Swords of Gilded Crimson

Chapter 14 | A Battle of Urges |

Without waiting any longer, Odeir commenced his work. The first bullet flew under the command of his forefinger driving down the trigger. It was sent hurtling towards Geralder in unstoppable motion; gaining momentum by the second. I watched as it entered the one metre mark away from him, and launched my own defence.

Except, I couldn't.

Kymil's shroud of darkness fought to pull any power emanating from the golden reiner back towards the concealment of the shadows, the sheer tenebrosity of them casting a veil over any gold that may have lit up this tent. I whipped my head towards him, fighting to breach through them, but to no avail. One simple message coursing through the stronghold of his darkness, was the only result of my efforts- 'It's too late.'

From there, all I could do was watch. Watch the dooming bullet pierce through the leaden air of the tent, until it pierced through our friend. I heard the penetration of his fighting leathers before I saw it.

Geralder cried out in a small whimper at the impact, but his eyes flickered to where I still stood, hidden. One final smile grew on his face; a comforting one, as his body was sent staggering backwards, to the point where he finally fell fully limp, yielding to the bullet of ash now wedged through his chest. But he was still held in position in those damned shackles. The chains on him gave a final rattle, at the impact, until his eyelids were at last allowed to drop.

Nikolai cried out in outrage at Odeir, while Adrien barked orders to find Eleodor.

But, I couldn't move. I felt my knees buckle, then my hands shake with tremors, at this surge of guilt, regret... desolation. I hadn't been enough. I'd underestimated the length the Luxandrians could go to, and now Geralder had paid for it, and to think, all because I'd been so pathetically incompetent.

The only one amongst our army that had never shied away from expressing emotion at first instinct. The only one of us who'd retained that innate sense. He'd joined us in an eager attempt to use the opportunity of this war to show Kymil and Felisse the extent of his abilities.

The image of his one last smile would never leave me. I sensed the shadows still surrounding me also wilt in their shape and size, and I figured this same loss ran over Kymil.

Finally the High Lord stepped into the tent, clad in the entirety of his fighting leathers and armour, despite the time of night. 'You did it,' he murmured to Odeir by way of greeting, eyes still a little wide at the dead body that still hung in those poisoned chains.

'A Tenebrian life, for a Tenebrian life,' was Odeir's only response, as he once again upraised the tattoo of the three bands on his forearm.

Any bargain made in the Court of Day would represent itself as a tattoo on those who'd initiated it, and only disappear once it was complete. But since it was made with the High Lord of the Day Court, the tattoo would only appear on Odeir, making him the only reference to the progress of the bargain. So, we awaited for one of the bands to vanish away, as one third was now complete.

Only... it didn't.

Nikolai, Adrien and Eleodor waited a few more minutes, before the chaos begun.

'The two of you saw it with your own eyes,' Odeir was quick to assert the deed before anyone.

Adrien in response, went to check if Geralder was truly dead. But I knew he was; we could all feel it like the witnessing of a soldier fallen to a ruby-red terrain of the battlefield.

'There is no pulse,' Adrien concluded upon inspection of his neck.

'Who was this soldier of yours, Odeir?' Eleodor spoke next, turning to his uncle, perplexity at the situation evident in his eyes.