2nd of the 4th Month, 712 Epoch.
Holryhien sat silently on her knees – dressed lightly in alabaster elvish silken layered robes with crimson trims and frames matching her naturally flowing red hair. Even though the cold of the early months of the Epoch seeped through the thick gloomy pale walls of the chieftain’s palace – decorated with various embroidered mosaics depicting their clan members conversing with ancestral spirits.
Her pretty emotionless face was ornamented with drying blood droplets of varying dark shades. Eyes blue as the thick ice blanketing rivers and lakes of the north with calmness preceded by disgust and hatred settled in them as she focused them onto Grimslaukh’s pale chest. A chest framed between the pristine white robe of his with dark trims matching in hue with the wound like dark veins that ran like rivers across his chest. A darkness so deep that light actively evaded it because otherwise it would devour it like a craving varhaug devours its prey after weeks of hunting.
Her small chest puffed out as she inhaled deeply and then released a small, cold gust of air as she tried to rule her feelings that gnawed at her. Tears wanted to flow from her eyes, yet each time they started forming a gentle heat evaporated them, and when she wanted to cry out in despair and sorrow, she suffocated her voice while her tender tongue already started bleeding as her sharp teeth dug in time and time again.
“Give me your hands child.” Grimslaukh’s arms raised over the table between the two and placed them silently onto them. His deep unnatural voice accompanied by myriads of whispers quivered her body and soul. Yet she placed her small hands over his open palms similarly ornamented with the dark veins as she let out one last sigh.
As soon as their skin touched – a calmness washed over her, all previous feelings assaulted her mind scurried away not just to a segment of her mind, but out of her. Touching his soft palms felt strange – it was neither cold like the corpses left to freeze in the snow, neither warm like the livings. At that moment she focused on them, a desire formed within her – a desire to never let them go.
“Show me everything.” Then when he spoke their minds joint together and the feeling of thrown high in the air filled her with an ecstatic feeling.
**
“Sure they went this way?” Bor’Glaugh her fellow war band member, an aging orkh whom still was younger than her by two centuries asked. He stood at the edge of the Till-Kvammorn forest that surrounded the Nhilna’Skholbul’s capital in the eastern region of the Dhaugruz Basin. Like the rest of the war band his well-honed body was painted in a dry white with crimson runes that glow ethereally, enhancing his physical power while also extended his arkhaine limits.
His painted body was clad in thick, white furred armor with dark plates of serrated edges, and a combination of helmet and horned helmet protected him from the elements. In his left hand a large round wooden shield with bone decorations, in his right his long battle axe rested between his tightened grip.
Snow blanketed the vast plains spreading behind them and the forest in front of them – so high that it reached the towering orkhs knees, while for Holryhien it reached her slender waistline. Her furred hood shivered as the cold wind blew relentlessly while she stared coldly into the forest.
“That is where they went. Do not doubt her eyes my friend.” Raud – their Skaeze fellow – said as he walked past Holryhien. A big boned young man well into his fifties with dark and wet long hair, a thick braided beard covered in snowflakes while it swinged left and right. The pelt of a large wolf rested upon his shoulders and head – its empty red eyes stared forth into the forest.
Skin under the thick layers of arkhaine paint - pink and blotchy while in height he was the shortest of the group of fifteen Nhilna’Skholbul sent out to hunt down a small remnant of the Virdr Kingdom hiding deep in the forest, hunting caravans traversing from and to Hvitta-Aurrogh.
“Come on guys. The sooner we finish this, the faster we can drink and eat to our hearts.” A loud whistle rang through the howling wind and three large wolves of differing hues followed after him, then the rest of the party tracked into the forest.
**
Cold, sweet sweat formed on her pristine skin even though no warmness graced this part of the world. And even the little warm that rested within the small room departed, replaced by absence. Absence of both warmness and coldness. The source of the sweet sweat of hers was none other than the slowly surfacing fear that made her once gentle heart beat faster and stronger. The ecstasy she felt was no more – dread took its place.
With each deep breath she hoped to halt its velocity, to weaken its beating to a point where the sensation of thousand needles poking her chest from the inside would finally stop. Each time she got close to calming her heart, it relented and continued its fight for freedom from the tyranny of her body.
Yet through all this she managed to keep a calm expression on her bloody yet enamoring visage that focused on their hands locked upon each other in a tender way. At least from the viewpoint of others it would seem tender, in reality even if she enhanced her own strength, she could not budge them apart. It was as if the two were symbiotic parts of one, two siblings born with one flesh and skeleton destined to live till the Nightscale claims one of them.
“There is nothing to be afraid of.” Grimslaukh emotionless deep voice resonated clearly within her mind. Each syllable soothed her harshly beating heart, turned her skin into a thirsty vampire that swallowed her sweat like it hasn’t fed in centuries. Her eyes remained on his chest eerily lacking in nipples.
Her thoughts averted, recalling the olden days of centuries past when she and her sister were still young, free of the cruelties of the world. She turned her attention towards the left corner – whence their joint, soft chuckle came like a distant echo.
She could not turn her head around completely, but she could still see her little sister. Her eyes white as the snow gleamed with her lost innocence, her long white hair with small braids swung as if the wind blew it. “Why couldn’t you?” She whispered into her ears in a solemn tone.
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**
“Proceed only to the edge of the ward.” As Holryhien said that she waved at their dhaugoon and mrokevhen members equipped with large bows crafted from bone and wood. The snow that continuously fell on their track inside the forest towards the hideout of the Virdr Remnants stopped to their luck.
The two as instructed by Holryhien stopped and drew their arrows. The string of strengthened sinew creaked rhythmically while their breathing slowed down so the small mist escaping their dark lips didn’t escape beyond the boundary of the veil. The edges curved up slightly as their mana flowed through their arcane points from their chest right into their hands and the arrows themselves.
When they released the arrows, they tore through the air silently and swiftly found their way into the throats of the two unassuming guards. Their tired expressions turned to one filled with despair and dread as rivers of blood sprouted from their throat and mouth. It cascaded down, dressing the snow in hues of deep red while empty cries followed as they tried to alert those inside. With gentle thuds they laid down into the slow, while it slowly turned to red in front of them.
“Go, before they realize their veil had failed.” At Bor’s orders, everyone except Holryhien and him walked towards the small mound with a single narrow entrance filled with warm hued light and soft shadows. The two looked at each other silently and nodded before they followed after the two – just as the sounds of struggle reached their ears.
The moment they stepped inside the embrace of the enclave, the smell of death and blood assaulted her. She felt both refreshened and sick at the same time while stepping over the corpses. Corpses with torn throats, split open heads or sliced into two thanks to the lack of armor protecting their soft bodies.
Gone were the days of the Virdr Kingdom and its army clad in pompous silver and white armor that blended in with the once beautiful, snow blanketed plains of the basin. The famous seidhrs of the north now dressed in dirty rags instead of gaudy robes dyed in the beautiful frost hues, with snow silvery hems and trims decorating the ornated robes. Once prideful visages now stared emptily at her feet stepping over them like they once did with those below them.
A young boy leapt from the right with one last below before Bor’s axe ran through from his left shoulder down to his right waist. The blade went through his sewn muddy attire and dirty soft flesh and bone like butter. Blood spewed forth and shaped a small lake under his feet while also spraying not just Bor but even her alluring face.
Another saw that Bor’s axe stuck in the cadaver and leapt from the other side with the hope that with a single thrust of his sword he could end the life of the hulking orc warrior. But his fate was the same – except that his body got impaled by ice with the vibrant hue of crimson. “Thanks.” Bor said as he heard the corpse hit the ground with the conjured ice shattering to thousand pieces on impact.
“Let’s move to the deeper parts.” As they arrived to the conjunction of the hideout – they heard the screams and wails coming from right and left. Facing them was a seemingly endless set of stairs leading further down where silence and shadow settled. Without saying a word, Bor nodded and the two headed down the myriad steps with a hurried yet careful pace.
**
“What what are are you you afraid afraid of of sister sister?” Her sister cold whisper froze the tip of her sharp ears beset with dark rings. Her heart pumped akin to a maddened beast that chased its prey through a vast distance. Tears formed in her eyes as she focused at Grimslaukh’ chest in which her face started forming.
The pristine, almost porcelain like skin contorted unnaturally. Her lidless eyes filled with darkness stared into her, searching for the answer as she trembled without shakes, as she desired to answer without honesty.
“There there is is nothing nothing to to be be afraid afraid of of. Together together we we can can make make this this right. Just just like like before before.” Her hueless lips moved while their edges contorted into a conforming smile. Then she moved around and started stretching toward Holryhien. Two shapes at his abdomen formed resembling small, child like palms pressed against glass which followed after her fully formed head adorned with hair made of pale skin.
Their touch was just as hollow as his, yet they calmed her heart and stopped the flow of her tears as a devoid sereneness settled in Holryhien. “Let’s fix this.” She said out loud as she stared into the empty abyss.
**
“They mustn’t be far.” Holryhien said as ethereal footsteps appeared in the blood blanketing the cold, harsh floor. They came to an end not far at the wall, with small uneven rounds of the same ethereal kind on the wall – where the hidden inscription laid. Holryhien touched the cold wall, and her mana flowed into the enchantment. The earth howled as stone and dirt parted ways and collapsed into itself revealing a seemingly endless, dim path.
“Stay, I’ll finish them off.” Bor offered as they stared at the darkness that occupied the revealed path.
“You stay. I have to do this.” Words of command poured out from her mouth not giving Bor the chance to refute them. “Finish off the rest that may hide.” Holryhien turned back to the path and let the shadows devour her frail form as she walked the straight path.
Not too far, the cold wind blew her calm face while the dim white light of the sun appeared. At the end two silhouettes hurried towards the light. One belonged to a small child dressed in warm clothes that gently twisted around his body. The other who fell first to a lady with already creased face, long braided hair with its colors already faded.
A short, momentary wail escaped her wide, dry lips as crimson flames erupted within the confines of her flesh. Eyes melted while the edges burnt a little, her teeth turned to dust while the flames escaping her mouth made her akin to dragons as she fell face first into the snow.
“Please, show mercy.” The child cried as he fell into the harsh embrace of a tree. The wind gently blew his teary face, his long unkempt hair rustled, his blue eyes stared into hers.
Meeting his gaze, Holryhien hesitated. Her arms stopped halfway through, in the same vein, her mana that flowed and formed into a killing spell halted and retreated back into her arkhaine points. Her heart ached, the hatred that drove each of her killing spells faded and doubts started forming in her heart.
She realized that it was not this child who hunted her people. It was not this child who was responsible for the burning of her sisters and brothers. Those who were responsible suffered already, and paid for their sins with eternal service in His hosts. Just like her sister, Geirhyrien said killing these remnants was wrong. Letting him go would be more beneficial for the North. For the fight against the Empire that will come.
“Let me help.” And that may have happened in the prior past, but not in this past. He felt his empty presence appear behind her. His hollow touch that pressed his silken robe against his tender alabaster skin. For one last time she remembered these thoughts, then they faded into nothingness, just as single spike of transparent crimson ice impaled through his heart.
His questioning blue eyes met hers as tears streamed down. He breathed his last, and a wave of relief enveloped her. She exhaled deeply, smiling as she gazed at his innocent corpse with streams of blood converging down his soft pale face.