Amaeria sat in a small field just west of the Farstrider outpost with Jaserisk, eyeing the elf wearily. He'd said he wanted to talk to her in private, but hadn't wanted to do so where anyone might overhear them. While Amaeria had been quick to protest, saying she was in love with Gryst'lyn, he had merely nodded and said he knew and he understood.
She'd been puzzled as to what else he would want to speak with her about. A sermon, perhaps? But why would such a thing need to be secretive?
Jaserisk kept his gaze toward the tree line in the distance, a frown firmly in place. Amaeria reached out and placed a hand on his. "Perhaps we should go back after all. If there's more undead, we don't want to be far from the others."
Running his fingers through his hair, Jaserisk stared down at the earth. He looked paler than usual. "That's just it. There are more of them. A lot more." He shook his head slowly. "There's a whole army of them headed our way."
Amaeria sat up straighter. "How do you know? Why haven't you said anything? We should be warning the others. We can call for reinforcements—"
Jaserisk squinted at the tree line and drew his sword. "Amaeria, there's not enough elves alive to stop what's coming. Not out here in the middle of nowhere... He showed me what's coming...in my head somehow." He trailed off and looked at her as she tried to understand what he was saying. He ran his fingers down her cheek. "But he'll let us retreat."
As he spoke, Amaeria perked up, seeing the first of several ghouls come creeping out of the woods. They seemed lost for a moment before seeing the two of them sitting out in the open. As their lifeless eyes locked on them, they began to run.
Even as she tried to ask what he meant, Jaserisk took his sword and slammed it through one of her legs and into the earth beneath. Amaeria let out a scream as the blade pierced her flesh.
She clutched at it, unable to heal the wound with the sword still in place. She looked back up at Jaserisk, disbelief making her mind grind to a halt. This didn't make sense. This was wrong. A dream. A painful, agonizing dream.
His eyes were on the ghouls. He took a few steps away from her.
"He'll let us retreat..." Jaserisk shook his head. "But only if he can have you."
Amaeria tried to reach for him and gasped as so simple a movement jostled her leg, amplifying her pain. Her breath came out in short gasps as she looked at his face, pleadingly. "Don't...you can't just leave me here..."
"I'm sorry, Amaeria." For a moment he took a few steps toward her, like he doubted himself, but then his face hardened, and he shook his head. "Why should all of us die when he just wants you? I'm sorry."
Even as she cried for him to help her, he turned and sprinted away from the oncoming monsters.
Amaeria didn't have time to watch him flee. She could hear the wailing of the ghouls getting closer. She turned to see that they were halfway to her, and she struggled to get her mind to think, to understand what was going on. Jaserisk was one of her best friends. He did have a cruel bone in his body.
He was her friend.
He wouldn't—
This wasn't real…
This couldn't be…
The pain throbbed through her, the ghouls' cries getting louder.
Almost mechanically, Amaeria grabbed at the hilt of the sword and tried to pull it out of her leg so that she could run. However, it was angled into her leg in such a way that it made her have to bring her leg up to get a proper hold of the hilt, and the blade was stuck in the ground. All of her efforts only resorted in more pain.
The ghouls seemed to smell her blood, for she heard their wails become more frantic, more excited. As her eyes went back toward the tree line, she baulked.
Two creatures were lumbering toward her, their giant forms barely held together with what looked to be stitching. An extra arm waved a sickle over their heads while their two larger arms lugged bloodied chains and cleavers. Their stomachs were open and intestines hung out, dragging across the earth and leaving discolored streaks on the ground as they went.
Eyes filling with tears, Amaeria gripped the sword more firmly, desperately trying to ignore the pains in her leg as her movements widened her cut. She jerked on it several times, trying to pull her calf free. However, she'd lost too much blood. Knowing the results would end in more pain, she healed herself and cringed as her skin and muscles tried to mend to the metal blocking their proper recovery. She jerked the sword again and again, no longer checking to see how close the creatures getting. She'd know when they were upon her anyway.
However, even as she struggled to get a proper hold of the sword by twisting herself to the side slightly so as to move her leg as little as possible, a plated hand reached down, gripping one of her hands with the sword's hilt, and jerked up.
As the blade came out of her leg, she felt her fingers breaking under the pressure of the glove. It was nothing a simple heal couldn't fix, and as she threw one on herself, she looked up at her savior.
As their gazes met, her blood all but froze.
The man with glowing blue eyes knelt down in front of her and pulled up her robe to examine the thin scar that was left on her leg. Even as she pushed her garment back down, he ran his finger across the mended flesh and then smiled up at her before abruptly digging his fingers into her leg. She cried out in surprise and pain, and he took his other hand and ran it down her chin.
"We are going to have a grand time, you and I." He paused as he noticed a few of his ghouls, which had surrounded them, looking over their shoulders to eye the spires of the Farstrider outpost in the distance. He caught Amaeria by one of her arms and jerked her to her feet, squeezing her arm hard enough that she thought her bone would break. "Leave them be," he paused and smiled when he noticed the look of confusion crossing Amaeria's face. "After all, we have to let them warn the others of what's coming for them."
~"~
Limbs moved when she wanted them to, but Tinker couldn't say that she really felt any of it. There was pain. It was everywhere in her, twisting her senses, making it almost completely unbearable.
But she could still move.
And that was exactly what the voice in her head told her to do.
Pick up a sword.
She listened, bending down and taking a hold of what might have been a saber for a human. For her, it was a two-hander.
Kill the unworthy.
There were others chained in the central, lower part of the room, and she turned toward them, obedient to the silent whispers in her head. As she cut down the other person, she felt a sense of relief flood through her body, all the way to her bones.
So there was a respite from this mind-numbing agony.
Even as she sighed—the action seemed oddly harder than it should have been—she heard a laugh and glanced over to her side to see a man in dark armor watching her. He was blonde, with glowing blue eyes, and a nasty, festering gash across his face.
He was familiar.
She stared up at him for a moment before crossing her arms. "Shawn, was it?"
"It was. Is, I suppose," he answered, crossing his arms as well as he watched her. "I was surprised they'd taken you. Didn't figure you for a fighter."
"I'm whatever he wants me to be," she replied, pausing when she noticed some of her hair. It was a dingy, dull pink, and she wasn't sure why, but she had the distinct notion that she'd always been proud that it was… brighter.
It was hard to remember, though. Hard to think past the pain that was already coming back, thrumming through her as though her blood had been replaced with needles.
"Where is this place?"
"Acherus."
"And you…I knew you." She shifted a little. "I can't remember much more than your name, though."
"Don't worry, any important gaps in your memory come back after a day or so of wandering around. If you need to remember more about me, you will," Shawn offered, waiting for her to walk over to him and then walking with her to the instructor. The man seemed disinterested that they were talking with one another, instead directing her to go speak to someone down below.
The voice in her head was quiet for the time being.
As they headed down, she glanced up at him, frowning. That pain in her was growing like a slow crescendo, though as she glanced down she could see discolored bruises across her exposed skin and quite abruptly realized she didn't have a heartbeat.
That was another detail that felt like it should have hurt more. Instead, she felt oddly numb to the concept. Something else, however, did bother her. "If I'm dead, how can I hurt?"
"I know a way to fix that. Come on," Shawn said, picking up his pace a little as he led her across the room.
She glanced back to where she'd slain…who had that been? The pain in her made her mind foggy, and she found she couldn't care about things like names or…others' wellbeing. "I need to hurt someone."
"Yes, you do."
~"~
Crickets chirped lazily in the Mulgore Plains as Shadow Rain healed an injured kodo calf's foot. Despite being a druid, it had still taken him almost all day to get the creature to let him close enough to see what the problem was. It was a good thing, too, as a twist of brambles—easily concealed by the high grasses—would have just re-torn any injuries healed, had he used a more generic spell.
Even as he patted the creature's head, he looked out into the surroundings fields and wondered what to do now. The calf's herd had left it, likely because of a quilboar attack or something of that nature.
For a moment he wondered if perhaps he should have left the poor thing to its fate without intervening, but he couldn't very well just abandon it now.
The natural balance was important, but he'd already intervened.
Perhaps, if he brought it to some of the kodo trainers in Bloodhoof Village, they would be able to raise it and train it. After all, there was no need for unnecessary death.
The wind tussled his dark mane and Shadow rose to his feet, enjoying the light tug of the breeze on his gray fur. He glanced down at the calf, who watched him with doleful eyes, clearly lost and alone. He patted his leg and took a few slow steps forward to make sure the little beast would follow.
It seemed confused a minute before tumbling forward a few paces on clumsy feet.
When it realized that Shadow wouldn't leave without him, Shadow was able to pick up his pace, grinning as the calf loped along beside him, making the ground tremble slightly from its weight. It occasionally threw its head to the side, excited to have someone with it to run and play with.
Though it was hard to coax it across the plank bridge leading to Bloodhoof Village, Shadow managed, though the little beast was quite distraught as soon as it was in the pens with a few other young kodo, only to see that Shadow was leaving it behind.
Even as it cried, pressing against the sturdy fence, peering up at him in horror, arms looped around one of Shadow's. He glanced down to see his mate, Whisper Windsong, leaning into him, a sad smile tugging on her lips.
"Poor baby misses you already."
"I'll visit him regularly," Shadow said, to her, letting his hand slip along her jawline. He looked back at the calf, trying to will his intent into the creature's mind. Older druids could do so easily, but he wasn't sure he was able to get the creature to understand.
Perhaps he could get one of the other druids to come by and help him with that?
They'd probably chastise him for being too much of a caretaker, though. He never could let anything in distress be, though, even if it was the natural order that sometimes life was cruel.
Whisper idly played with a long braid falling down from her honey-colored mane as she watched the calf, head tilting slowly. "If this keeps up, you're going to be dividing your attention between so many creatures that any children we have will never know what their father looks like."
Shadow coughed at that, though he couldn't hold back a grin. "Is that a hint that you wanted to get started on that tonight?"
Whisper's fur bristled in embarrassment a moment before she grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. "Not until we've said our vows. Mother will kill me if I have a youngling before I can tie you down for good."
"Oh, yes. Because as soon as we have sex, I'm going to run off find another wife."
Wagging a finger at him, Whisper straightened up slightly. "That's what mother says. She knows how you menfolk work. Early play means you can skip out before the work begins."
"Your mother is horribly cynical," Shadow argued, giving the calf one last look—trying one last time to convey his intent—and then turning to lead her toward the wyvern master. "I know a great many steers who are quite happy with their families."
"Maybe so…she wouldn't be so paranoid if things didn't keep coming up."
"Last time wasn't my fault," Shadow objected. They should have taken their vows to be with one another forever last month, but mishap after mishap kept pushing back their ceremony. Whisper's mother had begun to whisper into Whisper's ear that it wasn't meant to be. The spirits and ancestors must not approve of their union.
Shadow could almost believe it, not that he wanted to.
It did seem like something came up almost every single time…
"Let's do it now."
Whisper nearly tripped over her own hooves as he stopped, one arm still wrapped around his. "Now?" She glanced around the village. "Mother's not here. Neither is Twist or your parents or—"
Shadow put a finger to her lips and then nuzzled her hair, grinning when she cuddled into him. "Maybe what the ancestors are really mad about is that we've been making such a big deal about it. These unions should be more natural, shouldn't they?"
Whisper tapped one of her hooves against the ground for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough." She looked around the village and then pointed toward one of the tents. "Shall we?"
"I think we shall."
