Scene from “Healer” where Chronicles finally meets up with his son on the battlefield… leading up to the book’s completion.
Pain dug into his flesh. With a loud gasp, Wisdom stumbled back and went down on one knee while holding his punctured side. A narrowed gaze continued to track his father’s movements. Thankfully, no other attack came. At the same time, there was no healing energy available, as the burnt fields offered nothing to sustain his waining strength.
After returning the blade back inside the wood, Chronicles planted the staff firmly on the ground to examine its sapphire tip. His gaze then flicked to his son.
“Thank you for returning this to me,” he said flatly. “However it may have served you, it will now serve MY purpose.”
“By destroying everything?” Wisdom gritted his teeth against the haze of pain flaring up his ribcage. “We were meant to PROTECT life, not take it!”
“We WILL be protectors once again…but only after the humans pay for what they did to us.” As he spoke, the awaiting Healers silently approached their leader. He never needed to make eye contact, but simply said, “Take him.” And they rushed the prince without hesitation.
Wisdom watched them come. Like a wounded rabbit, he waited for his hunters, for it was wolves they had become. The different colors of their fur revealed traits from their true forms. Hair color mixed with the natural look of the animal. Even down to the eyes, though the prince could still see the brilliant colors masked beneath those yellow orbs. Anger and eagerness to finish their task caused the irises to glow in a display of silver, emerald, and gold.
And in the haste of it all, they failed to notice that secretive smile. The prince waited. Nearly upon him, a sudden blaze of fiery earth erupted between them. The wolves slammed into one another, panic and high pitched yelps of confusion piling them all in a heap to keep from touching the flames. Wisdom watched with a satisfying grin while his kind raced the other way with tails tucked between their legs. Behind their leader they all hid, though he himself was trying to fight the urge to flee. Instead, dignity and a sense of duty kept him standing tall.
An ear flicked to movement from behind, then something was pushed into the prince’s hand at his side. The soft touch of leaves promised relief, and he glanced up to see who had brought them.
Donning his own vest of chainmail suited to his height, Ashpin eyed the Healers returning to their true forms. It was their leader that captured his fancy, an outfit of iridescent scales protecting the chest and down the thighs. It was unlike the armor Wisdom’s clan had prepared, with hard-edged shoulder pieces, thick breast plates and heated shields.
“Can we hope to win if they get through?” the boy asked.
“It’s not about winning.” He nodded behind him. Though the field looked vacant, he knew the Simpletons were merely blanketing the rest of the group with their projective thoughts. Yet with the knowledge that the horn had known, he could not be sure whether his father knew the same trick as well. “Get back with the rest.”