Discovery

Updated July 2018

The vast fortress held its secrets tight, and Lightning feared that they might never uncover what they had come for. Hours had passed as they had prowled around the Mask of Winter's domain, and many times they had almost been caught. There were still a few hours left before the sun would set, and while the sun meant less in the Shadowland, she did not want to remain in the fortress when night came.

Ivory walked along beside her, Hu on the other side. The girl stared into rooms as they passed, an upset look on her face, as if not finding anything was somehow a direct slight against her.

Lightning was passing one room, a massive, cathedral-like room with stained glass windows; she paused, looking back. "Hold it," she said softly.

Ivory ahead of her stopped. "What?"

Lightning said nothing as she looked into the room, the wan sun that came through the windows-the patterns in the leaded glass celebrating death-was broken and stained a myriad of unhealthy colours.

"The reflection," she said.

Ivory had moved up beside her. "What?"

"The light coming off the altar, the reflection of the sunlight." The altar was a tall pillar of obsidian near the middle of the room.

"What about it?"

"It's too bright."

Ivory stepped forward, halted on the threshold and ran her fingers along the wall before stepping in.

Lightning was close on her heels.

As they closed Lighting could see what was on the altar, a piece of warm, yellow stone, that seemed to catch the weak sunlight, and, somehow, add the warmth back to it.

"Oh," Ivory said. She was up on her tiptoes, peering at the stone.

"What?"

"I've seen this, it's a Hearthstone. The other half is in Lookshy."

"This is it?"

Ivory nodded, as she tried to pull herself up onto the altar. Hu moved up behind her and used his head to boost her farther up. Lightning was closing, not willing to reach for the stone until Ivory had examined it for traps or alarms.

She paused, shifting her attention back to the windows, the shadow that fell upon one.

Grasping Ivory by her collar she pulled her away, bodily tossed her towards the far side of the room as she leapt the other way.

The window shattered inwards in a hail of black arrows. They rained down upon the altar, knocking the stone off of it.

A keening howl echoed through the room, an alarm she supposed.

Following the arrows was the young woman from Lookshy, the one that had attacked Ivory before. The same feeling Lightning had had before, that twisting in her stomach came upon her again.

Lightning had her sword in her hand, and she was sprinting across the floor, weapon flashing back and forth, knocking arrows aside.

The archer hit the floor, bounded high, her bow tracking Ivory, letting arrows fly.

Ivory had landed in a crouch after being thrown. She scrambled to her feet, twisting around to avoid some of the arrows. Hu, like some huge, golden arrow himself, flew amongst the black shafts, knocking aside those that might have otherwise hit the girl.

Ivory was running towards the centre of the room, for the stone that lay upon the floor even as the attacker alighted upon the column, her bow coming around the draw a bead on the child.

Lightning dashed forward and snatched Ivory up even as Hu knocked another arrow aside.

"No!" Ivory screamed, her voice almost lost amidst the alarm as Lightning hurled her through the broken window.

As the last of the broken glass was hitting the floor Lightning followed Ivory out of the fortress. She sensed more than saw Hu following her.

She sailed out into the open air, below her the great fall, both the height of the fortress and the monster whose back it rode upon. Not far below her fell Ivory. She looked more angry than scared.

Trusting Hu to take care of Ivory she kicked herself around in the air, facing the way she had come, just in time to see the archer following.

Along the length of her arms, the Moonsilver tattoos flashed brightly as the blue glow of the coming power shredded the sleeves of her jacket.

The Death Knight swung her bow out, one end of the staves catching one of the many jagged projections that covered the fortress, and with that, propelled herself out of the way of the bolts of electricity that erupted out from Lightning's arms. Behind the falling Death Knight parts of the fortress were blasted away as the attack meant for her struck the structure instead.

Shifting to a form better suited for flight she crossed the distance between them, then shifted back, swinging out with her blade.

The small woman spun her bow around, knocking the sword aside, but a blast of electricity travelled along the weapon's length and snapped into the woman's hands with a force that almost made her lose her grip on the bow.

Somehow, and Lightning felt a strange sense she could not name, she could not help but to be impressed that the death knight held onto her bow, put an arrow to string, and fired at Lightning. Lightning had to give up the close quarters to avoid the shot, using her sword to dig into the fortress, slowing, so the other woman fell past her.

Then Hu was charging up the side of the fortress, claws finding purchase, an upset Ivory carried in his mouth as if she were a kitten. He stopped and with a flick of his head tossed Ivory towards Lighting as he went crashing into the Death Knight.

Catching Ivory and pulling her sword free from the fortress Lightning went plummeting towards the battle below. Ivory might have said 'I am not having fun,' but Lightning could never be sure.

Below the woman kicked free of Hu, a deep, bloody gash across her shoulder from the tiger's teeth. The wound did not seem to impair her, for she fired two arrows at Hu, forcing him to back off, twisting in the air and using part of the fortress to push away from him.

The death knight then used her own clothing to catch the wind, redirect her flight, and slow it down.

Lightning hurled Ivory back the way she had come, sending her speeding up and away from the fight as Lightning herself dropped like a rock to meet their enemy.

Sword and bow clashed, they spun in the air, arrows cut shallow lacerations in Lightning's skin as the electrically charged blade of her sword battered at the archer's defences.

Hu came in as well, teeth and claws harrying the woman.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, and from her bow erupted a blizzard of arrows Both Hu and Lightning were forced to retreat in the face of such an attack. That gave the Death Knight an opening, and she shifted her bow to point up at Ivory who was still above them.

Ivory, however, was not without a way to answer such a threat. From the golden webs of light that the girl had woven between her hands came a cloud of deadly obsidian butterflies, swarming down at the archer.

With agility that Lightning had to admire the woman managed to avoid most of the attack, though a few of the razor-winged butterflies caught her glancing blows, slicing clothing and leaving behind thin lines of red in her pale skin.

Hu had shifted in the air, claws catching the side of the fortress, and leapt up, snatching Ivory, pulling her around to cover in time to protect the girl from the next volley of arrows the assassin sent up at her.

Lightning, on the other hand, directed her falling flight at the woman and slashed at her with her sword, pulses of electricity dancing along the blade.

Bow and sword met again, loudly ringing as they engaged each other, still plummeting. Lightning swung herself around, the heel of her boot catching the assassin hard in her wounded shoulder, sending her spinning into the side of the fortress.

The assassin used the stable point of contact to launch herself away from Lightning, giving her more range to send another flight of arrows towards the Lunar. Several of the razor-sharp arrowheads cut her as they passed close, but none hit her solidly.

As they passed the foundations of the fortress the colossal back of Juggernaut awaited them at the end of their fall.

Lightning flipped around and absorbed the impact, her legs shifting, bone and muscle thickening to prevent injury. The archer hit and rolled, bleeding off momentum across the rotting flesh of the great behemoth.

Legs pumping, necrotic flesh sloughing off beneath her feet, Lightning charged towards her opponent, daiklaive snapping and popping with electrical charges. She caught the woman a solid blow, sending her flying across the bone bladed spinal ridge, her clothing stained with blood from the wound. Before Lightning could follow up she stumbled back, an arrow fired with a desperate snapshot protruding from her shoulder.

The two stared at each other across the dead flesh, both of them breathing hard from the battle. Around the Lunar silver fire danced, while a black miasma flickered across the death knight's form.

Lighting tore the projectile from her shoulder as the assassin readied another arrow from her kneeling position.

A growl began low in Lightning's throat, as her body began to shift towards her Warform, but before it could escape her mouth as a scream of challenge the sound of horn echoed around them.

Both looked about, and from the fortress, they saw a small army pouring forth.

They looked at each other again, a promise given when their gazes met, and then both were fleeing in opposite directions.

Courtesan cursed softly, but with vehemence, her hand pressed against her side, against a wound that was still bleeding sluggishly.

Once again she had been stopped. Once again she had come close, but the girl still lived, and the whispers in her mind would not leave her alone.

"Why?" she demanded, "why must you do this."

She was on the edge of the city of Thorns, amidst some ruins in which she might take a moment to rest unseen.

"She was within the fortress of one of your Death Lords. Why not have him kill her?"

Sitting down slowly on a broken wall, for once unconcerned with the state of her clothing, she stared at the ruins around her.

Perhaps they were afraid, she thought, afraid that the Mask would not kill the girl but seek to use her. Courtesan would be a fool to not know the actions of the Death Lords did not always mesh perfectly with the desires of their Neverborn masters.

Still, that was a dangerous thought, and she did not voice it, nor let it turn over in her mind too much.

Standing, she brushed futilely at her skirt, then continued on. She best gather her things and then get out of Thorns.

She did not think that her quarry would remain there much longer. And she knew she would not be safe if she stayed.

The considerable bulk of the Juggernaut was still visible, but Lightning thought that, for the moment, they could pause to consider what had happened and what to do next.

Ivory did not seem to think so. "We have to go back," she said, demanded really. Lightning wondered, not for the first time, how Heron had dealt with her. At times it was terribly easy to forget that she was a Solar Exalted, and see her instead as a spoiled little brat.

"I don't think we can," Lightning responded, looking back the way they had come. "I don't think anyone will be sneaking into that place for quite some time."

"Oh," Ivory said, angry and exasperated, "we have to get that stone."

"The one you said was a Hearthstone. The other half of one you had seen in Lookshy?"

Ivory nodded. "I saw it in that vault. I touched it. I should have realised what it was!" She stomped one of her feet and let out a small scream.

Lightning looked around, hoping the noise was not attracting anything. "What can half a Hearthstone do?"

"If it is the stone for the manse under Lookshy..."

"There is a manse under Lookshy?" Lightning interrupted.

"An old one. An unstable one. I never saw it, but I knew it was there. If the stone is that one, it's a link. A link to an unstable manse under one of the most military significant," Ivory said significant carefully, as if not wanting to mess up the pronunciation, "cities in this region. My dream makes sense now."

"I see," Lightning said, nodding, and then, "Dream?"

Ivory ignored the question. "We have to get back there! We have to get that stone."

Lightning looked at Ivory, wondering how someone so smart could be so stupid at times. "Let's just go to Lookshy and get the half of stone that is there."

Ivory opened her mouth but said nothing. For a few seconds, she stood there, just staring at Lightning. She closed her mouth and then nodded. "Yes, that would work," she agreed.

"Good. Let's get the Razor. We'll also have to pass a message to Clarissa and her people, let them know what might be coming in case they need to run."

The Heart Spear had brought them to the Spire, a first age fortress that the Horse Lords looked on with disdain. As Cloud Hands climbed from the ship, met by several soldiers, she looked about, coming to a different opinion than that of the Marukani.

An older man in heavy armour looked up at her. "You'd be the Dragon Bloods, sent by Jade Eyes?"

Cloud Hand took a moment before answering, "Yes. I am Abbess Cloud Hands."

"Welcome to the Spire Abbess. You ready for a fight?"

She nodded. "We are."

"Good to hear it. We got a heavy chariot unit that needs a commander. Think you can handle it?"

She did not know if he was trying to insult her or not, but she would not rise to his baiting if he were. "I'll roll the dead under the wheels and show you how the Realm wins battles."

It was a boast that could be turned on her, but the old man smiled. "I'll be glad enough to see that this time. My name's Uthern, Lookshy Foreign Legion, looking after this forsaken place."

Cloud Hands jumped from the Heart Spear and landed near Uthern, clearing the way for the others in the craft so that they might exit. If Uthern was from Lookshy the seal she carried might command respect. Perhaps allies against Heron.

Even thinking of it reminded her of the oath she had sworn, and she knew that would be inviting the wrath of heaven were she to break it while the Mask of Winters still loomed as a threat.

She introduced the others as they disembarked and the old Lookshy soldier nodded politely to each. As he led them across the compound to where the chariots awaited, he asked, "Any of you much good at investigating?"

Cloud Hands looked over her shoulder to Tolsay. Tolsay smiled and said, "Might spot a clue, ya. What, someone stole somethin', or maybe you think you got a spy?"

Uthern said nothing for a moment as he looked Tolsay over, and then, "A security squad was found dead in the Tower of the Monk, it's that mid-sized one to the west. Not really sure what happened there. Room was sealed. Right now I've got too much happening, but if you want to take a look, I would appreciate it. Nice to give General Sparrow as full a report as possible."

"Never say no to helpin's a general, ya," Tolsay said. "Not much for chariots myself, how about get someone to take me up there, I'll give it a look, ya?"

"Very well. Comden, Ritts, take this man up to the tower, let him look around, chase off any gawkers."

"Yes sir," a tall, thin woman, probably Comden, said. "This way sir," she said to Tolsay.

"Lead the way, ya."

Cloud Hands watched Tolsay and the two guards leave them. Once more playing his own game. She looked at the Terrestrials that remained with her. Grace was angry but still useful, Anzar nervous, but probably useful, and Kihoshi, well, she had no idea what Kihoshi would do.

While Cloud Hands was thinking about the people she led, Uthern lead them to the chariot shed. As he had promised, heavy chariots, heavy horses, heavy weapons. And their crews, most of whom looked young and inexperienced.

"Think you can make use of all this?" Uthern asked them.

"Are the men Marukan?" she asked, though she doubted it, the mix of skin colours and hair colours and textures did not make it likely.

"Foreign Legion, just like me. Volunteered for this duty cause the poor bastards figured they would get to ride around in chariots and have an easy time."

"I can make use of all this," she said, looking to Grace, who nodded, and Kihoshi who smiled, and Anzar, who still looked like he might be ill. "They'll ride around in chariots, they won't have an easy time."

"Glad to hear it. The little pusses have pissed me off since the day I got here."

Tolsay looked around the room. "Lot of blood, ya," he said, kneeling down. "Place been messed with?" He looked at a set of bloody footprints that led out of the room, through the only door.

Ritts was hanging back, out of the room, but Comden had come in, careful not to step in the blood. She looked a little green but was holding up. "Just the soldier that found it. He reported to Uthern. Uthern looked in and then locked the place up."

"Why did the soldier come in here?"

"The squad was late for their shift."

"Think he killed them."

Comden laughed but stifled it quickly. "No sir, I don't think he did."

"Might want to talk to him. This is weird ya."

"Weird sir?"

"Killin' like this, Messy, really messy, you don't kill like this 'nless you are sending a message."

"Message? What? that we're not safe?"

"That's a good message, but not what I'm thinkin'," he told her as he walked over to the body that was the least torn apart, careful of where he put his feet. "Neck snapped, turned the head near clear around. Bruisin' around the face." He reached out and carefully opened the corpse's mouth. "Smashed up teeth. And left a note," he said. He reached into the mouth and took out a folded piece of paper.

Comden had moved closer.

Tolsay unfolded it, looked at the crisp, bold writing on it. "Says he's a traitor, and the rest are incompetent, says not to waste any grief on them. I'm paraphrasin', ya."

"I don't understand," Comden said.

"Killed the rest to get this one to talk, ya."

"That's terrible."

Tolsay nodded. "Effective though."

"What should we do?"

"Figure if he's a traitor, what the worst he could do? Figure he's not, what's the worse us assumin' he is is going to do?"

Comden had to think about that for a few seconds. "Oh. Should I tell Uthern?"

Tolsay nodded. "I would, ya."

On the plains of Marukan, the Spire was a tall structure, its walls stretching almost a hundred feet above the ground, its dull, grey walls often blending into overcast skies. The sun was low, throwing long shadows across the land.

Sparrow reigned her horse in slightly, letting the riders pass by her as she stood in her stirrups and looked back the way they had come.

The grass was trampled where they had passed, the bent stalks catching the failing light, making their path visible. Not that they had been trying to hide their trail.

Craning her neck, she could just make out the forces following them. The main body was moving fast. Punishingly fast. If they were a living army, she would expect them to collapse by the time they reached the Spire. However, even an army of the dead would suffer from such a forced march and would not arrive at their best. Ahead of them was another group, moving almost as fast as Marukan horses had.

They were long-legged runners, their movement strangely jerking; it looked painful.

"Incoming rider," someone nearby called. "It's Dragon and Heron."

The Marukan would always mention Dragon first. Sparrow smiled.
Heron sped to them, in a short time he was pulling Dragon into a trot, matching the pace of Sparrow's horse. "You've got them on your tail."

Sparrow nodded. "They are as mad as wasps."

"They will throw everything they have against us. The zombie hordes, the blood rains. Just like when they attacked Thorns." Bergen sat nearby. He was frowning, his eyes narrowed.

"I know," Sparrow said simply. "They will throw their poison here, against where we are strong, and where the magic of the Spire protects the lands, rather than against the plains of Marukan where the damage would last. I want them here. I want all their fell magics to fall on us because this is where we manage it."

Bergen looked surprised. Heron was nodding as if seeing the full picture for the first time.

"I will use their anger, and I will break it on the walls of the Spire," she told Heron and Bergen, but her voice had risen, and the riders that passed around them heard it, and they would tell the story to others.

Overhead there was a sound, like some gargantuan stringed instrument being plucked, and from the Spire flew several flaming balls. They traced fire across the sky and crashed into the leading ranks of the runners.

Sparrow tapped her heels to her horse's flanks. "Anything interesting happening?" she asked Heron.

"A Wyld Hunt has joined in defence of the Spire."

Sparrow schooled herself, careful not to show shock. "Interesting," she said.

"Truly it is a wondrous world we live in," Heron said. "They came hunting me, and now they hunt the forces of the Death Lords. As it should be."

Sparrow nodded, finding herself liking the sound of that. "Are they skilled?"

"Difficult to say. The Abbess most certainly, the others, well, Ivory and I defeated them."

"Fortunate, but at this moment I might have preferred it was otherwise."

Heron nodded. "Understandable."

"Still," she said, looking up at the walls, "I think we might use them."

"There were also several people killed in the Spire. Unknown assailant. Tolsay tells me he thinks someone is helping us, but won't discount it being a subtle attack."

"Who is Tolsay and what do you think?"

"Tolsay is a Dragon Blood who is helping us for a chance to speak to Ivory, and I am not yet sure what to think yet."

The siege engines fired again, dropping fire on the following dead.

"I hope you figure it out soon," Sparrow told him they passed through the gates. "It is probably going to be important."

The gates closed behind them with a deep 'thump'.

His horse was blowing, its sides covered in sweat, he had almost ridden it to death, and even so, he had not caught up to his enemy. They were behind walls they likely thought were safe. Ahead of them Ionia and her runners lay burning, laid to waste by fire from the walls.

"I'll lead a force in. The walls will not offer them protection," Lady Blood said.

Cold Rain smiled in spite of his anger. "No need. Our Lord and Master prepared for this."

"Yes," She said, curious. "You said as much."

He reached into the pouch at his belt and drew forth a small, wooden box of black wood. Within was a flute of Soul Steel. It moaned as he fitted it together, hinting at the music that it would produce.

Above them, a ball of flame few and crashed into the zombies not far off.

"I would have preferred vengeance viscerally, but this will do."

Cold Rain put the flute to his lips, as if kissing it, and for a moment he left the cold metal against his mouth as if savouring it. The music that came from it was strange in its depth of tone, as if it came from a long way away, from a pressing depth. As the tune climbed into higher notes, the living shifted about, discomforted, and even the dead seemed to feel some strange sense dread.

Tears of blood ran from the corners of Cold Rain's eyes, wetting his cheeks as he pulled stranger and stranger tones from it.

Lady Blood shook her head and lifted her left hand to put it over her ear.

Then, as the music spiralled up into a screeching noise, a deep, palpable, thumping sound trembled in the core of everyone within miles and the ground rocked.

However, Cold Rain eyes opened wide in shock, for the explosions did not crack and collapse the walls of the spire and blow its gates open. Instead, on the low plain where the vast majority of his forces had gathered, the ground cracked and ruptured, gouts soil and rock and the broken forms of his soldiers hurled high into the air.

The shaking of the ground knocked his horse out from under him. He lost the flute as he rolled clear. Around him, rocks and other things began to fall upon his command forces. As he rose to his feet, his scythe flashing out to knock aside the boulder, he saw one of his necromancers crushed under another of the rocks.

Another horse sized stone was spinning across the twilight sky, and he knew in a moment where its trajectory would take it. His eyes shifted, his gaze falling upon the stumbling form of a zombie. The dirt under his feet launched up as he sprung forward, charging across the ground, fearful he would not be in time.

A leap took him into the air, his scythe swinging out to shatter the stone.

It fragmented, the still not insubstantial pieces of rock falling about him. Cold Rain turned and used his body to shield the zombie as the stones slammed into him.

The ground shook, and Sparrow was already running, sprinting up the stairs three at a time, climbing up to the top of the wall. She reached the wide walkway and looked down upon the destruction below. It took her a few seconds to sort it all out, to realise it was not some kind of attack against them.

"I suppose some weapon of theirs detonated." Heron stood at her side, close, looking down at the destruction.

Sparrow shook her head. "I don't think so. The Mask of Winters would not be that careless."

"Then what?"

Sparrow looked at the army arrayed below her, how they had been formed up. She frowned. "I made a mistake."

"What?" Heron asked her.

"Thinking this place safe. Thinking the Mask of Winters would not have considered it."

"Whatever caused the explosion was within the Spire," Heron said, catching up to her.

"Yes. But someone moved it. Put it where it would hurt the dead. The same someone who killed our traitor." She reached for the conclusion.

"Do they want to help us," Heron asked, "or harm the Mask?"

Sparrow did not have an answer. Instead, she called out, "We've been given a victory at no cost to ourselves, but that just makes the enemy more dangerous. Everyone to their positions, and get all the siege engines firing. Let's hit them while they are down." She turned and strode down the stairs, presenting a front of confidence as her mind set on Heron's question.

Who would help them and yet not show themselves?

Far off in the fortress atop the Juggernaut, in a room that had recently seen battle, one of the Mask's newest Death Knights looked about. She was a tall, thin woman, with long, straight red hair and dark skin. They called her Whispers of the Dead.

A ghost held up an arrow towards her in its slim hands. Whispers took the arrow, looked it over, held it up and gazed down its length. Rubbing her fingers through the fletching, she turned her attention towards the wall where the arrow had been embedded.

She was still examining the arrow when she noticed the ghosts about her had prostrated themselves.

Turning smoothly she dropped to one knee, lowering her head. "My lord," she said to the Mask of Winters.

"What have you discovered?"

Whispers swallowed. She was still so new, still so uncertain, but she schooled herself not to show it. "There were intruders within the fortress, two, perhaps three. They were searching for something, and they likely found it in this room. Someone attacked them, came from the outside through the windows. The archer was supernaturally skilled. All left through the window."

She did not explain how she had come to those conclusions, likely her Master already knew.

He was silent for a time, and Whispers felt a drop of sweat run down her back under her silken robe. Then the Mask knelt and picked up the yellow stone from the floor and placed it on the pedestal. The stone seemed to glow, and the ghosts in the room crept back and away, some pushing themselves against the walls.

"Send word to all my servants," he said, voice deep, "tell them we start tonight, though I suspect some of my more enthusiastic servants may have already begun."

"Yes my Lord."

She did not ask if it was wise, or if their enemies had discovered his plans. She only bowed low before doing her Lord's bidding.

Cold Rain coughed as he came conscious, felt someone yanking at him. He reacted blindly, lashing out, only to be restrained.

"Calm yourself," someone yelled, a familiar voice over the ringing in his ears. He recognised the voice a moment later as belonging to Lady Blood.

Shaking her hands off himself as he stood up he asked, "What is happening?" He looked down at her.

"The Mask of Winters has sent orders, we are to start our attacks," she said, laughing softly. "Of course I am not sure how to go about that as we are currently being torn apart."

Cold Rain tapped at the side of his head with an open palm, chasing away the last of the ringing in his ears, and then looked down where he had lain, where a zombie lay upon the ground. "Come along mother," he said, reaching down to grasp its arm before gently pulling the zombie to its feet.

Barron landed on his shoulder and cawed loudly. He reached up and brushed a finger across the raiton's beak before examining the area about him.

There was a soft hiss and from over the walls of the Spire came a stream of liquid which crashed upon the ground, bursting into flame and scattering some of the troops.

"They are not terribly accurate, being horse soldiers I suppose," Lady Blood said, "but they are getting a little better."

A ball of fire followed and crashed into a siege engine, setting the bone structure aflame.

"How long?"

She looked thoughtful. "Ten minutes."

"You've let this go on for ten minutes?"

"I needed to make sure you were alive," she explained. "Someone has to clean up this mess while I go and take care of those siege engines."

Cold Rain knelt and swept up his scythe. "Go and do that then," he told her, then strode across the broken ground. "Any surviving officers, to me, signallers, send out the call, I want our forces moving about, don't give the enemy a stationary target!"

Behind him, he heard Lady Blood calling out to her personal guard. She was laughing.

He was glad someone was enjoying this evening.

Killing, it was what she lusted for. She wanted to be covered in blood, to look into the eyes of those she murdered. She had been given that ability, and she revelled in it.

The Lady Blood knew that there were living victims within the Spire, and she fully intended to kill as many of them as could.

Around her the war ghosts she had taken as her guard were laughing, echoing back her own mirth. They desired death as well. She had picked them for it. Many were so touched by the madness of their Neverborn masters that they were very nearly nephwracks.

Arrows rained amongst them, launched from the high walls, but they were of little consequence to her, for she was moving fast, and her armour was strong.

Then they reached the wall.

Like something out of nightmares, the ghosts began to scale the sheer surface, limbs twisting in disturbing directions to gain traction.

Lady Blood did not climb. Her dark essence flared, and her cloak billowed up around her, becoming a pair of black Soul Steel wings. She launched herself into a climb, speeding up the wall, a twisted smile on her face.

Like a wave the ghosts broke over the top of the wall, flowing across it, swords cutting through the defenders that stood against them.

Lady Blood crested and continued up into the air. Let them see her and know terror.

Wings beating, soul steel moaning she looked down on the battle.
Her smiled faded after a few seconds.

The initial charge of the war ghosts had been slowed.

Spots along the line held against the attack, and from those points, strength seemed to flow out into the defenders.

Unacceptable.

Lips twisting into a sneer she picked out those that dared to try to stand against her.

There, a woman with a White Jade direhammer, sweeping the war ghosts back.

Farther from her, a small, quick, lean man, twin swords of flaming Red Jade ended any ghost that dared to come near, cleaving armour and the corpus beneath.

Near the center of the line, a man in dark armour, his daiklaive sweeping, like a riptide taking the feet of his attackers out from under them.

Anchoring the line, another man, a glowing beamklaives, one lit up like the molten rock, the other like fire, drove the attackers back as if they were children.

Unacceptable.

The Terrestrials who dared to stand in her way would die. She was not a war ghost, and would not be vanquished by the likes of the Blooded.

Wings folding behind her, she powered into a dive, towards the centre of the line, towards the man in the armour. Break him, and it all would fall apart. Her scissors swung around, snapping open, ready to shear flesh and bone.

And then, raising up to meet her, a woman in white robes.

The Lady Blood halted her dive, sweeping out with her weapon to ready for an attack. The woman, a monk, slipped around the snipping blades, her foot kicking up even as she was in the air, leg laid almost across her upper body, the slippered foot hammering hard into the armour around Lady Blood's shoulder.

Then the woman dropped, landing on the wall below.

She looked up at her.

The Lady Blood was certain that the monk was sneering at her.

She ground her teeth together, but she kept a cap on her anger.

Air aspected monk. At home in the air.

Her own wings were not as much of an advantage.

A skilled martial artist. If Lady Blood could not finish her fast, she might end up wasting time, time while the other Bloods were driving her ghosts back.

She dropped like a streak of black lighting, landing on the wall top, the stone cracking beneath her soul steel boots and small frame. Her cloak settled about her shoulders as she struck out at the monk, fighting with solid ground beneath her.

The monk fell back, hands moving, turning the blades, hands cushioned by air never touching the soul steel.

"You will die here, this night," Lady Blood said, blades snapping together, becoming a sword, driving at her enemy as she stepped forward, stomping her foot down in an attempt to crush the monk's instep. The woman shifted back, protecting her feet, but the scissors point caught her.

It was a glancing blow, but blood stained the woman's robes over her left shoulder.

"I will cut you a thousand times, and you will beg for me to kill you!" With that shout she leapt forward, forcing the woman back, towards the edge of the wall. Of course for an air aspected blooded, the fall would not be a threat, but it would be a symbolic victory.

The monk did not seem concerned, she gave up each step gracefully, sometimes countering with an attack that would slow Lady Blood's own advance. It was maddening for she was a Death Knight, an Abyssal Exalted, and this nothing of a Dragon Blood dared to stand against her.

The anger began to blind her, made her forget that this one fight was not the battle, and when the monk suddenly shifted away, out of line with the attack, she was left over extended, on the edge of the wall, watching as fire blossomed towards her.

Behind her her cloak flashed out into wings, lifting her above the flames. Fire licked at her boots as she rose, and the burns caused her pain as if the flame sought to deny her existence. While she escaped with only a few blisters, most of her ghosts were not so lucky.

The flame snaked amongst the warriors, bypassing the humans as it seemed to seek out the ghosts. The leading tendrils were like dragons, jaws full of inferno snapping down on the dead.

In moments most of her forces were gone, burnt away, unable to stand against what Lady Blood realised was holy flame.

She looked towards the source of that fire.

On a wall, an impossible distance away, stood a figure. As Lady Blood watched the figure lowered the flame weapon and then picked up another.

Fear gripped her, and she did not stay, but climbed rapidly, then looped back and dropped below the wall. She did not want to be the singular target of that shooter.