#eventine elessedil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bleedingout4you · 5 years

Text

Through Time and Fading Memory - Part 2

Gif Credit

This is a the second chapter to a h/c fic for Allanon. You can also read it here on AO3.

Fandom: Shannara (TV show), Pairing: Allanon x Pyria, Rating: Mature

Chapter 1

Summary: Allanon faces off with his long time enemy, the Warlock Lord, knowing in his heart that he won’t survive this stand off. Memories of his past come unbidden into his mind. He can’t help but remember the many times that he’s stood against evil, but he also remembers the times he spent with the woman that he loved.

In This Chapter: Pyria and Eventine race to find Allanon and warn him that the Warlock Lord has returned, before he discovers Allanon’s location and destroys the last Druid......

Present Time

Steel sparked against steel as the Warlock Lord and Allanon battled for the four lands. Allanon could feel the power behind the other man’s sword and he knew that it wasn’t because the Warlock Lord was stronger, it was because he was weaker. He blocked the sword and was dealt with a blow across the face, dropping him to his knees.

“Get up.” The Warlock Lord hissed. The dark Druid always liked a good fight, and especially loved to see his victim struggling to survive. It was a sick delight that Allanon had become accustomed to experiencing when it came to the fallen Druid.

Allanon wasn’t about to give him exactly what he wanted. If he wanted a fight he would get it, but he would not be so easily defeated. He got to his feet and continued on. The Warlock Lord might be stronger, but his technique with a sword wasn’t as good as his. He tried to avoid prolonged contact, but soon their blades crossed and he was being forced down again. He refused to give up this easily and pushed back, struggling under the strength of the Warlock Lord.

He saw a glint in the other man’s eye and knew what was coming only a few moments before the dark magic connected with the center of his chest. He was flung backwards across the ground, trying to catch his breath from the impact. He could see Cogline move forward to engage the foe, and took this moment to attempt to recuperate.

He summoned what magic he could spare to heal himself just enough to fight again. He winced as another bright flash of red light lit up the space. Cogline was flung back from the fight and lay in a crumpled heap. The time for resting was over.

Allanon looked away from Cogline. He’d been injured by the Warlock Lord’s dark magic, but luckily he was still alive. He watched as the dark man stepped from the smoke. It looked like Cogline had managed to injure him, but not nearly enough. He braced himself to fight when he heard his name called.

“Father!” Mareth appeared at the foot of the stairs, her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the man across from him.

Allanon looked at his daughter. She was afraid, but like her mother she refused to let that fear control her. She didn’t turn and run, and he wished that she would. “Get out of here!” He shouted to her. He’d lost so much in his life, that he couldn't watch her be destroyed. He was destined to die here, but that did not mean she had to sacrifice herself here as well.

He heard the sound of metal scrapping against concrete and turned just in time to see the Warlock Lord send an old car directly at him. The box of old twisted steel struck him, slamming him back against the wall. The back of his head struck the wall and the world swirled into familiar blackness. This wasn’t the first time the Warlock Lord had tossed him against a wall……

----------------------------------------------------------

Many Years Ago

Pyria sat next to Ashala on the top step of the throne room. “I don’t see a reason to be stressed about it, Eventine.” She smiled up at her brother who was wringing his hands. “It’s just another gathering.”

She laughed at the way Eventine got so flustered over celebration planning. He was strict and organized, perfect qualities for a leader, but not perfect for celebration planning. “We do this every time we get a new batch of the chosen, just do as we did last time.”

Eventine looked down from his throne at the two women. “I really should just put you in charge of all of these things.” He sighed. “You have a much better taste when it comes to having fun and decorating.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me.” Pyria shook her head with a laugh, looking up as two young children raced into the room. Crispin and Ander seemed to be playing some sort of game that involved Ander chasing the other boy with a stick.

“Ander!” Eventine frowned at his youngest. “What did we say about running inside the throne room?”

Ander and Crispin skidded to a halt and glanced at each other. “Sorry, father.” The little curly haired boy mumbled.

Ashala cleared her throat and looked pointedly at her own son. “Crispin.”

“Sorry, King Elessedil” The other boy stuttered over the words.

Eventine couldn’t hold back his own smile regardless of how stern he attempted to look. “I accept your apology. Now don’t do it again.”

Pyria looked up as the doors swung open again and General Edensong walked in. “Papa!” the boy playing with her nephew raced into the arms of his father. She felt a warm feeling of happiness spreading in her chest as the general lifted his son into his arms.

She glanced at Ashala as she too got up to greet her husband. The General had been out at the border checking in with the guards for a few weeks and now the family celebrated being together again. It was almost bitter sweet witnessing the reunion. The years had gone by and everyone around her changed, but she felt trapped in the same place.

When Allanon had disappeared Ashala had assured her that she’d find someone new, but she hadn’t met anyone that made her feel the same way. She didn’t think she was still hung up on the mysterious man that had disappeared with almost no goodbye, but she’d never been interested in finding someone else. She almost felt guilty watching Ashala with her family, feeling a sense of envy. It must be nice to have someone to share a bed with, and to raise a family with. She forced a smile so that Eventine didn’t notice. The last thing she needed was another conversation with her brother about her lack of a spouse.

“What is the word from the border, General?” Eventine asked him, clearly pleased to be off the subject of the celebration.

General Edensong pulled himself away from his family handing his son back to his wife. “It’s strange tidings, my King.” He approached the throne with a look of grave concern on his face.

Eventine frowned. “How so?”

“There are creatures of smoke and shadow moving about.” The General noted his king’s brow furrow. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen one myself, they have been harassing the guards and random citizens.”

By harassing, Pyria assumed that he meant they’d left bodies in their wake. She’d spent enough time with her brother to read between the lines when they spoke in code to avoid any sense of panic leaking out to the people.

Eventine rubbed his beard slowly. “Why now? Do we know what they are, or why they are... harassing people?”

“I heard they are hosting interrogations. They are able to speak apparently.” The General seemed to be rather shaken, which was surprising and troubling. “They are asking for the whereabouts of the Druid.”

Pyria felt her breath turn to ice in her throat. Shadow creatures that were looking for Allanon and leaving bodies in their wake, this was worse than simply strange. She slowly glanced at her brother and she could tell he was just as concerned.

“We need to warn the Druid.” Eventine was on his feet. “He should know that some dark force is searching for him, and perhaps he can explain exactly what it is.”

“Easier said than done.” General Edensong pointed out. “No one has heard from the Druid in years.”

“I know where he is.” Pyria announced. The room grew silent as the two elves turned to her. “A year after the Druid left us, I was curious as to why he didn’t return.” She saw the look in her brother’s eyes. He knew that she’d fancied the man when she was younger. She rose to her feet deliberately looking away from her brother. “He taught me how to read some of the Druid text, and I believe I know where he is.”

She could pretend that his running off the way he did didn’t hurt her, but it wasn’t true. He knew that if he cast the spell that he’d have to go into a Druid Sleep to recover, but he hadn’t told her. She had considered him her friend and thought that he had at least owed her the truth when it came to that, but clearly he hadn’t felt the same way.

“Alright.” Eventine slowly sighed. “Let me know the location. I’ll ride out with the General personally and warn him.”

“It may not be that simple.” Pyria carefully crossed her arms watching her brother. He knew nothing about the ways of the Druids. Allanon would not be awake, and waking him up could be impossible. “We might need to protect him, not warn him.”

She could see the skepticism on his face. “Allanon had to go into a hibernative state to recover from the spell he used to protect Paranor.” She could see more confusion on her brother’s face, and knew explaining this to him would take too long. “Time is wasting. I know more about the situation than you do. I’ll ride with you.”

“Pyria….” Her brother attempted to protest, but she held her hand up to him.

“Don’t argue. I have decided.” She told him firmly. “You know that you need me on this quest, don’t be foolish.”

Eventine looked as if he wanted to protest, but it was clear that he was thinking it over. “You’re right, Pyria. We leave in within the hour.”

Pyria smiled pleasantly at her brother, glad that he’d come to his senses. She made her way to her room to get ready feeling a strange sense of nervousness tickling about in her chest. What would it be like to see Allanon again? She wondered if it would feel the same as before, but she doubted it. He would be asleep, and as much as she wanted to wake him she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to.

----------------------------------------------------------

It was the same nightmare. He was standing in the middle of a hall overflowing with celebration and festivities. People from every race moved around him, bowing to him as they passed. He was in control of every last one of them. His slim fingers brushed over the steel crown that he wore. He was king of all the Four Lands and there was no one left to defy him. The great doors at the end of the hall blew open with enough force to break the wood into pieces. He felt the chill of fear plunge into his heart like a cold blade. He wanted to flee or defend himself, but he could never change the course of the dream. The shadow appeared. The Druid.

He pulled his sword free of its sheath and heard the all too familiar answering sound of the druid blade unfolding. The metal clicking together was something that haunted him even when he was awake.

He created a shield of magic to defend himself, but the Druid simply walked through the barrier as if it were made of dust. "Curse you!" He screamed as the blade arched up slicing down through his shoulder and into his chest.

"I am the last of the Druids, and I will destroy you." The voice thundered in his ears as the blade turned to fire in his chest. He could feel his body being slowly torn apart.

Brona, the Warlock Lord, bolted awake. He pulled himself into a sitting position feeling the shortness of breath and cold sweat racing down his back that he’d become accustomed to. It was always the same dream that pulled him from his sleep, instilling a deep sense of fear. He didn’t like the feeling. It was a weakness, and it left a bitter taste at the back of his tongue.

He rubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead, brushing away the sweat that had collected there. He knew better than to consider this a dream. It was a vision. A vision of his destruction. This remaining Druid was the last thing on this earth that could destroy him. Others had tried before, they had destroyed his body, but he had survived. He’d spent years upon years recovering in a tiny shack at the edge of the Wilderun, and he refused to have it be for naught.

He pulled himself off the bed and made his way across the rickety little building. It was one room and he could smell the mold on the walls. He refused to live this way much longer, but he also refused to accept death. He pushed the door open and stepped into the sunlight. He could feel the heat of the sun on his bare skin and for a moment he just enjoyed the feeling. It had taken years for him to even get close enough to a point where he could walk, let alone feel the sun on his face. It was a feeling he didn’t take for granted.

He opened his eyes and scanned the horizon. When the visions had first started coming to him he’d been unable to speak, but once his tongue was loosed he’d sent his Skull Bearers out to find the Druid. They had been searching for some months now, but none had returned for a report. Wisdom bade him to remain hidden from the world, but impatience demanded action.

He made his way back into the shack and pulled on his old clothes. They were slightly tattered, but appearances didn’t mean a thing to him. They would serve to protect him on his journey. The Skull Bearers were decent helpers, but their ability to reason was limited. They were searching for the man in the flesh, but for some reason the Druid wasn’t at Paranor, so they spiraled outwards.

Moving away from Paranor was a mistake. Brona knew the Druid would be drawn there and at the very least there would be a hint that his Bearers hadn’t seen. He made his way out of the shack again and turned to the horse they’d brought him. It wasn’t much of a creature, but it was enough to take him to the keep.

The ride was long, but Brona had been lying in rest for many years. It was almost refreshing to travel such a distance. As he crossed over the desert that had once been something greater he could see Paranor rising in the distance. A lesser man might attempt to run from his fate, but not the Warlock Lord. He understood fate. You couldn’t run from it, but you could meet with it head on and change it.

He could feel shivers of fear racing up and down his spine threatening to invade his mind, but he swallowed it back. As he neared the keep he felt a tingle in the back of his mind suggesting that he’d wasted his time and that there was nothing to be found here. “Clever.” He whispered beneath his breath. It was why the Skull Bearers hadn’t found anything, this place was cloaked with a spell. He dismounted several yards away from the door to the keep and scanned the place with his well-trained eyes. Yes, he could detect a barrier shielding the old keep. He smirked as he stepped up to the barrier. He could see Paranor on the other side, but it was not the safehold that it used to be. No, this Paranor was covered in dust and death. The Druid Order had been torn apart and their blood had painted those walls. The Druids had gotten what they deserved, and he had seen to it. He closed his eyes still being able to hear the cries of the dying. This wasn't a safehold, it was a crypt.

He reached his hand up and tapped on the barrier with his finger. He hissed as the flesh sheared off almost to bone. He turned his hand over looking at the charred flesh. Many people would react in anger, but that wasn’t something that he was feeling. He was feeling a sense of delight. He looked up from his hand and spotted a book lying on the ground just inside the barrier. The elements had mostly destroyed it, but the cover made of durable leather remained jutting out of the sand.

The Druid had cast a spell to keep the forces of evil out of the keep. It was almost poetic, because now Paranor was the one place that the Druid could be safe from him and yet he wouldn’t be there. A spell this powerful would have dreadful repercussions. No doubt the Druid would be called into the Sleep, and he would not be in any condition to go far.

Brona turned and sprang back unto his horse, knowing exactly where to go. The time to strike was now, the Druid was vulnerable. He didn’t believe in luck, but he believed those who challenged fate were rewarded. He drove the horse at a furious pace toward the closest Druid cave. The horse was worn from the journey, but he didn’t care if it dropped dead once they arrived. Today, he would kill that last Druid.

He reigned the horse to a halt at the edge of the cave entrance. He could feel the sense of victory welling up inside of him. Unless he had terribly miscalculated, the Druid would be here, completely defenseless. He slipped off the horse and drew his sword. The dark magic in the blade raced into his hand and up his arm as he stepped into the darkness in front of him.

He could see the man lying on the stone table in front of him. He looked younger than he thought he’d be. He tried to recall his face in his memory, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Most of the Druids were faceless in his memory. There were those that he hated, and then there were simply the ones he’d murdered.

Walking up to the table, he kicked a dusty pile of clothes out of his way. He rested his hand on the edge of the table and leaned over the unconscious man. “How did you escape?” He mused to himself. “Bremen was more powerful than you, but I cut him to pieces. Where did he hide you?” He laughed to himself, his eyes flitted over the body of the Druid. He noted the lines running over his arms and his fingers. The spell had taken its toll on him and he’d probably be riddled with more scars, but the Druid wouldn’t have to be worried about scars if he was dead.

It was almost disappointing that the Druid was so defenseless. There would be no fight here, but he did hope that he would wake up when the sword pierced his heart. He wanted to see the life vanish from his eyes with the knowledge that Brona had succeeded in his quest to destroy the Druid order. “Time to die, Druid.” He hissed, channeling his magic back into the sword. He raised the sword above his head prepared to bring the blade down through the other man’s heart.

The runes etched into the walls around them began to glow like embers settled in a fire pit. Brona, consumed with blood lust, didn’t notice the telltale warning signs, all he could see was the man lying in front of him. He plunged his sword down, tip first, toward the Druid’s heart.

He heard the sound of metal clicking together. Steel building upon itself. The noise that echoed in his nightmares. The Druid’s hand moved quickly, his blade slipping in front of the tip of Brona’s blade. The dark blade slipped off the Druid sword and missed the intended target, instead it sliced down through the top of the man’s shoulder.

The Druid released a muffled cry as he rolled off the table. Brona stumbled back a step at the unexpected movement. He’d wanted a fight, but there was something about the Druid foiling his quick kill that made him annoyed. He reached forward with his free hand and summoned dark magic. Death by a sword was a better way to go than being ripped apart by dark magic. The Druid had brought this fate on himself by resisting.

----------------------------------------------------------

Allanon was walking down the shores of the sea. He looked across the waters and could see the strange outline of Paranor in the distance. It wasn’t the Paranor he’d left behind, this one was the resting place of the spirits of the Druid order. He could sometimes speak with the others in his dreams, but only when they chose to appear to him.

He turned away from the sea and suddenly found himself inside Paranor. He inhaled a quick breath in surprise, the smell of death filled his lungs. He froze, barely daring to breathe or move. Glancing around him, he could see blood over the walls, bodies lying broken and bleeding on the floor. There was no sound, not even the sound of wind. It was silent. He could feel his blood turning to ice as he slowly started walking down the hall.

A hand reached up and grabbed his ankle. He spun around, ripping his foot clear of the man on the floor. To his horror, he was looking down at a bleeding Bremen. His master’s eyes were clouded white in death, but still his mouth moved. He couldn’t hear the words, but they echoed in his mind.

“He is coming."

Allanon stumbled back, feeling a sudden urge to flee the keep. "You....you're not supposed to be here." He stumbled over another body lying on the floor, but he couldn't take his eyes off the sight of his master. "You didn't die here, this is a mistake."

"Wake up!”

Allanon’s eyes flew open and instinctively activated his sword, drawing it up to protect himself. A blade glanced off his shoulder, the pain shocking him into full alertness as it sliced through his skin. He gasped in surprise, rolling off the table just as a powerful blast of magic struck the very place he once was.

The sickening sound of stone breaking echoed inside the cave. He could hear the table cracking apart, and feel it in his soul. The man that had entered the cave was powerful enough to destroy a Druid table. Shards of broken rock flew around him. He reached up to shield his eyes as a piece cut into the skin just above his right eyebrow.

The shock wave, released as the magic within the table was destroyed, hit him next. His body was lifted from the ground and slammed into the back of the cave wall as if he was nothing but a simple doll. He could hear the sound of his ribs give way as he hit, feeling a wave of blistering heat wash over his exposed side. He could tell that his entire right side from his ankle, up his leg, back, and arm were covered in severe burns. The shock of what was happening numbed his body to the pain briefly, and stole his breath. He tried to breathe in, but all he could do was pull in a weak shaky gasp of air.

The cloaked figure moved forward, his hand lighting up with another flame of red magic. Allanon’s ears were ringing from impacting with the wall, but through the fog he could hear the cold laughter. He also heard something else. It sounded like someone was calling his name. He heard it again and forced himself to his feet. He stared back at the shadow that approached him.

The man cloaked in shadows lifted his arm, preparing to throw another blast of magic. Allanon knew that the person he was dealing with was powerful, and he hoped that his own magic was powerful enough to at least hold him back. Lifting his arm, Allanon summoned all the strength inside of him, channeling it into a deflection spell. The blue light shimmered to life in his hand. The colors of blue and red lit up the cave in a blinding flash of light.

----------------------------------------------------------

Pyria could feel the nervous energy eating away at her as they made for the Druid cave. She was nervous about seeing Allanon again, but she was even more concerned that they wouldn’t make it in time. If she could discern which cave he’d gone to, someone else could as well. She rested her hand on her sword hilt. She didn’t usually carry a sword, but she’d been trained in the art of battle for her own defense.

“Do you know what we are facing, Princess?” General Edensong asked her. Her brother had insisted that they bring a small army if needed. So the general had rounded up a troop of his most skilled fighters.

“I think it might be the Warlock Lord.” Pyria spoke hesitantly. “I don’t know much, but from looking over historic texts the creatures you described have only appeared when he is around.”

“That name seems familiar.” Eventine frowned. “Didn’t this man destroy the Druids?”

Pyria nodded, attempting to hide her fear. If he’d destroyed the entire Druid order, what was protecting Allanon from sharing the same fate?

“We need to be careful.” General Edensong grew tenser than before. “We can’t risk engaging with someone that has magic that powerful.”

She knew that he was right. Their fighters were skilled, but in the face of magic they were nearly powerless. They reached the rim of the knoll and looked down at the sloping hillside that led into the dessert region. “There.” She pointed to a ridge below them that wound just up the next hill and disappeared into a dark cavern.

Eventine urged his horse forward, but the general reached out his hand and caught his king’s shoulder. “Wait. Look.”

Pyria followed the point of his finger and saw a dark hooded figure riding up to the cave. “We’re too late. He’s here!” She kicked her heels against her horse’s side, but two of the guards seized her reins. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t let you go to him.” The general told her, a voice that was far too calm. “It could mean your death.”

She looked to her brother in surprise. They couldn’t have ridden this far to stand by and do nothing.

“I’m sorry, Pyria.” Eventine sighed bitterly. “I won’t risk losing you.” He looked back toward the figure that had dismounted his horse and was entering the cave. “Allanon is my friend, but we can’t run in blind. Dying won’t help him.”

“Doing nothing won’t help him either.” Pyria didn’t mean for her voice to be so cutting, but she couldn’t help it. She would not leave Allanon to die. “I’m sorry too, brother.” She slammed her elbow into the first guards face and kicked the other guard’s horse in the side causing it to buck. She urged her own horse forward once they were forced to release her reins.

She could hear her brother calling out for her, but she didn’t listen to him. The only thing that mattered right now was helping a defenseless man. She would not stand idly by and let the last Druid be killed in is sleep, solely on the grounds that she might be hurt in the process. She reined the horse to halt next to the horse the rider rode in on.

Pyria looked over the other horse, noting the blood dripping from its nostrils and sweat soaked body. She dismounted quickly. “Anyone who treats an animal this way doesn’t deserve to draw breath.” She whispered to herself.

She turned to enter the cave when a powerful blast rocked the ground, a gale force wind exploding from the cave entrance. Stumbling back, she fell on her backside, her eyes opening wide in surprise. Had she been too late?

“Allanon!” Pyria called out at the top of her lungs, scrambling to her feet. He couldn’t be dead. She refused to believe it. She made her way into the cave and saw the cloaked man in front of her. She could barely make out Allanon, hunched over towards the back of the cave. She fumbled with the sword in her belt, barely managing to free it from its sheath. “Allanon!” She shouted to him again, and then the whole world exploded into a blinding light and the explosion that followed was deafening.

----------------------------------------------------------

Eventine attempted to go after his sister, but General Edensong held fast to his reins. “Your Highness, you can’t.” His voice was stern. “We can’t afford to lose you.” He gestured to his guards. “They will bring her back. You need to think of your children and kingdom.”

He hated to admit that the general had a point, but he couldn’t stand the idea of his sister running into harm’s way. He watched the guards riding down the hill when the first explosion rocked the countryside. The horses by the entrance bolted and the guards were tossed from their mounts. It took Eventine everything he had to keep from getting tossed from his own horse.

“I’ve had enough of waiting.” Eventine fought his horse, trying to force it go forward, but it refused his commands. He looked up and saw his sister vanish into the cave. “Pyria!” He dismounted from his horse and took off on foot.

“Your Highness, no!” General Edensong gave chase behind him, but didn’t make an attempt to stop him, instead he fell in step beside him. “This is foolish!”

“This is about my sister!” He shouted, as they raced toward the entrance of the cave. The next blast knocked them both onto the ground in front of them. Eventine’s ears were ringing from the sound of the explosion just ahead of him. He shook his head trying to clear his hearing. If he was affected by the blast this much, he could only image what happened to his sister.

“Are you alright.” He felt the general’s hand on his shoulder and brushed him off. This wasn’t about him. He got back to his feet and stumbled up to the entrance of the cave. He was surprised it was still standing. He drew his sword and cautiously stepped inside.

The cave had suffered damages, the back of it had caved in and the stone table that stood in the center of the room was cracked in half. The strangest part was that there was no one inside the cave. He looked around in confusion, but it was as if no one had ever entered the cave. It was truly, completely empty.

“Your Grace.” General Edensong’s voice echoed in the stillness. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” Eventine felt a sense of dread flood his soul. “They’re just……… gone.” He turned to his general with a blank expression. People didn’t just disappear into thin air.

#Allanon #shannara chronicles #shannara #Pyria Elessedil #whump fic #eventine elessedil #my works

10 notes · View notes

bleedingout4you · 5 years

Text

Through Time and Fading Memory

Image credit: goingtodurin.tumblr.com

This is a h/c fanfiction for Allanon that I’ve been writing with help from the wonderful @swingrlm. This is chapter one. You can also read it here on AO3.

Fandom: Shannara (TV show), Pairing: Allanon x Pyria, Rating: Mature

Summary: Allanon faces off with his long time enemy, the Warlock Lord, knowing in his heart that he won't survive this stand off. Memories of his past come unbidden into his mind. He can't help but remember the many times that he's stood against evil, but he also remembers the times he spent with the woman that he loved.

Deep beneath the Enclave, the fight for the four lands had begun. The Mord Wraiths had found them.

Allanon hurried down the stairs in search of Wil and Mareth, when he came upon a streak of blood. Following the red stain, he came upon the body of the young boy he had been talking to earlier that day.

Allanon turned away from the sight of the dead boy. It was clear that the Warlock Lord hadn’t changed much. The murdering of innocents, simply because he could, was a trait that he’d always carried. Allanon turned the corner and there he was. He found himself looking back at his own face, though it had been perverted with marks and piercings, but the most disturbing thing was those dark, soulless eyes. He’d never forget those eyes.

“Hello.... my old friend.” The Warlock Lord hissed, and though the voice wasn’t his, the tone was all too familiar. He could hear the sarcasm dripping off each of his words. “Your blood brought me back, Druid.”

“Nothing can disguise the blackness of your soul.” Allanon responded. The Warlock Lord seemed to think the fact that his blood had brought him back was some sort of justice. He knew the man had always blamed him for destroying his plans.

The Warlock Lord smiled slowly, in the way that was so familiar to Allanon. He tilted his head to the side looking him up and down. “You are weak, like your pupil.” Allanon recalled Bandon’s body lying in the center of Graymark, and he recalled the young elf full of life, eager to get his visions under control. With that memory came the one of Bandon breaking under the pressure. He’d watched it happen and it had been his fault. He’d left Bandon open for the influence of the Warlock Lord’s sword. Perhaps it was some sort of poetic justice that he now had his face. “You will pay for what you did to Bandon.”

The Warlock Lord seemed more or less amused at his words. “You cannot defeat me... Allanon.”

Cogline came around the corner, the look of surprise that flashed across his face at the sight of the Warlock Lord vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Perhaps not alone. You’ve always underestimated the importance of allies.”

“Alliances are for those who are too weak to empower themselves.” The other pointed out. It was something that he had always believed. The Warlock Lord never allied himself with anyone, unless he was using them.

Cogline lowered his voice and spoke to Allanon. “Every second we waste, Lyria is in danger.”

“Their fate is in Wil’s hands now. We have our own war to fight.” Allanon answer calmly. They would all have to depend on Wil now. He was the only hope of defeating the Warlock Lord. All he could do was slow the man down. His magic was fading, and the Warlock Lord was at full power. The two of them had been evenly matched before and Allanon had barely made it out alive. This time, he knew there would be no walking away. He had come to face the Warlock Lord knowing full well that he was facing his death. What he hadn’t counted on was all the feelings that had been stirred up inside him.

He’d heard that when a man faced death that his entire life would flash before his eyes, and he could see it now. A life of solitude and loneliness. There were flashes of warmth as the faces of people he had cared about came to mind. It was these people that had made life worth living, that had made him feel like everything that he had suffered had been worth it. It was for them that he’d fought battles and bled for this world, and it was for them that he would proudly lay down his life. Allanon pulled his sword from his belt and activated the steel blade stepping forward to meet the Warlock Lord in battle.

Many Years Earlier

Pyria leaned against the sill of her window and gazed down at the town below. Arborlon was always a quiet place, peaceful, or perhaps boring if you looked at that way. She enjoyed peace, but today it was simply another day in her life where nothing was happening. She pushed the window open and tapped her fingers on the glass, wondering what it would take to convince her brother to allow her to at least travel to another elvin stronghold.

Sighing to herself, she looked up at the birds silhouetted in the sky. She supposed most would regard her as a spoiled princess, daring to complain about her lot in life, but she couldn’t help but wish she could have some sort of adventure. She wanted to see the distant mountains, the small towns, and feel the ocean water running over her feet.

A gentle knock on the door pulled her away from her thoughts and she turned to see her handmaid, Ashala, at the door. “My lady, your brother, the King has returned.”

Pyria pulled the window shut and rushed up to her maid, excitement glinting in her eyes. “Has he brought the Druid with him?”

The handmaid giggled into her hand. “According to the General, he has.”

Pyria gave her friend a knowing smile. It was no secret that Ashala was sweet on General Edensong. “Very good, let’s go down and see what this famed Druid looks like.” She linked her arm with Ashala as they made their way down the stairs. “I’ll bet he is an old man with a limp.” She announced brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

“The Druids have been around since the beginning of time, I’ll bet he’s covered in wrinkles.” Ashala joined in on the joke as they swept down the palace halls and reached the throne room, still giggling quietly to one another.

Eventine caught sight of the two girls, beckoning them forward. “Allanon, this is my younger sister, Pyria Elessedil. Pyria, meet the Druid Allanon.”

The man had his back to her, but already, the Druid didn’t fit the description she had in her mind. He was much taller than she’d thought he would be and his shoulders were broader. Her eyes swept up his robe and over the runes carved into his skin. Allanon turned to face her, and she looked into to his gentle, dark eyes and felt her heart flutter in her chest.

Pyria released Ashala’s arm and stepped forward. “Nice to finally meet you, Allanon.” She spoke firmly, attempting to hide the blush that stood out on her light skin.

He glanced at Eventine and then looked back to her, a small smile on his lips. “It is nice to meet you too, princess.” He gave her a short bow as was appropriate to her station. “The King was just about to show me to Arborlon’s library.”

“I could take you.” Pyria quickly spoke up. She wasn’t about to let the dark stranger get away from her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him. “I’ve spent more time there than my brother, so perhaps I can help you find what you are looking for.”

Allanon looked hesitant, but Eventine seemed satisfied with the idea. “Could you? My wife is waiting for me, and I’d like to get back to her.” He rubbed the Druid’s shoulder as he passed by. “You’ll be in good hands.”

Pyria turned to Ashala. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She saw the teasing smile on her friend’s face as she turned to leave. She turned on her heel back to the Druid. “Shall we continue to the library?”

“Of course, lead the way, princess.” Allanon didn’t move from his spot until she started walking and fell in step just off her right shoulder.

She had a feeling the man knew exactly where the library was, but he was probably being polite. His politeness seemed to end there as he made no attempts to start small talk, but left an awkward silence grow between them. “So, how long have you been a Druid?”

“Since before you were born.” He responded and made no move to elaborate on his statement.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and wondered how old he was. He looked so much younger than she’d pictured. He sensed her eyes on him and looked back to her and she quickly turned away. “Here is the library.”

Pyria pushed open the doors of the large library and watched his reaction. He didn’t seem surprised by what they had to offer, which confirmed her suspicions that he’d been here before. “What are you looking for?”

“An old protection spell.” Allanon answered, walking up to the first set of shelves and trailing his hand over the spines of the books. “It would appear that you’ve reorganized the room.” He looked back to her with an expectant expression on his face.

“Um, of course.” She flipped her dark brown braid back over her shoulder and quickly led him to the far side of the room. “These are all the books that have magic. We keep them in the back, since they aren’t used that often. I can’t even read half of them.” Most of the text was written in Druid. She’d attempted to learn it, but it was impossible without some form of instruction.

Allanon turned his attention to the books, whispering to himself as he read the titles. He knelt down to look at the ones on the lower shelf, giving her a clear view of the runes carved into his skin.

She’d seen some of the runes in the books she’d flipped through, and wondered what they meant. “Did they hurt?” She asked him.

Allanon looked up, but he wasn’t confused. It was as if he could read her mind and knew exactly what she’d meant. “Yes.” He smiled at her flustered expression. “You should go find your friend. I will be fine from here.” He dismissed her so easily as he selected a book and carried it to the table.

Pyria placed her hands on her hips feeling flustered and upset. “I said that I would help you find what you’re looking for and I meant it.” She marched up to the Druid giving him her most determined look. “Now tell me how I can help you.”

Allanon looked up from his open book with a look of patience. “Princess, I don’t know what tales of adventures you hope to learn from me, but you will be disappointed. There is no way to romanticize the things that I’ve seen.”

Pyria felt her face burning in embarrassment at his words. Everything that he said made her want to do exactly what he’d suggested and seek out Ashala for company. But he had underestimated her will power. She crossed her arms and raised her chin in defiance. “If you don’t need help now, perhaps you will later.” Crossing the room to another shelf, she selected a book on healing from the top shelf. “I shall be right over here if you need me.” She sat down at the table across from him, smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress and trying to appear dignified.

She waited for some sort of protest, but all she heard was him laugh quietly under his breath. Silence stretched out between them, and focusing on the words in front of her was nearly impossible. Sneaking a quick glance up at the man across from her, she was almost disappointed that he seemed to have no trouble focusing on his dusty old tome.

Allanon placed another book down on the table in front of him. The stack of tomes was growing beside him, but the spell he needed wasn’t in any of the books he’d searched through. He rubbed his eyes trying to focus himself, but the runes on the pages were all starting to blur together. He had been researching in the library for several days now, and every day Pyria joined him, sitting at the table across from him.

At first, he’d been bothered by sensing her constant thoughts about whether he’d acknowledge her in some way or ask her to help, but he’d gotten used to her being around. It was what made today rather strange. The table across from him sat empty and he could only assume that she’d grown bored of watching him endlessly page through old books.

He rested his chin on his hands and just closed his eyes for a few minutes. He’d been working at this with barely any rest and only short pauses to eat some food that he had in his pack. He hadn’t see much of anyone, save Pyria during this time. Eventine invited him to dinner last night, but he’d declined. Paranor held the Codex sealed within its walls. He needed to ensure that the old druid keep was protected against those that would steal the book.

Paranor. He sighed heavily to himself. In his mind’s eye he could see the old keep, alive with activity. Druid masters training young magic users, visitors coming to them in need of help or shelter, and of course his master standing at the council table. He could recall the halls he’d once walked down as a boy. They weren’t splendid like castle walls, but he’d always been entranced by the runes that scrolled down the pillars.

But like most things in life, the memory faded to ash. Paranor was simply a shell of what it was. A tomb for the Druid order. He could recall the battle that took place and the sounds of his brothers and sisters dying around him. He never imagined they could lose, but lose they did. They were wiped from the face of the earth, like a message carved into the beach sand was removed with the incoming tide.

“Allanon?”

Allanon jumped a little and his eyes flew open. He looked up and saw Pyria standing at the side of the table. He didn’t need to read her mind to see that she was trying very hard not to laugh. He sat back in his chair and tried to figure out how long he’d been daydreaming.

“Well Master Druid, looks like I’ve arrived just in time.” Pyria pushed the book in front of him to the side and placed a plate of food in front of him, complete with a steaming cup of tea.

He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the food sitting in front of him. “Thank you, princess.” He felt her irritation before she vocalized it.

“I have a name you know. It’s Pyria in case you forgot.” Her hands found her hips again, as seemed to be her favored position.

“My apologies, Princess Pyria.” Watching her roll her eyes, he couldn’t help but smile in spite of himself at how riled she was about his use of her proper title.

“Now you’re just teasing me.” She took a seat on the chair across from him, watching him take a bite of his food. Her head tilted to the side as she glanced at the book next to him.

“You are still wondering how you can help me.” Allanon watched the young elf jump and glare at him. He found her to be more amusing than annoying like he had first thought.

“Would it be so bad if I helped you?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Clearly, you need all the help you can get.”

He wasn’t sure if he would have phrased it that way, but perhaps he was being stubborn. The few days he’d spent with her had revealed that she may be a young girl at heart, but she was clever and well-read in many fields. “I’m looking for books that contain this rune on the cover.” He pointed to one of the runes on the open page.

Pyria leaned closer to get a good look at the rune. “What does it mean?”

She certainly was infinitely curious. “It means protection.” He told her. “And this one next to it refers to an object or place. I need to find a protection spell for an old keep. This is a combination of runes that would be part of the spell.”

She nodded along with what he was saying, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she memorized the runes. “Alright, you just enjoy your meal then, while I go find your book.” She bounced up from the table and made her way to the bookshelves.

He watched her bound away and turned back to his food, shaking his head at the amount of energy she possessed. By the time he’d cleaned his plate she had stacked five books on the edge of the counter, and by the time he looked through one of the books the pile had grown considerably. “Princess.”

Pyria froze in mid step to cast him a disapproving look. “Pyria you mean.” She placed the two books she was carrying on top of the stack of tomes.

Allanon understood the sentiment of people with titles that preferred to go by their first names, but it was inappropriate for a Druid to be in such good favor with a royal. “You were right, this task might be best served if there are two searching.”

She looked pleased with herself. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

“It would help me greatly if you could read Druid runes.” Allanon watched her eyes light up, she was hoping that he was about to offer her the chance to learn something new. “I can give a brief lesson if you are willing to learn.”

Before he could blink, she’d settled herself down in the chair next to him. “Of course I’m willing.” Her voice laced with excitement.

Pyria was fast a learner and giving her a basic lesson in druid runes didn’t take very long. It would take her years of studying to be able to read fluently, but it was enough for now. The two had divided the books between them and started going through them.

Allanon wasn’t sure how many hours slipped by, but at some point he lit candles for the two of them. They passed the books back and forth and he answered questions she had about the runes she was looking over. He pushed the book he was looking at aside and reached for another only to find that the pile of books had disappeared. “We need to get more books.” He got to his feet and paused when she didn’t answer him. “Pyria.”

It slipped out so naturally that he realized he had dropped her proper title several hours ago. It wasn’t professional, but he viewed the young elf as a friend. It was a mistake to think that way. It allowed him to grow closer to someone that he’d just end up losing. He knew the spell he was seeking would cost him too much, and he would have to replenish his magic by going into a Druid sleep. He didn’t know when he’d wake up, but he did know that she wouldn’t be the same person.

He looked down at the girl, her arms folded over the tome in front of her, cradling her head. He didn’t know when she’d nodded off, but he knew that it was late. “Perhaps we should take rest for the night.” He smiled to himself, he had to admire her dedication. She would certainly make a great leader one day.

He blew out the candles and carefully lifted Pyria into his arms. She was so light, that it was like cradling a small bird in his hands. She buried her face into his bicep as he carefully moved toward the door, trying his best not to wake her.

Allanon pushed the door to her room open and slipped inside. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the amount of foreign trinkets that were hung around the room. He had sensed that she had a spirit of adventure, he just didn’t know how deep it ran. In her position it could either be blessing or curse.

He gently laid her down on her bed and her eyes fluttered open. The hazel eyes looked up at him in confusion. “Allanon?”

“You fell asleep.” He told her softly.

“I did?” She rubbed her forehead and looked around. “Where am I?”

“In your room.” Allanon picked up the folded blanket at the end of her bed and pulled it over her. “We are done searching for the night. Rest.”

She nodded tiredly and closed her eyes with a tired sigh.

Allanon made his way back to the door and glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping princess. She looked so peaceful right now. He hoped that in her life she would only know peace.

Pyria sat in her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest. She could barely keep the smile off her face. What happened last night was running through her mind on repeat. It was almost like a dream, but she could remember every detail. She hugged herself, still feeling the strong arms around her.

He had been so gentle that she’d almost slept through it, but she was glad that she’d woken up when he’d opened the door to her room. For a moment she’d been so close to him that she could look up into those dark brown eyes. They were so kind, but at the same time, they seemed so sad. Lonely. She wondered if he was lonely or if perhaps she was only imaging it.

She sprang from her bed with a giggle of delight. She wasn’t sure how she could possibly act normal when she met with him in the library today. She was practically floating as she raced down the stairs. A few twists and turns and she was right in front of the library doors. She reached out to open it, when it swung open and she was face to face with the Druid. “Oh!” She jumped back, feeling as if she was blushing from head to foot.

Allanon looked surprised by her as well. He also looked sad. She was certain that she wasn’t making it up this time. She spotted a book tucked under his arm. “Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked, unsure whether she should be excited or not.

“Yes.” He responded, and his tone sounded as distant as it did the first day he met her. He moved past her making his way down the hall.

“That's a good thing, right?” Pyria had to jog to catch up with him. “Allanon, is something wrong?”

“No.” Allanon stopped and looked down at her. Pyria knew at once that she hadn’t been seeing things. The loneliness that reflected in his eyes broke her heart. “Thank you for all your help, Princess, but I have to go.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” She was shocked at his words. The last few days had been so good, and now he was just leaving. “At least stay for breakfast.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay.” He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the last time and then moved away. “Apologize to your brother for me.” He called back to her and paused at the great door. “Goodbye, Pyria.”

“Safe travels until I see you again.” She called to him. For a moment his silhouette was in the doorway and then he was gone. She took a deep breath trying not to feel hurt. She knew what he was doing was important. The spell was one of protection, protection for something important. She rested a hand over her heart and blinked back the tears in her eyes. He would return once he was done, she was sure of it. “I will see him again.” She promised herself quietly.

Most people might feel a sense of accomplishment after completing a difficult task, but then again, most people weren’t magic users. Allanon was on his knees looking up at Paranor, the great Druid Keep. To the naked eye nothing had changed, but the entire fortress was now cloaked in a spell to repel the forces of evil.

He tried to draw in a breath but it was more like a ragged gasp that wracked his whole body. The runes that had been carved into his skin were supposed to help him channel magic and minimize physical damage, but it didn’t make a difference when you performed a spell this powerful. Allanon looked at the book laying on the ground in front of him and reached for it. Just the attempt at moving his fingers set searing, daggers of pain lacing up his arm, turning his vision bright white. He collapsed forward on top of the book and lay there in the sand. The last of his energy had been used when casting the spell and he’d felt the magic burning away his skin, but he’d pushed through the pain. Now he was worried to remove his clothing and see the damage, but he knew eventually he'd have to. Once he reached the Druid table, he would have to rest the healing rune craved into his back on the table. Clothing would interrupt the connection, and the process to heal would take far longer.

His eyes drifted shut. He needed to rest, to shut out the pain for just a few moments. He knew if he rested now there was a chance he wouldn’t wake up. His hand was laying stretched out in front of him and he tried to tuck his arm under him to help push himself up, but just bending his elbow made him feel like his skin cracked open. “Just a little rest.” He whispered into the dust.

When Allanon woke, the sun was hot on his back. He wasn’t sure if it was a few hours later or days, but if he’d thought that he’d feel better, he was gravely mistaken. His entire body felt stiff and just breathing made him feel like his lungs were bursting. He’d been burned by magic use before, but this time it felt like even his insides had been lit on fire.

Allanon pushed his knee up under him and managed to roll onto his back. “Ugh.” He winced as his back touched the ground. Trying to pull in enough air to whistle, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a whimper. He realized that he’d made a mistake coming here alone. He should have had the foresight to take someone with him.

He sensed the familiar tingle of panic in the back of his mind, it was causing his heart rate to increase. He needed to control the urge to panic and channel it into something useful. He licked his parched lips and attempted to whistle again. He managed to produce a weak, strangled sounding whistle and just hoped that his horse hadn’t wandered off.

He felt the horse nuzzle the top of his head and let out a sigh of relief. Now the real struggle began. He leaned his head back until he could see the stirrup of the saddle, all he had to do right now was grab that stirrup. Just reach it, he chanted in his mind. Lifting his arm slowly, he ignored the way his skin stuck to the inside of his sleeve, the movement causing his skin to pull. Just reach it. His hand landed on the edge of the stirrup and he curled his fingers around it. He could feel the skin of his fingers tearing free from the inside of the glove and it took everything in his power not to scream and spook his horse.

Allanon tried to control his ragged breathing as he waited for the pain in his arm and hand to fade from screaming pain to an intense throb. Figuring it was as good as he could expect, he knew it was time to move again. One hand over the other. He locked his jaw together and reached his left hand over his right, grabbing onto the side of the saddle. The pain was so intense he was afraid he’d loose grip on the saddle, so without waiting, he pulled upwards, tucking his legs beneath him and pulled himself to his feet.

His vision dissolved into black spots and he clung to the saddle as tightly as he could. His jaw was so firmly clamped together that he wondered if his teeth would just simply crack from the pressure. He reached over the saddle and pulled himself up onto his horse. He knew he was just moments away from passing out so he had to work quickly. His fingers fumbled with the buckle on his belt and finally at the third try he freed it. He loosened it just enough to slide it through the front of the saddle, lashing himself to the horse. He slumped down against the horse’s neck and let himself fall into the blackness that was calling him.

Biting pain woke Allanon. He was partially slumped off the side of his horse and the belt was cutting into his side. He opened his eyes just enough to see that they’d come to a halt at the entrance of a cave. Relief flooded his mind, it was a cool reassurance that soon this would be over. He didn’t bother attempting to untie the belt. He freed his Druid sword and activated the blade, letting it cut through the leather.

He fell heavily on his shoulder and cried out in pain, unable to stop himself this time. His horse bolted a few steps from him, snorting in fear at the sound of his cry combined with the smell of blood. “Thank you.” He muttered under his breath to the beast that had managed to carry him this far.

He struggled to his feet, the hope of release from the pain was the only thing that kept him moving. He stumbled into the cave and his eyes rested on the Druid table. Almost there. He looked down at the dust covered clothes he wore and tried not to image what his skin looked like underneath.

Allanon had faced many evils, but right now the fear of removing a single glove from his own hand seemed overwhelming. He took hold of the back of the glove on his right hand and ripped it off. The pain was immediate. It was so bad that he forgot how to scream, or even to breathe. He didn’t know how much skin had left his hand with the glove, but he could feel the blood dripping down off the tips of his fingers.

His breath punched back into his lungs and he found himself gasping and wheezing. His stomach turned over and he found himself clinging to the Druid table as he heaved up whatever was left in his stomach. He let the tears stream down his face and looked down at the other glove. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage this.

One piece at a time. He told himself. He lifted his left hand to his mouth and bit down on the tip of the glove’s middle finger. He decided to attempt a slower removal and gently slipped the glove off. Once or twice he nearly gave up, but eventually he succeeded. His left hand had sustained less damage so he used it to loosen his tunic. He slowly rolled his shoulders back until it slipped down his arms. He heard the skin on his back and shoulder ripping before he felt the pain.

Allanon had been whipped before, the feeling of a single cord of rope or leather ripping into your skin had been something he’d never wanted to experience again, but this was far worse. It was as if someone had whipped him with a heat, tempered chain. The temptation to fall to his knees was immense, but he knew that if he did, this time he wouldn't get up again.

His hand shook and the cave echoed with his gasp and whimpers of pain, but piece by piece he pulled his clothing off. Once all his outer wear was piled around the table in a blood soaked mess, he was finally able to pull himself up onto the stone. He reached down and caught the hilt of his sword in his left hand. The sword was the last connection he had to the Druid order and he wasn't about to risk it being lost.

The stone was cold, but not in an unpleasant way. It was cool and inviting against his burning skin. He slowly lay down on the table feeling the Druid sleep pulling him in. He felt almost glad for all the pain it had taken just to get this far. At least this way he wouldn’t be shrouded with regret that he didn’t get to spend more time with the people that he called friends.

#Allanon #shannara chronicles #shannara #Pyria Elessedil #eventine elessedil #whump #whump fic #h/c #hurt/comfort #my works

10 notes · View notes