[Cimmerian]

Mithwyn and Tumnaooriel were free of the mystic bonds that Bulvard, Elwyn and Ransom struggled against. The bonds seemed to weaken their hold and then reinstate itself on the captors, as the surges of power ebbed and flowed in tidal waves between the evil sorcerer and tortured witch.

Bulvard roared at Tumnaooriel to get away as the orcish creatures closed in on her even as their master battled on. Aravelenon’s power almost always seemed to overwhelm Elanor. It seemed like it was always Aravelenon who struck first, and Elanor defended. Aravelenon advanced and Elanor retreated.

Bulvard fought as hard as he could against the bonds, something in him urged him on to protect the young witch. When she had freed Bulvard from his mental torment and torture, a strange kind of mystic bond had developed between warrior and witch, as if they were kindred spirits. It was sheer torture for the white haired warrior to seem Elanor suffer so.

Aravelenon’s dark obsidian eyes blazed with pure hatred hell-bent on the witch’s destruction. He knew that the Crimson Sword amplified his evil powers and the witch had no hope against him. He increased the intensity of his attack all the while chanting in an obscene, alien tongue. Elanor couldn’t seem to understand the words he uttered, but she felt their intent. She seemed to weaken with every one of his blows. Then she stumbled and fell, the weapons she held went clattering across the hard, filthy floor.

Aravelenon loomed over her, Crimson Sword raised ready to strike. His lewd chanting continued and suddenly Elanor could understand what he was saying…

“If you woke up from your sleep blood on your hands
Would you wash the pain away no one understands
There must be someone out there who can help you breathe again
And would it ever be enough…