Arrowhaven hadn't had many quests in some time as was evident by the near waist height of the grass in parts of the fields where he could remember trodding through to head to the emporium or the stables, depending on what ever he was doing that day or what adventure She had sent him on. The woodland creatures and birds had flourished, and their song filled the copse of trees that hid the old manor that he had stayed in a great many times. Seeing friends, and companions. His fellow knights or sepretarians, bustling around to attend their duties. For a moment, it brought him back to the time that once was.
His body slammed into the ground as he was hurled from the top of the hill. The roars of laughter and chanting from around him seemed to pound within his head like great drums and horns of war. No matter how much he blinked, or shook his head, the resounding echos of the all to familiar laugh brought a chill to his very bones. More so than the freezing rain that beat upon his skin as if it was trying to tear his very flesh from his being.
He remembered what Her lips left like, her hands within his and even the smell of her hair every time the breeze carried it onwards as if to grace him with its presence. The very warmth that she seemed to just resonate. He had crossed blades with a great many foes, slain beasts that few had laid eyes on and even had ventured where few dared. Even still, that smile melted him to the very core and she knew it. If given the chance, he'd have done it all over again... Except, he'd have gotten to her sooner. Standing on that hill, with that damned smile.
Cynraede slowly stood up, his blade still clutched tightly in his grasp as he looked to the Man on the hill. The one who turned his back on those who saved him from the very shadows that he had invoked. His once pupil, the boy who he took in and cared for as his own. Now pointed his blade down at him with a needle toothed smile that could have made a troll shiver. Cynreade simple raised his arms to his side and looked to his student and called to him.
"Lower your blade, Pellam. I will spare you."
The starlight above seemed to reflect in the stone that laid carefully in his hands. It seemed like only the day before she had given it to him. Even in the cold and bitter lands along the coast, it brought him warmth and served as a reminder of not just her, but the love that she showed him. The words, she gave him. Showing him that, despite his very beliefs and convictions, even he was worthy of love. Tucking the stone back under his haubergeon, he looked out over his campsite that had overlooked a rather east wall. the moon lit Nen Hithoel was almost bright enough to fully illuminate his surroundings which make his constant scan of the area considerably easier. Giving him more time, to clutch the stone and sing of her.
The voice almost seemed to boom as it tore through the pattering of rain, a mixture of laughter and cheers in reply from those who surrounded the two and watched. His minions, no doubt as they would not dare come between their chief and his kill. Pellam had moved considerably faster than Cynraede had originally thought and by the time he raised his blade, it was to late. The former students blade shattered his masters and his blade purposefully found its mark across Cynraede's thigh.
The once master slipped to a knee, his already broken and rent body struggling to stand as he stared at the shattered sword within his grasp. He attempted to stand but was only met with Pellams dagger driven into his thigh. He tried to cry out but was met with an armored hand around his jaw and eyes that burned with such hatred and evil, that what ever light remained in them had become consumed.
They had knelt in front of the fire place. He had not laid eyes upon her in so long that he wondered if she would recognize him and hopefully not mistake him as some vagrant or worse, a beast from the fields. She didn't. Those words resound in his heart as if it was his very life blood. The look she gave him as she stared into her eyes and the words that he whispered to himself within the darkness. "Ar, sen Aear cân nen na mar."* she whispered softly, and placed a tender kiss upon his lips.
"Go ahead. Call him. Where he is going, no tongue of men will save him. He will serve the master, just as we all do. Just you see... Well. Just you wait.. You do have beautiful eyes."
Was the last words muttered before Cynraede felt the singing, burning of his eyes. The world went black, a voidless sea of noises and shadow that not even the brightest of lights could have penetrated. He cried out until his throat became hoarse. The roaring, cheering laughter was almost deafening from those who surrounded him.
Pellam had reached around his neck and plucked the stone from his neck with a knowing grin, looking down at the lock of hair that Cynraede had tied along with the stone. His last physical manifestations of his memories with Fairlain. The student had become to arrogant in his short lived victory and a broken blade still sings true. The battered blade found its way in Pellam's side as Cyn had mustered the strength to try to skewer the man standing before him.
The manor had felt so warm. Whether it was the fire or seeing the faces of his comanions all returned home, he was unsure but wasn't going to question it now. Lindovor and Dwimmer, even the hill-man Brulk, Sybri... Tetheril.. Everyone.. All gathered together in celebration. She had slid her hand into his and gave it a squeeze and just brushed her cheek upon his shoulder but for a moment, and the world became right.
Cynraede looked up to Pellam, kneeling on the ground as the former pressed his hand to his side with a laugh.
"Blind, and still you fight. If only you had fought harder. Maybe they'd still be alive. You won't carry the burden for long, oh great Lord of the Order. You will see her in the halls once more. Give her my love, won't you?"
The sound was barely audible over the downpour of rain as the blade sunk into Cynraede's chest. His vision cast upwards almost as if he stared unto the heavens for some savior to come and smite the foes that surrounded him into this surreal void and wake him from this night-terror... But no such salvation came. As his body slumped into the mud, he felt her necklace cast down beside him as if a discarded piece of trash. Clenching it tightly as he pulled it closer to him.
As the group left. Cynraede's nostrils were filled with smoke from the fires of manor of the Order. Flames and smoke billowing from her roof and windows as the abandoned and foreboding hillside was lit up from the growing flames. The battered man clung to the necklace and through blood tinged coughs and sputters, sang the song he once sang to her, so long ago.
"You are my sunshine.... My only sunshine."
