Chapter 1- A New Mark
She stood on her balcony, and stared out into the darkness at the range of endless mountains. Her pitch-black hair flew as a stormy wind billowed past her; a blizzard was coming. Her eyes were wide open and they stretched as far as the expanse in front of her. Her pet raven, Dust, perched on the beam of her balcony, snapping her out of her vacant trance. As she understood it, the Elder Sister had summoned her. Had the Veil chosen another soul for death?
She had no identity. Her mind was completely blank when it came to her past, except for some snippets. She knew that she was an artist for the Sisters of the Veil, and she remembered what the Elder Sister called her, though she couldn't help but be repulsed by the name. She could also remember some little things…like the splatters of blood that stained her cloak after finishing each masterpiece; her marks' pleas of mercy -hundreds of them- as she drove her scythe through their helpless bodies; and the noble king of Riftwillow, an abusive mine digger, a poor beggar…
Dust broke the silence with a shrill caw and the pale assassin turned around to start walking to the Temple of Xerinin, their patron goddess, in the center of the castle. She picked up her ceremonial scythe as she walked out of the chamber and to the temple. The scythe had psionic runes inscribed on its blade, a symbol that it had bonded with her and it was so sharp that even the slightest touch to the blade was enough to draw blood.
As she reached the temple, the tall doors creaked open and she walked in.
"Ah…Mortred, you heard my summons," a tall and mysterious woman clad in a white cloak spoke from a dark corner. She clenched her fists at the sound of that name. Mortred…that wasn't her name; it was what was given to her…forced upon her.
"The Phantom Veil has shown me the next soul for divination," The woman moved out of the shadows as she spoke, and revealed herself; it was the Elder Sister. Mortred bowed down and held her blade up. Writing mystically appeared on its handle- writing only the Sisters could grasp. It was the name of her next victim. She could feel the line between the real world and the Veil blur for a moment.
"I'll leave you alone. Pay your tributes to the Goddess," The Elder Sister said. Mortred was one of the deity's most favored devotees. So deep was her faith in Xerinin that the assassin's deity would bend the shadows to assist her in times of dire need. It wasn't clear if this was a result of her sheer skill at remaining unseen, or a blessing of the Goddess, but it wasn't Xerinin that chose her targets; it was the Veil. The Elder Sister merely blessed Mortred and released her.
She bent down in front of the altar and prayed internally. May your shadows keep me, may eyes look through me, and yours be upon me. She felt a gust of wind brush through her hair and her garments. Was it a sign of approval? As she got up, Mortred spotted a ruby necklace on the ground next to the altar. Out of curiosity, she reached down and picked it up.
Promise me...
Promise…
The strange voice echoed in her head as she inspected the necklace; but it disappeared just as soon it started. She shrugged it off as some of her mind's ramblings and walked back to her chambers, the necklace still in her hand. She wasn't sure why she took it with her, but it helped her to think of other things besides killing and blood.
Once back in her chambers, she donned her black cloak and put on her leather shoulder-guards. Both garments were vestments that the Sisters of the Veil would wear when they had to leave for a kill. No armor was required; no fancy boots, nothing of any grandeur- just simple garments that ensured their loyalty to the Veil. She tightened her back strap, and the belts pressed painfully against her initiation tattoo: a single eye, with branches emerging from it. It was the symbol of the Phantom Veil.
"Mmh!" She whimpered in pain. One of the few memories she still had was receiving that tattoo from the Elder Sister. She hung her scythe on the strap, concealed it with her cloak and pulled up her hood. The howling of the wind that blew through the cracks of her balcony door caused her to shudder. She noticed that it was snow heavily outside, but despite the weather, she had to go on. She had no choice. Dust cawed at her, signaling that he was ready to move with her and she climbed down the spiral stairs, walking with a deadly elegance toward the main doors. Her target resided in the distant, yet grand city of Straganhald.
A marathon awaited her.
After walking for about 2 hours, she approached the humble town of Stonepeak, named after the enormous mountain it stood at the foot of. It was a small establishment, merely a passage point for traders. However, the residents knew stories about the Sisters, as their homes were close to the castle. The people would say that by just seeing them pass by, shades in the dark, would freeze any ordinary human in place. They had many names for the sisters: "Shadow-steppers", "Black Hands", but the most common was "Phantom Assassins", after witnessing some of their handiwork.
The snow was up to Mortred's shin as she dredged along. Her high boots kept her feet dry, but it also made walking next to impossible. If only she could run light-footed, the way that elves did! Along with having trouble walking, it was also difficult to keep an eye on Dust, who was acting as her guide to Straganhald. She entered the town and walked towards a barely lit lantern. The sign next to it read "The Carriage Flagon" – the town's tavern. Dust perched on it and set to work with picking snow out of his feathers as she walked inside. The barman looked up from his task at the noise of the door opening.
"Lost are we?" He asked with a chuckle. "What can I get for you, missy?" He mistook Mortred for another traveler, and she couldn't help but pause for a moment at the sound of his rather kind voice. She rarely heard the voices of other humans, except for those of the Elder Sister and her victims. She simply pointed to a loaf of bread, and took a seat in the corner.
"Nothing to drink eh? I'll just get you some water then!" She didn't reply to the barman's offer, and took the opportunity of silence to look around. The tavern was rather empty; only two carriage riders were arguing over the weather and trade rates going haywire. A youth, who had clearly had a pint too much, sat at the bar swaying his head around. After looking around for a few minutes, he spotted her. It was rare to see a woman of her poise and form in these parts, and he couldn't help but stare at her and let out a whistle. She lifted her head, let her hood drop back and fixed the man with a piercing gaze with her phantasmal green eyes. He turned pale, as if he had seen a ghost, dropped his mug, and rushed out of the tavern in fear. Mortred allowed him to leave…with his limbs intact…this time. She pulled her hood back.
The barman brought her bread and a mug of water, and left, sensing that she wasn't up to talking.
The hot bread warmed her from the inside and after she finished her meal, she closed her eyes and tried to catch up on her sleep…
The next morning…
Mortred was awoken again by a strange dream.
You'll come back…
Promise…
As she glanced down at the ruby necklace hanging from her neck, the same voice from the day before came back. The sky outside was still dark, but at least the snow had stopped. She needed to keep moving. As she started for her destination, she walked downhill and away from the jagged Stonepeak. It was much easier to walk through the snow, despite the weight of her weapon. She could also see Dust clearly and together, they both covered a considerable amount of distance.
Mortred kept to the trees, and made sure that she remained unseen. Many bandits lined the roads she was traveling. She hated unnecessary killing; in her mind, only the ones marked for death were worthy to feel her art. She moved like a blur, something people would catch with the corner of their eyes, but dismiss as a passing bird or the billowing wind.
"Hey!" A young bandit called to his superiors. He had felt something rush past him closely.
"What? What did you see this time?" A bearded bandit asked who had awoken from his slumber at the sound of the cry.
"Something went by here," the first bandit said, looking around.
"You've had too much to drink," another bandit grumbled. "It was just that crow passing by. Now, keep watch; we need to collect some more toll for this road."
One day later…
After travelling through endless passes and pine forests, lurking and hiding in the shadows, she had reached a crossroads. A paved path, used by traders, would take her to Straganhald, a simple 2 day trek to the front gate.
The second choice, however, was through the Blackfrost woods. The woods were dark with bogs and high grass that would be difficult to walk through. Getting lost wasn't what fazed her, however; after all, she had Dust to help her keep track of where she was. But…there were ageless rumors and legends of no man returning alive or with a sane mind from those woods. There were tales of a mysterious force that patrolled the forest. Some of the common folk in the area simply knew the enigma as the 'Ranger'; some traders would say that a 'Banshee' haunted the woods, fiercely guarding something. Ramblings of the few who returned talked about an impossibly beautiful woman who would freeze their bodies with a simple touch.
Mortred had always accepted her cowardice. She feared fights, especially with an enemy she knew nothing about. But at the same time, she relished them. It was a chance to prove that she could sculpt as well as paint.
With one last prayer to Xerinin, she put her trust in the shadows and ran into the woods. Dust accepted her decision and followed her to help guide her. Her heart was dancing to the beat of Fear, faster and faster, every sense painfully aware of an impending darkness...
Author's note
Another BIIIIG thanks to the fantastic GeorgyannWayson for beta-reading and quality checking!
Trivia for Dota 2 savvy people: Picked Magnus solo mid for myself, Mortred for our carry player. RP+Empower+Coup de grace's RnJesus 1300 crits helped her get an ultra kill and us, a lane of rax! won the match and secured a top 8 finish in the MESC tournament! XD Wrote this story the next morning!