The Forsaken Prophecy

Chapter Twenty Three

Ayren had quickly regained his strength. However, he had stayed perched in the tree for a while longer to formulate a plan.

He decided to scope out the enemy territory. Disguising himself as an orc, he began lumbering clumsily toward enemy ground.

The battle got less and less serious as he got closer to the enemy camp. Finally, orcs, ogres, trolls, and a scant few evilfæries merely milled about aimlessly, most ambling slowly toward a ring of heavily fortified tents that was located directly before the forest marking the edge of the huge meadow.

Ayren had forgotten just how revolting these creatures were.

Thefæries were by far the most attractive. While some had ugly battle scars - not unlike Ayren's - they at least still lookedfærie.

The orcs had tones of skin ranging from mucus green to black-brown. Their faces were large and somewhat flat, cold remorselessness inhabiting their features. They had on shining steel armor, covering their bulky builds and stringy hair.

Then there were the ogres.

Their faces were lumpy and misshapen. Their skin was a dull yellow color with a hint of green that reminded Ayren of bile. Large teeth hung out of their mouths and a black tongue occasionally slithered out between meaty lips to join them. Their piggy eyes took in everything with excitement. Their ears were lumpy and huge. They wore no armor, revealing their potbellies, fat rolls, and gnarled nails. Ayren knew their hides were so tough, it was their own built-in armor.

Ayren fought down the rising bile - he had forgotten how utterly repulsive these creatures were - and tried to seem confident as he strode toward the tents.

Explosives, he thought. Explosives could take out those defenses.

He heard a scream, quickly cut off. Terr was torturing someone. Or killing them.

Terror washed over him. He was a little boy again, hiding from Darkness himself. He felt the old burns, rashes, cuts, beatings.

Ayren fled the camp as quickly as his thick legs could take him and transformed back into his familiar, scarred skin.

*

Rowen pocketed the last weapon and grinned at her trainer. "Thanks, Senior Magic Dude."

The man sighed in mock exasperation. "It is not 'Senior Magic Dude.' It's 'Senior Magic Weapon Handler.' Or, you know, my name. Ned."

"Fine. Thanks, Ned." Rowen skipped out of the tent. She felt invincible, with two bags of magical weapons and a prophecy to back her. She had also found a new friend in Ned.

"Rowen!" hissed the woods.

Rowen peered into the shady undergrowth. "Ayren?" she whispered, surprised.

"Yeah. Can we talk?"

Rowen stepped into the forest after a furtive glance around her to make sure nobody was watching.

Ayren pulled her into a hug. She felt him take a shuddering breath.

"Hey, woah, what happened?" she asked. She tried to pull away but Ayren's grip was like a steel trap.

"I...Terr." The one shaking word, filled with emotion, explained everything.

"I'm sorry.""

Finally, Ayren released Rowen. HIs eyes shone with tears.

"I learned about the magical items," Rowen informed him, trying to break the sudden, awkward silence.

"Awesome." Ayren took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. When he removed it, he seemed alert, more focused. "Let's go."

"Wait - together? Now?"

"Yes, together, and yes, now. I know a lot more about military strategy than you."

"Fine." Rowen didn't argue too hard. She didn't want to be alone and neither did Ayren, obviously.

It worked out perfectly, in her book.

*

Turned out, murdering monstrous hordes from above with the boy Rowen had a crush on was, in fact, really fun.

"Oh, get that one!" Ayren yelled, pointing at a huge ogre. Rowen nimbly dropped a small yellow cube on its head, which then popped into a large net, encasing the beast and several of its garish friends. They began roaring in pain as the net sizzled with soon-to-be-lethal acid.

"Nice!" Ayren high-fived Rowen and accepted a few miscellaneous bombs.

Rowen could hardly process how weird this all was. She was laughing and joking with afærie boy with huge wings. A little over a week ago, Rowen had been worrying about her math grade and avoiding bullies. Now, she was fighting in a war.

"Rowen? You still with me?" asked Ayren, breaking her from her reverie.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here." Rowen sighed and chucked a random bomb to the ground below.

"You have weird mood swings," observed Ayren.

"Well, I am a teenage girl." Rowen suddenly wanted to be in a calm, quiet place. The noise and stench of the battle was getting to be too much.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine," Rowen snapped. Calm down. Don't take it out on him.

"Let's take a break." Ayren smiled at her gently. "I'm getting tired."

"You don't need to lie. I'm being stubborn," Rowen finally said as they flew back to camp.

"Yes, you are," Ayren responded immediately. "Why won't you show weakness?"

*

Rowen took a long time to reply. When she did, it was with a question of her own.

"Why don't you?"

Ayren answered slowly, hoping to open her up. "My dad beat me when I did until I was eleven and then Terr took over." It felt odd to finally face his past, the horrible things that people had done to him.

Rowen didn't respond. He hated making her upset, but she needed to understand his past to understand why he was the person he was. It also felt good to open up and address how scared and in pain he had been all the time.

"You know," Rowen finally said, angling her glider toward the woods, "you should have turned out horribly. But you didn't. And now, you're becoming a hero." She laughed quietly. "If I had an ounce of the strength you have..."

Ayren stared at her disbelievingly. Did she truly not see it?