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Everan would stalk him obsessively, no matter where in Protheka he ventured.
And that’s when I notice that he’s favoring his left side. In his posture, I can see that he’s putting less pressure on his right leg and guarding his stomach with his right arm.
Somehow, in spite of all the spectacle, all the magic he conjured to his defense, he was injured badly in the fight.
My right arm tenses up as his claws draw ever closer to my throat. I feel his posture change, his head turning down to look at me.
This might be my only opportunity.
I throw my shoulder backward, swinging my arm hard into his torso. If I’m wrong, this could be the end of my life.
In tempo, I lower my head, breaking my left knee’s stance to bring my body down with it. His claws move to cut into my throat, but too late. I’ve already lowered myself to the dirt, sweeping into his right leg with mine.
I can end this now, I think. I feel the hilt of the elven dagger on my waist as he crashes to the ground behind me. I reach for the dagger, turning around before realizing that Everan has already teleported away.
“Where did he go?” I ask Zyranth urgently.
Zyranth shakes his head, exhaling in frustration.
“He can’t have gotten far,” he says. “Come out and face us, you coward!”
“I’m no coward.”
His voice hisses in the wind, which now crescendos, rapping into us with sticks and fallen debris. He seems close to us, but far in the distance at the same time, almost as though he’s speaking to us through the wind.
“Then show yourself!” Zyranth yells, more insistently.
There’s a hush in the wind, as for a moment, the storm dies down.
“If you insist,” Everan says coldly before the wind picks up at a single point, near the pond.
I turn my head to look, and to my horror, see the gales all converging at one location, forming the outline of a humanoid. The figure is tall, with familiar dark hair and jagged edges, its fingers barely visible hues of the rainbow, where rings once adorned elven fingers.
What I see is the figure of Lord Everan, who, in a desperate move, has bound himself to the elements.
“Face it,” Lord Everan’s enchanted form says, its voice still resonating somewhere within the wind. “You’ve lost.”
Zyranth charges in furiously, swinging his claws every which way. He makes contact, proving that Everan has not parted from his physical form. But the damage seems lessened somehow.
Everan’s gliding, levitating figure spins around Zyranth, his eyes hovering just above mine.
“Tell me, dear girl,” Everan hisses. “What could this majestic beast really offer you?”
I grab my dagger and hurl it in his direction, but with his increased mobility, he easily swings out of the way.
“You’re just holding him back from his true destiny, you know,” Everan says smugly.
“And what, pray tell, is my ‘true destiny?’”
Zyranth bounces forward on his hind legs and grabs Everan’s arm, biting down. But Everan just swings his hand forward, throwing Zyranth off with little effort. Zyranth collides with a Typhe tree, ripping its roots from the soil on impact.
“Your destructive capabilities are magnificent,” Everan says, smiling. “Have I not flattered you enough?”
Zyranth stares, picking himself up from the ground, a maddened expression on his face.
“Do you think you’ll have horrifying children and ride off into the night together?” Everan asks, amused. “One day, dear lady, this creature is going to devour y –”
I throw another dagger from my holster to shut him up, hoping to catch him off guard.
