Glenn's Anguish Part XIII
Holding On
By Hyper Angel
The waters met Glenn with icy hands, greedily pulling him deep under before he knew what had even happened. The strong flow of the river held him under, all despite his hopeless struggling. He was drawn swiftly down the raging waters, never once given the chance to push against them, to fight for his own meager life. Besides, he had no reason to struggle anymore.
For a moment he opened his eyes, the world around him nothing but a haze of deep blue. He caught a glimpse of bubbles of the precious air that slowly escaped from his own lungs. As he was dragged further down below the surface, and farther through the streams course, he felt his body scream out for air, to be delivered from death when life was so close.
Still, all Glenn had to do, was push himself up, and break the surface. The spell cast upon him still ripped throughout his being, jumbling his thoughts and draining at his soul. The exact effect it had, Glenn could not know. All he knew was that Cyrus was gone, and he himself would surely follow soon enough. For each time he was thrust upward and his face broke the surface, another current pulled him bag under violently. Regardless of his choking and sputtering, they saw no mercy to him
The torrent waters continued to toss him like an abusive child and its' tattered rag doll. The accumulative of the rapids against his already battered body, and the spell as it continued to torture him, left Glenn praying and wishing for the suffering just to end.
Slowly, as the oxygen continued to escape from him, Glenn could feel his entire body giving out. His eyes flickered open momentarily, still stinging from the liquid beaten into him. He winced, his heat still spinning with delirium. Glenn tried to gasp, but his words were choked off by the waters that surrounded him. Again, he was thrown above the surface. Though he was too weak in inhale, nor did he bother to try. It was all just so…pointless.
His lower lip trembled as his eyes slowly shut once more. As his consciousness finally slipped away, Glenn could only silently mutter one small word. Cyrus….
.
Glenn-!… Hey Glenn, get up! It was Cyrus' voice. It called soothingly to him from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The young squire's eyes twitched sullenly, his consciousness slowly fading back in. His eyes opened briefly, the sight of the huge maple trees dominating the mountainside loomed above him, their shadows tracing delicate angles cross his body. The cool waters of the calm streams lapped against him playfully. Though the tireless roar of the falls behind him rung clear in his ears as he closed his eyes once more.
Glenn!' The knight's disembodied voice spoke again persistently. Come on! Get up!
I just…I can't…I don't want to go on… He replied without speaking aloud.
Please Glenn… Cyrus begged him.
It…It just hurts too much…the pain… it's all to much…
There was no reply to his words that time, the distant sound of the waterfalls once again was the only sound in his mind. Not even his own thoughts made themselves heard. All he wanted now was death, to be delivered away from all his suffering. He had come a long way, and for what? To see his best friend killed while he stood by and watched like the coward he was? To have any dreams he ever had for some distant glory thrashed? No. He would not, could not stand these endless tragedies. All he wished for now, was to die, never again to face such things.
….So you'd give in that easily? The voice of Cyrus sighed in disappointment
Why shouldn't I? You left me. If you're not even strong enough, what good am I?
That's not the point.
Then what is?!
Just go on, Glenn. You can become better, better than I.
Glenn did not answer to that.
Do it for Leene…and for everyone. His voiced repeated the sentence again, a chant that stung through Glenn's thoughts. You can become greater, greater than I ever was.
How?
Just try…
And again, there was silence. Cyrus spoke to him no longer, assuming that had been him and not Glenn's own weak delusions. He was truly pathetic, having to use Cyrus as the way to push himself back up. He wasn't even strong enough to help himself. Glenn sat up precariously, the pounding in his head seem to jolt throughout his entire body now. The spell, whatever it had been, had apparently not killed him off. Not yet at least.
His vision continued to blur in and out, the displacement further adding to the strain on his mind. Glenn uttered a low groan and put a hand to his head, the cold and wet leather felt odd against his skin somehow. Most likely from his exposure, or another of his unnerved senses' tricks. The icy water continued to washed against him playfully, the now tame autumn winds further adding to the chill upon him.
"Tell me I'm dreaming." Glenn said out loud finally. He pushed himself up weakly, and turned his head ever so slowly. His eyes were still only slightly open, as he looked to the calm mouth of the river he lie in. The ice cold liquid bit his skin, the waters still lapped around his limp figure in a tranquil rhythm. He sighed, not bothering to give the effort to pull himself out.
What did it matter, he may as well just stay there. Maybe even eventually die of hypothermia. Then he'd at least be given the solace he had prayed when being dragged down that very stream.
Glenn looked around, the gentle rays of sunlight that pierced the thick canopy of dying leaves danced upon his face in laces of warm light. The sun was setting, that much he could tell. If he stayed much longer, night would come and the temperature would definitely fall. So it would all fall down to dying of exposure, or the local wildlife on the hunt. A thin smile crossed over his face, his vision once again losing focus. All the more better. He chuckled within his thoughts.
The air was slowly growing more colder as Glenn's grim thoughts continued to run through his mind, the winds that usually ripped through the mountain were surprisingly silent for the moment.
It almost seemed as if the very air were dead. Complete silence was all that met the shamed squire's tired ears. Which was save the constant babble of the brook he lie in, and the now soft roar of the falls continued on endlessly.
"Tell me this is all a bad dream." He begged softly. "That I'll wake up and find Cyrus dozing next to me." He paused took a shuddered breath, closing his wary eyes mournfully. Tell me that everything will be… how it was."
The echo of his own voice answered him.
Glenn pushed himself up, finally forcing himself up from where he had lain. His own voice sounded foreign to him, the tone somehow off and gurgled. He blinked again and shook his head, taking it as another illusion of his weakened mind.
Slowly he pulled himself up, though as his hand brushed against the cool sand bottom of the stream, a cold hard surface met his touch. Glenn looked down, a bright glare greeted his eyes with a blinding intensity. He bent down closer over the object nonetheless, brushing the soft sand that partially covered it from the surface.
The Hero's Medal.
Glenn could only stare down at it for a long while, a choked filling gnawing at his throat. He remembered how Cyrus had once told him, that the medal was a strange relic that could boost the power of the legendary Masamune. Now it was just a useless hunk of medal. Cyrus had fought so hard, just to get this far. Now it was all for nothing.
Though he refused to let himself break down now. Not after all this. Glenn picked up the medal, his shaky hands barely able to keep a grip on it. He stopped short as he pulled it out from the icy waters. The setting sun had hit the water at just an angle, that his own reflection stared back at him from the now still waters. He realized just what effect the Magus' spell had had on him.
And as the first few solitary snowflakes began to fall upon the waters surface, lacing ripples around it in every small touch, a shrill scream pierced the cold still air.
.