called a purge of borders earlier. It comprised Ildilyntra and a team of elite warriors defending against blights on the edge of the territory that the northern elves held. Her leave was disconnected from Harry's current quest if the rest of the occupants were to be believed.
Her leave had prompted Nic to explain the political landscape of the world's missing continent. How the northeastern shore housed a large forest and was home of the elves. Closer to the Americas led into the territory of monsters, of what variety even Nic failed to identify. Only the local elves spoke of them with horror.
South led into a mountain range that held the target of the quest. An enormous beast that held the range with an iron fist and burning maw. His future was set already. It was not in the way of The Tower, The Knight of Wands led his present path.
Beyond the large range were the colder places, and the southern tip of the continent led to The Land of Always Winter, home of the bitter cousins of the host of the travelers.
"I am worried," Nic said, tapping the ground against Faelar's home. Both sat in the quiet of the rising sun.
"What for?" Harry adjusted his cloak. Was it so sloppy when he had addressed the king?
"The beast separates the two. Making them unable to contact. With him gone, will they war again as they did a millennium ago? The winter and summer hate each other, which bore the months of spring and fall, so humans could live the wrath with a peaceful transition between seasons."
"Maybe. But perhaps not. Either way, the path leading to stagnation is not one my people should walk."
"Be that as it may, Selphie, I still worry for the consequences of my actions."
"Take a page from your son. Be free. Let fate fall as it will." She paused and turned to the boy, "I must pack." She re-entered the house they had just parted from.
"I also need to pack. I left in a rush."
"You should have a familiar complete that for you."
"Harry, if you ever contract a devil to do chores…" he trailed off, lost in what threat he could use. Harry smiled. "Be a good boy while I am gone, ok? No more rituals for today. Promise?"
"Promise."
Nic patted his hair and left him alone.
The Knight of Wands.
Harry lay sat under a tree as his fellow men scrambled to collect everything necessary for the long days ahead. The warmth of the large living plant protected him against the rays of the sun on his tired eyes. The warm air enveloped him like a lovely hug, keeping away the bad thoughts.
"Master, is there any task I can assist with?" Her voice is soft, running against his face like a summer breeze.
"Why are you still calling me Master, Selphie? I told you it is Harry, Har-rie," he toned out.
"That would be disrespectful as your subordinate, Master." Her smile tells all, a vicious grin that only a fey-born creature can possess. She is teasing.
"I will have to release you then. Not able to follow orders, rude and disloyal."
"You are no fun."
"I never claimed to." The commotion continues as she sits to his side, arm brushing against his own as the chaotic chorus plays before them. Her head leans against his shoulder as the morning drags away. "I am sorry for what I have done to you."
"I know," it comes near a total whisper as if the only noise created was the moving of her lips, "it was my choice, however, and I don't think it wrong."
"Will you teach me your language?"
Her shoulders rise and fall in rapid succession against his own, "of course." Despite not looking to her, Harry knew at that moment she smiled.
The Knight of Wands.
Their forces were twice that which came ashore just one day ago. Master Fanucci trailed against the lead elf, a short being with a bow on his back, as they led the group deeper into the forest. It warned Harry with every step; the blight was forward, he should return. Every step nearer to it, as the paths thinned and grew heavier with overgrowth, brought with it the pain of nature, the pain caused by what they sought.
Harry became Nic's shadow and Selphie his own. They walked closer to the front than a sizeable chunk of the party, as only the cursebreakers and scouts were further ahead. The sounds of life that rang throughout the village grew disperse as they trudged in, only melancholic harmonies of wind walked with them here. Life had faded from here. Even as trees grew their songs were quiet.
After the afternoon of travel, they set camp; the fires constructed an hour before the sun would set. Along the perimeter of the camp, the Gringotts team went to work at keeping the alcove safe for the night as the cook progressed in making dinner, aided by one elf. The activity appeared to exhaust Bill as sweat dripped down his face by the time they had finished. When the time for dinner had come, he sat near one of the further removed fires accompanied by his regular partners, and his new additional friend.
"So, Harry. How did you get a beautiful young elf to follow you around?" The dumb redhead asked. A wide smile across his face, his eyes holding the semblance of insanity. It was a look he had seen on the younger twins of this family before they would ruin his day by poisoning him or making his class late. He saw it plain enough to avoid it, but his housemates would treat him horribly if he alone escaped from the embarrassment. Better to take the embarrassment and pain and move on, then become a greater outsider.
"I used horrible, and quite illegal, dark magic to chain her soul to me, reducing her to an object that I could control at any moment," Harry spoke the truth, focusing on holding in his emotion as Albus had instructed. He noticed how tired his friends appeared after the day of travel, something he had yet to notice on his self. Charlie was the best off, however, the duo of cursebreakers had an additional task beyond Charlies.
"Are you serious," the younger Weasley gave him the familiar look, fear. Harry matched his eyes and went to speak before a hand slapped his shoulder, cutting off the attempt.
"Are you that much of an idiot, Charlie," the elder Weasley chastised, "this is Harry, I doubt he could do something that cruel. He is a kind boy, unlike you. He could never do something like that." Bill acted surprisingly motherly. The glances that Cepheus gave caused to wonder if he shared Bill's feeling on the subject. Did Bill forget he could kill; had killed?
"Or perhaps, unlike you three, Harry is interesting?" Selphie spoke in French, as opposed to the conversation being held in English. The language made her uncomfortable, perhaps despite the understanding of English, her handle on speaking it was lower than she wished to advertise.
Three of the party understood her, the other was Charlie. It was a wonder Charlie had willingly come on the trip, considering he knew almost nothing said in the passing conversations. To come on a French caravan without speaking French was the height of stupidity, a trait defining Charlie.
Harry picked at his steaming stew as the conversation turned to complain on the walk, the three boys wishing to hear reassurances of how horrible the trek was. He primarily focused on the vegetables that were not ones he had ever tasted before, the rich flavors imbued with the natural magic of the land leaped across his taste buds in a wondrous dance, with a skewer of his fork he lifted a piece of rabbit to the denizen on his shoulder, who's satisfaction with the rodent made it known that the flavors of this land were superior to those of home. Better ingredients will make better food unless your cook is bad. Then nothing will save you.
"Why did you give your toad that?" Charlie asked. It grated on Harry, the innocence and lack of social respect Charlie lived his life with. It couldn't be a product of home, considering how standout Bill was with manners, so what made the boy so inept. Then again, neither the twins nor his classmate was models in social etiquette; perhaps Bill was the exception, not the rule.
"He wanted it." Harry sipped into his broth. The rich flavor of all the foods ran warm. After a day of expending energy, to sit by a warm fire eating a wonderful stew was all he could ask for.
"Won't it kill him?"
"If Alastair dies to that, I will tell all of his species the story for the rest of time. So, I doubt he would let such a thing kill him," he replied with a scoff. For a devil such as Alastair, he would never live mortal death by choking down so long as Hell prevailed.
"You think that training a toad to tell his species he chocked to death will prevent it." Charlie had wide eyes.
"Yes."
"You are the strangest person I know."
Harry shrugged and continued eating. Dissociating himself from the conversation.
The Knight of Wands.
He lay atop his travel bed in the weird semi-silence of night. The humans were resting, and the grown elves took shifts to watch against the horrors of the night. What they were, he did not know. Only that the fey descendants feared what could come in the night. They packed his tent, intending Harry to be alone. On arrival, Nic added a ward that would add a level of soundproofing from within at the behest of his mother. She worried for him even when he was a world away.
He had written another unsendable letter to Tracy before, detailing the lengthy day of walking with as much excitement as he could without lying. Selphie, the one to share his tent, had asked what he was doing, "just processing," was his response.
He currently was "just processing," as his world spiraled more. From his cupboard to the castle, to the continent, he had traveled further than he could ever think, made friends, which he barely believed possible, and saw the genuine beauty of magic. His carefree life had almost led Harry to die, kill someone innocent, and become a slaver to a slave which now clung to him for warmth. He hated that the most, he was becoming the things he hated. A liar, a slaver, a murderer. He was evil, no doubt.
But those around him did not see. They failed to comprehend the monster he was. Nic forgave his missteps. Mother had loved him unconditionally. Bill would smile at him, and Cepheus would stand him atop an impossible pillar. Even Selphie Silverleaf saw him as a paragon; which he would never understand.
Harry let his hand rest upon her cheek as he turned to her, the touch sparking a smile in her dreaming state. What had he done to deserve her love? Is that what she felt or was she tricked by the bond he made, no… forced her into? The dusk passed with him staring at that innocent face until eventually, he joined her in a dreamless night.
A night that failed to bring dreams.
The Knight of Wands.
The sun rose and sank, then repeated twice over. Each held a letter written regarding the events, and each became progressively more boring. Some evening's he would spar against his master, a failing dance every time, but the activity brought joy to most of the bystanders, so Harry could at least do that.
His swings had a strength that confused him. Matching and surpassing one who had trained years in the art of sword fighting in a contest of strength despite his malnourished form. He could move just the ever bit faster than the man as well. Despite the advantage, he would pick himself up from the ground, bruised and battered and disarmed every bout.
Other than meaningless entertainment, he was useless.
Walking in the group showed the value he brought to the table, nothing. He was useless luggage, unable to aid anyone in the current task. More and more the question remained, why did he come, what purpose did Nic have of him here?
Foresters gathered food. Dragon handlers beat back beast. Cursebreakers warded camp and broke at traps. The cook cooked, and the mercenaries watched.
With these thoughts, they made camp.
A foreboding cloud had settled on the camp. As the night began it brought with it tension so palpable a knife could cut it. The woods had screamed here, wishing to be free of malice and chains, free from the unlife they suffered, but more so it called to Harry of danger. With the light of a candle, he worked in his journal.
Dear Tracy,
Another day has passed and the tree's become more cursed. They still sprout as a tree would, but they hold a rot which I cannot heal nor see. It pains me to see them like this, downtrodden and hurting. Every breath is full of miasma so dense I could choke.
I did not practice with Master Fanucci tonight. Something about the place we are being especially dangerous. I haven't seen anything, nothing has tried to kill us yet, beyond class one creatures, so I wonder what he means.
Bill and Cepheus always complain about how tired they are, of us only Charlie and I don't. I feel wonderful at the end of these days like I could walk another full day without rest. Even Nic can walk it, and he is really old. Others in the group are closer to Bill and Cepheus, however.
I miss you even with new friends, you will always be my first.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter.
What day is it?
Turning, Selphie is already asleep, well aware of his nightly routine. Alastair had left to sit in the trees above as a different beast as if he feels the crushing pressure as Harry does and wishes to not be caught by surprise.
He lay but does not close his eyes, gripping his means of attack and defense.
Morning comes with the rising sun.
The Knight of Wands.
This continues for days as they walk, with the discontent being near palpable surrounding him, warning him to turn back and flee. Already he has walked into a monster's den. Its walls were closing on them.
He turned to his deck, with a quick shuffle and draw, he pears into the card. He needed to see what his current present contained.
A heart plunged by three swords as a storm blows around.
A warning, a sign of bad thing to come, exhort cation.
Tracking days here was odd. Ever since the boat had docked, he had yet to write in his journal the day of the journey, and counting forward from his last mark did nothing to aid this. It felt like the world went against the keeping of time and instead worked only in the rising and falling of the sun. He scratched his face as he finished another letter, shorter than his last. He forgot to write yesterday, and perhaps the day before, but how many he forgot to write passed him.
He still felt like a drain of resources on the company. Someone who did not belong.
Glancing at Selphie's face made him glad he was here. She was a bright spot to his every day, like The Sun so long ago.
Thump-thump
His heart audibly cried. Dread flowing through him as easily as magic.
Thump-thump
The smell of rot intensified further.
Thump-thump
Dread came through the link with Alastair, who was slow on the uptake.
Thump-thump
He drew his prepared blade and gripped his wand, yelling for Selphie.
Thump-thump
He heard cries from the Elven watch, the horrible fact that none of the locals spoke a primary language with the crew finally dawned its cruel hand. He pushed off from his roommate and stood firm at the entrance of the tent. She tried brushing away the sleep from her eyes, nothing of her being ready for that moment.
For when they spoke of the undead attacking, no one understood the warning.
The Knight of Wands.
"Stay," he commanded the girl as he stepped from their tent. Fire had taken the form of spells cast from the awoken group as man and elf went to battle against the hoard of walking dead that arrived. The forest screamed in pain and warning to him, asking for aid but telling him to run. He could help. This is something he could do.
Harry went to speak, but a hand cut his throat.
He swung at his attacker as he choked but faltered at the face. The kind face stroked his cheek and stared at him with warm eyes, "Abe told me; you cannot command them here. It would raise too many questions, none of which would go in your favor," He took a small stone, marked in silver lines, and flipped it to Harry, who grasped it in his wanded left hand. "You remember Incendio, it works well here. When you cast, use your own magic, not the world's. Keep her safe." Nic ran to join the primary group, defending against a monster.
Said monster was cruel, its blade was a match for Harry's master, and it fended off spells with ease, twisting and turning and chanting on its own as its undead army supported it.
It was beautiful. A true dance of magic and skill displayed in the red and orange light. The forest sang a hymn of sadness and regret, of trouble and remorse, wishing for freedom. These things enslaved the world around them, they were nothing like Martin. They wished to harm, to kill, to enslave.
A few of the beast supporters were Elven, though a majority wore the flesh of men. Each draped in magic like a dark cloak around, protection from most things that could harm. A beast army marched with them, rabbits and snakes and birds struck the nearest sign of life, a term that failed to apply to them.
A dead rabbit came for him, the empty chasm that once housed intestines an oddity, but the head was quickly removed with a flash of silver, rendering it back to death. Blood failed to cling to the blade, already coagulated inside the animated corpse. A bird came down next, and he trusted Nic's words.
"Incendio." His magic flooded to his wand arm as he did the reversed motion they taught him. From his core, it ran with a heavy current, passing through the stone Nic had thrown Harry and into his trusted yew wand.
From the white tip of his wand, a fire screamed. Unfamiliar to the cheerful yellow the flames would normally take instead a deep red flashed with a burning desire to devour. It struck the swooping bird and continued past it, lighting the tree above, which cried out in pain into his mind, adding to the already crying forest. Cutting the spell, he nearly dropped the stone as it burned in his hand.
The bird was no more. Nor was there a sign it had ever been.
Alastair came as an owl and killed a snake which attacked from his side. Harry did not even flinch away, trusting the imp to keep him safe.
More of the undead hoard came for him, but their movements were slow and simple to counter. Compared to the flash of his master, the slow trickle of animated bodies were nothing to his sword which glowed with the orange light of the fire.
"What is a boy like you doing in a place like this?" The voice was smooth and low, coming from everywhere and nowhere, driving a stake into his soul. To this he was prey. It saw him in the same way Harry saw its hoard. Its very word hummed with the flow of magic, a powerful promise of vast experience.
Perched in the same tree Harry had attacked was another Daywalker. Male in shell with an aura thicker than the one being fended off by a small army. It had experienced much life, and even Harry withholding the barrier from his eyes revealed no truth in the undead's own. It had a cruel grin that promised death to all who witnessed it.
Harry could not die.
"Incendio." The spell rocketed to the man in the tree, the red fires of hell flew from his wand as he held the spell for as long as he could, the slow tingle of burn crawled up his arm until the stone crumbled in his hand. The physical pain could not prepare him for what came next.
HURT.
He cut the spell with a wince. That moment unaided by whatever Nic had given him resulted in a spell like those of Hogwarts, his insides burning as foreign magic mingled with his own. The freedom of magic had been ripped away again, but hopefully, the cost of pain was life.
Alastair sent him a worried sensation but flew away for aid. If that did not do it, could he hold off enough?
"That could have worked. If you used a better spell, maybe I would have died." It came down, gracefully landing meters ahead of him, watching him as a lion in a pasture. "I do not care for you boy, I want the one behind you." Nothing marked his body, neither were his clothes mildly scorched. The spell failed to even inconvenience the thing before him.
"No," Harry stated with conviction. He swallowed with the warm taste of iron. The toxic air he breathed weakening him further.
"It was not a question." He took a step forward which Harry matched, bring the tip of his sword up. Harry would stand here. He would keep Selphie, the one who trusted him, safe.
"No." The right hook came like a blur; his sword went to match but as soon as the block met the creature's hand, the other came ripped the blade away. The Dumbledore sword lay in the dirt at his side, on the ground, unable to help. The creature continued past him, going for his tent, only seconds from its target. "Stop," Harry's cool voice commanded. In that moment many of the vampires misfortunately met their death, unable to do anything to counter the command which came, though two still moved.
"Necromancer," the one before him bared its disgusting fangs, still dripping in the blood of something. Its eyes which once glistened playfully glittered with hate, "this will be your end. You hold no power over me." It came to him with unparalleled speed, bringing with it death. Nic had to be coming, he knew what Harry had done. That he would not disobey without reason. Nic would save him.
The gap nearly closed. His death came nearer and nearer. Harry lifted his wand but knew he did not have the time to say the words 'I krísi tou íliou' that he had heard so long ago from a man who tried to kill him.
It was upon him. Death came from the right again, a blow he blocked with his wanded wrist, matching side with the mirrored side this time. The undercut left he reached with his own hand, struggling against the supernatural strength of the undead.
He had no block for a bite. Humans did not bite well, and he never trained for this. The head struck but stopped only short of his exposed jugular. A moment flashed, and a tickle reached his side, though he stared at the frozen and unmoving face before him. Letting go of the hands left them stationary, so he reached down at the tickle. The spot was warm and sticky, it also had a foreign piece of wood sticking from it at a downward angle.
Sliding from the familiar blade, he grabbed his own as he observed the unmoving body with a sword of wood peeking from its chest. Picking up the goblin forged silver, he swung it level to the ground, meeting no resistance in the swing. The rekilled body dropped like a puppet without strings as he cleaned his blade on the traveling cloak. "Thank you for the intrusion," he said to the tall form shrouded in shadow and flame.
"I did not do it for you," her impersonal voice responded, reclaiming the weapon from its impromptu sheath.
"I know, I still thank you." He re-sheathed his blade. "Can you help them; I need to lie down." He felt dizzy as his hand returned to his side. The wetness had grown and his wrist cried with every twist.
"Keep her safe."
"Always."
The Knight of Wands.
So, I wrote a fight scene. The first in a long time. How is it? What can I do better?