The Archer
The chime of the bell pierced through the veil and plucked Latenna from her rest. She opened her eyes to a pale landscape, obscured by currents of snow and frost. It appeared to be night, though the storm was so dense that any sunlight would be drowned out regardless.
"I have need of your bow. Riders of the darkest night approach us."
Latenna was thankful for her armor, which insulated her from the cold. Her summoner, the Tarnished, had no such protection, though he did not shiver. Only the steady tide of his breath marked any reaction to the landscape.
The Tarnished gestured towards a gulch created by the white-capped hills. There was a paltry excuse for a path along it. Emerging from the blizzard, at the edge of her vision, was a pair of black forms, taller than any man. Latenna nodded and drew her bow. She was no stranger to fighting alongside the Tarnished.
The time spent as his companion eluded measurement. It could have been a week at most or months. Her perception of the days passing grew hazy, with her adjustment to the new form she possessed. He found her at the bottom of a long, graceless fall, as she waited for an ignoble death to seize her. Latenna was not strong enough to defend her village from the marauders that put it to the torch, nor could she resist the brute that slew her beloved wolf, Lobo. The only shred of dignity that she retained was the knowledge that the all-hearing fiend that put such events in motion would be incapable of reaching his precious medallion. Then the Tarnished arrived and Latenna saw a new way forwards.
The Tarnished offered her the scant possibility of salvation. He was a vessel for her mission, the last hope of her people, the Albinaurics. They were a blighted race, cursed with imperfection. The first generation crawled on withering legs, forced to hide in noxious swamps and dismal forests. Those that could not were captured and tortured by the powerful and perverse. Her brief time in Volcano manor still haunted her, the sight of her kin locked in cages and molded into feral beasts. The second generation could walk on their own, but they lacked speech and bore the clear mark of their inhumanity in their bulbous heads and beady eyes. They were hunted by poachers, who used their hides and organs for foul concoctions.
Their origins were murky. The elders spoke with conviction about where they came from, some claiming the fallen city of Nox, with its pursuit of an artificial god. They spoke of the silver tears and the rituals that made life anew. Others pointed to Raya Lucaria, with its sorcerers as the cradle of their race. The mad queen still dwelled within, birthing sweetings anew with the drops of silver that also ran in their blood. Latenna cared little for their origin. She was more concerned with their destiny.
The path to freedom for the Albinaurics was a twisted one. Some like the villagers thought that merely hiding in the Lands Between was enough. The depravations of Gideon Ofnir shattered that illusion. Others sought the mythical Haligtree, though the route was long lost, their saint, their savior gone silent during the Shattering. And more still were conscripted by the ghoulish Mohg, convinced to serve his god of blood. Latenna's heart wept at the memory of the Mohgwyn Palace, with its scarlet Albinaurics, sacrifices for an uncaring god. The cocooned form of Miquella revealed why the Haligtree had gone silent, a beacon no more for her people.
The only salvation had to come from their own people. And so, Latenna became a spirit. So that she could journey with the Tarnished to the Consecrated Snowfield. Her time as a spirit unmoored her from the land of the living. It was akin to slumber, her consciousness dipping below the waters of dreams. She had the sensation of time passing, but there was no firm understanding. If she focused, Latenna could get an impression of where the Tarnished was on his journey, but details were faint, as if half-remembered. The dream could turn into vibrant world's conjured by her mind. It was both release and punishment, as nightmares invaded her limbo. Only the silent ring of the bell could pull her back to the world she knew.
Latenna watched as the black forms grew closer. Though the Tarnished kept a low profile as he crept forth, they headed towards him with a king of certainty that led her to believe that the riders could sense him. Perhaps it was the nature of this land. She had fought one of their kind once before, a titan on a dark steed in the north of Caelid. They were hunters, agents of Morgott, sent to rid the land of Tarnished.
She notched an arrow, but did not draw it yet. It was not time. She used to worry about running out, but every time she was summoned, her quiver was full once more. Latenna muttered an incantation, willing her arrows to find her mark, commanding them to follow her aim.
The first rider took a wider path, while the other accelerated its pace. They were going to encircle their prey. She steadied her breathing. The second rider charged at the Tarnished, who was forced to emerge from his hiding spot. A wicked glaive swept and met only snow as her companion evaded it. The first rider's horse gave out a spiteful cry and leapt at the Tarnished, who rolled past the swinging flail.
Latenna watched as the fight began, noting the particular patterns the riders took on their charges. They did not have a lot of space to fight and this meant that they had to be wary of running into one another. The Tarnished was using this to his advantage, though he was increasingly harried.
She drew the bowstring, felt the tension in her shoulder. Latenna fixed her eyes on the first rider. She exhaled slowly and let her arrow meet its mark. The tension released.
The rider did not cry out, it was not in their nature, but Latenna saw him flinch from the strike. She mouthed another prayer and let loose a stream of arrows, which floated towards their quarry with uncanny speed. Her foe avoided a portion of the barrage, but many arrows stuck his steed. One pierced the creatures skull, sending its master tumbling to the ground. The Tarnished advanced to finish the job.
Something moved to her left. Her eyes darted to the creature that crested the slope beside her. A she-wolf, dotted with snow, its eyes locked with hers. Latenna held out her hand to the beast. Without thinking, she began to whisper to her. The wolf cocked her head, the growl that was growing on her lips fading into something more relaxed. The wolf was a large specimen, all muscle and fang. A survivor in this most perilous of lands.
A cry of pain interrupted Latenna's action. The Tarnished was knocked prone, struck by the other rider. Their horse had him pinned to the earth, as the fallen one collected himself. The Night's Cavalry was moving in for the kill.
Latenna looked back to the wolf. She whispered more forcefully now, the words coming back. This she-wolf was no Lobo, but she would do. The beast walked forwards, her hot exhalations meeting Latenna's face. She ran her palm on the wolf's muzzle, then seized her fur and hoisted herself onto the beast. The wolf did not resist. She could recognize the power in Latenna's words, the call of kinship.
Latenna gave a shout and the wolf charged towards the Night's Cavalry. Her arrows flew free, striking the rider that pinned her companion. They shifted to avoid the onslaught, granting the Tarnished a moment of respite, enough to roll free. The flail impacted with the space he had been in.
Latenna rode circles around the mounted rider, keeping on the outer reach of his glaive. His horse was faster, but her wolf far more agile, as the beast darted over the slick slopes and vaulted beyond snow drifts. The rider was being worn down by the arrows, his armor lined with shafts that found their target. Whatever dark magics he controlled kept him going. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw fleeting glimpses of the Tarnished fighting the other rider on foot, trading grisly blows.
She drew her pursuer further away, past the gulch and onto more even ground. As she hoped, the Night's Cavalry pressed his apparent advantage, taking a straight path towards Latenna. She delayed her reaction till the last moment, when the din of the horses hooves became all-encompassing. Latenna fired off a pair of arrows at the horse's front legs. The beast crumpled forwards, as the rider, flew from his saddle. She bid the wolf forwards, its jaws opening to meet their foe. His end was sealed with a quick twist of the wolf's head.
Latenna returned to the gulch to find the Tarnished waiting beside the corpse of the other rider. He acknowledged her and summoned his own steed, a creature he called Torrent.
"Thank you for the assistance. I scarcely survived that encounter," said the Tarnished.
"It would do me little good to have you perish so close to my goal. It is here, in the far north, past the gateway to the Haligtree," Latenna replied.
"I have not forgotten my promise to you. We will find this site you speak of."
He appraised her wolf.
"Do you wish to remain in this form? Your aid would be welcome on the ride."
"I think that would do me well. One last journey as I once was."
She stroked the wolf gently. No more dreaming till she reached her goal.
They rode through the white wastes. They took the long route past the town of Ordina, the vessel that ferried so many to the Haligtree. Albinauric archers hid among the rooftops of the town, their bows trained on any who would dare approach. Latenna had once wished to join her sisters there. Without Miquella's grace, there was no salvation to be found any longer. Though it pained her to clash with her fellows, they had forsaken the rest of their kind for a dead end.
The Tarnished spoke little on the path. Sometimes when she desired a break from her dream, Latenna listened to him talk by the campfire. For such a lonely soul, he had acquired a number of allies. There was the diminutive Boc, rescued from the depths of his own self-loathing by the Tarnished. The seamster awaited their return in Leyndell, no longer desirous of a false rebirth in the halls of Raya Lucaria. He freed the stalwart Nepheli Loux from her servitude to her snake of a father. The Tarnished was there when she was raised to nobility in Stormveil. He assisted both the insecure Roderika and the gruff Hewg. He spared the innocent Zoraya of her family's sins. He guided the lost soul that was Millicent, having ended the ravages of the rot on her flesh. He dined with the crude Boggart. He fought alongside the mighty Alexander. There was his commitment to the azure witch and her doomed band of allies. Latenna did not grasp the full implication of their quest, but she recognized that it would profoundly reshape the Lands Between.
Then, there was the strange woman that he spoke. A woman that appeared to enter out of thin air and vanish back into the ether. It reminded Latenna of her own condition. She had once heard him refer to her as Melina. Latenna did not understand the full breadth of their relationship, but it seemed built on a pact, much the same as her own quest. Something had happened to this Melina and her absence marked the man. His eyes were duller, his steps more deliberate. Within that weariness, Latenna detected a glint of something much sharper. The Tarnished was already a weapon when he stumbled upon her. In their time together he had become a gleaming blade, forged into a weapon capable of killing the demigods himself. Whatever loss he had suffered, it would fuel him to finish his journey.
They reached the farthest northern plains of the snowfield. The wind lost its anger and the storm thinned. In the far distance was a squat ruin. Before it, a gargantuan edifice of rock and earth lumbered about, one of the walking mausoleums that roamed the land. They approached cautiously.
A deafening noise broke the silent air. A glaring display of blue light erupted onto the ground before them. Then another. And another. Latenna struggled to keep the wolf calm. Torrent kept his cool under the Tarnished's hand. She looked up and saw a downpour of blue light, arcing to the earth from the starting point of the mausoleum. It was spouting blue energies as if it were a geyser.
She shared a brief look with the Tarnished before they beckoned their mounts to race forwards. There was no distinct pattern to the downpour, so they were forced to weave recklessly through the barrage. Her face was met with bits of rock and ice, as the blue energy rocked the ground with its blast. Her body tingled from the outbursts. She bade her wolf to run faster and faster. The wolf's body strained with the effort. The Tarnished drifted apart, taking his own path through the deadly rain. The church ruins taunted them. The bell of the mausoleum rang out, adding another layer of absurdity to their fatal race.
Latenna did not feel the blast that struck her. At least not at first. She watched, confused, as her body flew through the air, before abruptly skidding across a layer of snow. The wolf yelped in pain, before it grew still. She rolled onto her back. The sky filled with blue, as a cruel raindrop descended towards her.
The tears reached cheeks. She had failed Lobo again. Again she could not protect him. At least she would meet him soon.
Rough hands seized her. The Tarnished hoisted her onto his back as he staggered forth. She let her body grow limp as she listened to the sound of his grunts, punctuated by the roar of the blasts striking the ground. His armor dug into her hip, but it was only one more discomfort to add to the landslide of pains that assailed her frame.
At last it grew quiet, broken only by the ringing of the bell. The Tarnished set her down in the church, which stood half-buried in the snow, its roof completely missing. He held a hand to her chest, with golden light flowing into her. The pain eased.
"I think this is it," he said.
Latenna saw what he was looking at. In the corner of the church, sat another Albinauric, like her. The main difference was that this one was massive. She appeared to be in a deep, peaceful sleep. Phillia.
Latenna met his eyes with a pleading look. He picked her up, this time more gently, and carried her to the sleeping giant. She was set down before Phillia.
Sweet Phillia. The one who was promised to save them all. The one who would birth a new generation of them.
Latenna pulled the birthing droplet from her pouch. It danced in its phial, its silver essence glimmering in the weak sunlight. She took off the cap and angled it towards Phillia. The silver liquid floated outwards, slithering through the air towards the sleeping figure. It met her and seemed to meld with her skin.
Latenna felt herself slump, exhausted, but free. The droplet was delivered. Phillia would save them from their blight. The Albinaurics had a future. There was no total freedom from strife, no certainty that their persecution was over. But, the fact that there was a future at all meant the sacrifices were not in vain.
She turned back to the Tarnished.
"Thank you. I've finally fulfilled my purpose. Our young yet towering sister will give us hope. Now that nothing is left unfinished, I will join you in battle to the bitter end. And when the fighting is done, then you may lay me to rest. Beside Lobo, my dear wolf."
"Then I would have your bow join me till the end. We are nearly there. Now we ride for the forbidden land. We ride for the Haligtree."
I'm sorry for the slow pace of uploads as of late. I think I set an unrealistic pace with my initial series of uploads. I've been rather busy with other things, but I do plan on finishing this within the next two weeks. I estimate there are about four more chapters worth of story to be told. Once again, I greatly appreciate anyone and everyone that has been reading along with this story so far. It's been a pleasure to create it.