The Chosen by Kris Kramer (read the beginning after the end novel TXT) 📕

their mother would say. “Eventually the midwife resigned herself to waiting for you to come out in your own time. And that you did.”

In Shela’s mind, that first event summed her up perfectly to this day.

But now she nodded to Fionn, allowing the elder sibling to explain their situation. A grave countenance fell upon Fionn as she contemplated the dire business that had driven them into the caverns. Not every day did children search for the hope that their own father so desperately needed. Their failure to locate his prized possession could kill him, if the black depths of depression had not already claimed his fading life in their absence.

Shela could see the burden of their brother’s disappearance pressing down on Fionn’s spirit, physically compressing her body, it seemed. A gentle hand on the shoulder snapped away the miry daze clouding Fionn’s eyes.

Watching them intently, Eilidh’s gaze showed compassion beyond her knowledge. Fionn’s shrunken appearance alone had moved the younger woman, who’d been but a girl only moments ago. Shela wondered if she had a druidic inkling or two.

Fionn opened her mouth to speak, but barely got one word out before Kearney growled deeply beside her. Her eyes followed his towards the darkness from where they had come, and her hand found his thick, black fur bristling sharply. The other three companions looked around, but saw and heard nothing.

“What is it?” asked Shela, a scowl preemptively forming on her face.

“They’ve found us.”

Eilidh looked confused.

“Who’s found us?” she asked.

Shela stepped forward and stared back up the immense tunnel. Now she could hear the faint cries and yelps approaching from an unseen passageway. The echoes haunted the hallway, prickling Shela’s skin. She flexed her fingers, preparing for battle.

“They have found us,” she growled.

Fionn rolled her shoulders under the weight of her green scale armor and then popped her neck to the left. They could try to escape down into the hole in the floor, but running away again was not really an option to either sister. Confrontation was inevitable.

So they would fight.

Chapter 24

 

The screams and shouts resounded throughout the wide hallway, bombarding the four Anduains from seemingly all directions. The figures tensed as the cacophony reached its boiling point, flooding the expansive space with dread-inspiring noise. No enemies had rushed from the many side corridors spewing off of the main passageway, but their loud battle cries told that confrontation was imminent.

Eilidh looked at her three companions, four if she included the terrifying wolf. Ready for a fight, the large animal resembled a creature of nightmares, with enormous bared teeth snapping ferociously, claws like obsidian razors, and shoulder muscles bunched and twisted like thick ropes of iron. Despite knowing better, Eilidh took a step back, eyes wide and fixed on the seething furry fury.

“Don’t worry about Kearney,” Fionn said with the same calm anger that Eilidh recognized from being quietly scalded by her own father. The polite rage always frightened her the most.

“He’s on our side,” added Shela.

Shela stood holding no weapon other than visible obstinacy, but her armor was magnificent. In fact, Eilidh now noticed that all three human allies had similarly expensive-looking armor. She also shamefully noted that she didn’t look the part at all, standing next to three confident warriors all decked out well beyond her means. Shela looked especially impressive, sporting figure-hugging, dark green bark-skin armor, whereas her sister had opted for heavier, scale armor that hung over a leather jerkin. Both druids wore silver cloaks, denoting their devotion to the Tree of Rebirth, whose bark was said to glow silver in the torchlight under Arbreldin. In the firelight of this tunnel, the tree emblem in the center of Fionn’s cloak swayed gently, while Shela’s tree seemed to suffer from swirling gales. The fantastic animations merely reinforced Eilidh’s sense of inadequacy.

Eilidh’s head barely had a chance to hang low when a gentle hand raised her face. Liam smiled at her, apparently oblivious to the sounds of chaos swiftly approaching. With a wink, he released her face and turned to address all three women.

“Hit me,” he demanded.

Confused, Eilidh glanced over at the other two women. To her increased befuddlement, they both approached Liam, laid hands on him, and then chanted spells Eilidh didn’t quite recognize. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back peacefully as the druids’ magic flowed visibly across his body.

The chanting ceased, and Fionn walked towards Eilidh. When she hesitated at the druid’s touch, Fionn smiled.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “The spell bolsters your body for a short time, granting you Ghrian’s strength and agility temporarily.”

Eilidh acquiesced and Fionn formulated the spell. Instantly, the Sun Goddess’ power rushed through her entire being. She felt invincible, like she could drive a fist through a castle wall without straining. Never had she experienced anything like it, the extreme power and quickness that accompanied the druid’s magic.

“The hounds of destruction are almost upon us,” Liam began quite suddenly, and dramatically. He strutted back and forth before them, an arrogant swagger in his step. “Bard and druid, take up positions behind these pillars jutting out from the walls on either side of the tunnel. Eilidh, take a cover position behind the next pillar down, towards the approach of these dastardly devils. Wait for my signal, and then support me while I defeat all opposition.”

Eilidh could tell that Shela wasn’t used to taking orders. Her body was stiff as a board and her clenched fists showed bright white knuckles. Before the vengeful words could start, Fionn interrupted her.

“Sounds like a plan,” she stated and then jogged to her position.

“Bard?” Shela growled. “I’m not some tavern-trawling, drunken lout struggling over some strings—”

“Stow it,” Fionn snapped. “There’s no time.”

Shela glared at her sister, but Fionn just motioned for her to move over to the other pillar, against the opposite wall. Not happy, Shela stomped ungracefully to her place. Eilidh watched with worry, wondering why Fionn had agreed so easily to a plan that her sister disagreed with. Liam now stood in the middle of the tunnel, close to where Eilidh was supposed to be. The noisy din had increased in intensity once more, and Fionn had to shout to be heard.

“Eilidh, we don’t have time to argue about this. Just get in position and do your best,” she yelled from the shadows.

After hustling to her hiding spot, Eilidh peeked out to see Liam standing in the middle of the tunnel, all alone. His deep black cloak covered his lowered head and draped completely around his body, hiding his tattooed arms. In a slightly darker place, Eilidh could’ve easily walked right past the Thorn without even noticing him, but the torches lining the floor illuminated him eerily. Surely he knew that the enemy would see him? Was this just another foolhardy Thorn, or could he really save them all?

Ruaidhri, would you do this?

Her reverie ended abruptly as the hoots and cries suddenly ceased all around her. Another peek around the pillar revealed no enemies, but Liam remained as a statue. Sweat formed under Eilidh’s ill-fitting helmet and ran in cold trickles down her neck, soaking the linens under her hideously adorned armor. A shiver gripped her as a cool draft of air kissed her exposed cheeks.

The silence felt like an unreachable itch, driving her mad with impatience. She feared the fierce enemy that threatened them, but she shook with the anticipation of letting her sword and shield speak freely amongst them. The shivering was constant now, the cool breeze assaulting the cracks and joints in her cheap armor.

She dared another look from her hiding spot and jumped back with her hand muffling a cry of surprise. At least eight foes had appeared silently in the hallway and were rushing noiselessly towards the isolated Liam. The confidence of having the druids’ spells enhancing her combat abilities waned. Hardly daring to move, Eilidh forced her eyes to keep watch over Liam, anxiously awaiting his signal.

I can’t do this, Ruaidhri. I can’t do this. I’m not ready to die.

What was the signal? Liam had never said! How would she know when to attack? The questions shot through her mind, diverting her fearful worries into a lower priority. Now she concentrated on the mental task list that automatically materialized in her head. She focused on trying to create a magical earth barrier for Liam. With a few outlandishly dexterous movements of her hands, she drew on the power of the ground around her. Never had her hands moved so fluidly, so quickly, so accurately. Confidence welled up once more. The power of nature flowed through her body and radiated out to the ground around Liam.

Time slowed to a grinding halt. The enemies’ faces held grim and wicked expressions, lit by the flickering of the flames on the tunnel floor. Eilidh steeled herself, her hands fervently willing the dirt to form Liam’s defense, as it had done for her previously.

Now only a few strides separated the charging foes and the motionless Liam. Eilidh braced herself, fearing the worst as the pebbles at Liam’s feet merely quivered under her intense concentration.

Liam is paralyzed with fear, and I can’t make a wall to protect him.

A havtrol reached Liam first and hefted a monstrous hammer above its head. As the fire-engulfed head of the hammer began its downward stroke towards Liam’s skull, his cloak billowed out away from his body and his hands produced his signature red blades.

Eilidh regarded the scene in awe as Liam’s body twisted to avoid the enemy’s blow, while he also managed to yell, “I’m flyin’ in!”

The flaming hammer struck the floor with force enough to smash tiles and send a shockwave under Eilidh’s boots. Through the fiery dust cloud created by the crushing weight of the hammer, she could make out a whirlwind of fury darting around shadowy enemies, unleashing disaster upon them. The sight froze her in place, but not with fear. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, watching Liam dance through the blades and hammers of the enemy, lashing out elegant vengeance at will.

“That was the signal, idiot!” yelled a voice from behind.

Eilidh turned to see Shela rushing past her, bounding like a deer over the flaming torches, her silver cloak flowing out behind her. A single word from the druid’s mouth had Eilidh’s heart pounding uncontrollably and her muscles begging for use. Fionn stood in the middle of the tunnel, maintaining a safe distance as she chanted the healing spells keeping Liam seemingly immune to the crushing blows he sustained in his fighting. Old tales spoke of druids who could project their healing magic through the earth to nearby allies, but Eilidh had never seen such a thing in person.

Eilidh felt invigorated to a whole new level. She darted out from concealment and collided with a tall firbolg who must’ve been charging towards Fionn, trying to interrupt her healing spells. The pair crashed to the ground, but the veteran firbolg was on his feet in an instant, now eyeing the kill on the sprawled form of Eilidh. She looked up and saw the bemused look in his eyes as he made a move towards her.

The thought that a firbolg should never attack another Anduain didn’t even enter Eilidh’s mind. Her encounter with the elf earlier had thrown all preconceived notions of friend and foe to the wind. Now she scrambled backwards, scooting on her behind, trying to pull up her shield and sword to defend herself. If she took the time to stand in her clumsy armor, she would be struck down. The firbolg’s swagger reminded her of Liam.

Well, not just like Liam. Liam didn’t want to kill his own countrymen.

Before he got in range to swing, thick tree roots shot out through cracks in the floor and entwined themselves around the firbolg’s thick legs. Eilidh quickly gained her feet while she watched the tall enemy fumble and struggle with the constricting vines.

Had she summoned these roots?

“He’ll be stuck for a while. Go help Liam!” Fionn called from behind.

Apparently not.

The firbolg futilely struck out towards Eilidh as she ran past. She flinched instinctively, but kept moving, anxious to help out.

The scene before her was nothing less than absolute chaos. She’d never been involved in such a large fight before. Her hesitation held her feet in place, not quite sure what to do, how to help. Liam still moved ferociously and precisely around three enemies angrily wielding large weapons. Their inability to bring the man down fed their fury.

One roared inhumanly and rushed at Liam’s exposed back. Eilidh jerked slightly as she felt an outpouring of magic. A dirt wall shot up behind Liam, thwarting his attacker long enough for Liam to turn and slash through the side of the man’s armor. Eilidh staggered for a moment, still