"Motherfucker!" Peter spat, the first he heard upon awakening. "Bullshit! I just needed one good shot!"
"He's too fast," Michael said, rubbing his head. "I knew he'd be a bigger issue than the dragon."
While stretching his neck, he slung his flail over his shoulder and readied his shield.
Eris scowled him, hand on the hilt. "'Leave the rest to me?' Sound familiar?"
"Last I remember only one of us was in flames," he growled.
"Correct, and you did little else!" Eris snapped, stepping up to him. "Some tank you are, barely lasting longer than any of us would!"
"A what?" he asked, tightening his jaw. "Call me that again and I'll twist your stomach out!"
"Look," Victoria said, intervening, "There's five of us, one of him, and we got him off guard before. This time two of us stay back, one with Michael who can find his way easy enough. The rest do whatever you can to draw him out."
"Won't be that simple," Michael said, tending to the flame. "We can't keep dying out here, or he'll get a clue of where we wake up, hell, he might already know. If he douses this flame with a counterspell, we'll be back wherever we started before arriving here."
It wouldn't have bothered him a few weeks earlier, as he'd been ready to return to Marryvia within the same time.
However Alrieon had bested him three times, killed him once without a fight, and he wasn't leaving without a High Lord's head crushed beneath his boot.
Another few minutes of bickering led to yet another plan, though something a bit riskier.
"I'll lure him here, when the first horns sound," Michael suggested. "It'll be too tempting to finish us for good, his only real threat in these lands."
"I'll go with you," Eris said, unable to look at him. "Someone has to be of use, and I'd rather try to shoot him with you than rely on any overhyped talent."
"Go fuck yourself," he said, and Eris turned, scimitar drawn.
Michael tried to ease the tension between them, though they kept cursing at one another until the first war horn sounded.
Arrows sharpened, flail ready, swords a stroke away, and the Elfstones took up positions surrounding the fire. Michael and Eris stalked into the woods, the former raising his cross while chanting in elvish. It couldn't have been anything worth a damn, no insults worthy enough a challenge, as an hour passed and they heard nothing.
Victoria, bored twirling an hour, gave him a blank stare.
"What?" He asked, sitting against his tree.
"How did you slay Razelael?" She asked.
He sighed, "Wasn't alone."
"Oh I know, but even with something as expensive and powerful as a Phoenix Blade, how did you even last long enough to kill an undead angel?"
"I lasted longer than an of you lot."
"Did you though?"
He pointed his flail at her. "I'd be more than happy to show you!"
She sighed, "Don't take it so personally. You just, don't have much talent other than being really strong and dying. It's a miracle you've made such a name for yourself."
"I don't give a fuck about a name," he said, punching a hole in his tree, "that I don't even fucking remember!"
She stared for a moment, then said, "You could just, give yourself a name."
Smartass fish eyed tart.
Of course he could give himself a name, but it wouldn't change the fact he knew nothing about himself. Babe didn't sound so bad, until Al told him it was more of a common courtesy among lovers.
"Maybe he doesn't want a name," Peter suggested, eyeing the woods. "What good's a name if you've never had one?"
"So people can know what to call you?"
"It really so important what people call you versus who you are?" Peter asked
"Enough of it," he snarled.
Victoria wanted to pester him more, he could tell even without looking her way.
If Alrieon didn't slay her again, he would, and he'd stomp out the fire for everyone's sake and return to the foggy bastardized woods later.
Almost dusk, and neither Michael nor Eris had returned.
The fire was still there, a hint of light within a circle, the old language written in thin white letters round it. Victoria examined it and figured it hadn't been tampered with, and that Michael and Eris were still out searching.
"Wouldn't be like them to stay out there if they couldn't find anything," Peter said, holding a hand over the flame. "Michael knows well as any of us we can't risk being in one place for too long."
"Then where the hell is he?" Victoria asked, and she seemed frightened.
"And why've we not heard a skirmish since morning?"
Twigs snapped ahead, and they readied their weapons
Victoria posted by a tree, while Peter drew a sword, and he stepped ahead with his flail up.
Blood dripping from his forehead, Eris limped around. Dazed, unsure of where he was, not until Victoria shouted his name did he turn their way. Collapsed on his knees, he muttered something, blood drooling from his lips as Peter hurried to hold him up.
As he and Victoria joined them, Eris whispered, eyes heavy and breath stifling.
"Michael's…been….Alrieon…the nest….the nest…."
White light faded from the fire. It became orange, then withered away.
Peter cursed, trying to keep Eris awake, though his body was already stiff.
Victoria ran a hand through her head, then wiped tears from her eyes, which he believed was odd until he looked at Eris' wounds.
Beneath the dead Elfstone's armor was a deep cut with white crystals, something holy weapons wielded by those chosen by the gods.
Eris was dead.
Permanently.