Never in Annon’s life had he been so tempted. His instincts did not tell him to run. That would have been the wise thing to do. Instead, he promised himself he would kill every single one of them or die trying.
Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.
Flames gushed from his fingertips, racing across the gap of woods until they smashed into the man with the ax. The Boeotian. The murderer. Annon watched his skin blacken but not blister. For a moment it seemed as if he were protected even from fire. He turned in shock and surprise, face wild with pain and panic. The flames suddenly engulfed him and he disappeared in a plume of ash. The heavy ax blade thumped to the forest floor, the handle consumed.
Annon did not wait a single moment. He charged into the grove of oaks, heading straight for the other Boeotians. His rage was insurmountable. He doubted if he would ever be calm for the rest of his life. The injustice and cruelty of these men defied his reason. There were more, and he sent the flames rushing into them, sending it streaking into their midst. Cries of terror sounded in the grove as they struggled to dodge the deadly fire.
Nizeera screamed and charged into the glen, teeth and claws savagely raking the men holding spears and axes. We fight together, Druidecht. We must save the tree.
A spear ripped into his arm, lancing his skin as it went past him. He did not feel the pain. Another one hefted a spear, bringing it back to throw; Annon extended his palm and a spray of flames blasted him into dust. He did not know how many there were.
Movement to his left.
He ducked around a tree and listened as the spear struck the trunk. It would have killed him had he not moved a fraction faster. He emerged from the other side of the tree and sent flames into three men at once. The feelings sapped all sense of will and restraint. The bubbling emotions they caused were euphoric and delightful. He was giddy inside, with his friend dead nearby. How could that be? How was it even possible to be consumed with such happiness when he should be crying?
How many men were left? How many killers?
More over here. He heard Nizeera’s shrieking warning and saw her dart between trees, swiping and clawing at them.
Annon shoved away from the protection of the trunk and came after them again, seeing several trying to hide from him behind stunted oaks. Flames spewed from his hands, engulfing the trees with crackling flames. This was dangerous. He did not want to burn down the entire forest. But he could not stop himself. He did not want to stop himself. Something had seized control of his mind. Some dark vapor prevented him from thinking. It commanded him to lash out at those who had desecrated the woods.
Cries of pain came from those he caught. He heard the crunch of boots to his right and turned just as the ax edge whistled toward his head. Annon ducked reflexively, feeling no fear, and brought up his hands to the man’s face. Suddenly a knee connected with his stomach and he felt his air vanish. The Boeotian continued the swoop of the ax and brought it up and around, coming down to split open Annon’s skull.
Nizeera launched at him, leaping over Annon’s crumpling body, and caught the Boeotian with claws in his face and chest as her weight slammed him down. The catlike scream made Annon shudder.
Scrambling back to his feet, struggling to maintain the fire pulsing in his fingertips, Annon stared as the other Boeotians ran off into the woods.
He gulped in air, trying to breathe. Nizeera finished off the man and turned to look at him, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
They are coming.
Annon nodded, unable to speak. How many?
She cocked her head.
Spirits thronged him, coming from all sides at once. Many were cheering and grateful, but others were frantic as well.
They come, Druidecht! More mortals come! Do not abandon us! Do not abandon her!
He breathed heavily, glancing back at the sinewy form of the oak tree, split wide with fleshy bark. The broken ax lay at its base. The tree was defenseless. The tree would be butchered and killed. A Dryad tree. He knew it was so. He could feel memories emanating from its ancient hull.
Stand strong. Do not fear them. Nizeera’s eyes bored into his. We will take them together. You and I. We fight together.
Gritting his teeth, Annon straightened. He was just beginning to feel the razor of pain in his shoulder. The emotions of elation began to crumble. He needed to tame the fireblood. He could not let it run wild again. He would control it better; he would burn the men and not destroy the woods. I fear nothing, he thought to Nizeera.
The hummingbird spirit zoomed into the grove, flittering in front of his face. He comes before them! He comes to challenge you!
Annon’s mind raced. Who comes? Who is it?
The spirit wailed with terror. One of the Black.
Pyricanthas. Sericanthas. Thas.
Flames gushed from his fingertips, racing across the gap of woods until they smashed into the man with the ax. The Boeotian. The murderer. Annon watched his skin blacken but not blister. For a moment it seemed as if he were protected even from fire. He turned in shock and surprise, face wild with pain and panic. The flames suddenly engulfed him and he disappeared in a plume of ash. The heavy ax blade thumped to the forest floor, the handle consumed.
Annon did not wait a single moment. He charged into the grove of oaks, heading straight for the other Boeotians. His rage was insurmountable. He doubted if he would ever be calm for the rest of his life. The injustice and cruelty of these men defied his reason. There were more, and he sent the flames rushing into them, sending it streaking into their midst. Cries of terror sounded in the grove as they struggled to dodge the deadly fire.
Nizeera screamed and charged into the glen, teeth and claws savagely raking the men holding spears and axes. We fight together, Druidecht. We must save the tree.
A spear ripped into his arm, lancing his skin as it went past him. He did not feel the pain. Another one hefted a spear, bringing it back to throw; Annon extended his palm and a spray of flames blasted him into dust. He did not know how many there were.
Movement to his left.
He ducked around a tree and listened as the spear struck the trunk. It would have killed him had he not moved a fraction faster. He emerged from the other side of the tree and sent flames into three men at once. The feelings sapped all sense of will and restraint. The bubbling emotions they caused were euphoric and delightful. He was giddy inside, with his friend dead nearby. How could that be? How was it even possible to be consumed with such happiness when he should be crying?
How many men were left? How many killers?
More over here. He heard Nizeera’s shrieking warning and saw her dart between trees, swiping and clawing at them.
Annon shoved away from the protection of the trunk and came after them again, seeing several trying to hide from him behind stunted oaks. Flames spewed from his hands, engulfing the trees with crackling flames. This was dangerous. He did not want to burn down the entire forest. But he could not stop himself. He did not want to stop himself. Something had seized control of his mind. Some dark vapor prevented him from thinking. It commanded him to lash out at those who had desecrated the woods.
Cries of pain came from those he caught. He heard the crunch of boots to his right and turned just as the ax edge whistled toward his head. Annon ducked reflexively, feeling no fear, and brought up his hands to the man’s face. Suddenly a knee connected with his stomach and he felt his air vanish. The Boeotian continued the swoop of the ax and brought it up and around, coming down to split open Annon’s skull.
Nizeera launched at him, leaping over Annon’s crumpling body, and caught the Boeotian with claws in his face and chest as her weight slammed him down. The catlike scream made Annon shudder.
Scrambling back to his feet, struggling to maintain the fire pulsing in his fingertips, Annon stared as the other Boeotians ran off into the woods.
He gulped in air, trying to breathe. Nizeera finished off the man and turned to look at him, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
They are coming.
Annon nodded, unable to speak. How many?
She cocked her head.
Spirits thronged him, coming from all sides at once. Many were cheering and grateful, but others were frantic as well.
They come, Druidecht! More mortals come! Do not abandon us! Do not abandon her!
He breathed heavily, glancing back at the sinewy form of the oak tree, split wide with fleshy bark. The broken ax lay at its base. The tree was defenseless. The tree would be butchered and killed. A Dryad tree. He knew it was so. He could feel memories emanating from its ancient hull.
Stand strong. Do not fear them. Nizeera’s eyes bored into his. We will take them together. You and I. We fight together.
Gritting his teeth, Annon straightened. He was just beginning to feel the razor of pain in his shoulder. The emotions of elation began to crumble. He needed to tame the fireblood. He could not let it run wild again. He would control it better; he would burn the men and not destroy the woods. I fear nothing, he thought to Nizeera.
The hummingbird spirit zoomed into the grove, flittering in front of his face. He comes before them! He comes to challenge you!
Annon’s mind raced. Who comes? Who is it?
The spirit wailed with terror. One of the Black.
