The shade but not shades charged the forest, they moved at top speed, fingers sparkling as they prepared devastating spells, as their minds surged forward to cast them they found themselves again blocked by the boy's mental faculties. Ignoring that they charged forward, ready to kill him. Only to have the first of their number fall, followed by the second, then the third. Before dying the last saw the boy, holding a grayish black item in both his hands, smoke wafting from the hole that faced the monster's exposed chest.
Faris breathed out a sigh of relief. Then turned to look at the little girl, she was beginning to rouse from her short slumber. Luckily the rush of magic had simply knocked her out, not killed her. He watched as she rose up on shaky feet. She jerked around, looking in a panic then at Faris, who simply smiled at her and pointed his finger to his hands. "You did that."
She widened her eyes as she looked at her hands, before smiling sheepishly. She then turned to see Ventus, who was still writhing in pain, she rushed towards him, but was jerked to a stop by Faris, who shook his head and pointed toVentus. She peered over, and flinched as she noticed. The grass, trees, and even insects in the area withered and died within a 5ft radius of Ventus. She watched as his crystal glowed slightly, until the bird finally got up, healed.
Safe… She heard in her head. Faris walked over, and picked up Ventus, his face contorted into a bittersweet smile.
This is truly an ingenious use of magic, any creature that lacks the ability to defend itself mentally will be subject to the drain at all times, and thus even if your bird's injured, it will rapidly increase the drainage in a 5ft area to both deter predation and gain the energy required to heal. Tartarus dipped himself in self satisfaction. Man, I'm tied to a really smart human mage, ruthless too.
"Shut up." Faris murmured as he knelt down to the grass. It wouldn't take an expert to notice the area was now. Ventus eventually flew from the perch that was Faris's shoulder, and began to circle the area, making a perimeter to watch out for any dangers. Faris turned back to Tamera, who was quietly resting, holding out surprisingly well despite the broken legs. Though he'd have to abandon the area, and her for a short time. The longer they stayed in the area, the more danger they'd all be in. He turned to Samera, who looked at him, a mix of fear, and a bit of excitement as she glanced at her hands every few seconds. Faris turned towards the dark depressions that were the explosive remains of the shades.
Not Shades… Tartarus quipped. Faris ignored him as he walked over to Tamera and took out some sugar cubes, and one of the pain-relieving pills, he gave both to the horse, followed with a large blanket to cover her.
"I'll be back girl…" He murmured, picking up his pack and turning to the girl. "We've got your village to save…"
They followed the swordswoman down the winding staircases, their footsteps echoing on the surprisingly spacious passage down. Elva observed the men surrounding her and Angela, pensive looks on their faces as they made their way downstairs, but their nervousness was a silent one, with which the most comforting thing she could do was keep silent. That worried her, somewhat. Before they reached the bottom the young men place on masks, simple wooden masks, with round holes to show their eyes, each mask had a unique marking, which after some level of inspection represented a letter, word, or expression in the ancient language. The swordswoman held no mask as she escorted them down, and her, along with Elva, Angela, and Solembum gained stares from the people, all who were wearing masks. Elva did her best to ignore the more frivolous things being revealed, and instead got a feel for the room, no matter who she passed over, young, old, man, woman, rich, or poor, there was a feeling of resentment, doubt, and anger present in the room, not towards them, but towards the nobility. The crowd was completely silent, the only sounds being the shifting of feet on the floor or the occasional sigh or sneeze. Soon, soft footsteps, amplified by the silence, where heard as the walker behind those steps made their way to the front podium of the room. A short man,almost comically so, wearing a decorative mask carved from a white plaster and in the shape of a crow walked out unto the podium. Elva felt it only a tiny bit difficult to save from smiling as he clambered over a crate to get a relatively tall standing position, even with the podium's raised height compared to the rest of the expansive basement area.
"My fellow people…" The man began, in a soft yet deep voice, like a gentle grandfather reading a bedtime story to his grandchildren."Thank you, thank you again for putting your faith in me, and for coming today. Soon, the day of reckoning shall come, and all the nobles who looked down on us shall pay."
"They took my wife!" Someone yelled, causing the crowd to erupt into anger.
"They forcefully conscripted my children!" Another, a woman based on the voice, sobbed loudly before collapsing on the floor in grief." This action seemed to rile up the crowd even more, their anger rose even more.
The short man crossed his arms, allowing the crowd to get riled up before lifting his hand to quiet them. "Yes, their atrocities are not lost on us, even now, they fight a war, wasting valuable resources right after we had recovered from the war against Galbatorix. Weren't we promised peace and prosperity?" He paused for effect, allowing anger to enter his voice. "No! It seems that that was a promise as empty and hollow as the integrity the noble's stand by!" The crowd cheered him on as he continued. "I have three things of note to bring forth to your attention! First! We have a new brother! And a sacrifice to go along with it!" The audience cheered. "And second! I'm sure most of you are worried about how we plan to stand against Surda, and eventually against the Brodring kingdom. No one answered.
Elva felt great fear and apprehension take their minds, where the high of his speech had brought them before, the weight of reality brought them massive discomfort.
The man continued, confident as ever, "We aren't doomed at all, quite the contrary, in fact, you can even say we've been blessed with the greatest of allies." He turns. Two figures are brought before him. One, an old man, crippled and made hideous beyond repair, missing one arm all the way to a tiny nub over the elbow, and missing 2 fingers and his thumb on his other arm. His face, scarred and disfigured, and one of his eyes missing. Two men stood at his side, their masks different from the rest of the crowd, but different from the leader's, they had mouse like wooden masks as they stand gently next to the man. They are contrasted by another pair of tall men wearing similar mouse-like masks who were viciously holding the second figure tightly. Whoever he was, he used to be handsome, but most of his face was marred by ugly bruises, all of which were very recent, his torn clothes were in disrepair, but traces of the noble fineries they used to be riled up rage and fear in the crowd. Lord Tasseton was the local noble left in charge whilst Orrin and the rest of the nobles toured the wall alongside the army. He was meticulous in his work, but extremely ruthless, often dealing with those who committed crimes and misdemeanors with a heavier hand than most other nobles would, his son, Conrad, on the other had was a vain boy with an ugly heart. He was a known womanizer, and more than several farmer's daughters where unable to be married due to him. Unfortunately the farmers couldn't condemn the son or seek recompense, many of them had committed minor crimes and misdemeanors in their youth or even in adult years. The weight of these crimes, many of which they had continued to pay for, where waived for their silence, because of that, only three families ever came forward decrying Conrad for his crimes, of those three families, the family heads of two lost their right hands, as was Lord Tasseton's standard handling of recurring thieves, and of one, he was executed for the crime of trespassing on the lord's grounds during the hunt, which he had done so by accident in his youth. Elva gleaned all that in an instant the second he was revealed to the crowd, as well as the great amount of hatred directed towards the lord's son.
"Josep was a simple stable hand, he was a loyal retainer of Tasseton for years. Then Tasseton's son, Conrad, seduced and betrayed his daughter. Josep was thrown in prison for crimes he never committed, and was brutally tortured. His wife and daughter died, of 'Mysterious REASONS'." The leader's voice rose in anger, "We all know the truth! And we are no longer alone! Our allies outside the walls feel our plight! And they've come to help us!" This was met with murmurs of excitement and confusion.
Outside the walls?
But that's the golden horde?
We've been helping a foreign army?
Elva ignored their fearful thoughts, her mind racing as two more individuals came out of the darkness, they were covered in dark robes that were so long they dragged across the floor, whilst their bodies under the robe was vaguely humanoid, their heads, covered in extremely large hoods, seemed huge and misshapen, taking an odd shape with two large points at the corners and several more seemingly poking the inside of the fabric. She looked on with confusion, and worry, they didn't have weaknesses, or at least, much like Angela, she couldn't sense their fears or pain. She glanced at Angela, who's light smile was completely gone, switched to a look of absolute discomfort. Elva turned back towards the two figures, the tallest of the two slowly removing his hood. She couldn't help but feel her heartbeat speed up as the crowd began to gasp.
The first figure, the taller one, was a man, an extremely beautiful looking man with an almost androgynous looking face, skin an extremely dark blue like a starless sky, and eyes of gold. From his slightly angled eyes and long lashes to his elegant slightly curved nose, his face was almost like a hawk or eagle given human appearance. His most discerning traits where his ears, long and pointed, like an elf's, and the two elk-like horns that jutted from his forehead. His golden eyes swept the room, glowing with a mix of some internal magic, and highlighted against his black sclera. He opened his elegant mouth, and his words spilled out like a sweet ichor, causing all those who heard him to tingle all over.
"You who have all suffered under the negligence of the riders and elves..." The being slowly blinked his eyes, tears welling. "You truly have mine kin's pity, and our promise to align ourselves with, heal, and ultimately help free your people." He smiled gently as he turned towards the crippled man. He began to chant, not in the ancient language in Elva's surprise, but in another language all together. He extended his hand towards the crippled man, a gold light falling upon the old man. Elva noticed his horns glowed as he chanted. The crowd gasped as the cripple was suffused with this gold light, which obscured his form. Eventually the light faded, and a normal, albeit aged, man with a slightly scruffy beard looked at them all, wonder and tears on his face as he touched his face and legs.
"I-I" He looked at the foreign, horned man standing before him, who's face continued to ooze compassion. "Thank you…" Tears fell freely as he wept. The horned man continued to smile as he helped the former cripple up.
"Arise… Josep, there is much to be done, I have only done little, you all are the true heroes, surviving all that injustice." He turned to the rest of the people, his eyes alighting for a split second when they landed on Solembum, before looking away. "My people and I from the Golden Horde seek the destruction of the cruel system the nobles placed forward, and for the liberation of humanity." He smiled brightly. He turned to his companion, who took out a bundle, opening it to reveal several tiny blades that glowed in an iridescent, sickly green light. "These weapons are to help in your fight, they will give you the ability to face down even mages." He smiled sagely, turning towards his companion before the two of them began to leave as they came. Once more he looked to his side, but did not see Solembum, his smile grew wider as he placed his hood back over.
Elva using her abilities knew exactly which group to appear in front off, and how often they needed to move forward, back, and to the side to avoid the attention of those around them, they needed to leave quickly, Solembum, who had returned to his werecat form was lashing his tail in agitation, and in fear. She turned to Angela, who's face betrayed no expectations, but from the way her hand tapped the case to her side, which held the Dwarven Double sword, she knew Angela was as tense as she was. As they cleared the room, and made it upstairs, Elva allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Only to choke up again, Angela did not skip a beat as she pulled out a brew, after drinking it she shouted some words in the ancient language, and the three of them disappeared from sight.
Two hooded figures entered the area, eyes glowing in the darkness, one gold, another iridescent, sickly green. They began to converse with each other in a language unknown to any inhabitants of Alagaesia, not the common tongue of the humans, not the language of the Surdan Desert Tribes, not the Dwarven speech, and not the Ancient Language. Eventually, the taller of the hooded figures flicked his fingers, and he and his companion turned to leave. An hour later, Elva finally pinched Angela, and she ended the spell, allowing them to reappear. Angela looked drained as she turned to Elva. "Follow them."
Elva narrowed her eyes, but ultimately nodded, she was the only one capable of tailing them and getting away. Solembum took to her side. "Angela, I'll meet you back in the inn, get rest, and don't look for me, I'll come to you." Angela didn't nod, she simply flicked her fingers, doing her best to keep from trembling in exhaustion. Elva and Solembum slowly followed after the mysterious individuals.