OathBlade (Wattys2015)

22. Slowing Heart*

Nothing could be done about the burnt remains of the corpses left behind. Long would they remain, until the grass overtook them.

With few molner left alive the company had no choice but to walk. Isandel took his half-seryn form and walked beside Elery. "Your wound has not closed."

"I've nothing to bandage it," she said. "It will clot on its own—"

He stopped and gripped her hand. "There's no need for that."

The other knights passed her as she came to a stop. She jerked softly against his grip.

Isandel reached out with his free hand and gripped her chin. He quirked his lips, amusement shining bright in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" She tried to lean back to break contact. This only prompted him to tug her arm and draw her forward.

He leaned in close. The heat of his breath spilled across the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes and tried to jerk away again, but his grip was absolute.

Warmth encompassed the wound and her face heated to rival the smoldering embers behind them. The eye not blinded with blood opened as he licked against the wound, then clamped his lips around it before pulling back to give a rumbling, inhuman purr.

She stumbled back. Her hand jerked free because, this time, he allowed it. "How dare you touch me so!" She drew her blade, then caught her reflection.

The wound was clean and no longer bleeding. The skin, though still split, looked to be stitched together with a white scab.

"What is this...?" she whispered.

Isandel merely chuckled and walked away, swinging his tail behind him.

Elery reached up and touched the wound. The scab was smooth, sealed closed with some foreign matter. Her discomfort from his touch dissipated as gratitude nudged its way in. She took a hesitant step forward, then took up stride again to keep up with the rest of the group.

They didn't reach the broken Lyewryn gates until late into the night. No one was left in the city to light the lanterns. The streets, once inviting and beautiful, lay abandoned before them. Dual sensations of relief and displeasure coursed through Elery's body and she pushed all thought of Isandel's strangeness from her mind. There were more important things to worry about.

"What would you have us do now, M'lady?" a knight asked.

"See that the townspeople make it safely through the pass to Ortuna's Bastion. They may be some distance ahead by now. Be as swift as you can." She sat on the stoop in front of one shop and rested her face in her hands.

"We should not stop," Isandel said.

Elery glared up at him through her finger. "Would you kindly shut your mouth, dragon? We've quelled the threat for now and I think we all deserve a moment's breath in peace."

"You've staunched the attack for now," he corrected. "She will now begin building an army of even greater strength, and she come upon this land like a smith's hammer against hot metal. We've plenty of time to idle on the ship to Ildaugh pass. Do not rest on your victory, thinking you've made a difference."

"I'm afraid he's right," Zethir said. "Seryn die each day and not all can be found and burned. Lycar as well. The longer we wait, the more bodies we deliver into her ranks."

"You've more to concern yourself with than lycar and seryn, I assure you," Isandel said. "Or have you forgotten what the lycar woman told you? Far more rests beyond your knowledge. Creatures who dwell in the depths." He looked up. "And in the sky."