The Witch's Cursed Daughter

102. Friend Or Foe

A gentle breeze whisked through Voster's auburn hair as he opened his eyes and watched the stampede of men grow closer. Their voices had become ear-splitting; it felt as if they were already in close quarters. Refusing to make eye contact with Julian, who he could feel boring a hole into the back of his skull, the Mage lifted his right hand, letting it glow. The tender light was warm enough to make his palms sweat; his mind raced with warnings and defiant thoughts, wishing he could walk away.

Every muscle in his body clenched as he braced to use such immense magic. His features relaxed to the point where his fine skin was left expressionless as he mumbled, "May you fly with the Myrdes and watch over us all."

Then he activated the magic. A sound similar to a mirror smashing resonated deafeningly as if the glass was inside the heads of everyone present. The fighting became stagnant as soldiers battled through the tremendous noise between their ears. Many men turned in the direction they assumed the sound came from, only to be faced with nothing. The knights and guards, Mages and soldiers, all found their attention on the peaceful, empty and quiet courtyard. The ground covered in blood and rainwater had solidified - the surface was so smooth that the sky, the bodies, and what remained of the building were reflected like a mirror.

Pausing to take in the results of his actions, Voster violently threw his head to the side, following with his body, almost as if the force of it allowed him to move. Feeling a cold crushing sensation emanate from his finger, the Mage looked at his hand in time to watch his mother's ring shatter into pieces and fall to the ground. Staring at the remains by his feet, Voster was reminded of his power's name, Elixir, but there was no undoing what had just happened, no remedy for such barbaric magic. Managing to turn his back to the silent courtyard, Voster headed towards the last area where swords were clashing. A majority of Imperial Knights had dropped their weapons at the sight of Voster. His image as he turned around, hands shaking, every inch of his skin glowing as his magical energy burned after taking life, and the tears streaming down his cheeks, made him seem unnaturally cruel and pitiful simultaneously.

Voster lifted his head towards Evianna, who watched him through the Myrde's violet eyes as he stepped through the crowd. Water welling in his own, the bird's brilliant white reflection danced on his pupils caged in by his irises.

"Thank you, Voster."

The Mage heard Julian, uneasy and regretful. Cielo had flown down, returning Julian to the earth; however, Voster kept walking.

He replied, "Your Highness," with a nod, emotion absent from his voice. Wading through frozen men who watched, fearful of the all-powerful Mage who destroyed an entire army single-handedly, Voster moved in the direction of Wen and the princess.

***

Romile was hurriedly scraping through piles of rubble and ash when the symphony of war cries suddenly ceased. He paused, wondering if his hearing had become impaired; however that seemed unlikely since the sound of the gems crushing against golden walls was sharp and stomach-twisting. Unable to spare the time to double-back and grasp the situation happening in battle, Romile inched forward, slowly searching for evidence that Davore was alive.

As he came to a once-white pillar, died grey with smoke from the fires lit through the night, on its side, Romile heard an almost silent grunt. It sounded close yet far at the same time. After following the sound, he found himself before an empty area beneath where the walkway once existed.

"Davore?" Romile called out, careful not to be loud enough to draw external attention.

The grunting sound grew louder; there were no words in reply, but Romile could recognize the female Mage's unenthusiastic tones in an instant. Leaning down, Romile closed his eyes, pressing his ear against the rock under his feet. Again he shouted her name, hearing a muffled response through the cracks in the rock.

Returning to his feet, Romile chewed his lip as he examined the barrier between them. Although it was not evident at first glance, this section of floor was a wall that had fallen outwards, covering a hole made at some point, probably during Evianna's transformation. Searching around the edge of the stonework, Romile found a pile of smaller blocks and moveable bricks.

Pushing and digging until there was a gap the size of his head, Romile panted slightly as he said, "Are you in there?"

"What took you so long?" came Davore's voice. Her words were arrogant and brash; however, Romile could tell she was glad of his arrival from the tone.

Holding in a chuckle, Romile stood and drew his blade. "Well, I had a couple of urgent tasks to complete before coming, so forgive me," he declared. Holding his sword tip to the section just before the opening, Romile sent his aura through the metal to sit delicately on the point. Such control was exhausting and required a lot of patience, which was becoming increasingly tricky as Davore continued to utter abuse at his late appearance. Drowning out her ramblings with the sound of crumbling stone, Romile focussed on singeing the horizontal wall, making the hole much larger.

After several minutes of tortuous concentration, Romile released his aura, allowing it to writhe about freely as a reward for its hard work. He collapsed onto what seemed like a bench created from debris as he waited on Davore emerging from the pit beneath the ground. Along with the sound of her uneasy footsteps, the click-clack of a recognisable tread accompanied her. As Davore's mousy-coloured hair raised into the sour air, a pair of black tipped ears followed behind.

"Still alive," Romile cheered happily as he rushed towards them.

"Barely," Davore replied, clutching her broken wrist, which had grown considerably worse, "I didn't think you would be so glad."

Romile walked straight past her and threw his arms around the horse's neck, "I was talking to Saryne."

Davore blushed and turned her face away from Romile, hobbling in the direction of the battle. "I heard a second set of shouts. Did reinforcements arrive?"

"Yes, but they suddenly became quiet," Romile explained as he brushed off Sayne's back, "I was too busy looking for you to find out why."

"Thank you," Davore said, expressing a genuine appreciation to Romile for the first time since their re-acquaintance.

Pausing for a moment, uneasy with the gentle atmosphere between them, Romile blurted, "It was His Imperial Highness's request."

"I see," Davore answered, a smile crossing her lips. Romile wondered what that smile meant. Noticing his cheeks become hotter, he decided to prepare Saryne to be ridden as she had no injuries. "I wonder why they fell silent. It's not as if they just disappeared," the Mage queried.

Romile began to laugh, but a feeling of dread swiftly choked the humour from Davore's words. An army could disappear; Voster was capable of that. However, Julian would never ask that of him. He couldn't.