The Mountain King

Epilogue

The woods were quiet, but deafening at the same time. While the chattering animals were calm in the middle of the afternoon, and the wind was breathing slowly through the high branches, the heat and desperation of life pervaded from every direction, maddening to the half-dead assassin. Assailed by the many sounds and tastes in the air, he found shelter in a deep cave, the only sound perceptible to Kolteiran or Zaarxi ears the dripping of a distant pool invisible in the blackness. But Pyrus could hear much more.

Resting against the curved wall, his eye could just make out the space of wall across from him, the light from the outside reaching no further. Breathing deeply, Pyrus ignored the rattling of blood in his lungs, it was growing fainter with each breath. He recalled the feeling of the traitor's sword stabbing through his back to spit from his middle like a metal tongue, and found himself giggling at the absurdity of the sight in his mind. If it weren't for the fire that constantly coursed through his veins... but as it was, a broken backbone was only a mere inconvenience. As his spine slowly knitted itself back together, he could feel the severed ends of each fine strand inside reach and grasp for the other. He could feel his right leg now. The blood that had been just hours ago pouring from his chest was dried, the wound closed with nothing but a wide scar to mark the space between his chest and naval.

Curious, Pyrus poked the now-sealed wound on his middle with a finger. The throbbing pain that faded with each heartbeat was all that remained. Giggling again, he wiggled the toes on his right foot. He still couldn't feel his left, but there was another ache higher, just above his hip. Already closed, though still tender, the knife wound the beautiful princess had gifted him with. It had been a surprise, certainly, but Pyrus grinned at the memory. So feisty.

A familiar hum interrupted his twisted imaginings, his head twisting instinctively to angle his ear toward the sound. It wasn't so much a sound as a vibration in the air, an unmistakable energy that caused the air in front of Pyrus to waver. Magic.

"My king!" He cried in Zaarxi. "After so many years..."

"My faithful mage." A deep voice drifted back, distorted through the window. "For so long alone, yet you remain true." A pause. "We have been betrayed."

"Yes!" Pyrus's voice climbed higher with excitement. "The traitor is here! He carries only a single stone. He was foolish, he believed taking one would stop you­–"

His king did not speak, but a sudden, forceful wave of power reached the assassin through the window and made his heart flutter in panic.

"Do not forget the cost of even a single stone. Do not forget how many years you have been trapped beyond the wall. Only now do I possess enough power to open a window. And yet, only a small window."

Pyrus began to tremble with fear. The anger radiating from the warped air. Though he could not see the speaker on the other side, his wrath was something one did not provoke.

"F-forgive me, my king." Pyrus stuttered.

The energy in the air around him slowly weakened, no longer brushing painfully against his skin, and he released a strained breath.

"Where is the traitor now?" His king's voice was soft, but Pyrus kept his head bowed in deference.

"He is in the capital, my king. With a poluvfej, a girl."

"Poluvfej..."

"A half-breed," Pyrus had forgotten he had given them a name of his own, "they are without powers here, but their magic is potent–"

"I did not send you to the South to amuse yourself with half-breeds." The fury was back, and Pyrus cowered against the stone wall. "Find the traitor. Recover the stone. He passed through the mountains with it, so will you. Return to me, Mage."

"I will, my king." A whisper was all that passed his lips.

The magic dissipated, the window collapsing like a drop of water held in the air for several minutes before being released. The energy surrounding it dispersed until the dripping from the hidden pool deeper in the cave reached the assassin's ears again. Slowly, he uncurled from where he had pressed against the wall. Feeling had returned to both legs now, and he stood shakily.

He could return to the mountains. He only needed to find the traitor, and he was with her. Realisation drew a sharp laugh from him. He remembered his frustration at her sudden flight from the small town, and it became clear she had not evaded him alone. Someone had helped her, someone who knew he was there. He chuckled again darkly, the traitor had stolen more than a stone, those dark eyes that regarded him with so much distain. How long had he been in the South? Long enough to recognise him in that caravan of acrobats and superficial tricksters. He remained with her still... Pyrus shuffled clumsily to the mouth of the cave, wincing as the sunlight pierced through the trees and into his eyes. Lifting a hand to block the light, Pyrus inhaled deeply. The scent of the girl's power still reached him, and he hummed softly as he exhaled.

~