12. Elian

Elian

Darkness spread like a thick cloud of dust through the trees, blotting out the morning sunlight. They tried to stay ahead of it, but Elian knew there was no outrunning this strange fog, as they were tiring out quickly, and the cloud was catching up to them.

When Owen leaned against a tree and panted, Elian halted, waiting. Clove barked at them. He could tell by her warning that they shouldn't stop. He took out his compass and squinted at it. "We're still going in the right direction," he told them. "Let's keep moving."

After another minute, they made their way forward, and Owen lit the Dark Flame in his hand to cut through the darkness. The heaviness coiled around Elian's heart, beating him down with malignant energy. It was an exhausting energy, one that entered even into his mind and made him think dark thoughts about himself. It made him sluggish, tired…

But still, he pressed on, leading the way for them for what felt like hours. When they stopped to rest or eat, they made sure to stay close, or else be swallowed up by the fog. Even at rest, Elian's heart echoed in his ears with every anxious beat.

As the day wore on, Elian began seeing dark shapes drifting through the trees. Apparitions that looked like giant men with deer antlers on their heads. There one moment and gone the next. He rubbed his eyes, hoping he was seeing things. But there were other spirits too, garbed in gray clothing with no faces that watched them as they walked.

A dull vibrating noise surrounded them all the time, and the woods were void of any birds or squirrels. At one point, he looked down to see a few bones in the dirt, and he stiffened.

Then, finally, after what seemed like a full day of walking, Elian spotted light ahead and pointed. "I could be wrong, but it looks like we're nearing the end of the darkness."

When the ground gave way beneath him and he came ankle-deep into water, Elian backed up and looked down.

"Ah, think we've got a problem here," Brom said.

The air cleared, the sky brightening slightly back to an evening blue beyond the gnarled branches of swamp trees.

"We're in a fucking swamp," Colt said. "Where did your compass take us?"

Elian glanced down at his compass and narrowed his eyes at the needle pointing west.

Colt grabbed it and looked at it, then glared at Elian as if he were a fool.

"It has been pointing north until now," Elian said. "The fog must have interfered with it."

"It doesn't matter," Owen cut in. "We need to find our direction and go north."

Elian looked to the horizon, at the sun he could now see, then shifted his eyes ahead. "North is that way." He pointed into the swamp, where murky water stretched on as far as the eye could see. Winter gnats flew above the surface, and crickets chirped low.

Colt smacked his neck as the gnats buzzed around his face. "Well, lead the way, Wielder. "

The surface of the water pooling on the sides of the path rippled, making Elian jump. The thought of dying by a wandering, evil spirit had crossed his mind already, but now the dangers of everyday animals gripped him, such as alligators.

Owen produced a small flame from the palm of his hand. The fire barely floated above his skin, and Elian marveled at it. During his training as a Core Wielder, he had learned about Shadowborns and how their Dark Flame couldn't burn them. It always seemed to leave a black residue on their hands.

Elian rubbed the Core through his pouch, his senses heightened for disturbances that might require him to use it. The trunks of bald cypress trees rose out from the still surface, growing tall into the darkening sky. Their pneumatophore roots emerged from the water surrounding them.

No one spoke as they trudged ahead, the only sound coming from the sloshing of the water as they searched for a dry patch of land to stop and rest. When they came out of the water into thick mud, it became increasingly hard to walk. Clove whined nearby, seeming to have a tough time getting through the thick muck.

"This mud is starting to wear me out as well as her," Brom said. "It's incredibly hard to walk through."

Elian looked over at Clove. "Come on," he said, patting his hand on his leg. "This way, girl."

She whined again, stopping where she was, and looked out at the water.

"Is she stuck?" Owen asked Elian, who was closer to the wolf-dog. He watched her for a moment and then cried, "She's sinking!"

Owen quickly pushed through the muck toward Clove. Elian looked around frantically, his eyes landing on several cypress boughs fallen on the trail. He gathered a large bunch of them together and laid them from the path he was on to the mud that Clove had become stuck in. He inched his way across the boughs, sinking only a few inches with each step, until he could kneel on his hands and knees and grab hold of Clove's front leg.

"She's really stuck, Owen, you may have to use your Essence to get her out!" Elian called over his shoulder.

Colt and Brom came forward, ready to help Elian pull the wolf-dog out.

"I'll hold you," Colt said, grabbing onto Owen's belt. "Go for it, Owen."

Elian was barely holding Clove's head above the muck by the time Owen reached them, with Colt holding onto him from behind to make sure he didn't sink as well. Owen extended his arms toward Clove, and in an instant, the mud around her shifted. Owen worked his hands around and around, shifting the mud enough for her to jump out. She stepped carefully onto an elevated patch of ground and shook as much mud off as she could. Then she padded to Elian, who had scrambled back to solid ground and nuzzled his hand. A smile settled on his lips as he scratched Clove's soft ear.

Now free, Clove ran ahead of them, seeming to know that if she stopped for too long, she would sink again. Elian was aware that if any of them stayed too long here, they would also be subject to the same circumstance. They moved on, at times having to hold onto each other or pull each other along when one of them sank too deep into the mud.

Moving once again, Elian watched Owen carefully. He seemed much more cautious in the swamp, and every time he turned his head to look at something, Elian looked along with him, wondering what he was seeing .

A whisper caught Elian's attention, and he snapped his head around to find out who it belonged to. His companions stopped as well to listen, and they all glanced at each other. There were no crickets or animals scurrying about, only the sound of these strange whispers, which made Elian's heart pound so hard, he could feel it. When they finally stopped, their group continued on without a word.

Up ahead, Clove barked, and they followed her to a dry patch of land at the edge of a cypress dome and threw down their bags to rest. It was late in the night and bitterly cold. Owen petted Clove and gave her something to eat from his bag before settling down and leaning against Colt. The two of them were inseparable, and Elian couldn't help but notice their affections at night. Brom winced in pain as he tried to shift his left leg into a good position to sleep.

Sighing, Elian put his hands out and said, "I guess I'm taking watch again tonight."

"Mordren isn't here," Owen reassured them, much to Elian's surprise. "When he's near, I feel a heaviness, much like the dark fog we traveled through. I don't feel that now."

Elian put his hands on his hips and looked away. "Sure. Nothing else to worry about. No giant birds out to kill us, or beasts, or shadows with antlers."

"Antlers?" Brom leaned up on his elbows. "What are you talking about?"

Elian gritted his teeth. "Nothing. Just go to sleep, all of you. I'll keep watch."

No one else uttered a word, and instead, they settled down while Elian scanned the area. When Clove came up to him and nudged his hand with her nose, Elian patted her head. She was a sweet wolf-dog, and he enjoyed her company .

He sat down beside her and scratched her head as the others fell asleep behind him. He looked out over the swamp but couldn't see much of anything. The dark waters and limited visibility made him nervous. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to get any sleep.

"You're not who I thought you were, Elian. What would our mother think of you for the path you've chosen?"

A loud boom made Elian jump, and he gasped. The echo of it reverberated through the air. When he looked up, he saw a flash of lightning tear across the sky before another deafening thunderclap rolled through the forest and shook the ground.

Owen nor the others roused from their pallets, and instead stayed buried beneath their blankets. How were they able to sleep on? Something was happening, something was coming. Elian called out to them just as the wind gusted his way and pushed the blankets back from the pallets where Owen, Colt, and Brom lay. But there was nothing there but dead leaves blowing in the wind.

Elian's eyes widened. He looked around frantically, searching for his traveling companions but seeing no one. He glanced up at the sky, seeing pillars of deep red smoke spread out like fingers. He scrambled to his feet and ran barefoot, stumbling over roots and brush. He walked for what felt like hours, calling out for his companions, whistling for Clove. At times, he thought he could hear her barking, but then it faded. When finally he could no longer continue, he slumped against the base of a tree and closed his eyes .

When he awoke, he shivered and sat up, groaning at his sore muscles. There was no sign of Owen or the others.

Where am I?

Then it came back to him. His brother's voice reprimanding him, and then the thunder and the smoke-like hand. His companions were gone.

He blinked and remembered something he hadn't thought of for years.

Did I sleepwalk out here?

He hadn't sleepwalked since he was a boy. He'd have nightmares, and sometimes he'd wake up and find himself in a room other than his own. Other times, he'd walk to the kitchen for food while asleep before lying on the floor with a basket of eggs beside him. His mother would wake him and walk him back to his bed. The last time he'd sleepwalked, he'd ended up outside in a storm. After that, his mother prepared a lavender oil tincture, with help from the local alchemist. A drop on his forehead each night had ended the sleepwalking. But his mother was gone now. She'd been gone for thirty years, and he was no longer eight years old.

But this… this had felt real . As if it had been in his mind. And now he was out in the woods alone, unsure of where Owen or Colt or Brom were. Perhaps they'd left him in the night instead? But no, there was no sign of a fire nearby, nor of any places in the ground where they might have slept.

Looking down at the pouch on his belt, Elian pulled out his Core. It had belonged to Lou, an advanced model that would glow blue when it neared Owen. He had grabbed it up after his own stopped working during their fight in the graveyard. But right now, the device only sat quietly in the palm of his hand .

Elian stared at it for the longest time, and for a moment, he heard Rose's screams echoing in his mind. It was astounding that something the size of an apple could be so deadly.

Perhaps Owen is right. I am a monster.

He pushed himself to his feet and began walking, but he wasn't certain of his direction, and his Core continued to stay silent. He wondered if he should chance shouting to see where the others were, but doing so might draw unwanted attention.

When something whirred through the air, Elian looked over, only to jump back when an arrow flew right past him. He looked around, ducking. His lip turned up in a sneer as he tightened his grip on his Core. Then another arrow flew out, whizzing past his left ear, and he dropped to the ground, losing his grip on the Core.

Before he could scramble for it, a man dressed in furs with a deer skull and antlers on his head emerged from behind a tree. He had red markings on his face and approached Elian with his bowstring drawn back, another arrow nocked and ready to pierce him if he moved.

Elian froze. The man before him cocked his head. He looked younger than Elian himself, and when he smiled, showing rotten teeth, Elian's gut twisted.

"You're far from home, Wielder," the man said.

Elian's jaw tightened.

Heavy footsteps padded on the ground from behind. When the man wearing the deer skull glanced up, Elian turned his face to see a tall, brawny man wearing a leather vest with the sleeves cut off. A fur pelt hung around his bare, muscular shoulders and arms. He wore the faceplate of a ram's skull over his own face, the dark horns curling around his ears and down to his shoulders .

Elian's eyes widened at the sight of him. The brown eyes that stared out at him from the holes of the ram's skull gave him an unsettling feeling.

The man stepped up to Elian, who was still on the ground, and towered over him. "A dog of the Legion out in Vanhelm." The man's voice sounded like rough sand. He bent down until he was level with Elian, and Elian's heart dropped into his stomach. "With his tail tucked between his legs."

"Let me go," Elian said, trying to muster what was left of himself as a Core Wielder to threaten this man. If he could get to his Core, he could throw these men down and get away.

Both men laughed, their voices deep and grating.

The man in the ram's skull pulled out a wide cleaver. He placed the tip of the steel beneath Elian's chin and tilted it up. "Dogs don't get to negotiate. They obey their masters. And you…" He chuckled darkly. "Now you have a new master. Get up."

The stubbornness within Elian kept him planted to the ground. He wouldn't give in to this man, no matter how fearful he was of him. He couldn't let them see how afraid he was. Instead, he glared at him and said, "No."

When the man raised his blade, Elian flew back, grasping in the leaves for his Core. Right as he found it, the man in the deer mask stepped on his arm and pressed down hard with his boot. Then a flash of steel glinted, and the cleaver sliced clean through three of Elian's fingers.

A burn of scorching fire engulfed Elian's hand, running up his arm. His eyes widened as he saw his fingers lying in the dirt. Blood spurted out from the nubs, and he let out a delayed, blood-curdling scream as he tried to move his arm .

The man in the ram's skull dragged him to his feet. One of them tied a tourniquet around his wrist, while the other wrapped a cloth around his hand.

He didn't try to fight back now. These men would take no mercy on him, and he needed the bleeding to stop. His face was smothered with a damp cloth, and his mind went dark.