A wide ravine yawned open beneath us while the echoes of our panicked screams reverberated off the earthen walls and rolled away through the earthen crevasse. An instant later, they were joined by the chain rattle of the fel badger as it skidded and, ultimately, failed to slow its forward momentum. The demon's claws tore at the broken wood, sending up splinters and shards of the damaged bridge, before pitching over the side. It fell dozens of feet to the stone strewn bottom of the ravine as we covered the thirty foot gap. Rowen's hooves pounded what was left of this side of the bridge. Wood groaned and, for a panicked moment, I thought we too might fall in.

I glanced down in time to see a flash of blue light and black smoke where the darkling died.

"Sons of Elm!" Marina shouted, scaring me out of my wits. She hugged Rowen's neck fiercely. "You're amazing, mighty steed. Absolutely amazing."

I don't have much left. His flanks lathered and chest heaving, I didn't need convincing. I would rest if it's at all possible.

"Rowen needs to take a breather," I croaked. Even those few words hurt. "Shit... I–" The acid pressed down on my chest, the pain blinded. "I can't breathe."

"Sir Malachi!" Her voice came from very far away.

Swirling leaves, like verdant snow, falling... falling... falling to blanket a world of myth and fancy. A world where a worthless man may find purpose and a sad man might find joy. A green world to replace his gray one. Green flames. Green winds. A green man, swimming in a virescent sea.

"Help! Please hurry!"

It was Marina's voice, shrill and full of desperation. Lightning ran through me and my body reacted without conscious thought. Rolling over, I pushed myself into a crouched position. Muscles shaking, I bared my teeth and sought my bearings. We were on the edge of a wide clearing that smelled of soap, lilies, and sweet wood smoke accenting a rejuvenating fresh air. Rowen lay on his side, exhausted. Marina ran towards a tall woodcutter's cottage built into the side of a wide ancient tree. Fighting the pounding in my head, I strained my senses, feeling for signs of darklings. I felt nothing.

"Come quick!"

With darkness nipping at the edges of my vision, I snarled and lurched after the princess. A figure from the cottage reached her first. The woman, medium-built with sky blue skin and navy blue hair, wore a black and white Sverigedräkten similar to something I'd seen Pierce's sister wearing in a picture once. In one hand she brandished a wand and the other held a handful of blue powder. She shouldered past Marina and tossed the powder at me, waving her wand through the dust. A symbol formed in the air and, suddenly, I couldn't move my arms or legs.

A powerful roar rolled out of my chest, causing the air to waiver. The force holding me faltered for a moment then redoubled.

"Aunt Florin, wait!"

The space beside the princess rippled like disturbed water and a burly woman appeared. Her red hair spilled down around her shoulders messily as if she'd been asleep. With bubblegum pink skin and a nose like a long needle, she wore a leather cuirass and a crystal longsword at her hip. She grabbed Marina and pulled the princess behind her protectively.

"Where have you been, girl? We've looked all over for you." The pink woman glared at me. "Where did you find this beast?"

"He's no beast, Aunt Dinar. He's–"

"Sons of Elm," squeaked a tiny voice. "Is this a new type of darkling?"

A swarm of moths flitted a circle around me, the lead insect growing bigger and bigger until she landed on the grass between me and the others. The shortest of the three women, she couldn't have been much more than four feet tall. Of the newcomers, she was the most regal with hair up in an immaculate beehive and a short dress that managed to skirt the line between elegant and sultry. Her hair and skin were the shade of lime. She adjusted a pair of large round reading glasses on her nose and studied me.

"Honestly, he doesn't look like a darkling at all." A leather-bound book appeared in her open hand as she spoke. "If I didn't know better... Marina, who is this man?"

"Sir Malachi, Aunt Shekel. He's my stag knight and he's dying from darkling poison."

The three women gaped at one another in shock. I fought against my restraints, but my strength was nearly gone. I looked back to the edge of the clearing where I'd left Rowen. He was spent and so was I. Unable to fight anymore, I laid my head on the warm earth and focused on breathing.

"A stag knight? Now? Is this an omen?"

"He's wounded, Florin. Heal him."

"Sons of Elm, I don't know if I can. How long has the poison had to eat away at him? Don't cry child, run inside and get more sprite powder. This will require big magic."

"Rowen," I whispered. "My big ass deer... he needs help too..."

I'll be fine, m'lord. Just tired.

"Calm down, Lord Malachi. Trust your guardian." The blue one called Florin sprinkled blue powder on my face like an internet chef sprinkles salt. "Relax. Let the magic extract the shadow."

I felt the powder sink into me like a thousand icy little needles. The acid slithered through my body drawn to the cold, mingling with it until my skin burned. I clenched my teeth, still focused on breathing.

"Can you save him?"

"Yes, Dinar. Now be quiet and let me concentrate."

"What will the annals of history say if you allow a stag knight to die like this?" Shekel, the green one, chortled. "Even I would have trouble calling you the realm's greatest healer."

"If you don't button your trap, I will stitch your lips closed in your sleep," Florin snapped.

"Temper, temper–"

"Shekel!"

The burn became unbearable and I cried out. My ears filled with a sound like pop rocks on the tongue.

"Step back," Florin's words were steel.

Invisible strings pulled me into the air like a marionette at her behest. I hung five feet off the ground from unseen hooks, sizzling pain biting my back. Florin studied the ground beneath me, snatching up blades of grass and kicking away stones. Shekel studied me, scribbling notes in her book with a quill that followed behind her like a faithful bird. Dinar scanned the treeline, hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword. Marina ran into view carrying a bucket, half-full of the blue powder.

"Place it there, girl. Now watch me, this type of sprite script is dangerous if written incorrectly." She dipped two fingers into the bucket and began painting symbols on the ground. "Each rune must be perfect, each phrase must clearly state a command."

The powdery paint glowed as she completed each symbol and the grass below me pulsated with eldritch light.

"Sir Knight, this is going to hurt."

Florin motioned Marina back as she finished a final strange shape. The lights flared and I was enveloped in a shaft of light. For an instant it was like being hit by a hairdryer at full blast, a searing wind beating against me. Someone screamed loud and feral. The sound originated in my chest, but it wasn't mine. The runes shifted colors and I fell from those invisible hooks, the burning sensation ripping along my spine. Rolling over as I hit the ground, I watched the darkling poison thrash above me in a vaguely manlike shape.

Move.

I rolled out of the circle as the light condensed into a narrow beam. Then all at once, light, runes, and poison shadow plunged into the earth, leaving nothing but the scorched circle of the casting. Dinar yanked the darkling knife out of my side and tossed it. Marina dropped down beside me, throwing her arms around my shoulders.

"You'd gone so pale, so clammy, I thought I'd lost you."

Her fear mingled with a sensation I hadn't felt in years. I felt wanted, I felt needed, and, in my weakened state, I couldn't keep a hold of my emotions. I let the girl hold me and I wept. I wept for Pierce and Maleek, and for a terrified and desperate girl I'd only met that afternoon.

"Rest, Sir Knight," Shekel said. "I'll tend to your mount."

Word Count: 1378

Word Total: 5810