Eryndor sat by the smouldering remnants of his campfire, the last vestiges of warmth fading into the crisp night air. His thoughts wandered as he carved into a piece of wood, trying to distract himself from the unease that gnawed at him. Something didn't feel right. Ever since the group of travellers left his camp, a heavy tension had settled over him. He couldn't shake the memory of their wary glances or the way their voices dropped to hushed tones whenever they thought he wasn't listening.
Suddenly, a soft rustling broke the silence. Eryndor froze, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. Before he could rise, a shadow emerged from the bushes. It was Xaren, the boy he had healed just a day ago. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear.
"Eryndor!" Xaren whispered urgently, glancing over his shoulder as though he expected someone to be following him. "They're coming for you!"
Eryndor's heart skipped a beat. "What? Who's coming?"
"My family," Xaren stammered, his voice trembling. "And others. It's about your magic. They think you're dangerous. They want to eliminate you before you can bring harm to anyone else."
Eryndor's blood ran cold. He stood, his mind racing. "Why are you telling me this? Won't they come after you for warning me?"
"They won't know unless I want them to know" Xaren said, his voice breaking. "You saved my life. This isn't right. You need to leave now!"
Eryndor didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing his pack and slinging his bow over his shoulder, he nodded to Xaren. "Thank you. Go back before they notice you're gone."
Xaren hesitated, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. Eryndor took one last look at his camp before darting into the forest.
The moon cast pale light through the dense canopy as Eryndor ran, his breaths ragged and his muscles burning. Behind him, he could hear the distant shouts of his pursuers, their voices growing louder with every passing moment.
"Find the sorcerer!" one voice yelled.
"Don't let him escape!" another cried.
Eryndor clenched his fists, the glow of his sorcery tattoo faintly illuminating his path. He knew he couldn't outrun them forever. He needed to use his powers, but the thought sent a wave of fear crashing over him. Every time he used magic, it seemed to push him closer to some inevitable catastrophe.
A sudden whistling sound snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned just in time to see an arrow flying toward him. With a surge of instinct, he raised his hand, and a shimmering barrier of energy materialized in front of him. The arrow shattered on impact, the fragments scattering harmlessly to the ground.
The effort left him winded, but he couldn't stop. He pressed on, weaving through the trees as more projectiles whizzed past him.
By dawn, Eryndor found himself at the edge of a rocky ravine. The only way forward was a narrow bridge of stone, but crossing it would leave him exposed. He glanced back, his heart sinking as he saw his pursuers emerging from the forest. There were at least a dozen of them, armed with bows, spears, and daggers.
"Nowhere left to run, sorcerer!" one of the men called out.
Eryndor gritted his teeth, his hands trembling as he summoned his magic. He extended his arms, and the ground beneath the attackers shifted violently. Rocks and soil erupted, creating a makeshift barricade that momentarily slowed their advance.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Eryndor dashed across the bridge. Halfway across, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as an arrow grazed him. He stumbled but managed to keep his footing.
Reaching the other side, he turned and raised his hands again. This time, he called upon the air, creating a gust of wind that sent loose stones cascading into the ravine. The bridge began to crumble, cutting off the path behind him.
But it wasn't enough. A group of the pursuers managed to leap across the gap, their determination unyielding. Eryndor's exhaustion was catching up to him, and he knew he couldn't keep this up much longer.
One of the attackers lunged at him with a spear. Eryndor narrowly dodged, countering with a surge of energy that sent the man sprawling. Another attacker swung a sword, but Eryndor blocked it with his own blade before casting a spell that knocked the man unconscious.
Despite his efforts, the odds were against him. The attackers were relentless, and his magic was waning. He needed help.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the bond he shared with Asvarion. "Invocatio Draconis," he whispered.
A burst of golden light filled the air, and the firebird appeared, its massive wings casting shadows over the ravine. With a deafening screech, Asvarion unleashed a torrent of flames, forcing the remaining attackers to retreat.
"Eryndor," Asvarion said, his voice resonating in Eryndor's mind. "You cannot run forever. You must face your destiny."
Eryndor nodded weakly, his vision blurring from exhaustion. "I know," he said, his voice barely audible.
Asvarion extended one of his talons, gently lifting Eryndor onto his back. "Rest now. We have much to discuss."
As they soared into the sky, Eryndor looked down at the forest below, the faces of his attackers growing smaller and smaller. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to breathe.
Eryn held tightly on the firebird, struggling between staying awake or falling asleep from fatigue. With occasional grip tightening, he kept slipping off Asvarion body.
"You can rest boy." Asvarion said. " Your magic should keep you from falling off, that's if you know what to do".