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Now or Never	By : Samric Category: M through R > The Obsidian Trilogy Views: 1962 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Obsidian Trilogy. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Obsidian Trilogy
Cilarnen/Kellen
Warnings- slash, small spoilers, some OOC
Comments- I REALLY enjoyed writing this and you might be able to tell just from reading it. In the end, I think this may be one of my favorites. I tried to experiment with some stuff that I've never done before. For instance, first person P.O.V. As well as emotion. I've never really done anything that emotion—not storyline alone—had a big part. And I have to say that I'm pretty damn satisfied.
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The scent of blood is overwhelming. Coppery stickiness clings to the surface of every rock, every blade of grass, it's hard to tell that this place was once a peaceful valley where farmers went about their everyday lives for hundreds of years. It's simply incredible how swiftly that peace can be utterly destroyed. Within a matter of an hour, three hundred men and elves are dead and countless hundreds are injured. Incredible, and yet, so horrible that words can't convey the feeling that sweeps over any who witness it.

I glance about the field anxiously only to be disappointed, a thrill of panic now gnawing at my heart. Where is Kellen? Surely he wasn't...

“Cilarnen!”

Relief washes over me like a wave of cold water as I hear that voice, weak though it is, and I whip around to see him with my own eyes. The sight that greets me takes me aback with so sudden a chill of horror that I jerk backwards with a choked gasp. The tiny bit of soft bread that I was able to eat before the battle and the ceremony to bring down the city wards suddenly comes up in my throat as a sour taste.

“Kellen! By the light, what happened to you?!” I ask fervently as I swallow hard and rush to his side.

One of his eyes is closed, I assume (hope) to keep it clear from the blood running from somewhere in his hair over his face, and he's obviously favoring his left leg. His beautiful sword is being used as a walking stick, and I can see the beginnings of shock brought on by severe blood loss in his single glassy eye. But what really catches my attention, what made me draw back in fear when I first caught sight of him, is the deep, gory wound in his side where his elvish armor appears to have—dear Blessed Light!

I am forced to clap a hand over my mouth to keep my meager meal from escaping once again. I reach a shaky hand out to touch his side gently but he still hisses and falls back to avoid my fingertips. I can't say that I blame him.

The only thing that seems to be keeping him alive after that grievous wound is the fact that the metal has been melted into his skin, forming a sort of grotesque bandage.

He gives me a single heart-wrenching look of pure agony before he blacks out and I'm hard pressed to catch his falling body. The dead weight of his so much larger body nearly buckles my knees and plunges us both to the ground but somehow I hold up until someone runs to help me with him.

It is one of the elves, I think his name is Tamaheriae, but really I can't tell most of the elves apart except by their ornate armor and the horses they ride. He ducks low and pulls Kellen's arm over his neck, assuming most of the weight while I tuck myself under Kellen's other arm—the side upon which is his wound has begun to trickle blood a bit faster. Blessed Light, how much has he lost? I pray, no, I beg the Light that it's not too late to save him. What would I do without him? I don't know if I could live with myself if he were to die now that he's about to get help.

It would just be too cruel.

“He has lost much blood. A skilled healer in magic would be very useful,” Tamaheriae says, his voice suggesting that he's not simply saying his thoughts aloud, but I'm too scared for Kellen to even grasp an inkling of what he's trying to ask me.

He looks at me pointedly and tries again. “Wildmagic lends it's power in the ways of healing. I would think that other goodly magics would do much the same.”

He stresses the words 'other goodly magics' in such a way that it finally breaks through to me and I feel as if I could die from the feeling of utter uselessness.

“No,” I say painfully, “High Magic doesn't work like that. You have to train for decades to become a healer.” My voice cracks slightly near the end when Kellen moans softly and his head falls bonelessly onto my shoulder. Tamaheriae barely hides his disappointment and my heart gives another lurch but then Tamaheriae gives a tired smile to something ahead of us.

Looking up I can see the healers' tent, a blue-robed healer rushing out to us. By the time she reaches us, she's already firing off questions about his condition. A grimace takes her face at the sight of the melted armor but she stays steely and gently pushes me out from under Kellen so she can take my place. I want to protest but she gives me a harsh look and the simple, but effective, reprimand of, “Don't let your concern harm him further,” and my protests die instantly.

They disappear into the tent just as my legs finally betray me and I'm suddenly on the muddy ground trying to hold back tears. No one bothers me as I sob breathlessly, and before long, I cry myself to sleep, my heart aching so much that I can barely draw in breath.
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