Alianna nodded slowly, her legs shaking, clinging to the leather bag she had been given as though her life depended on it.
The air around them seemed to split open as lightning flew down from the sky at such an alarming rate, Alianna could not begin to count the number of strikes. Storm clouds cracked and bristled overhead as the strikes kept coming – over, over, and over – the air around them beginning to smell of charred wood and smoke.
Amongst the flashes and the booms of thunder overhead, so loud that Alianna’s ears were ringing, she could see Ulreah. He was staring over the rampart wall, through the grounds, to the courtyard, hands raised by his sides and fists balled. He was crying out – roaring – as he commanded the skies to lash down upon their enemies.
Alianna looked at the oncoming wave of Amassa as they swept for Ulreah. Some got hit by the lightning that continued to rain down on the area below, some fought against the wind that was now whipping through the air stronger and faster than it had been before. But some were swooping, so agile that they avoided the lightning strikes, whirling through the air like fighter pilots - aiming straight for Ulreah.
Alianna thought about the words that the other soldier had said to him.
They wanted to find a way to take him out this time. For good.
He couldn’t keep his eyes on the ground and the sky at once.
They were going to try and overwhelm Ulreah.
As the thought crossed her mind, Ulreah turned his attention to the skies around him, the number of Amassa closing in, and gritted his teeth as a violent wind pushed outwards. The Amassa beat their wings against it, trying to fly through it, to get to Ulreah. As his storm continued to spear down, Alianna thought about what he had said to her.
An opening.
Nobody was looking at her.
All eyes were on the skies. On Ulreah. On the Amassa. Nobody was looking at the human, with no power to offer in this war.
So Alianna did the very thing her body was telling her not to do, as she watched her friend unleash the wrath of storms upon every living thing around him. Alianna ran.
She ducked, sticking to the shadows, running along the rampart. She kept her body as low to the ground as possible, resisting the urge to shut her eyes, to shield herself from the flashes and the ear-splitting sound of thunder pounding through the world.
Alianna ran.
She ran until she could see that turret appearing around a corner.
She ran until she could see the grounds beneath them. Charred, burnt, but clear of enemy forces.
She ran until she realised that the lightning had stopped.
Turning slowly, she saw Ulreah in the grips of an enemy Amassa.
She saw the beast’s talons, where they impaled him through his chest.
She saw the blood spreading across Ulreah’s white clothing.
She saw his eyes lock onto hers as the Amassa carried him into the air. His face was a picture of sorrow, of apology, and of hope.
She saw him whisper the words to her, as the Amassa carried his body high into the sky: “For Xanthia.”
And then she saw the Amassa drop his body to the ground.
Ulreah tumbled through the air, his body limp now, the air strangely still. She watched him fall, graceful even now, as the ground came upto meet him. The charred, black ground, so in contrast to his white hair, pale complexion, and fine white clothing.
She turned away before his body hit the earth, squeezing her eyes closed at the anticipated impact.
Alianna felt the tears sliding down her cheek. The clouds had cleared overhead. The wind had stopped.
With Ulreah’s death, the storms had died as well.
She could not shake the look on his face as he took his final breaths.
As he said his final words.
