the Endless Warrior - part 6
a prompt based fiction
Bright.
Warm.
A gentle breeze.
Damp grass between my toes.
A soft hand in mine.
There she is. Seeing her in the sun for the first time, she’s golden and glowing. Her smile cuts deeper than anything else ever has. She’s even more beautiful in the daylight. Her vibrant white curls, her long white lashes blinding against her deep black eyes speckled with starlight, her perfect round face framing her soft nose, cheeks, and lips. Oh her lips. I could never dream to hold as much power as they do. To contain her smile, shape her words, crease in concentration, to open up and release her gorgeous laugh. And her hands. Her strong, stable, capable hands, worn soft and smooth with use. Her skill with a sword in one hand, her sacrifice made plain in the other. Her hands and feet connecting to her powerful and controlled limbs, to her sturdy yet balanced form, extended out to her ever brilliant wings, whiter than the rays of the sun.
Her mouth moves, but I hear nothing over the sound of my heart beating, pumping the warmth of my blood beneath my skin.
Her face hardens, glare sharp enough to break through the spell she cursed me with.
“Can you hear me, Loic?”
“I can hear you, Alloea.” I can help but smile.
“Good. If you could lead the way back to Pique, I would much appreciate it as my hand is beginning to realize its loss, and tis not happy.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course! This way.”
My feet push the world far beneath me and my wings stretch out for a moment before propelling me up and through the air. I can hear Alloea follow my movements. To think that this sky had once been consumed by a deep, stormy darkness feels so far removed. The heat of the sinking sun, casting its honey glow across the hills and onto the clouds. The air is light and lifting, giving the freedom to soar and allow my limbs to finally rest. I almost doze off, blanketed in the warm breeze, but a gust of cold reminds me why we’re here.
Pique looks far different from what I recall of it. It could be due to the sun behind it, but it appears larger, brighter, more full of life, from when I last left. If I had any doubts in my mind that what Loic said was true, they are discarded now. I have been gone for so long, but still, I have completed what I set out to do.
My fingers ache from such an accomplishment, much more than the rest of my body. Tis quite strange, considering what happened. I can still feel them. I know not when that sensation will change, if ever.
Ahead of me is my quickfast travel companion. He hath proven himself to me many times over, and for this, I am grateful. I know not how long we have spent together in a place so rooted in chaos as the Fortress of Darkness, but in that span of time, I have grown to trust him. To have such a partner whom you trust and who trusts you is a wonderful thing. It appears the ancient ones were looking out for me after all, sending him. I hope with all my heart that he does not change. His mind and soul, not his body, for the physical form deteriorates for a reason, and while his is easy on the eyes, tis not what has drawn me to him. Yes, his body like mine is laden with scars telling of his worthwhile life, and yes, his eyes whisper to me louder and louder each time to continue my dive into them and find what is hidden beneath, and yes, I have resisted the great desire to run my hands through his curls to know if they are indeed as soft as they appear, but that is not what has drawn me to him.
Tis his boneheaded nature, his will and determination, his eyes that reveal exactly what he is thinking and his smile that heats my icy fortitude to steam. He is kind and strong and brilliantly idiotic. He moves on instinct rooted in compassion and power. All of this has placed him in a strange location in my mind. Somewhere no one else has yet dared to enter. Somewhere he so bravely did the moment he chose to continue risking his life to help mine when he could have swiftly left.
My cheeks warm as I consider this, and I am certain this is not a product of the sun's rays. We are to land soon, so I must put my mind on other matters so he does not inquire of my state. He must already know! The way he draws his lips and his eyes to match, there is no plane that he does not already know! Whether or not my feelings are obvious, I have no obligation to confirm them to him.
Overpowering my internal turmoil is the shocking reminder from my injured hand. My pain must have pushed through my throat and past my lips because Loic looks back at me with concern.
“We’re almost there,” he offers before looking back ahead, “not much further now.”
His voice trails off as he speaks, and the sincerity and protectiveness in it is almost tangible. He must be immeasurably exhausted, yet he flys harder. For me.
My hand throbs in time with my heartbeat, so when his care fills my chest with warmth, the pain’s tempo quickens.
When we land, I rush Alloea to the physician that works exclusively for the Lightkeepers. She looks dazed as we dodge and weave through a lackadaisical Pique. I’m sure it’s from the same desire to stop and collapse that’s pulling at me; gripping me by my ankles and attempting to drag me beneath the cobbled street. I remind her again we’re almost there, but the words seem more for me than for her at this point.
I still don’t really know what happened. How did she stop the Great Storm? What caused her fingers to be seared clean off? I wonder how much pain she’s in now–how much pain she felt in the moment. But now isn’t the time for an epic regaling; for now we need to focus.
The building comes into view and I shout out, hoping to get someone's attention. My wings pull me through the air, desperate to move quickly, but I don’t know Alloea’s capabilities right now and don’t want to strain her, so I slow until we’re once again running together.
Upon reaching the door I shout again and it opens, the familiar physician welcoming us. He started as an apprentice as a young boy as first I left to pursue quests, and is now on the tail end of his life. He ushers us in, recognizing our urgency.
“What happened?” the physician asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but realize I don’t really know and look to Alloea instead. She holds out her hand and the physician grimaces.
“What caused this?” he rephrases as he gently takes her palm to inspect the injury.
Alloea answers, her voice faint and airy, but equally as dark and weathered. “Lightning.”
The physician’s eyes widen as though that makes sense and nods, directing her to the table to sit. She obeys, her head hanging slightly, the exertion of our endeavor catching up with her. I stay by her side, anxious for her; more so than she is, it appears.
I whisper to her, “are you okay?” I know I’ve already asked that, and obviously she’s not great, but I don’t know what else to do.
Her eyes find mine. Our gaze locked, she nods sincerely. I fight the urge to pull her into a hug; to protect her from any other harm that may befall her. But instead fold my arms close to my chest, attempting a smile that I hope comes off as reassuring and doesn’t portray the fatigue that’s slowly encompassing me.
The physician returns tableside with various jars and droppers of ointments and creams. He starts to make mindless conversation, but after a few unanswered attempts, he realizes now is not the time, and focuses on touching her up. As he applies the medicine he’s gathered, Alloea elicits a few winces and hisses, fighting her jumping arm that wants to stay far away from the stinging balm. Unable to hold itself steady, she uses the other arm to hold it down, apologizing for it. The physician dismisses it.
Once the ointments for the burns and infections are applied, he has her test some mobility. I interject, saying we’re going to the blacksmith next to get her fitted for prosthetics. The physician nods, gives her a cream of some kind to take with her, telling her to apply it if she feels major discomfort.
Alloea takes it, we nod our thanks, then leave.
“How’s your hand feeling now?”
Loic interrupts our walk with his question. Preferably so. My energy is leaving with the sun, my eyes desiring to close and surrender my mind to the darkness that is beginning to rest on the world around us.
“Tis numb. Better than before.”
“Good, that’s good.”
All I can give back is a nod. My hand throbs with every heavy step I take, though I dare not say a word about it, for I know Loic will stop to help me apply the cream to what remains of my fingers. I don’t wish to ask him for any more than he’s already given me. And I don’t wish for this trip to be elongated in any sense. Besides, the cream stings, and I fear I may break something if I enter into more pain than I’m already in.
I begin to slow down, as does he. I cannot tell if it is from his own exhaustion, or is sympathetically keeping pace with me.
Finally, we arrive.
The smithe was nice enough, keeping her shop open past closing for us. My dominant hand is in a container of an unknown substance that is rapidly solidifying. The smith said it is so she can accurately cast pieces for my other hand. I ask no questions and do what she requests. Now, I feel the temptation of sleep at its strongest, forcing my eyes closed as my head relaxes in the chair I’m seated in. Loic is sitting on a stool beside me, his head getting heavier against my shoulder as his attentiveness leaves him too. Usually I would be opposed to slipping into vulnerability in such a way, but my judgment is drowned out by a lullaby that draws me deep into the comfort of sleep.
I wake at an unknown hour to my hand being released from the mold. The smith apologizes for waking me. It appears she too slept during the inbetween hours.
“Please, go back to sleep. I’ll work on the metal for your castings and have them enchanted and attached to you in the morning.”
Mumbling through still sleepy, heavy lips, I say, “thank you for your work. I know it must not be easy.”
“Oh, this isn’t hard. I can run on little sleep, so really, no worries.”
“Still, thank you.” I turn my head to see Loic. While his white curls hide most of his face from view, I can still see the drool trailing from his ajar mouth and onto my arm.
The smith rests her gaze upon him as well. A little too fondly for my liking. He is resting on my shoulder, not yours, I think as I throw her a scowl. She happens not to notice.
“Loic has done so much for us-for all of us. He’s so young, and yet he chooses to help us without reward. So selfless.”
“Yes, well, I appreciate your help.” My tone is sharper than I initially intended, but I make no move to amend it.
The smith nods and turns away with the mold, stoking the fire.
My dreams consist of dark, cold spaces where my regiment leaves me behind. I swing my sword until light fills the space. It brings me peace and confidence. It assists me in leaving the dark space. But once we leave, I remember my regiment and become worried. I go back in and it all starts again.
Even within my dreams I am tired.
In the morning, as promised, the prosthetic is attached. They fit snugly over what is left of my fingers. Moving the golden bronze appendages, I feel like my hand is once again whole. My joints still lowly throb beneath the bronze, reminding me that it is not real, but they work well enough. Loic smiles and I return the gesture.
“How's that feel?” he asks as we walk out of the building and into the morning sun.
I grin down at the new prosthetics, unable to stop inspecting their perfect movement. “It feels very good.”
“Great! Now that nothing is pressing, now that you’re home, what do you want to do?”
I already know what I wish to do, and answer as such without hesitation.
A smile spreads across my face as I lay down beside Alloea, the sun shining down on the grassy hill around us. I look over to see her eyes closed, smiling and peaceful.
“I don’t know about you, but the sun feels warmer and wider down here somehow.”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies softly.
There’s nothing else to say. There’s so much we can talk about, so many stories I’m looking forward to telling, so many I’m waiting to hear from her. But even with all that, we have time, and right now there is no rush. We are completely comfortable to just… be.
As soon as I close my eyes, I hear a bell toll. Opening them again, I sit up to find the source. It was so clear, yet there isn’t a building in sight.
“What’s the matter?” Alloea asks casually.
“I heard something.”
“What was it?”
“A bell.”
She thinks, a hum indicating her mind working. “I’m not sure what that could mean. Maybe you obtained a concussion.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” I say as I lay back down, my smile returning. Her laughter glues it in place. Forgetting the bell, I think I could stay here forever. And then, I think I just might.
“Only later that afternoon did it hit him, what the bell could mean.”
“The curse was lifted!” Zophiel shouted excitedly.
“Yes, the curse was lifted. Our brave Loic once again began to age. But that didn’t stop him from completing new quests. Especially now that he had someone to do it with.”
The child beamed from ear to ear, snuggling into bed. She enjoyed the story more than she thought she would.
Her father closes the book, saying, “the end,” followed by, “goodnight, daughter.”
“Goodnight, Papa,” she responds as she closes her eyes.
“If you have nightmares, you—“
She gasps, opening her eyes again. “Papa! I’m not going to have nightmares.”
The child’s father chuckles as he stands up from the chair and walks over to her, kissing her forehead. She smiles one last time as she goes to sleep, feeling like Loic and Alloea laying out under the sun. My brother is right, she thinks, that was the best story ever.
That’s the end! I prepped all these in one night, scheduling them once a week for over a month out so idk how much traction these are gathering. If you’re reading this, thank you!! This was a fun project prompted from a friend originally used to get me out of my writing slump, and turned into something 17 words away from 13,000! It’s not perfect, but right now, I’m happy. Thanks again! Sub if you want more :)
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WOOHOO!!! So proud of you for putting yourself out there and sharing Loic’s incredible story! I absolutely LOVED it!
Please keep more stories coming 😁