Gilded Serpents

Chapter Forty-Four: Fae

The Sylien.

The rarest of all fae, whose golden locks were used by the Fates to weave destiny itself. Whose silver feathers on her four-winged panther back were harvested to make the strongest armor known to man.

The Sylien.

Whose long obsidian claws could easily tear through any metal, magicked or not. Whose soft beautiful ethereal face of a young woman contrasted with razor teeth and pink eyes were subject of many a bard's tale.

A creature of such ancient and powerful magic, untouchable by blood and void mage alike, and so rare that there was only one sighting of such creature recorded in the past one hundred years.

This creature, this Sylien, stood atop the golden hill, back to the ancient swampy forest, and staring down at the carnage below.

Beside the great beast were two wide mouthed chimeras, cleaning their lion skin with long black tongues. They bore the faces of men, a favorite meal of theirs, as serpent tail flickered impatiently behind them. Chimeras, also rare, were not hunted to almost extinction for their resources, like that of the Sylien and other rare fae, but banished out of all of the Midlands for the danger they posed to man. They feasted, unbiased, on any creature that may have crossed their path. Unlike most fae, they were not prideful nor bound by any sort of morality or reasoning. Their only motivation seemed to be that of hunger.

There were tales of knights, lured by the chimera by their beautiful face, body hidden in the dark of the woods, only to be eaten by the great beasts shortly after. The chimera would decorate their den with the gold and silver armor of their kill. Even now there were tales of children stumbling across their splendid dens in the deepest reaches of the woods, though the chimera had been banished for hundreds of years.

The sounds of battle slowly ceased as forces on both sides lowered their weapons in wait. Whether by curiosity, fear, or respect, they waited for the great Sylien to speak. I watched as her serene face slowly scanned the battlefield below, long golden hair moving with the wind like the golden grass before her. Even from this distance, I could see such a profound sadness in her pink eyes.

"There's just the three of them. I think we can take them. We still have two griffins and a wyvern rider at the ready."

It was the soldier from before, whispering to the commander who once stood before us. The commander held up a hand to the other soldier, silencing him as he stared at the beasts on the hill.

I crawled forward, lifting the flap of the wyvern wing to get a better look. He was right - there were only three fae there. And although they were extremely powerful creatures, they were no match for the remaining guardian forces. Although we were able to make a dent in their numbers, there had to be at least several hundred Selphene knights left on the battlefield.

As if to hear their words, the towering Sylien then sat up on her haunches and gave a great beat of her four silver wings. Upon their movement, there was a powerful gust of wind from behind, as the magic was pulled into her then back upon us like a great inhale and exhale of all before her. Several soldiers staggered forwards, with their armor being pulled by the force, with some even falling into the grass below. I felt my own armor and blade being manipulated by the creature, and held the falchion as tight as I could so as to not lose it with the magicked wind.

I COME AS SPEAKER OF THE FAE.

The voice rattled inside my helmet and inside of my head, piercing and powerful, even comparable to that of Solia's, as I reached to my ears. The Sylien's face remained stoic, unmoved as she looked down at us. Others around me also grabbed at their helmets, some even dropping their weapons in surprise.