Arc 2: Chapter 18: Scion
When the binding had been complete, I collapsed to one knee. My vision swam, split, tilted — I had to suppress the urge to vomit.
Lost too much damn blood.
I felt a strong hand grasp me under one arm. Kross. He helped lift me, and after a short time I managed to get the world back in one piece. A silence followed as we stared at the gnarled oak, and the black-armored warrior fused to its trunk.
“That…” The knight-exorcist stared in wonder at the tree, breaking the quiet. “What is that?”
“Malison Oak,” I said, wincing as I made the mistake of flexing the fingers of my right hand. “The elves use them in their sanctuaries to trap curses. This one was restructured into a weapon, given a binding rite.”
“A dark thing,” Kross noted.
Before I could answer, a furious yell drew my attention. I realized the rest of the battle had ended as well — I’d almost forgotten there had been a small war around us. When he’d fallen into dormancy, Orley’s hellhounds and infernal steed had melted into tar, which pooled in evil, hissing little puddles here and there.
Nearly half of Brenner Hunting’s retinue had been slaughtered before I’d managed to subdue the Scorchknight. More were wounded. The mauled, burned corpses of soldiers and war chimera still smoked where they lay. Others had been badly wounded, some mortally, and their cries mixed with a fresh batch of falling snow. A terrible blow to the fiefdom’s martial strength.
My eyes went to Lord Hunting himself. Brenner dismounted his kynedeer in a rush, all but sprinting to the body of his fallen son. I cannot describe the look on his face — a father’s grief. That says enough. He dropped to his knees, heedless of his armor, and let out an almost animal sound as he stared at the face of his son. I could not see it from a distance, still helmed as it was, but the boy was too still. Orley’s spear remained embedded in his chest, just below the throat.
I could have saved him. I’d been close enough to attack Orley in that moment. Only, it would have stalled my binding, and possibly lost us the battle.
Possibly. I clenched my jaw and brushed Kross off. “I’m fine,” I told him. I looked for Emma, and found her staring at Brenner and Hendry rather than at her defeated foe. She took a hesitant step forward, swallowed, then started marching toward them.