Destiney of the Sword God

Chapter 12 - The Spearman's Antics

The dusty road wound its way through the forest, fading shadows dancing between gnarled trunks in the dappled dawn. Water skins long emptied, the battered fellowship leaned upon one another as battered legs ambled onwards.

Yet even exhaustion could not dim the fire kindled within at memories of shadowy cliffs awash in primal cinders. They had met chaos incarnate and banished it from these shores, sending its death knell winging to nourish fledgling hopes. By ordeals witnessed together was their bond forged unbreakable, shielding hearts against any darkness yet to come.

Breaking from leafy bowers, the gates of their kingdom swam into focus through mists of weariness and elation alike. But upon stone battlements stood silhouetted sentinels swift to spread glad tidings - for as one, the town erupted in raucous cheers carrying swiftly on freshening breezes.

Clunking gates grudgingly groaned open to release celebration's flood, dousing the famed heroes in its warmth. Where upon mountainsides they contended with primordial forces alone, now their names would be enshrined in bardic epics for all ages. Beneath Interlaced flower petals borne on outstretched hands, the warband walked onto streets awash in awe and delirium.

Republic sunlight gilding voyagers stained with victory, Elia and Rowan exchanged a private smile. Their homecoming kiss sweetened further by love profound and shared sacrifice, all bitterness of past trials gently shucked away like Autumn's fallen glories. Now awaited but brighter festivals, as a kingdom broke bread together dancing healing years to come in honor of guardians who ensured their coming. For by challenges met through empathy and valor, had a new day's first blossoms been seeded across their realm. Crimson banners curled lazily upon evening zephyrs as celebrants piled the castle's wide courtyard. Long trestle tables bowed under bounty testifying to seasons saved by implacable dedication; honeyed pastries and succulent game saw scant attendance amid merriment's rising swell.

For this was a night to purge all trials past from mind and body alike. Jugglers tossed flaming batons weaving heavenward myths while minstrels plucked spirited reels carrying hard-won hopes. Ale flowed ceaselessly as maidens wove colorful dances through gravel paths strewn with flower petals, their laughter pure elixir against remembered shadows.

Within these throes, Rowan spied Elia's aureate halo glinting amid the tide. Stealing close through whirling bodies awash in wine and song, he claimed her hand in gentle greeting turning hearts as one. By empathies kindled through ordeals shouldered together as shields against any darkness, their bond grew stronger yet more silken than any bard's lay might convey.

Despite humble origins, this night saw them celebrated alongside legendary heroes of sovereignty's golden age. All present understood seneschal knights risen against ebon primordial certainties, appearing from that crucible clasping not vengeance but infinite potential. This bountiful harvest and its festivities were seeded in blood freely spilled under moonlit cliffs ringing with death knells and birth songs alike, now eternally interwoven.

For through challenges braved not as discrete beings but in sacred union, heroes ensured this kingdom's enduring ascendance. With love and fellowship as lanterns illuminating their way even through blackest mire, any shadows they might yet face would only nourish bright future growth for their beloved home and people. This was a night not simply to remember victory but recognize hope's eternal blossoming. The lovers swayed gently to lilting measures, lost to cares beyond each other's embrace. But upon torchlit edges lurked one whose past regard proved shallow as any twilit pool – Cadmon prowled amid shadows for opportunity, spying Elia now freed from worshippers and well-oiled alike.

Slithering near, he claimed her hand with scant resistance and flashed a roguish smile saying naught could compare to beauty that birthed epics. Elia demurred yet politely, yet Cadmon's riposte flowed silkier than August nights drawing veils across three moons.

"Depart, knave." Rowan's simmering tone gave notice; still Cadmon only chuckled, bidding they relax amid rites duly earned. Elia withdrew tactfully with murmured thanks, seeking solace by torch song's spheres dyeing revelers scarlet and gold. But eyes yet lingered upon her radiance, glinting with intensities seldom assuaged by transient pleasures alone.

Now Rowan kept vigil, discerning lurking appetites seldom slaked by fleeting fancies. His love was flame purging all shadows, refuge where foxglove crept amid swaying forms drenched in wine and triumph alike. By her light was dark ́s dominion continually pushed back, banishing even specters haunting this night meant to blossom hope ever new. Rowan kept a watchful eye as Elia mingled, brightening every conversation with warmth and laughter. But ever Cadmon lurked at edges, insinuating himself with sighs richer than any vintage. Though Elia rebuffed advances gently yet firmly, he persisted as a burr clinging to fine velvet.

Each deflection saw renewed plea shrouded in suggestions too risqué for decorous ears, carrying the night towards less than honorable intentions. Elia retreated further into the press, yet Cadmon pursued, hounding her light like a will o' wisp leading incautious souls to doom.

Within Rowan's breast, embers smoldered seeing one dismiss boundaries in pursuit of base ends. He stormed over with barely leashed fury, finding Cadmon pressing discomfort upon Elia yet again beneath the guise of lively banter.

"Desist, villain," Rowan hissed in her ears alone. But Cadmon only flashed a predator's smile, as if her radiance was his by any right. This insult could no longer be borne - Elia was sanctuary, her soul an altar where none might profane without consent.

Tension crackled thick and deadly between them, foreshadowing a reckoning long deferred. For too long had Cadmon preyed with impunity upon kindness; this contumacy would be answered on grounds of honor, lest any others face similar degradation again., The night deepened as wine flowed freely, loosening tongues yet fraying restraints. Elia sought solace among loving allies yet still Cadmon stalked her light, emboldened by the fray.

Now unrestrained innuendos spilled from smiling lips, caressing bare shoulders and attempting to steer willing hips towards shadowy bowers away from prying eyes. Though Elia stiffened recoiling from unwanted liberties, Cadmon persisted as if her discomfort was subject merely to his fickle whims.

Rowan stood vigil, knuckles whitening upon his cup seeing hands defile what theirs was not. Rage flowed hotter than any vintage, yet for her dignity's sake violence must be foresworn – she deserved respect, not further degradation engendered by his flash of steel.

Elia attempted to slip away yet Cadmon pursued, slurring promises deemed scandalous by any. When veiled thighs were clutched too intimately, Rowan could no longer containment his fury.

With deadly calm he pried those fingers loose, bidding her come stand beneath his shield while addressing Cadmon in tones sharp as flaying knives. This degradation would not stand unanswered; tomorrow, honor would have its reckoning upon bloodstained grass where none might profane what was not theirs. Rowan encircled Elia protectively as Cadmon wavered, flush spreading upon his cheeks. Yet still he attempted bravado with a drunken grin, too sodden to perceive the danger crackling between them like pending lightning.

"Come now, is this any way to celebrate?" Cadmon's slur was cut short by Rowan's words, sharper than any blade.

"Your liberties end here, cur. No longer will she endure degradation for your so-called pleasures." Rowan's tone remained deceptively level, yet his eyes conveyed immutable conviction that this would be tolerated no more.

Cadmon blinked, comprehension dawning too late as to the precipice upon which he teetered. Yet even now, male pride stirred rebelliously at being thus chidden before witnesses.

"And who are you, farmer, to command me so?" he sneered, swaying yet finding feet. "What right have you over any maiden's -"

"The right of care, honor and fidelity," Rowan replied softly. "Qualities foreign to your kind, it seems. Now remove yourself, lest the morrow find greater teachers of respect."

Silence fell heavily as Cadmon met that flinty gaze and saw, finally, depths hitherto unknown. With a snarled curse he departed, yet all presents felt a line transgressed this night that could no longer be undrawn come sun's first light. Cadmon staggered off into shadows, gnashing teeth yet knowing challenge now would mean defeat. For Rowan stood cloaked in righteous fury, and no present thought to intervene on behalf of one whose designs held no honor.

As wine-soaked revelers swayed obliviously, Cadmon nursed wounds of pride among dark bowers festooned with twining nightshade. Scowling into his cup, displaced envy and ambitions churned within a mile of churlish resentment - for too long had she dismissed his advances, blind instead to baser qualities he took pains to conceal.

Tomorrow, upon bloody sands, she would learn the depth of mistake in spurning one whose skill with blade and spear held no equal. Let the farmer believe his place assured through tedious virtues; in the clash of steel, true mettle alone would be revealed.

Draining his cup, Cadmon grinned savagely. "Come dawn, Elia would see whom fortune truly favored - and this up jumped whelp would learn to quit overreaching, in a lesson tolled from his final breath." But for now, in shadows he nursed schemes blacker than any wine, awaiting the chase's fruition with hands already slick and greedy for the imminent kill. Rowan and Elia slipped away from the fray, seeking respite in secluded bowers lush with night-blooms. Languid harps played on, yet their thoughts wandered more somber paths, far from revelry's coarse splendor.

Breaking the stillness, Rowan spoke softly. "Forgive my fury, beloved - no hand should trespass where fealty is sworn." Elia squeezed his hands with a sad smile. "You but guarded my honor, dearest heart, as is your right."

Still a shadow fell upon private musings, for none present forgot Cadmon's parting sneer sepulchral with loathsome intents. The morrow portended a grim reckoning yet drawing Elia close Rowan found solace beyond any revel or vintage.

Her kiss soothed fears gnawing within like insatiable worm; by her light, all darkness fled. Together they sat vigil through deepening night, reflections entwined as closely as their fingers tracing soothing circles. Beyond morrow's uncertainties one truth held fast - so long as love lit their steps, no shadow might ever overcome its radiance.

Even should Cadmon insolently persist in his designs, their bond held a power greater than any blade. And no matter what happens upon the morrow, this they knew beyond all doubt. So, in her embrace Rowan found strength to face whatever Fate intertwined within their destiny, heartened by love to shield them through any trials yet to unfold.