Aeviara has a dream about joining the Templar in battle.
(This was inspired by a role-play prompt from Arandael who challenged me to write about the priestess Aeviara in battle with the Templars of House Sunrunner.)
Music to read by for this piece.
The dreams had come to her since she had been a young child and now, now with her own eyes did Aeviara witness the dream within reality’s grasp. They had been set against an insurmountable foe through the twisting of fate it seemed and destruction was surely about to break the bonds of brotherhood and men in an encounter that was most assuredly meant to be the death of them.
Iron orcs, in wave after wave, rushed in with the battle lust of those who had nothing left to lose. The Templars drew blade and formed ranks. At first, the sheer numbers had to be railed against as shields locked and the motion was put into play. A thrust against the wall of shields came, followed by a second push and then swords arced to thrust through the gap they made. Bodies fell at their feet, but the onslaught was greater than they had imagined, greater than perhaps they were prepared for. They thinned the herd only to find the gap filled by another orc. It looked hopeless. It looked as though the effort to defend was to be one that ended in defeat, but this would not be. It could not be.
The tension filled the air as the order worked with one another hand in hand, though they were tiring. The High Templar ordered them to fall back, forcing those who still advanced to do so on the blood-slicked corpses of their fallen brethren. Battered shields were lowered and fire licked the surface of blades as the Sunrunners now prepared to face off the remainder, with the power and prowess of Templars.
Aeviara had been brought here to heal them in battle, to see to their needs and yet she realized that the utilization of her skill was useless in this moment. Or at least useless in part. Determination weighed upon her and then something within her changed. She was charged with the protection and preservation of these men and women. She was entrusted with seeing them through, of being there for them in this hour as they had been in the past months for her during trying times. That wrenched look of defeat dissipated from her face and was replaced with a look of ferocity that perhaps none of them had ever seen, that perhaps none of them would ever see fully.
That aged book rose in front of her with a word and the pages turned seemingly of their own accord. Aeviara’s lips moved and prayer beads which were wrapped about her arm began to take on the glow of light as it encased them. Arms extended to each side and as she began to focus solely on the preservation of these, wind billowed up to blow her hair wildly as light began to pour through her. It pooled in her hands but engulfed the whole of who she was and not once did she look away as sword clashed against sword, as men cried out, as the rigors of battle and atrocities of war waged around her. Aeviara Starsong would not lose them in this moment, not in this hour. And even though she had sworn an oath to one of them regarding light, the manner in which to protect and gird them was already clear.
A hook blade attached to the arm of an orc pierced Arandael’s armor at the shoulder and as the enemy sought to end his life, the call of light pierced through him. For Arandael, it renewed his spirit, his strength and coursed through every fiber of his being. Even after the blade withdrew, the edges of that wound were cleansed with the impartation of light which flickered across his armor now like fire. The pain had been pulled away as if by some unseen hand. There was no true explanation.
She was not aware that in the midst of the battle her voice arose fully and echoed out among those who fought, though in her mind it was accompanied by her forebearers who had walked this path before her. Aeviara drew from the forces of light about them, used as a conduit through which it flowed now. She viewed everything as though it moved in slow motion, hands twisting to manipulate the thrust of that gift as her spirit soared.
Two orcs drew blade against the one she had sworn an oath to. And in that exact moment a choice had to be made. She chose the impartation of her gift but not as feared. One of them parried a blow and feinted to the left in order to knock the Knight off kilter and the other orc raised his blade for what might have been a killing blow, only to find a blazing ball of light erupt inside of his gaping mouth and expand. Grey matter and the inside of the orc’s skull showered down over those in his vicinity and she did not flinch, for she had upheld her part of the bargain. He ran the other through and then wiped his blade on the corpse before lunging forth to fend off a series of blows from another who advanced.
The earth beneath her feet rumbled and yet she did not relent. The wind howled around them and yet she remained firmly planted there with little but raw determination and a measure of faith that could not be denied. And as unholy magic was unleashed upon her, there came a shield which not only absorbed it but ripped outward upon the ground as if it were a rushing blaze of white light imbued fire in all directions for as far as the eye could see.
Words of fortitude, hymns of light, and incantations of faith spilled from her lips as a hand came to hold that book up high whilst that blinding flash erupted. These things worked in tandem with those before her, girding them in the midst of battle, minimizing a blow at times, enabling the clarity of mind to prevail when fatigue would strip away their focus. There was a unity there which ebbed and flowed in the course of things. The templars in the throes of battle would not even notice, save the fact that in the final push, as their blades met true and renewed vigor sprang up within the depths of their beings, the shadows of their forms lay in elongated blurs across the expanse of enemies who were rushing to certain death.
When it was all said and done, the priestess was on her knees with book clutched against chest, bearing the weight of things that she would never share with them. They had prevailed. She had prevailed. And in that encounter, she had stepped into a destiny which she was made for.
Aeviara woke some time later, the realization that this wasn’t an ordinary dream springing up an odd sense of peace within her soul. In times past, she hadn’t recognized the faces or had names to put to the dream, but now clarity rested upon her.
