Author's notes: Thanks to everyone that posted reviews of my story! I should be getting around to everyone's stories and returning the favor soon.
The Treacherous Blade
Chapter 1:The Visitor
The lone rider came to a stop outside of Isabella's cottage. He neither moved nor spoke, but waited patiently for the sole resident to show herself, his face hidden in the shadows of a monk's plain and voluminous robes. As Ivy stepped through the open doorway, the rider straightened and cleared his throat. She had changed from her work clothes into a slinky, black satin dress. It was perhaps a bit too provocative for the occasion, but it had been the only decent article of clothing she could find and quickly change into. Even at thirty eight years of age, and having spent the last six years away from the rigors of martial training, she still struck a ravishing figure in the dress. In her rush however, she could not find a pair of matching shoes, and her bare feet combined with her long, unkempt hair, bandaged hand, and defiant stance gave her an altogether wild look.
"Isabella Valentine," the rider exhaled the name, as if in awe, or perhaps recognition. Although it was not a question, Ivy inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. She was still too shaken by the events that had occurred in her home to test her voice, and so instead simply fixed a glare on the rider, making a quick appraisal of the man while he apparently collected his thoughts to speak.
He was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties and, from what she could see beneath his cowl, had handsome features. His simple brown robes did not fool her for a second; she could tell from the way he sat languidly atop the large black charger that he was an experienced rider and, from the looks of the polished bridle and war-saddle he was using, at least knowledgeable, maybe even experienced in the art of mounted combat. He gripped the reins of his horse with his left hand, and it was the grip of someone used to wielding a sword. Ivy continued to glare at her visitor in awkward silence, eventually realizing that he had expected a response, and was unsure of how to continue.
"I have not been called by that name for quite some time, boy." She spoke the last word as a mild insult, but from where she stood it may not have been far from the truth. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to your name, and then we can discuss why you've come to seek me out over some tea and scones." Ivy injected as much sarcasm into her speech as she could muster, it was clear she had no intention of sitting down peacefully and 'discussing' anything. Valentine was sitting just inside the door, and though it was painful to be even that far away from her trusted sword so shortly after reacquainting herself with it, she wanted to appear unarmed. She would need the element of surprise on her side if she were to win a fight after such a long time without training.
The rider paused, then tilted his head back and let loose a loud, raucous laugh. The hood that had concealed his features fell away, revealing long blonde hair pulled back into a pony-tail. The sun shone in his light grey eyes as he returned his gaze to Ivy. Finally able to see his face in full, she suddenly became unsure that her previous assessment of his age had been accurate. True, he did have the face of a handsome man of twenty, but his golden hair contained a few streaks of grey running through it, and his eyes contained the kind of sorrow of one who has seen many hardships. The long scar marring the right side of his face attested to his battle experience, so she had at least been right about that. Leaning over the pommel of his saddle, he spoke to her as if they were old friends, but she could not recall ever having met him before.
"Still as indignant as ever, and as beautiful. You've certainly been quite a challenge to track down, milady. I'm surprised that the myth of the Grey Witch hasn't spread past Brecon," his voice took on a sadder tone, "if it had, I may have found you sooner." He shook his head, then spoke again, more cheerily, "I assume that the story is your own creation? I hadn't thought of you as much of the recluse, but you've certainly done a good job of it. Everyone I asked told me to stay away from here, and only a scant few were willing to give me directions. They seemed to think they were sentencing me to death by pointing me to your humble abode."
At this Ivy only raised her eyebrow, as if to say that they may have been correct, but decided not to voice her opinion just yet. "It appears you have me at a disadvantage. I don't recall ever meeting you before, boy, but you seem to know me quite well. If you told me your name it might rekindle an old memory, or perhaps an old flame?" She crossed her arms and looked up at the 'monk' expectantly. It was painfully clear that she didn't intend to continue the conversation until she knew who she was speaking to.
The rider's face grew stern, and he leaned further over his saddle, fixing Ivy with a cold stare. When he finally spoke, his voice had changed, it was now lower, more sinister. "Look into my eyes, Isabella, and tell me that you've really forgotten your past. Tell me you've forgotten the things you've done in your selfish quest to rid yourself of the curse in your bloodline. Tell me you've forgotten the blood you've spilt in the name of vengeance!" His voice grew louder, deeper, and more wicked with every word, until it was a wholly different person speaking.
Ivy's arms dropped to her sides, her mouth agape, as she stood transfixed by his stare. His eyes began to glow with a pale, malevolent, red light. It was barely visible, but it was enough to light a spark of recognition in Ivy. As quickly as it appeared however, it was gone, and only the pale grey eyes of the rider stared back. Before she could regain her senses and reach for her sword, the rider's eyes slid shut and his shoulders slumped forward. He took in a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.
"I'm sorry, milady. It... it is getting harder to control..." He couldn't find words to describe what he had experienced, but he didn't have to. Ivy was quickly putting the pieces together in her mind, and although she did not completely understand the puzzle, she at least had a place to start, and that gave her confidence. She regained her composure and waited quietly as the rider slowly brought himself back from the brink of unconsciousness.
When his eyes fluttered open at last, she spoke. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Herr Schtauffen, or shall I call you Nightmare?"
At the mention of his infamous monicker, Siegfried Schtauffen lowered his head in shame. "I have not been called by that name for quite some time, milady. You are not the only one to have chosen hermitage as an escape from your memories." His eyes rose to meet hers, but now his expression was that of grim determination, "But now that time has ended. We must leave immediately, for I have failed in my duties, and now the evil that you once sought to destroy, and that I vowed to protect, has again been loosed upon this world."
~~~
Disclaimer: I don't own SCII or its characters.
Author's notes (cont.): Phew, finally the two main characters have been introduced. I was debating actually making this part of the prelude, as it parallels the current prelude in function and somewhat in form, but I suppose I'll leave it as is for now.
Now, for those of you with torches and pitchforks yelling "where's my action!?", it's coming up. Chapter 2 will have a decent-sized battle in it, and that's a promise. Oh, I cleaned up the prelude a tiny bit, changed one or two words here and there, indented it, and added a disclaimer, but that's about it, not really anything new, so no need to read through it again.
The Treacherous Blade
Chapter 1:The Visitor
The lone rider came to a stop outside of Isabella's cottage. He neither moved nor spoke, but waited patiently for the sole resident to show herself, his face hidden in the shadows of a monk's plain and voluminous robes. As Ivy stepped through the open doorway, the rider straightened and cleared his throat. She had changed from her work clothes into a slinky, black satin dress. It was perhaps a bit too provocative for the occasion, but it had been the only decent article of clothing she could find and quickly change into. Even at thirty eight years of age, and having spent the last six years away from the rigors of martial training, she still struck a ravishing figure in the dress. In her rush however, she could not find a pair of matching shoes, and her bare feet combined with her long, unkempt hair, bandaged hand, and defiant stance gave her an altogether wild look.
"Isabella Valentine," the rider exhaled the name, as if in awe, or perhaps recognition. Although it was not a question, Ivy inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. She was still too shaken by the events that had occurred in her home to test her voice, and so instead simply fixed a glare on the rider, making a quick appraisal of the man while he apparently collected his thoughts to speak.
He was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties and, from what she could see beneath his cowl, had handsome features. His simple brown robes did not fool her for a second; she could tell from the way he sat languidly atop the large black charger that he was an experienced rider and, from the looks of the polished bridle and war-saddle he was using, at least knowledgeable, maybe even experienced in the art of mounted combat. He gripped the reins of his horse with his left hand, and it was the grip of someone used to wielding a sword. Ivy continued to glare at her visitor in awkward silence, eventually realizing that he had expected a response, and was unsure of how to continue.
"I have not been called by that name for quite some time, boy." She spoke the last word as a mild insult, but from where she stood it may not have been far from the truth. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to your name, and then we can discuss why you've come to seek me out over some tea and scones." Ivy injected as much sarcasm into her speech as she could muster, it was clear she had no intention of sitting down peacefully and 'discussing' anything. Valentine was sitting just inside the door, and though it was painful to be even that far away from her trusted sword so shortly after reacquainting herself with it, she wanted to appear unarmed. She would need the element of surprise on her side if she were to win a fight after such a long time without training.
The rider paused, then tilted his head back and let loose a loud, raucous laugh. The hood that had concealed his features fell away, revealing long blonde hair pulled back into a pony-tail. The sun shone in his light grey eyes as he returned his gaze to Ivy. Finally able to see his face in full, she suddenly became unsure that her previous assessment of his age had been accurate. True, he did have the face of a handsome man of twenty, but his golden hair contained a few streaks of grey running through it, and his eyes contained the kind of sorrow of one who has seen many hardships. The long scar marring the right side of his face attested to his battle experience, so she had at least been right about that. Leaning over the pommel of his saddle, he spoke to her as if they were old friends, but she could not recall ever having met him before.
"Still as indignant as ever, and as beautiful. You've certainly been quite a challenge to track down, milady. I'm surprised that the myth of the Grey Witch hasn't spread past Brecon," his voice took on a sadder tone, "if it had, I may have found you sooner." He shook his head, then spoke again, more cheerily, "I assume that the story is your own creation? I hadn't thought of you as much of the recluse, but you've certainly done a good job of it. Everyone I asked told me to stay away from here, and only a scant few were willing to give me directions. They seemed to think they were sentencing me to death by pointing me to your humble abode."
At this Ivy only raised her eyebrow, as if to say that they may have been correct, but decided not to voice her opinion just yet. "It appears you have me at a disadvantage. I don't recall ever meeting you before, boy, but you seem to know me quite well. If you told me your name it might rekindle an old memory, or perhaps an old flame?" She crossed her arms and looked up at the 'monk' expectantly. It was painfully clear that she didn't intend to continue the conversation until she knew who she was speaking to.
The rider's face grew stern, and he leaned further over his saddle, fixing Ivy with a cold stare. When he finally spoke, his voice had changed, it was now lower, more sinister. "Look into my eyes, Isabella, and tell me that you've really forgotten your past. Tell me you've forgotten the things you've done in your selfish quest to rid yourself of the curse in your bloodline. Tell me you've forgotten the blood you've spilt in the name of vengeance!" His voice grew louder, deeper, and more wicked with every word, until it was a wholly different person speaking.
Ivy's arms dropped to her sides, her mouth agape, as she stood transfixed by his stare. His eyes began to glow with a pale, malevolent, red light. It was barely visible, but it was enough to light a spark of recognition in Ivy. As quickly as it appeared however, it was gone, and only the pale grey eyes of the rider stared back. Before she could regain her senses and reach for her sword, the rider's eyes slid shut and his shoulders slumped forward. He took in a deep breath and let it out in a shuddering sigh.
"I'm sorry, milady. It... it is getting harder to control..." He couldn't find words to describe what he had experienced, but he didn't have to. Ivy was quickly putting the pieces together in her mind, and although she did not completely understand the puzzle, she at least had a place to start, and that gave her confidence. She regained her composure and waited quietly as the rider slowly brought himself back from the brink of unconsciousness.
When his eyes fluttered open at last, she spoke. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Herr Schtauffen, or shall I call you Nightmare?"
At the mention of his infamous monicker, Siegfried Schtauffen lowered his head in shame. "I have not been called by that name for quite some time, milady. You are not the only one to have chosen hermitage as an escape from your memories." His eyes rose to meet hers, but now his expression was that of grim determination, "But now that time has ended. We must leave immediately, for I have failed in my duties, and now the evil that you once sought to destroy, and that I vowed to protect, has again been loosed upon this world."
~~~
Disclaimer: I don't own SCII or its characters.
Author's notes (cont.): Phew, finally the two main characters have been introduced. I was debating actually making this part of the prelude, as it parallels the current prelude in function and somewhat in form, but I suppose I'll leave it as is for now.
Now, for those of you with torches and pitchforks yelling "where's my action!?", it's coming up. Chapter 2 will have a decent-sized battle in it, and that's a promise. Oh, I cleaned up the prelude a tiny bit, changed one or two words here and there, indented it, and added a disclaimer, but that's about it, not really anything new, so no need to read through it again.