The Last Sun of Erimyr

Warning: Mild gore, death, & action

Taliya was trying her damnedest not to die, but the battlefield of Erimyr had been churned to mud. A hundred warriors—the majority now dead—had trampled the ground, which turned every step she took into its own fight. She slashed her longsword into the neck of one of Arsun’s men, her feet sinking further into the sludge. He crumpled forward, blood gurgling from his throat, spilling down onyx armor.

She glanced to the horizon where the sun had begun its taunting descent in the sky.

They still had time. It was only fifty paces up the hill to the Bloodgate, and once they were inside, this hell would be over. Or at least, that’s what she hoped. She hadn’t let herself dwell on much past that.

Another soldier barreled forward in full metal armor, and Taliya blocked the oncoming attack—steel reverberating violently through her arms. Their swords locked in the air, and she wrenched them down, kicking the breastplate of an enemy that had once been her ally. Someone whose stance she knew too well.

A blur of brown hair and fur-draped metal lunged from behind her. Roark slashed and swung a broadsword until the soldier collapsed at his feet.

He wiped the edge of his blade along a sleeve.

“You can’t even help yourself, can you?” Taliya snapped. “I had it.”

“You were hesitating,” Roark said. He stepped forward until only a foot separated them. “The Bloodgate’s nearly seized and you’re hesitating.”

“That was Arsun’s cousin.” Taliya threw out a frustrated hand at the fallen soldier she’d once called a friend. “He should’ve been fighting with us.”

Roark closed the gap between them. “We don’t have time for this, Tal. What about that do you not understand?”

She met those hazel eyes she’d come to love. And hate. And everything in between.

Taliya glanced to the horizon again. The sun hovered just above it now, throwing shades of red across the smoke-streaked sky. “I know. But we’ll make it there before it falls.”

Roark huffed. “Not if you keep hesitating.” He turned his back to stalk towards the Bloodgate—the only thing between them and the end of their world.

                   If the magic at the Bloodgate failed, darkness would bring the end of Erimyr. The absence of light would unleash a shockwave of magic so powerful, it'd rip their flesh from bone, leaving nothing in its wake. It was a death she couldn’t outrun and a fate she refused to face.

                   Taliya trudged through the mud after Roark, cursing him under her breath. She parried, then killed any enemy that dared run at her, while he did the same. The Gate loomed before them---towering columns of obsidian wrapped in sunken veins of red. Magic pulsed through each vein like the ancient heartbeat of Erimyr.

There were only forty paces between them and the Bloodgate, and almost as many soldiers. Taliya and Roark fought their way through the remaining ranks side by side. They needed to move faster. She whirled her sword over and over at the soldiers who were now nameless. The enemies she forced herself to see as nothing more than obstacles standing between her and the end of everything.

Roark grunted, immediately pulling her attention back to him. She recognized the swordsman Roark fought, too. He’d been at her wedding only months before, sharing a toast to her health and good fortune.

Now, he was trying to kill Roark with a violent flurry of metal.

The man sliced at Roark’s side, opening a wound that gushed with angry red blood. Her friend toppled backwards to the ground, and the sight was enough to send her feet hurtling towards the swordsman. Taliya knew exactly where the chain mail separated between his ribs. It was too easy to slip her longsword up into the gap with a wet crunch. Though any ease she felt scattered as she stared into the face of a man she’d once known, whose ruddy, bloodshot eyes were now cold and haunted by the power of Arsun’s magic.

      She yanked the sword free, and looked back at Roark. “Don’t think death will excuse you from all the ale you still owe me.” She reached out a hand, hoisting him to his feet.

He grasped her forearm. “Don’t think death excuses you from the dance you still owe me,” he said, voice strained.

His injury must be worse than he was letting on.

Taliya’s gaze slipped around Roark’s arm, to the setting sun.

They would make it.

They would make it home to Moorbridge like they always did.

With a nod from Taliya, the two ran towards the Bloodgate, seizing an opening through the chaos.

The obsidian gates were only ten paces away—the entry just in reach when an unmistakable shadow swept over them from above.

Arsun’s dragon soared overhead, beating its thunderous wings.

Taliya craned her neck to the left as the monster’s wing dipped towards the battlefield. But Arsun directed it away from them. Its form now approached at an angle, heading for the—

It was headed straight for the Bloodgate.

Ice rippled down Taliya’s spine, her legs suddenly locked in place as the dragon grew closer.

Roark crashed into her, and her back slammed to the ground.

A blinding explosion of orange light seared the sky over his shoulder.

Blazing flames fired from the beast’s mouth. It unleashed a booming roar that vibrated through every cell in Taliya’s body. She shoved Roark off of her to stand. She had to see it—she needed to know if it was still there.

But the Bloodgate looked untouched. Its magic pulsed through the red veins in a steady rhythm. Thick black smoke billowed into the clouds from beyond the main gate.

She loosed a breath, and turned to Roark who arrived beside her.

“It’s still there. We can do this, we just need to get in before Arsun—”

A crack snaked up the obsidian column before them.

And the obsidian column next to that.

“No,” she breathed. “No! We can still make it.” She whirled to Roark, whose blood-stained face had gone ashen.

He didn’t move.

Taliya stepped towards the ancient gate and tightened the grip on her sword. “We need to move, Roark. We have to do this.”

But Roark simply turned to the horizon, where the bottom edge of the sun had been swallowed in darkness.

“Roark,” Taliya snapped.

When he didn’t respond, she cursed him again, and continued towards the Gate without looking back.

Roark grabbed her arm. “Tal,” he said. Something in his voice stopped her. “It’s over.”

She shook her head. Moments. They had moments to spare before she would let herself give up. Nothing would stop her from trying. She’d be damned if she went down without a fight.

They needed to move. Now.

Taliya exhaled a frustrated breath. “It’s not! We can do this. We still have time. We can make it. Please!”

Before the last word left her lips, the beating heart of the Bloodgate faltered.

And then stopped.

Taliya’s eyes widened as she waited for another ancient heartbeat, another pulse. One more pulse and she swore she’d throw herself into a sprint towards the Gate.

A sharp chunk of the towering obsidian pillar fell to the ground and sank into the mud.

No pulse came. No heartbeat thrummed through those red veins of magic.

Still, the soldiers continued on around them unaware.

She turned to Roark whose face had softened. His shoulders sagged forward, and she knew.

Her lips pressed into a tight line, unsure if she could even make them move.

“How much time do we have?” she asked quietly. The warmth of his calloused hand continued to hold a gentle grip at her wrist. He slowly swept a thumb over the tender skin of her forearm. But she avoided his gaze. Avoided the way she knew he’d look at her.

Staring down the end of existence, maybe she could finally give herself that.

She studied the flecks of gold in those worn hazel eyes she’d always loved. The blood that smeared across the lines in his forehead. The crease between his brows that always tensed when he drank too much. The pelt slung over his shoulders that her own father had given him in thanks when he’d saved her life during the Battle of Moorbridge.

When she dragged her gaze back up to meet his, those eyes pulled her in and didn’t let go.

Roark barely spared a glance to the darkening horizon. “Not long now.” The intensity in his expression sent her heart thrashing against her ribcage.

And what a fool she was, to be so entranced by him here on the edge of the world. She hadn’t even thought of her husband, her parents. All she could think about was how she wished for another hour with the man in front of her.

What kind of dishonorable, lousy person did that make her—

Roark stepped closer, until only inches separated the two of them.

Taliya’s eyes stung with tears, and she whispered, “But I still owe you that dance.”

Roark’s brows tugged together in pain. He anchored a steady hand at the angle of her jaw, the rough callouses of his palm rubbing against her skin. His thumb caressed over her cheek, along her bottom lip. And Taliya was frozen there, desperate to memorize every detail of his touch.

He glanced down at her lips, the movement so quick, she wondered if she’d imagined it. Wished for it.

Another section of the obsidian column crashed to the earth. Steel continued to clash on steel somewhere far beyond the two of them.

And all she could do was stare and stare and stare at the man she loved.

She would’ve lived better, if she was given another chance. She wanted to live in a world where her choice mattered.

On the brink of death, it finally did.

Half of the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and Taliya didn’t hesitate.

She closed the space between them and kissed him. Her hands trembled as she grasped the back of his neck. Both of them were caked in mud, blood, grime, sweat—and she didn’t care. She wanted to know—no, needed to know—suddenly and desperately, the sensation of his touch on her body. The pressure of his hands on her waist, the warmth of his chest against hers.

Then he stopped.

For only a moment, he pulled back.

“Taliya.”

The time for talking had long passed. Even if she’d been given more time, she knew she would never get to say everything she needed. Things she should’ve said months ago before her wedding, or an hour ago—when an hour had still meant something.

She saw the unspoken words on his face, too.

But there was no time left.

She brought her hand up to his cheek, and he leaned into her palm. He would’ve been able to feel her trembling fingertips, the way she could feel his uneven breath, see the fear in his eyes that he’d always been so good at hiding.

He pulled her back to him. This time, he kissed her slowly.

The clashes of metal from the battlefield and the horrible cracking of the Bloodgate faded. There was only the warmth of his embrace, the pressure of his lips, her fingers curled hopelessly around his neck.

The last sun of Erimyr descended into darkness.