Chapter 89 - Eighty-Five (1/2)

POV:Leonel

That night we sleep on the same bed, hugging, knowing that we would not see the other for a while, enjoying each other's company, the unspeakable danger we were under not coming to words but in a caring act that I don't think my little hound even realized it.

I watch him sleep before relaxing myself, his caramel sunburned skin, his long black eyelashes, the way his chest rises softly with every breath, how his ears would move at the smallest breeze, how his body fits mine perfectly, how warm is to hug him.

Goodness, how much I love him.

As I close my eyes that night, I think how ironic it is that most of my memories with him where lost in the echo of time; all equally precious to me as the ones right now.

If only he knew how much I know him, about him… and even though they were about the time we meet, I would rather keep these memories where they belong; in a forgotten past, buried underneath the mystery of the cosmos, and those were the last thoughts I had before falling asleep.

So I shouldn't be surprised with what I dream that night; or rather, the memories that replay in my mind.

A slash, followed by a gurgling sound splashing my face with red as, with a sword in hand, I pass my fingers over my eyelids to clean them up.

Around me there were other humanoids fighting, but most had their beast side out and where painted in red as they fought with their claws and fangs, piercing bloodshot eyes induced to a state of frenzy by our leader, making them even more fearful and overtaken by anger and the need to kill.

An army of death, the bringer of the scythe down on out opponents, unstoppable warriors that were bound to one wish; to kill, to destroy.

And they were left amok, tonight, one last time.

I was one of the few left out of that state so I could have a clear mind and bring back information if needed; I was left to be his eyes and ears, to bring back information on the other sides of the war.

And I was trusted, yes, but not enough to be his right arm or something that high up, I was too human for that, even though I suffered as well at that hands of that kind; but that only brought me this high in his army.

As I kill the last human guard worth fighting here I look over the battlefield, the houses burning wild and a trail of blood and bodies being left behind by us, the only thing left is the matriarch stone house on top of the hill.

It was done, we made it.

We chased the humans down to the corners of this earth and it finally ends here.

Our job was done.

I sheath my sword, not before slashing the blood away, knowing that it was time to report to our leader.

On the contrary of the many other attacks we had, this time he stayed out of the action as, in his words, he wanted to watch it burn.

We made that, quite literally.

I start walking back, against the flow of warriors and beast dashing around, the second line of the army trying to find any survivors that may have run away or try to hide.

No one was to be left alive.

No one.

I swallow dry. There is no point in brooding about it now, it is done.

I walk past all the rubble and signs of war into the woods outside the settlement. The contrast was like the opposite sides of a coin; like hell and heaven, with the sound of a river running by, shuffling of leaves as the fresh autumn wind blows and the moonlight shines between the greeneries, like blades cutting through the foliage and leaving a silver glint behind.

And there he was, on top of a stone, sitting with one leg curved, an arm on top of it, his eyes far and staring at the horizon, the ablaze flames shinning and dancing against the silver of his eyes, his serene face making his figure look like a stone statue carved to perfection, the only thing betraying his ethereal figure being his clothes fluttering in the wind, as well as his long black hair.

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of warmth and sadness raising inside, the so odd yet familiar mixture that always came when I see him.

If his image alone wasn't enough to mesmerize someone his deep smooth voice resonated in a song, the melody being sung for no ears beyond his own, the words unimportant before his figure.

I have learned, long ago, that, only when alone, singing, that I could see his true self; only then I could see beyond all the anger, all the hate, all the bloodl.u.s.t.

Only then could I see the real Thilgon.

And all the sadness and loneliness that his hate hid.

For a while I just watch him there, even after his song ended, wondering what is passing through his head as he watches the last human settlement burn down to the ground; does he feel satisfaction, the peace of mind he had been searching for all this time?

Did he feel regret? Guilt?

Was all that anger still inside him?

Or…

”For how long are you going to keep staring at me Ereinion?” He had never used my human name, and even when calling me by my elven name it wasn't by my first name.

That put a great distance between us, between him and anybody, even more when I was asked to do the same.

”Sorry Palarran, I just came to let you know that we have sized the city and barricaded the exits. There is nowhere for them to go sir.”

”Good… that's good. All will end tonight my friend.”

His hand, as it was his usual, went without thinking towards the collar ever so present on his neck, where a small hound tooth could be seeing being stroke by the tip of his fingers.