CHAPTER II: THE GLEAMING SIEGE (4)
The Prince of the South regained consciousness., around a starnge moment. His eyes opened gradually; delicate and bewildered. Night had fallen, and a score of thunder was heard swiftly in the distance. Like the crackling of the dark sky. Like the gnashing of the gods of the hidden firmament. He was tied to the trunk of a tall tree, while two little creatures with chocolate fur and sharp spears covered him up. At a distance, the man felt the fire of a nearby campfire, amid the roars of the night. Dozens of creatures were clustered, forming a circle, in what appeared to surround the leader of the Wiwok *. Their stature was medium, they had three eyes, and on their foreheads they wore a unique and singular crest of each one.
The man tried to move, but he was bound hand and foot, within the great net that still weakened him. There was a gagged rag in his mouth, and his vision was the only thing that seemed to work. The man was trying to search for two elements, which he consequently found from his superior gaze. The woman, who could see that she was unconscious tied and held by a bed made of oaks near the fire. And her cape, which was overlaid by the leader of the spear and arrow creatures.
The leader finished speaking; the Wiwoks moved around, and began to sing a frantic and elegant song in a language the prince had never heard. They began to march, heading for the bed that held the sleeping woman. The prince began to alter his movement, when he began to notice that the medium creatures were slowly carrying the oak bed towards the excessive fire. The network was activated and electrocuted the prince's powers, as he was punctured by the lances of the nearby guardians, while his vision stopped struggling and he glimpsed a ritual that was intended to end in a strange offering of the creatures to the night. Pasithea was about to be scorched.
The prince did not have much time. I was trying to figure out how to get off the net. He had no escape. He watched from a distance, and looking carefully at the woman's dress, he noticed a dark reflection that reflected a soft and transparent light. It was the small mirror, peering into its edges through one of the pockets of Pasithea's white dress. The Southeastern Wiwok appeared not to have noticed the artifact, so it thought it was the only way out.
The bed was raised slowly; bringing his oaks closer to the burning fire. The prince's gaze was fixed on the mirror, when suddenly, a thin and fast violet ray came out of his iris, crossed the faces of the small monstrosities, and the ray reflected in thousands of them attacking some Wiwoks. One of these rays bounced off dozens of lights towards the heights of the trunk where the prince was tied; hitting the branch that held the net, removing its knot, while it fell to the ground with the trapped man who now managed to untangle himself from the cracks in them.
The man with his divine fists was able to break his bonds on his hands, and then on his feet. He took off the bandage he had on his mouth and quickly generated a shield that protected him from the fervent attacks of the little creatures. With his divine powers he began to sneak from the ground, as soon as he managed to get up; dozens of arrows made way for an attack, while it defended itself and dismantled some that crossed its path.
She looked away, and Pasithea had managed to get up. The bed of the oaks had fallen over the sides, waking the woman who was equally tied up. The woman reacted as soon as she could regain her memory, and she acted quickly. She managed to hide herself, and crawl behind some disturbing sculptures; the company managed to find itself behind a stone, contemplating its next move.
"What the hell is going on?!" shouts Pasithea. "Who are these ?!"
"Wiwoks of the South!" yells Iram. "They are new - they are new to these lands, their tribes appeared ten years ago!"
"Where is the mirror?" Pasithea asked.
"That can wait!" exclaims Iram. "We must remove the cloak from the leader!"
"Your sword is behind the corner tree," Pasithea responds! "We can't defend ourselves with your powers alone!"
And in fact they could not do it, some of the attacks of the Wiwok involved arrows full of electricity in their stabbing daggers; insatiable spears, while the prince defended himself with power spells. They didn't have much time. And they had to act fast.
Iram rose quickly, and ran onto one of the nearby trails; emanating a field of bluish fire that covered its path. The spears pierced the field, for some of them broke the spell of the contrast of the prince's light. The mirror was close, lying in one of its corners. One of the dates pierced the shield and attacked the warrior's leg, screaming in pain. This counterattack with a horizontal spell in the form barrier, which rolled rolling to nearby Wiwok. He slid as best I could, caught the mirror, and reached the oak where the bronze sword was. She quickly tossed the mirror to where Pasithea stood. It caught him and raised the mirror from the stone. The prince got up as best he could, with his sword pointed at the mirror and emanated a spell that bounced from the mirror onto the oak platform where the Wiwok Leader was.
The spell directly attacked the leader and he fell close to Iram. The prince did head towards the Wiwok, it attacked him, but he quickly defended himself and dislocated the man from the little man. He took off his cloak, and put it on. The exit was near and the awakening of the illusion of escape was evident. Iram looked back the woman was casting some remaining powers that had been charged in the mirror, however, the Wiwoks were multiplying. The prince had to escape quickly, he adjusted his cape to cross the field of flying dates, and just as he was about to head towards Pasithea, the Leader of the southern Wiwok grabbed his heel, or struck down, and being winged from him, said:
“You don't know what you're doing, Prince of the South. Your days are numbered. The days of your kingdom are about to end. And the light that man protects without measure, thinking that it will save him, is that effulgence that will take him to the ruins of his destiny. "
The Prince of Aravir did not hear the voice of the leader; it hit him quickly on the forehead and he started running wounded with his imposed cloak. The blue cape covered him with the revoking arrows, and he began to run as fast as he could in the direction of his companion. Grabbing his hand, he rose from the nearby hiding place, and they began to run into the depths of the night, straight toward the forest path. No more, however, gazing at the dozens of creatures riding small young Grenlon * that ran fast like incessant lizards, in search of vengeance. Well, seeing their leader surrendered between the cold and dishonest ground, as they shout and promised the death of duality. And they began their pursuit through the forests, because there was no way to get out of them, without the creatures catching them, for their speed was unlimited, and their knowledge upon the yellow and greenish woods, unconquerable. The dyad had no escape.