Chapter Eleven

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ BLOOD

"Look at this, all of my prey has gathered here. You will all be so easy to devour." His voice rumbled, his tone deadly. "Slayer, I have been looking for you. Where have you been hiding?"

Libelle felt the same fear as before creep through her, it started in her throat and fell into the pit of her stomach. She was scared, and she wanted to run. Why? She has faced Eskil before and never felt this level of terror. What had changed? She felt his fiery gaze burning through her, like he was staring into her soul. She looked up to his eyes, hers wide, and his narrowed.

Swallowing hard, she tried to force her fear away, she needed to remain calm. "You appeared at a perfect time, Eskil, we were just talking about you."

His voice purred, "Oh, were you now?" He spun around in the sky, soaring about before landing on one of the large pillars that hadn't completely crumbled to the ground with his feet placed closely beneath him, and his spiked wing grasping the carved stones. "What have you been discussing?"

Vegeir climbed down from his ledge, his gaze never leaving Eskil's form. He slowly trudged through the snow, his tail swaying back and forth and covering the prints his heavy feet and wings had made. Eskil watched as he moved, then his gaze returned to Libelle's as Vegeir stopped by her side.

"Slayer," Vegeir said in a hushed tone. "Keep him on the ground."

"Right," she whispered back.

"You were right. He had reason to draw you out. His reasons are far worse than death, I fear." Vegeir looked at her from the corner of his eye with a hint of warning in his voice, making her swallow the lump in her throat. He glared back up at Eskil. "Brother, you must cease this war. You have turned from the path you were born to, you've turned away from the light."

Eskil chuckled, "Fool."

He then pushed himself upwards and took to the sky again, Vegeir followed. Within moments the two dragons, both thousands of years old, began to fight in their ancient ways as bursts of flames sprouted from their mouths to inflict damage upon each other. Fiery breath lit up the evening sky, turning the light snowfall into a heavy rain. The scenario looked like it was a battle of good versus evil; Vegeir who fought in an attempt to protect mortals from the never-ending terror that Eskil had returned to the world, and Eskil, the dragon 'prince', birthed from Búri, wanting nothing but to dominate the land, slay all those who opposed him, and force the world into a new era. One where dragons would rule the land.

Vegeir bellowed from the sky as he evaded a fiery ball that erupted from Eskil's mouth. "Slayer! Bring him down!"

Libelle looked back at the priests. "The moment he touches the snow, begin chanting. The scroll will show you what to say. Do not hesitate!"

She turned back towards the dragons fighting and inhaled a deep breath, readying her bow to strike Eskil's body, only to be interrupted with a shocked gasp. The priests behind her inhaled sharply, and all their eyes widened as Vegeir let out a raspy roar. Eskil proved momentarily stronger, and he seized an opportunity to clamp his sharp fangs onto Vegeir's neck.

Blood rushed from the wounds, and the ivory dragon flailed and thrashed about before Eskil shook his head hard. Vegeir let out another pain-filled howl, and Eskil released him only to roar once more at his kin. Vegeir went still, and his wings became limp as he plummeted towards the unforgiving ground.

His body hit the mountainside with great force, shaking the stone beneath him and causing waves of snow to rush down the slopes at a great speed. Vegeir did not move, his head did not rise, and he did not breathe. Eskil roared triumphantly in the sky above them, his pearly white fangs now stained in blood.

Davyn shouted, his voice shaky. "Vegeir!" There was no answer, the old dragon didn't flinch.

Libelle felt the tension rising inside of her and from the grey beards behind her. They were all so angry now, fueled with vengeance, and a desire to right the wrong and bring down the beast in front of them. "Eskil! You'll pay for that!"

Eskil chuckled, feeling far superior to the mortals who trembled on the ground beneath him. He would pay? He thought, amused. He would see about that. Slowly lowering himself to the ground in front of Libelle, he smiled wickedly at her. Here he planned to break the female slayer, and he would take the lives of the feeble men in robes who stood shaking behind her. He would break her will to fight, her spirit, and she would fall on this snowy cliff surrounded by the corpses of her most relied upon allies.

Then his fun would begin.

However, his golden eyes widened as he was taken by an even greater surprise. The slayer stood just a few feet away from him, her teeth were grinding together and her blue eyes were burning. She was not wearing her armor, obviously not prepared for or expecting his arrival.

Her slim body shook in the cold, and her leather boots were darkening as the snow melted and absorbed into the material. The material of her pants clung to her skin, the animal flesh protecting her from the cold no more than if she were wearing thin wool robes. Even her flimsy cotton shirt waved in the wind, revealing her pale ivory skin. Her long leather jacket, dyed a deep ebony, was pulling her backwards with each gust of wind.

"Slayer," he purred at her, "at last."

The elven female had a strong spine, and an even stronger soul. Despite her many attempts to take his life, she never seemed to lose faith. She was the strongest slayer he had ever had the pleasure to encounter, she was the only one he didn't have the desire to kill right away. He wanted to toy with her, to slowly break her will and make her beg for death. It thrilled him that her icy blue eyes only sparked to life when he was in her presence. It was exhilarating; he was the only creature that could make her stir.

Her once rosy red and full lips were now pale and quivering from the cold. Her light yellow hair was waving, and the braid that was holding it together was being pulled from its tie. She curled her mouth into a snarl before she spoke her next words.

"Loki, Thor. Aid me here and now."

She felt their presence at her side, as did Eskil, whose head lowered with a threatening growl. Eskil looked past her towards the priests that he suspected were up to something. He was about to use his fiery breath against them when he was suddenly blinded by an intense and bright light. He snarled and was forced to close his eyes, and then he felt a hot band forming around his neck. His body was much heavier than before, it felt like he was being weighed down without the ability to ever rise again. The invisible force around his neck grew hotter and heavier, constricting him and making it difficult to breathe.

What was the slayer up to? What was she doing? The blinding light faded, allowing him to open his eyes and return his gaze to the woman who still stood in front of him. She was speaking, her lush lips forming words that he could not hear. Behind her still stood the four priests, all chanting together. Their mouths moved and spoke at the same time, but still he was unable to hear them. Their arms were up in front of them, their palms open and facing what appeared to be a scroll enchanted with magic. It hovered off the ground between the old men and the slayer.

"What magic is this?" he growled, but he didn't recognize his voice.

He didn't like this situation, this was not what he had planned. Here he did not have the upper hand and did not understand what was going on. His hearing began to clear, starting at nothing and gradually growing to a mild ringing in his eardrums. Eventually, he was able to hear their chanting.

The priests were speaking in an ancient language, one that he was familiar with only due to learning from his creator. The slayer still stood close to him, but her chanting did not match that of the old men's. She spoke in the native tongue of the Nords, and her words formed what he had to assume was some type of prayer. Her gaze remained locked with his as she forced herself to calmly speak the words.

He felt the ground starting to shake beneath him, and how they did not fear an avalanche was amusing. The continuing quake of this foreign magic would surely lead the thickly packed snow to release itself from the jagged rocks and slide into the courtyard, burying everyone in the process.

The ground was shaking with an increasing force, and he could see the snow was beginning to shift. He wanted out of this situation, the constricting power of whatever was wrapped around his neck was growing to be more than just an irritant. He didn't want to be grounded any longer, the heaviness of his body was terrifying. He wanted to be back in the sky where he could have the upper hand again.

Libelle inhaled and exhaled slowly before continuing the chant. All was moving along just as she had planned, and just as it was supposed to. Eskil was forced to the ground of the courtyard, unable to return to the sky while the mischievous god Loki's power was in effect. Now that the scroll's power had been activated, there were several glowing chains of gold wrapped around his body. The enchanted and magical chains were tightly bound around his neck, over his back, his wings, his tail, and around his legs. The strength of the chains increased as her prayers continued, and with their increasing strength, they became heavier and tighter. There would be no way he could break from the restraints and return to the sky.