Into the West

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~Great Eastern Forest, Arisis~


Blood flew like crimson rain across the pale sky of earliest morning. It dripped thickly from the short blade held in an elegant long fingered hand and stained the once pristine snow.
All around her, the deep winter carpet was painted red with spilt blood. Littering the ground like fallen leaves in autumn were the broken bodies of a group of mercenaries she had accidentally stumbled across.

The look in the man’s eyes was one of shock. Scarlet bubbles popped beneath his chin where the blade had bisected his throat. His body convulsed against the frozen earth, refusing to believe that death was inevitable.
A set of beautiful eyes as black as the void watched this emotionlessly. It had been a very long time since she had felt pity towards men like these. She had long since adopted the philosophy of kill or be killed. It had kept her alive and sane when all of her world, everything she had ever loved and cherished was shattered and destroyed by those she had once called friends.

As the man took his last breath, his killer knelt beside him. Her voice was sweeter then new spring rain, when she whispered, “All is behind you, follow the sun rise ahead.”

Fear flashed through his rapidly clouding eyes as he managed to gasp a single word: “Dem…on…” A moment later the fear became distant and his eyes took on that glazed look of the dead. His breath rattled loose as his soul moved free of its cage of flesh and blood.

She felt it slip past the hand that rested on his chest, and disappear into the bright ether. The tiny whisper the soul emitted as it fled the corrupted earth was feeble in comparison to the constant outcry she now heard. All around her she could feel the world dying. Each day the outcry grew more prominent and soon the others would begin to notice if they had not already.

Pulling back she rubbed her tired eyes and briefly wondered why she had said that to him. Long ago, in what now seemed to be another lifetime, she had whispered those words of comfort to the dead shell of the one she had called mother.

The memory, both vivid and still raw flashed across her mind.

~Pandis'Veel. The fortress city of Hannon the gateway of Eifa, the valley before it once again enshrouded in mist.
Bodies littered the ground like fallen leaves, the different armours all but indistinguishable because of the flames that had consumed them.
So many lives lost over such foolishness.

Through the mist she could feel the sun, it had long since reached its peak and was now dipping towards the far off horizon. How long she had sat there on the scorched and cooling earth she did know, it could have been hours, it might have been only moments. The enchantments, cast into the very stones and air of Pandis’Veel, had an odd effect on time.
The ash was damp beneath her cold fingers and she could smell the blood in it without seeing the red tint. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she climbed to her feet, blood splattered sword in hand.

She had walked through the mist of Pandis’Veel, until she found what she had been searching for: the Pillars of Hannon.
Just beyond the five pillars that guarded the valley’s entrance, two posts formed a frame upon the rise for a grim sight.

They had stripped her naked, her wrists had been lashed with barbed metal wire, flesh torn away and veins severed as it cut deeper. Blood still flowed from the hideous wounds. More metal wire was wrapped around her delicate body and the wooden posts, it formed an intricate web that had to be tightened before it could be loosened. Blood covered every inch of her body as the wires tightened and cut into her.
Formally golden blond hair was painted red and hung in clumps, but it did not hide the dead blue eyes that gazed out at nothing.~

Tears slowly rolled down pale cheeks as she tried to mentally calm herself.
There had never really been time to properly mourn that loss after the battle and it still hurt.

Warmth caressed her face and her eyes shot open expecting to see the worst. The sun greeted her instead.
Leaning back on to her heels and tilting her face to the warmth, the girl began to whisper the hymn that all her people sang to the rising and setting of the sun.

Almost instantly the wind picked up and the few birds out in the bitter weather began to sing with her. The song was old enough to be known by the very elements and the birds and beasts of the land, but it had been a long time since it had been heard.

A small melancholy smile curved the girl’s lips and she rose to her full height, letting her voice rise louder then it had risen in a very long time.

It was a tale from time in memorial. It was a story of passionate love, heartbreakingly bitter sorrow and vengeance. A legend that had been passed down by word of mouth for more millennia then could be remembered by her people.

It was a tale of two of the great guardians on opposing sides and a great war that tore the heavens apart.
It was the story of the birth of the world and the prophecy of its demise.

It somehow seemed appropriate now.


~Sanc, Capital of Arisis~


The wide city streets of Sanc were busy at the best of times, but even to someone who had lived in the city for little more then a month, today was less then normal. There was barely room to breath, let alone move.

Farmers and merchants, both local and from afar packed the stone streets from wall-to-wall with everyday goods, weapons, cloth and assorted other items. The market on the high plaza was awash with bright colours and tempting smells as the most luxurious of the goods were kept safely in view of the royal palace and the guard.

For someone who had lived in hiding for as long as she had, the plaza was both a shock to the system and a pleasure to behold. It almost gave you hope that maybe not everything and everyone in the world was as cold and cruel as you had previously thought.
That was until you start walking amongst the stalls.

Twice had she walked among these stalls and both times she had been stopped and checked for stolen goods. She had found it amusing the first time, especially since the guard who checked her, had been at the weapons table when she had spent a small fortune on new blades.

It was impossible for most people to walk from stall to stall unhindered. Those who did were mostly noble born and, more then once she had guessed that it was only because of their numerous entourages that they were left alone.
Even she moved for the noble parties.

But if you saw a group of eight or ten people striding towards you, giving their noble enough attention as to put religious fanatics to shame and ignoring all others, you too would move without hesitation. It was not so uncommon for small children to be trampled by such groups.

The snowfalls had finally stopped in the lowlands around the city and with the new spring, life had returned to the grey streets.
It was the first true day of spring, a day that was anticipated each year as one of the five great market days. It was never busier then on one of these days. People flocked in hundreds and thousands to shop, watch the on-street entertainment and cheer as the royal family rode to the Temple of the Star.

Far above her, the smallest of the bells in the palace began to ring, this was one of the few things she had come to like about Sanc.
In the vast Tower of Remembrance, there were countless bells. A bell had been hung for each of the soldiers who lost their lives in the Andine War. Very few of the population of the empire knew that. The war was not something thought about. Those who lived through it wished to forget, while those born after it were never told of the atrocities performed within those two centuries.
It had become the great taboo.

As the bells music rose, the streets began to clear themselves almost magically. They had long since become a signal that the palace guards would be coming out to clear the way for the royal procession.
The stalls that had cluttered Ska’s Mound vanished into carts that in-turn vanished down side streets. As soon as the procession had passed them by they would be taken out again. Nothing could stop merchants on a market day.

At the best of times she was not overly fond of large crowds, she was naturally paranoid and her profession had not helped to lessen that over time. If anything, it had made her more jumpy then most. It did not take her long to become irritated by the hustle and bustle of the crowd and disappear down one of the many side streets that led deeper into the city.

Unlike the cities she had grown up in, Sanc was small and cluttered. The original city had been built to vaguely mimic the inside of a seashell, the palace and its grounds in the centre with the rest of the city wrapping around the high walls.
That plan had changed with a disagreement between the architects and the prince of the time.

After the palace wall had been finished, the rest of Sanc had been built on levelled terraces descending from the palace with two main streets that ran down from the inner rise known as Ska’s Mound.
Palace Way rose up the mound from the only gate out of the city, while the Silver Mile ran from the palace to the Temple of the Star within the city’s walls.

She had been relaxing in a tavern called The Raven Arise on the western side of the city when the call went out. The other patrons that littered the large common room did not stir most of them had lived in Sanc all their lives and a royal procession to the temple was nothing new.

She on the other hand, had not been to one of the royal procession since Ska had ruled in Sanc so many years ago.
Tossing a number of small coins onto the table she had occupied, the girl pulled her thick winter cloak around her slim shoulders and left in the direction of the temple.

It might have been the start of spring but you could not tell by the weather. The snowstorms might have left the lowlands but ice still clung to the buildings and made the streets traitorous in the early mornings. But despite the bitter temperature people swamped the length of the Silver Mile.

Emerging from a side passage half way up the street, the girl could see all the way down to the gate that opened Ska’s Mound onto the Silver Mile. As of yet there was no sign of the royal procession.
Turning around, she fought her way back to the small passage and the network of tiny streets that turned Sanc into a labyrinth to strangers.

With most of the population of the city out at the market, the girl had no trouble navigating the maze of thin passages that were normally teeming with thieves, muggers and assorted other lawbreakers.

Most people might think it odd, but even with the dangers that the back alleys provided she felt far safer there then out in the open.
The people who haunted the dark lanes were less likely to question or query your reasons for being there and as long as you knew how to handle yourself you were fine.

She had discovered that her first day in the city when a group of men tried to rob her.
She had just finished beating the last of them senseless when three more men stepped out of the shadows before her, she had been ready for another fight so it caught her by surprise when the tall man in front bowed and invited her to join him for a drink.

She had smiled at her recklessness afterward, he could have been leading her into a trap, but it turned out that he was the master of the thieves’ court and had been looking for the men who had attacked her.

He was the first Anvarian she had met in the longest of time that reminded her of Ska.

Within a couple of minutes she had reached the top of the street and was weaving her way through the crowd to get a better view. Around her people jostled against one another, men and women, large and small pushing forward to catch a glimpse of the procession that had not yet appeared.
One particularly large man slammed an elbow into her ribs as she slid past him; a moment later he doubled over in pain as she kicked him in the groin.

When she finally made it to the front of the crowd, the girl found that her earlier fears were justified.

Guards, both lining the path of the procession and littered amongst the crowd in civilian clothing, stood out to her like blood on snow.
If she remained where she was, her capture and possible death were almost certain.

Casting a quick glance down the street, the girl walked back through the crowd and after another quick look around for watchers, she leapt up onto the top of the outer temple wall. Glancing around again in case she had been seen she slipped through the pillars and jogged along the wide top until she came to the last pillar before the gate.

From her vantage point she could clearly see the men dressed in the livery of House Farr’ell who now lined the entire street. The cold sunlight sparkled off the silver mail they wore and made their black uniforms seem darker.

Moving until she was positioned above the front of the crowd beside the gate the girl spread her cloak around her. The ledge on the temples outer wall gave her an unobstructed view of the entire road and the wide temple plaza itself. Smiling softly, she lay flat on her belly in the shadow cast by the huge pillar and took in the magnificent sight before her.

She had never been this close to the temple before, she had never had reason to be there.
Looking around the vast plaza where the white marble building was situated she felt a pang of guilt. If she ever had a chance, she would have to come back for a closer look. It was beyond extraordinary up close, from the gilded flagstones to the exquisitely carver columns and bright murals.

A soft dark smile curved her red lips as she recognised the distinctive style of the Andine artisans who had built and decorated this temple over five hundred years before.
Only the Andine City of Eifa boasted artwork that could compare to the beauty of the temple, Eifa however had been all but deserted long ago. Its breath taking halls now lay silent and dark when they had once been filled with light, music and laughter.

The ancient civilisation that had built their vast city within the very mountains they had dominated were now broken to fragments.
It was almost unbelievable to think that the Andine, an Elder Race originally from one of the Birthplaces of Time could have ended so.

But now the stories of the Ancients were fairytales told to small children by the fire.
The Andine power, which set off the two centuries of war, had been sealed away by the last queen. Hidden away from all that might try and use it, be they friend or foe.
The peace and majesty of the Second Age was now forgotten at the beginning of the Third.

With their power gone, the ancient people of Eifa had faced the final wrath of the invaders and facing the destruction of their people, most had fled on the four winds - those few who had remained either died or disappeared.

But occasionally you would hear tales from travelling merchants who would swear they had seen beings too beautiful to be real wondering the northern wastelands. Statuesque beings possessing an ageless grace that could only be Andine because of their fierce glittering eyes.
But over fifty years had passed since the last known sighting of a member of that ancient race.

For a moment sorrow and anger pulled on her heart and caused her breath to catch.

Such memories were better lost and forgotten; otherwise they might drive her to insanity. She would not have been the first to suffer that dreadful fate.

Cheering broke out further down the street and brought the girl’s attention back to the mile.

The procession had arrived at last.