She stepped from the shadows
wrapped in the blackness of night.
Her eyes glowed deep violet,
tears reflecting the moonlight.
Alone she walks,
down a shrouded path,
searching for that fleeting moment,
the one that never lasts.
Each glimmer fading.
Each moment of trust betrayed.
Reaching into her soul
only to find sharp thorns have stayed.
The path winds gently
moving her through life.
Flickering moments of passion
taunt as her spirit ignites.
As the sun lays to rest
so shall the flames die down.
Leaving empty promises
where once bright hope was found.
Sighing softly, she picks up her heart.
Turning back now, gazing down the road,
not certain of her future,
nor where the path might go.
In her wake sleep gentle
lessons etched in gold.
Softly whispering ahead,
silver shimmers to unfold.
She smiles gently
continuing down the path,
waiting for the dawn to break
on a love that just might last.
I believe in the dream of life and the nightmare of living it.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Monday, July 18, 2005
Goodnight, Rogue
The sun glinted off the silvered armor of her companion, making her blink as they ran across the long meadows headed for home. Home was a loose term. She hadn’t had a real home in what seemed ages. The guildhall in Freyll had been her home when she was pinned to the Order. It seemed so long ago now. Before that there had been the halls of Thane, to which she had returned for a brief period following her resignation as guild leader of the Order. Since her husband’s disappearance her heart had never been able to make peace with herself. She felt responsible for the turn of events that had led him into the hands of the dark prophet and thus to the undoing of his soul. It had been years since there was even a whisper of his whereabouts. For a long time she had paid well for information concerning his journeys, but then her spirit had grown weak and her mind closed until she moved through life without a drop of life left. It was as though she no longer existed.
A life of grandeur and notoriety had come easily to the young rogue early on. She had always had a predisposition for leadership and diplomacy. Her chosen path had led her into the lives of the most amazing people ever to walk the lands of Septia. She had been fortunate and quite prosperous for many years. As is common in the life of adventure, the sadness and pain of loss ate away at her until there was very little left of her flame. Like a candle, she burned out slowly and only a dim remembrance of who she had once been remained.
"Here ya are, Lass. Calthen Woods. You sure this is where you want to go?” His voice rang with concern, but his eyes showed that he really was more concerned with getting back to the city and selling his loot. Hunting in the icelands was quite a prosperous venture these days and many exploited it back on Dryden.
"Aye, Ren. I’ll be fine. Just have some business to take care of in the Pass. Take care of yourself.” Keira smiled softly and glanced at the waning sun. It would be night soon. She preferred the night.
The forest was a soothing mix of dark green and charcoal shadows. A chill wind swept her hair across the back of her neck sending rivulets of shivers down her back. She no longer skirted the woods in the evening hours as she once had. Caution meant very little to someone who no longer cared for life.
As she approached the edge of the pond, she glanced up through the trees at the fading light. The sky blushed soft rose between the darkening green leaves. The water was an inviting blanket of deep blue. Kneeling at the edge, she dipped a finger into the pond and brought it to her lips. It had always amazed her how clean this water was compared to many of the lakes and ponds she had come across in her travels. The cool water tasted almost sweet. Cupping her hands, she drank deeply. She was never good at keeping her food and water supplies replenished.
A noise in the brush behind her set her senses afire. Shifting slightly to blend into the shadows, she turned slowly and narrowed her eyes. A small bush, ensconced in shadows of its own, shuddered slightly. It could have almost been the wind, but Keira had been adventuring far too long to write off even the slightest of movements. Sinking lower to the ground she waited. A moment later, the edge of the bush seemed to break away and slowly move toward the water. As the creature neared, Keira twisted quickly bringing her left hand down in the center of the creature which seemed about half of her size and girth and pressing it harshly to the ground. Her right hand flicked the her small blade from its sheath and raised it above the creature, ready to strike.
Wide violet eyes glared-up at her from a tumble of brown skin and what appeared to be leaves. The child never made a sound. Slowly Keira released her grip on the young elf and brought her weapon to the ground.
"Are you alright?” Keira asked in the common tongue of her homelands. The little elf turned over and climbed onto her hands and knees, facing the tall human. She looked scared.
Long ago, Karianna had taught her the language of the wood elves. This child reminded Keira of the beautiful ranger in many ways. “Do you understand me now? Are you hurt?” The words came halting and awkward. She had never been very good at the other languages. She hoped the child understood her.
A small smile crossed the elf’s lips. “I do.” She responded, almost in a whisper. “I am unhurt. You scared me.”
"As you scared me.” Keira sheathed her knife and sat on the ground across from the child. “It’s not safe in the woods at night. Are you alone?” Keira’s mind played with the possible reasons for such a young elf being in the Calthen Woods so late at night. The woods had once been a beautiful refuge for those that practiced the arts of nature, but legions of undead raised by an unnamed god plagued the woods when the sun set now.
"I am alone.” The small elf smiled shyly. “I like adventure. Are you alone too?”
"Adventure is a grand journey, but one’s journey can be cut short when caution is forgotten. And yes, I often travel alone.” Keira thought it odd that this child spoke with such ease and no longer seemed frightened. Even with her being negated as an enemy, the chill in the woods was enough to make the bravest of warriors shudder. This child was far too comfortable.
"I was just thirsty. I would have gone back to the bushes as soon as I had a drink.” The elf cast her eyes down as though in shame.
"Well, let’s get you over to the Pass. It’s safe there. You can wait until daylight to continue on your grand adventure.” Keira stood and opened her pack, removing two small vials. “Drink this. It will make you unseen to most of the creatures that haunt these woods at night.”
The young elf eyed the vial a moment and looked back up at the rogue. “I don’t mind being visible. I am very good at hiding when it’s important.”
"I would feel better if you would.” Keira uncorked the small bottle and took a sip. “It’s safe. I wouldn’t harm you. There are more than enough darklings here if I felt the need for killing.” Keira winked and watched the child tentatively taste the liquid before gulping down the last of the bottle. The little elf’s image shifted and disbursed slightly. Taking her hand, Keira led the wood elf around the edge of the pond toward the path.
The journey was slow and tedious. Keira had to slip in and out of shadowed areas to avoid the creatures that tormented the forest’s rest. The child kept up with her well. She was surprised by how nimble and quick the little one was. As they made their way along the path, she whispered back to the elf, “Use caution. We are approaching a cabin where there have been many killings as of late.”
Large violet eyes glimmered at her as a smile danced on soft pink lips. “I am not afraid.”
As they neared a small clearing surrounding a crossroads, Keira slowed and came to pause by a tall tree. “Wait here just a moment and let me check to be sure the crossroads is clear. We’ll skirt the clearing to stay hidden in the trees.” The child nodded and leaned up close to the tall oak.
Releasing her hand, Keira slipped deeper into the shadows and moved through the trees, checking for any wandering foes that might impede the journey to the western path. Normally there were at least one or two of the undead patrolling the crossroads, watching for unwary travelers. The gods must be smiling on her, as the woods were unusually calm.
Returning to the tree, Keira’s heart skipped wildly. The child was nowhere in sight. “Little one?” Her voice came in a harsh whisper as she looked furtively around the tree for the small elf.
A soft voice sent a chill down the rogue’s spine. “I am here.” It was the child’s voice, but changed; as if soft velvet had imbued itself in her throat.
For the first time in a long while, Keira was afraid. She turned quickly, hand grasping the hilt of her blade as she whirled. She heard the soft words of magic as her body was suddenly raked with pain. Muscles seized and her limbs grew rigid. She couldn’t move. The voice grew silent as a soft fabric brushed against her arm. Violet eyes met hers as the child who was not a child, slipped into view. Dusky azure skin marked with silver runes surrounded the eerily beautiful eyes.
Keira had heard tales of the Harrier. She was rumored to be the mistress of the Unnamed. Gifted in the dark arts of enchantment, she was a deadly weaver of illusion. The female circled the human slowly, touching her hair, brushing slim fingers across her skin.
"You are known to me.” The velvet voice was laced with ice. “You have hunted my brethren far too long.” A sharp fingernail traced Keira’s throat as her mind screamed out to her muscles to respond, but the enchantress’ magic was strong.
With a slight motion of her hand, the dark one’s guardian pet emerged from the trees. Keira felt herself being dragged roughly across the ground, but was helpless to do anything. The magic chains held her muscles tightly in check as the creature dropped her to the dirt path at the center of the crossroads. A flick of the enchantress’ wrist brought the rogue’s body upright, locked in mock attention.
"I think this a fitting place for your grave. A warning to all those that pass through here.” The dark mistress circled the human once more and came to rest in front of the rogue. “You deal in poisons, I suspect. That will make this all the more delicious. My cousin has been playing with some new venom brought in by some of our warriors. He’s given me a sampling to play with.” A wicked grin exposed sharp pointed teeth black as night. Keira felt her stomach turn to ice. “Now then, which one to try?” The dark elf mimicked a thoughtful expression, taunting the rogue as she tapped her chin. Keira’s soul raged within the bonds of her petrified muscles. “Oh bother. I’ll just use them all.”
The enchantress brought forth several vials from hidden pockets of her dark velvet robe. Each was tiny, but knowing poisons as she did, Keira was certain that just one could most likely kill her if not treated quickly enough. A long silvered nail stretched out toward her exposed neck. The sharp nail pierced the soft white skin just below her ear. As much as her muscles were dead to her now, Keira’s senses were alive and screaming. The darkling pulled the tip of her nail down the rogue’s neck, slicing her skin open to the base of her throat. Warm blood dripped from the wound and slithered beneath her breastplate. The enchantress pulled her finger back and drew it across her tongue as she wrapped red lips around it. Keira’s stomach heaved as she watched the wretch savor her blood.
Her body, no longer in her control, stood erect as the Harrier dripped poisons from each vial carefully in the wound she had opened. Burning sensations followed by chilling lances of cold racked Keira’s body as she stood at the mercy of the dark one. Her mind grew groggy from the pain and fear. Finally the enchantress stepped back and met the rogue’s dilated eyes. “You will remember me to your gods, won’t you?” She spat the words as a smile laced with contempt played on her lips. “Wretched journeys, Rogue.” With a wave of her hand, Keira’s body was released and she crumbled to the ground as the heathen slipped away.
Every inch of her being screamed with pain. Muscles that had so recently been frozen twitched and raged against the poisons seeping into her. Her mind began to close in upon her as the sickening pain traveled the length of her. Rolling onto her back, she looked up into the sky and saw the silver-red moon, a blood moon. She had once equated her greatest enemy, Morrighean, with the blood moon. The irony did not evade her.
She focused her eyes on the mystical orb and for the first time in many years, prayed. She did not pray for life, nor did she pray for death, but instead asked for those she had loved to be watched over and that the shadows gather round them whenever there might be need. Her eyes began to close as the pain started to fade into the roaring storm of her mind. She knew poisons such as these. There would be much suffering before they lent her an end. She could only hope that the wakening times would be far shorter than the soft weave of unconsciousness into which she now slipped, the image of the blood moon etched upon her lids.
A life of grandeur and notoriety had come easily to the young rogue early on. She had always had a predisposition for leadership and diplomacy. Her chosen path had led her into the lives of the most amazing people ever to walk the lands of Septia. She had been fortunate and quite prosperous for many years. As is common in the life of adventure, the sadness and pain of loss ate away at her until there was very little left of her flame. Like a candle, she burned out slowly and only a dim remembrance of who she had once been remained.
"Here ya are, Lass. Calthen Woods. You sure this is where you want to go?” His voice rang with concern, but his eyes showed that he really was more concerned with getting back to the city and selling his loot. Hunting in the icelands was quite a prosperous venture these days and many exploited it back on Dryden.
"Aye, Ren. I’ll be fine. Just have some business to take care of in the Pass. Take care of yourself.” Keira smiled softly and glanced at the waning sun. It would be night soon. She preferred the night.
The forest was a soothing mix of dark green and charcoal shadows. A chill wind swept her hair across the back of her neck sending rivulets of shivers down her back. She no longer skirted the woods in the evening hours as she once had. Caution meant very little to someone who no longer cared for life.
As she approached the edge of the pond, she glanced up through the trees at the fading light. The sky blushed soft rose between the darkening green leaves. The water was an inviting blanket of deep blue. Kneeling at the edge, she dipped a finger into the pond and brought it to her lips. It had always amazed her how clean this water was compared to many of the lakes and ponds she had come across in her travels. The cool water tasted almost sweet. Cupping her hands, she drank deeply. She was never good at keeping her food and water supplies replenished.
A noise in the brush behind her set her senses afire. Shifting slightly to blend into the shadows, she turned slowly and narrowed her eyes. A small bush, ensconced in shadows of its own, shuddered slightly. It could have almost been the wind, but Keira had been adventuring far too long to write off even the slightest of movements. Sinking lower to the ground she waited. A moment later, the edge of the bush seemed to break away and slowly move toward the water. As the creature neared, Keira twisted quickly bringing her left hand down in the center of the creature which seemed about half of her size and girth and pressing it harshly to the ground. Her right hand flicked the her small blade from its sheath and raised it above the creature, ready to strike.
Wide violet eyes glared-up at her from a tumble of brown skin and what appeared to be leaves. The child never made a sound. Slowly Keira released her grip on the young elf and brought her weapon to the ground.
"Are you alright?” Keira asked in the common tongue of her homelands. The little elf turned over and climbed onto her hands and knees, facing the tall human. She looked scared.
Long ago, Karianna had taught her the language of the wood elves. This child reminded Keira of the beautiful ranger in many ways. “Do you understand me now? Are you hurt?” The words came halting and awkward. She had never been very good at the other languages. She hoped the child understood her.
A small smile crossed the elf’s lips. “I do.” She responded, almost in a whisper. “I am unhurt. You scared me.”
"As you scared me.” Keira sheathed her knife and sat on the ground across from the child. “It’s not safe in the woods at night. Are you alone?” Keira’s mind played with the possible reasons for such a young elf being in the Calthen Woods so late at night. The woods had once been a beautiful refuge for those that practiced the arts of nature, but legions of undead raised by an unnamed god plagued the woods when the sun set now.
"I am alone.” The small elf smiled shyly. “I like adventure. Are you alone too?”
"Adventure is a grand journey, but one’s journey can be cut short when caution is forgotten. And yes, I often travel alone.” Keira thought it odd that this child spoke with such ease and no longer seemed frightened. Even with her being negated as an enemy, the chill in the woods was enough to make the bravest of warriors shudder. This child was far too comfortable.
"I was just thirsty. I would have gone back to the bushes as soon as I had a drink.” The elf cast her eyes down as though in shame.
"Well, let’s get you over to the Pass. It’s safe there. You can wait until daylight to continue on your grand adventure.” Keira stood and opened her pack, removing two small vials. “Drink this. It will make you unseen to most of the creatures that haunt these woods at night.”
The young elf eyed the vial a moment and looked back up at the rogue. “I don’t mind being visible. I am very good at hiding when it’s important.”
"I would feel better if you would.” Keira uncorked the small bottle and took a sip. “It’s safe. I wouldn’t harm you. There are more than enough darklings here if I felt the need for killing.” Keira winked and watched the child tentatively taste the liquid before gulping down the last of the bottle. The little elf’s image shifted and disbursed slightly. Taking her hand, Keira led the wood elf around the edge of the pond toward the path.
The journey was slow and tedious. Keira had to slip in and out of shadowed areas to avoid the creatures that tormented the forest’s rest. The child kept up with her well. She was surprised by how nimble and quick the little one was. As they made their way along the path, she whispered back to the elf, “Use caution. We are approaching a cabin where there have been many killings as of late.”
Large violet eyes glimmered at her as a smile danced on soft pink lips. “I am not afraid.”
As they neared a small clearing surrounding a crossroads, Keira slowed and came to pause by a tall tree. “Wait here just a moment and let me check to be sure the crossroads is clear. We’ll skirt the clearing to stay hidden in the trees.” The child nodded and leaned up close to the tall oak.
Releasing her hand, Keira slipped deeper into the shadows and moved through the trees, checking for any wandering foes that might impede the journey to the western path. Normally there were at least one or two of the undead patrolling the crossroads, watching for unwary travelers. The gods must be smiling on her, as the woods were unusually calm.
Returning to the tree, Keira’s heart skipped wildly. The child was nowhere in sight. “Little one?” Her voice came in a harsh whisper as she looked furtively around the tree for the small elf.
A soft voice sent a chill down the rogue’s spine. “I am here.” It was the child’s voice, but changed; as if soft velvet had imbued itself in her throat.
For the first time in a long while, Keira was afraid. She turned quickly, hand grasping the hilt of her blade as she whirled. She heard the soft words of magic as her body was suddenly raked with pain. Muscles seized and her limbs grew rigid. She couldn’t move. The voice grew silent as a soft fabric brushed against her arm. Violet eyes met hers as the child who was not a child, slipped into view. Dusky azure skin marked with silver runes surrounded the eerily beautiful eyes.
Keira had heard tales of the Harrier. She was rumored to be the mistress of the Unnamed. Gifted in the dark arts of enchantment, she was a deadly weaver of illusion. The female circled the human slowly, touching her hair, brushing slim fingers across her skin.
"You are known to me.” The velvet voice was laced with ice. “You have hunted my brethren far too long.” A sharp fingernail traced Keira’s throat as her mind screamed out to her muscles to respond, but the enchantress’ magic was strong.
With a slight motion of her hand, the dark one’s guardian pet emerged from the trees. Keira felt herself being dragged roughly across the ground, but was helpless to do anything. The magic chains held her muscles tightly in check as the creature dropped her to the dirt path at the center of the crossroads. A flick of the enchantress’ wrist brought the rogue’s body upright, locked in mock attention.
"I think this a fitting place for your grave. A warning to all those that pass through here.” The dark mistress circled the human once more and came to rest in front of the rogue. “You deal in poisons, I suspect. That will make this all the more delicious. My cousin has been playing with some new venom brought in by some of our warriors. He’s given me a sampling to play with.” A wicked grin exposed sharp pointed teeth black as night. Keira felt her stomach turn to ice. “Now then, which one to try?” The dark elf mimicked a thoughtful expression, taunting the rogue as she tapped her chin. Keira’s soul raged within the bonds of her petrified muscles. “Oh bother. I’ll just use them all.”
The enchantress brought forth several vials from hidden pockets of her dark velvet robe. Each was tiny, but knowing poisons as she did, Keira was certain that just one could most likely kill her if not treated quickly enough. A long silvered nail stretched out toward her exposed neck. The sharp nail pierced the soft white skin just below her ear. As much as her muscles were dead to her now, Keira’s senses were alive and screaming. The darkling pulled the tip of her nail down the rogue’s neck, slicing her skin open to the base of her throat. Warm blood dripped from the wound and slithered beneath her breastplate. The enchantress pulled her finger back and drew it across her tongue as she wrapped red lips around it. Keira’s stomach heaved as she watched the wretch savor her blood.
Her body, no longer in her control, stood erect as the Harrier dripped poisons from each vial carefully in the wound she had opened. Burning sensations followed by chilling lances of cold racked Keira’s body as she stood at the mercy of the dark one. Her mind grew groggy from the pain and fear. Finally the enchantress stepped back and met the rogue’s dilated eyes. “You will remember me to your gods, won’t you?” She spat the words as a smile laced with contempt played on her lips. “Wretched journeys, Rogue.” With a wave of her hand, Keira’s body was released and she crumbled to the ground as the heathen slipped away.
Every inch of her being screamed with pain. Muscles that had so recently been frozen twitched and raged against the poisons seeping into her. Her mind began to close in upon her as the sickening pain traveled the length of her. Rolling onto her back, she looked up into the sky and saw the silver-red moon, a blood moon. She had once equated her greatest enemy, Morrighean, with the blood moon. The irony did not evade her.
She focused her eyes on the mystical orb and for the first time in many years, prayed. She did not pray for life, nor did she pray for death, but instead asked for those she had loved to be watched over and that the shadows gather round them whenever there might be need. Her eyes began to close as the pain started to fade into the roaring storm of her mind. She knew poisons such as these. There would be much suffering before they lent her an end. She could only hope that the wakening times would be far shorter than the soft weave of unconsciousness into which she now slipped, the image of the blood moon etched upon her lids.
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