The man watched Duncan stride for him. The mercenary's horse galloped violently through the ranks as the man leaned and turned to rip through the undead with his blade - the very gladius Alistair had given him as a payment for his excellent service. He admitted he felt a lot better knowing that the man was fighting valiantly for his life. But it wasn't enough.
Alistair was on the verge of being lost. The minions not being slaughtered by Duncan had finished splitting through Marcus' forces that had converged to defend the Venora. He was alone, surrounded by the rotting corpses of the Coven, his faction. The danger they posed to him would momentarily be lethal. This was a gesture by the ones who controlled them - now is your time to escape. This momentary pause in their advance was his ticket to Andaris, alive and well, while Marcus's band would endure the suffering that came with the convergence of the undead horde.
The nobleman kicked his horse on the side and yelled, Hyah! as a command to the beast to move. He turned to look at Duncan and beckoned for him to follow, slash through the undead if he needed to. Alistair trailed past the group and ahead of the traveling retinue, far removed from the Coven and Marcus both. As his horse beat through the road at an alarming pace, the man steered it the best he could to duck into the tree-line. The last he'd see of what laid behind him was a full view of the carnage; it was likely that the majority of the group was now dead or dying, and while the undead were beginning to be driven back, the harm on Marcus' forces was evident. It was an utter bloodbath. The road was soaked in red. Horses and men laid on the floor, ripped through, their guts torn out.
The Venora faintly grinned as he could see Elyna from a distance, guarded by Faith, now no longer quite as disadvantaged as she had been before. Marcus' party was no longer an overwhelming majority standing over the Lady and her slave. Alistair's work was in fact complete. The man dove into the trees and continued to his left, eastward, considering they had been marching south. He went further and further for a time, ensuring that Duncan had followed behind. As they finally came to a clearing, the man looked to his guard and companion somberly into the eyes. He said nothing, merely staring as he pulled a conduit of magical power from his pouch and lit it up with energy.
The mage recalled his memory and knowledge of the outside of Andaris, locations that few or none would dwell. His arms waved forward as he used ether to rupture the matter before him apart, leaving it open and exposed, the colossal sound of ripping being cast onto the clearing. A large portal with the appearance of a blazing gate appeared before them, a compression of space and distance both. It would take them to the great city they had begun to tread towards, his conduit stabilizing it for the vast distance.
It was the first time Duncan had seen his magic. Would he accept it? Would this be the end of their dalliance?
He could not know. A look of utter defeat overcame him as his face turned from the mercenary, and the man quietly marched on, he and his horse stepping through the portal he'd prepared to send them off to Andaris. Duncan would hear only the quiet and restrained voice of his Lord. "I'm sorry," the man said, "but you must follow. You will die if you do not." With those words, he and the animal stepped through the Rupture, and the smallest of gallops became many miles. They were propelled - though when they came out of this tear in space, the mage did not imagine things would be as they were now. He consigned himself to heartbreak, accepting it without tears or aching. It was the path he chose.
Alistair was on the verge of being lost. The minions not being slaughtered by Duncan had finished splitting through Marcus' forces that had converged to defend the Venora. He was alone, surrounded by the rotting corpses of the Coven, his faction. The danger they posed to him would momentarily be lethal. This was a gesture by the ones who controlled them - now is your time to escape. This momentary pause in their advance was his ticket to Andaris, alive and well, while Marcus's band would endure the suffering that came with the convergence of the undead horde.
The nobleman kicked his horse on the side and yelled, Hyah! as a command to the beast to move. He turned to look at Duncan and beckoned for him to follow, slash through the undead if he needed to. Alistair trailed past the group and ahead of the traveling retinue, far removed from the Coven and Marcus both. As his horse beat through the road at an alarming pace, the man steered it the best he could to duck into the tree-line. The last he'd see of what laid behind him was a full view of the carnage; it was likely that the majority of the group was now dead or dying, and while the undead were beginning to be driven back, the harm on Marcus' forces was evident. It was an utter bloodbath. The road was soaked in red. Horses and men laid on the floor, ripped through, their guts torn out.
The Venora faintly grinned as he could see Elyna from a distance, guarded by Faith, now no longer quite as disadvantaged as she had been before. Marcus' party was no longer an overwhelming majority standing over the Lady and her slave. Alistair's work was in fact complete. The man dove into the trees and continued to his left, eastward, considering they had been marching south. He went further and further for a time, ensuring that Duncan had followed behind. As they finally came to a clearing, the man looked to his guard and companion somberly into the eyes. He said nothing, merely staring as he pulled a conduit of magical power from his pouch and lit it up with energy.
The mage recalled his memory and knowledge of the outside of Andaris, locations that few or none would dwell. His arms waved forward as he used ether to rupture the matter before him apart, leaving it open and exposed, the colossal sound of ripping being cast onto the clearing. A large portal with the appearance of a blazing gate appeared before them, a compression of space and distance both. It would take them to the great city they had begun to tread towards, his conduit stabilizing it for the vast distance.
It was the first time Duncan had seen his magic. Would he accept it? Would this be the end of their dalliance?
He could not know. A look of utter defeat overcame him as his face turned from the mercenary, and the man quietly marched on, he and his horse stepping through the portal he'd prepared to send them off to Andaris. Duncan would hear only the quiet and restrained voice of his Lord. "I'm sorry," the man said, "but you must follow. You will die if you do not." With those words, he and the animal stepped through the Rupture, and the smallest of gallops became many miles. They were propelled - though when they came out of this tear in space, the mage did not imagine things would be as they were now. He consigned himself to heartbreak, accepting it without tears or aching. It was the path he chose.
