Erwynion Excerpt 2

I have a confession to make.  This isn't part of "The Scroll."  But, having said that, I have no regrets taking a break from writing "The Scroll" to write this excerpt.  It's cool.  Or at least, I think it is.  And I only came up with the scene today.  Usually I mull scenes over and over and over and over and...well, you get the idea...until I'm satisfied with them.  Then I write them down.  With this scene, I came up with it, I wrote it, and I was happy with it.  Maybe some day I'll add more details or something, change the wording a bit, but that'll wait until I'm actually writing the Erwynion books.

This scene would take place in the second or third Erwynion book, if it ever made it at all.  It includes a character or two from my Defenders of Light books, so I've changed the names so that people who have read my Defenders of Light stories won't be spoiled--I hope.

Enjoy!

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“Join us,” the warlord said.  He pushed Sylph out over the edge of the six-thousand foot precipice until she was supported only by his hand clasping her arm.

            Forrester’s heart leaped into his throat, and he started to stretch out his hand to grab Sylph.  Her eyes caught him.  Their gaze was defiant, and he knew to join these men and save her life would be worse than treason.  It would be a sin that nothing could erase.

            Light from the forge fires reflected off the stones of the cliff, turning them a wicked red.  Soot and smoke roiled across the mountainside.  It was hellish.  His choice was hellish.

            Gathering his strength within himself, Forrester raised his head and met the eyes of the warlord.  He gave his answer in a voice so cold he didn’t recognize it as his own.  “No.”

            The warlord opened his hand and Sylph fell, disappearing into the night.

            Forrester had less than thirty seconds to save her.

            Instantly, Forrester sent fire to his flesh, burning the hands of his captors.  The chains around him glowed and melted, and he tore them off.  Then, with no respect to his own life, he threw himself off the mountain top.

            He saw Sylph falling below him, her eyes closed as though she’d accepted her fate, and he gathered the air behind him, commanding it to push him downward to meet her in a blast of wind.  But it was difficult, for the wind that blasted him blasted her as well, and he had to remember to part the wind after it passed him.

            Finally he fell to her, and he reached out and grabbed her arm.  She opened her eyes and looked at him.  Wonder came into her eyes, joy, trust.  She tried to speak, but the air rushed out of her as they fell.

            Forrester pulled Sylph close, enfolding her in his arms.  He commanded the air to buffet them, to slow their descent.  It worked, but not enough—not nearly enough.  If they hit the ground at this speed, they would die.

            What’s the point of being and Elementalist? Forrester thought as they passed through clouds of soot and ash.  What’s the point if I can’t save one soul?

            If only I had wings, he thought.  He pulled Sylph close, placing his chin in the hollow where her neck and shoulder met.  The thought blazed through him.  If only I had wings.

            Give me wings!

            Fire from his soul ignited, sending searing pain racing across his back.  He screamed, and the pain intensified as fire streamed from his back, lengthening, broadening.  Air swirled around him, bringing with it soot, earth, from the filthy clouds.  Air and earth joined the fire, thickening it, solidifying it, strengthening it.  Water, his own blood, flowed into the fire.  Electricity tore through his nerves, and Forrester knew he had wings.  Fiery wings.  Radiant wings.

            As though he’d had wings all his life, Forrester spread them, angled them, until he and Sylph were soaring parallel to the ground.  He didn’t flap so much as rocket, the fiery air propelling him across the sky.  His wings illuminated the sooty air, and as he flew through the clouds he scoured them clean as the soot joined the other earth of his wings.

            Ecstasy filled Forrester.  He was an Elementalist.  He was the Elements.  Air, fire, earth, water, lightning surged through him, giving him life, giving him flight.  And now he realized why he had fought so hard against being tied down.  He was flight.  He was life.  And life couldn’t be trapped in a cage.

            Forrester looked down at Sylph as he flew.  She was facing him, and her awestruck face glowed from the light of his wings.  Another surge of joy went through Forrester, and he flew even faster.

            Finally, when the exultation of freedom calmed, Forrester landed on the bank of a moonlit river, stepping easily to the earth.  He set Sylph down, then released his wings.  They broke apart, curling into wisps of smoke and flame, before evaporating into the night.  Unlike the other times when Forrester used his powers, he felt energized and alive.  Sylph stared at him, and he stared back, the only sounds the rushing of the river and the songs of crickets.

            Minutes passed.  Finally Sylph said, in a voice much softer than normal, “Well.  That was unexpected.”