Chapter 14 : Bloody Hawk Killings, File 3
Through the corpse littered snow, the missionary trudged, his face appalled at the sight of the many expired norn who lacked any injuries, but lay in cold silence. Young and old lay in eternal sleep, on the wayside and at the entrances to their homes, some where they had huddled near the dark remains of fiery hearths. The old, human missionary, taking his own safety out of account, drew close to one of the bodies and examined it. His hands and eyes glowed with blue light as he used the powers the life goddess had bestowed upon him to see what had brought about the death of an entire village.
Seems they died of hypothermia. But they are norn, I was unaware such a fate was possible unless in the most extreme cold. The elder rubbed his voluminous grey beard. This explains why the Wolf Lodge warriors set such a thorough blockade around the area. This is what they feared. I do not think it's a disease, but I can sense a sickly magic, one that allows norn to freeze to death.The old man made a weary sigh. The only way he had been able have them permit him past the blockade was that he was human and as far as they were concerned, an old religious coot. He had to agree with their perception; his time among the norn seemed to be a fool's errand. Twenty years, and not a single convert to the true gods. The local animistic beliefs were ingrained and strong, but even norn deserved a chance to embrace the gods' love.
And now, here he was, hoping to find a single person he could help, but he had come too late. The least I can do for these poor souls is give them their death rites, and not leave them for animals to eat.
His heart leapt in his throat at the sound of movement behind one of the buildings. His immediate thought was that one of the local scavengers had come to claim their feast.
"Dwayna, give me strength." He muttered before calling out, "Is there anyone there?!"
The movement ceased, and an unnatural silence fell over the village. The missionary could hear his heart beating and the gentle creaking of his joints.
A timid voice spoke behind him, "Hello?"
The old man turned around to see… nothing. "Who's there?" his eyes roved over the snow.
"I'm here!" the little voice cried desperately.
The sound seemed to be coming from right in front of him, but he saw no one. And then he looked down. In the snow there was a depression, like one left when someone sits down in a snow bank. The old man crouched, and looked where he imagined the little girl's face was. "Well hello my little magician! You seem very talented. So dear, are you a shadow artist, a mesmer? You can unhide yourself now."
"I… I can't come out of the shadows! And… mommy won't get up and show me how!" she sobbed and began to wail.
"Oh, shh, shh! Quiet little one! No need for tears." He smiled gently. "Can you tell me what happened here?"
She fell silent.
"Alright, what about your name?"
"I-Inna…"
"Inna? What a nice name." The old man smiled. "I'm Jerrid Kelsey, priest of Dwayna."
With her heart at peace having faith that Dwayna's healing gaze was upon her, in a twinkling of an eye Inna vanished from the apex of the roof, leaving wisps of shadow magic. She reappeared before the shadowy being attempting to escape with her dagger ready to strike. But before her was an amorphous cloud of darkness, without vitals or joints for her to target.
From within the form lashed out a limb, which she attempted to cut but her dagger met metallic claws. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a second set of claws emerged from the upper left. The blades sliced through her, but only tore shadow wisps.
Emerging from a blurred, colourless world, Inna reappeared in the field behind the arena. She caught her breath, preparing to return to the fight. Before her she spotted the form of darkness part the grass of the field as whatever it was hurried to attack, like a dire-wolf bounding after its prey. The fight was coming to her. She sheathed one of her blades and drew an eight-shooter pistol. She rolled out the magazine and checked her bullets, which leaked the black shadow of her enchantments from their cases. Rolling the case back in, she aimed at the barrelling dark mass, and fired, a black trace following the bullet.
The shadow being dodged, but a hole tore through part of it, as if it was mere cloth. Inna vanished and reappeared, her hands snatching the magically decelerated bullet. She winced as what felt like acid burned her finger. She sniffed the magic her bullet had collected from creature. Her eyes widened in realisation.
Necromancy! No wonder it can remain in shadow form for so long, it's a necromantic enchantment, not a shadow art!
The darkness turned around and charged towards her, its metallic claws glistening in the moonlight. Now, with the help of the sister moon, Inna could see the vague form of a large man, or norn within the cloud of shadow, she could see where his arms were, and with that, she could assume the location of the rest of his body, and most important, the vital locations. She waited until the shadowed man was on top of her, before twirling her pistol and firing twice, one towards his abdomen, once to the sky. She vanished in a burst of black wisps, reappearing a few hundred metres above him. She could feel through the enchantment that her shot to his abdomen had struck home, but she had to wait to activate its spell, despite that shadow arts deteriorated quickly, she needed to time her next actions properly.
As she tumbled through the air, she fired again and teleported to the bullet, placing her safely on the ground on the creature's eight o' clock, a hundred metres away.
She fired twice as the being charged her, the bullets whizzing by its shoulders. There was no chance of her making a clear shot, she was not half the marksman Darius was, but she was aiming where she wanted to shadowstep. She vanished, appearing behind the shadow, fired again, vanished, fired, vanished and fired. The shadow spun round and round trying to catch sight of her, the speed of her shadowstepping defying its expectations.
And to her surprise, a voice called out from the shadows, a rich, soothing timbre of a man's tenor. "I know who you are, beauty! You're the Shadow Master, fastest thief alive."
"So you do speak!" she replied half-heartedly, as she thought out her next actions. "Care to tell me what trickery you're using? Seems necromantic to me, but if you were a necromancer, why haven't you cursed me?"
The shadowy membrane rippled with his booming laughter.
No answer huh?—Inna shrugged—Worth a try.
His laughter died, and he charged. Inna raised her blades and prepared herself to shadowstep when an ear-splitting howl deafened her. She looked over her shoulder to see the dripping jaws of a dire wolf in mid-leap as its heavy paws landed on her shoulders, its large claws digging into her skin. She hit the ground, air rushing out her lungs and she heard the twin pops of her shoulders being forced out of joint by the precise landing of the well trained dire-wolf. She could not even scream out her tremendous agony as out of the corner of her eye she saw the sharp teeth close on her throat.
Out of the wispy shadows Darius emerged, stepping from the safety of the dark dimension and into the bright light of the vicious world. He sat bad-temperedly on the dock and looked at his reflection in the blue bay beneath which old Lion's Arch was drowned. He was a cub, a small one for his age with fur too long and fluffy for a charr of his miniscule size. He hated his fur, it tangled and matted and caused much frustration to mother. He often blamed his fur for why she abandoned him, though he knew it was more complicated than that. Lisa could not keep him, how could she?
He wondered when she would visit him again, but it was difficult for her to make excuses to travel alone. No one could find out that Lisa had a son, especially a son like him. It would be equal to treason.
"You're looking thoughtful, fuzzbutt."
Darius looked up at the towering norness, who looked the same then as she would for years to come, showing how her race aged at a third the speed of a humans. Her young face framed by golden locks grinned back at him.
"I was thinking of mom." His whiskers drooped sadly
Her smile faltered, "She will come as often as she can. Besides, she and your father seem to have hit it off." Inna flicked his whiskers the wrong way forcing his muzzle into a snarl.
"Gerroff!" he growled trying to scoot away, but tangling his limbs with his tail, causing him to roll ungraciously onto his back.
Inna's laughter echoed off the water as like a pair of vipers her hands struck his sides and began tickling the cub. His uncontrollable giggles mixed in with the snorts and purrs of his species until he finally escaped and ran on all fours behind a stack of crates, where the fishermen laid out their nets for mending. He peeked around them and stuck out his barbed tongue impudently.
Inna grinned, "Come back here."
"No! You'll tickle me again!"
"I have our dinner." She sang enticingly.
Darius paused, his little nose wiggling and his mouth opened to detect the slightest smell. As soon as he found the mouth-watering scent of grilled barracuda he shadow-stepped by her side and began rummaging through her rucksack.
Normally Inna would scold him for such rudeness, but his little head looked round and cute, his snout buried in her bag and his tiny ears flitting about happily that she decided to let it slide that time.
"You see Darius, I'll always take care of you…"
The Lead Dancers, after being patched up, were moved to a more comfortable apartment, and had their belongings returned to them. They slept heavily that night, Rhiannon on a comfortable duck down mattress while Seven and Darius slept on large round, straw-stuffed beds, their bodies curled into tight circles resembling housecats in linen pyjamas.
Sometime in the early morning, their peaceful sleep was disturbed by a series of heavy knocks. Darius and Rhiannon leapt from their beds, instantly awake, while Seven slept on, muttering something about being too early to milk the cows.
"Darius Sootcatcher, we need to speak with you!"
The charr put on his most irate face, intensified by his dishevelled fur and mane which spiked everywhere making his bare upper body seem significantly larger than before. He whipped open the door. "Persons are trying to sleep here!" Satisfied that the slender human lionguard jumped back in surprised he noticed the human's partner. She was a black and orange striped charr in full uniform. After his initial once-over he hurriedly brushed back his main from his face and smoothed out his chest and abdomen fur to ensure his muscles and couple scares could be properly displayed.
"Well good evening, sweetchops," he purred in a baritone rumble, "You can wake me up anytime. What brings you to my part of town, kit?"
His heart skipped a beat as she smiled back at him. Oh, she likes me, this is it! No singleness anymore! I met doll of a cat and she likes me! Wahoo!
"You need to come with us."
Darius' elation was cut short. Her tone was strange, he had not heard that tone for such a long time, not since he was a cub, aimless and alone wandering alone in Lion's Arch. It was pity.
Not to be deterred, he continued his flirtation, "I hope by 'us' you mean you and me, and not this furless fellow." He said, gesturing at the other lionguard weakly.
The charr sighed and the human spoke calmly, if slightly irritated. "We need you to identify a body."
Darius's gaze shot back at him, his heartbeat sped up, his stance weakened, and his stomach twisted in dismay.