A boiling rage simmered deep within her. Her black sword flashed, cutting through the surrounding bracken as she walked. She could not understand why Ashyla had not yet slaughtered the miserable band of misfit companions. They were destined to strike the Goddess down, so what good was there in keeping them alive? The thoughts burned deep in Saber’s mind. She had attempted to deal with the companions herself, but there was only so much she could do without directly opposing Ashyla.
What is her plan?
Saber had thought herself quite clever by using the Captain to decimate the companions. Oh, how he groveled and begged at her feet at the mention of his poor family. Pathetic. There was no room for love in the winding abyss of the Shadow. But, for some unknown reason, the Captain failed. Even with the threat of his family looming over his miserable head, he faltered in his one moment of triumph.
Saber lashed out with her sword, cutting it deep into a nearby tree. A feral growl escaped her rosy lips, and she wrenched her sword free, only to slash it back into the black trunk.
What a pathetic excuse of a man.
But that was not the worst part. Somehow, Ashyla caught wind of her devious plan, and had cut it short in an all too extravagant manner. Saber smirked. Even so, it did give her great satisfaction to watch the hulking dreadknight obliterate the wretched Captain.
But her moment of pleasure soon passed, washed away under her seething rage. No matter what she attempted, no matter how cunning or devious her plan, it always seemed to crumble. From the slimy Shadowfriend to the Mistress and her legion of rotting warriors, the damned companions always managed to escape. She even forced them to battle through the unforgiving Shadowfront, yet still, they were alive and well. It was infuriating.
Damned Ashyla …
Saber’s black sword lashed out again, this time cutting clean through the mighty trunk of another tree. The twisted tree fell crashing to the ground, splinters and dust clouding the cool air. She did not understand the Goddess’s apparent lack of concern. Another growl escaped her lips, and her sapphire eyes gleamed with a murderous light. No more backstabbing plans, it was time to take the matter into her own hands.
Saber continued her furious rampage deep into the dark woods, slashing wildly at anything that dared come to near. She knew that she would infuriate Ashyla with her actions, but she did not care. It had to be done.
After some time — more time than she would have liked — she came upon an open clearing. The black, empty sky was swirled about like the gateway to the abyss. Towering mountain peaks could be seen over the trees to the west, watching Saber with stony gazes. The grass was shriveled and gray, but it seemed to shift in and out of focus, as if it were never quite there. It was always frustrating to find the barren clearing, as it never stayed in the same spot. Rather it shifted about, appearing and disappearing at the whims of its creator. And it seemed that its creator had not wished for Saber to find it.
Damned Calitha …
It did not matter. Saber would play her childish game.
Floating at the center of the clearing was a thin, ghostly woman. She seemed more a skeleton than a living being. A simple, gray dress draped over her frail form, folding about as it had a mind of its very own. The woman had short, silver hair and a gruesome, stitched slash cut across the front her chest in the shape of a cross. Thick blood trickled from the wound, creating red rivers running down the woman’s white body. Her eyes were sealed shut, and blood trickled down from her closed eyelids as well. Calitha did not need eyes to view the bleak world around her — not that there was much to see.
Saber shivered as she glared at Calitha. It was always unsettling dealing with the ghostly woman, but there was no other choice. It had to be done.
“It took you long enough to finally appear, Calitha,” Saber called out to the tranquil woman. Oh, how she wished she could just cut down this floating specter. But wise judgment held her back. She did not wish to be trapped in Calitha’s nightmarish labyrinth. And Ashyla would never tolerate such brash treason. “Do you have her?”
Calitha turned in the air to face Saber. Even though the ghastly woman’s eyes were forever shut, Saber could not shake the feeling that Calitha was gazing straight through her, unraveling all her thoughts and emotions. It was always unsettling dealing with the ghostly woman. Calitha smiled, her white lips curling unnaturally, and her head tilted to the side, jutting her neck at a painful angle.
“Greetings Sister,” Calitha said, her voice nothing more than a thin wisp floating through the air. “I ever do enjoy your growing company.”
Saber stared blankly at the floating woman. It was impossible to have a straightforward conversation with her. It was like talking to an infant, a rather grown, skeletal infant.
“Do you have her?” Saber repeated. The sooner she was finished with this business, the better.
“Who do I have, Sister?” Calitha answered cryptically. “Many are lost within their own fears.”
Saber sighed. It was never straightforward with her.
“Where is Mariah?” Saber hissed, growing impatient. She began to pace back and forth, her knee-high boots clicking on the soft ground below.
What? That doesn’t make any sense.
She did not ponder thought. She had to focus on far more important matters.
“Where is Mariah?” Calitha echoed. “Why, trapped with the rest of them, of course.”
Saber growled. She did not have time for this annoying little game.
“I know she escaped you,” she pressed. Not for the first time, she wondered if she could indeed defeat this skeletal woman. How she wished to cut her down.
Calitha flinched slightly, straightened her legs, and gently lowered herself to the ground. The game was up. It was time for business.
“And what of it, Sister?” she whispered, striding towards Saber. “There are those who can fight beyond their fears.”
Saber did not respond, instead choosing to glare at the approaching woman.
Calitha’s voice grew high pitched, and it seemed the whole clearing was speaking for her. “Do you accuse me of releasing her, Sister?” Her pale feet seemed to fade in and out of the ground, as if she was never quite where she seemed. “Take care of your next words, or else we might soon discover your darkest fears …”
Saber took a step back. She knew it was hardly an empty threat, and she had little desire to be forever lost in Calitha’s ever-changing labyrinth. She raised her hands before her defensively. Oh, how she wished to cut down this insolent woman. Her bubbling rage still burned bright, and it was all she could do to not draw her black sword.
“I’m not here to fight,” Saber said, respectfully keeping her voice gentle. “I am here for Mariah. Nothing more. So, the sooner you hand her over, the sooner I can take leave of your humble abode.”
Calitha laughed an unnatural sound that grated against Saber’s ears. “Humble abode, Sister? You do not have to pretend with me.”
Saber did not answer. It was never straightforward dealing with this woman.
Calitha halted her steady advance, and her head tilted to the side once more.
“Mother is not going to be pleased,” she warned, her voice growing soft once more. Her silver hair waved behind her, even though there was no wind. She was nervous.
Saber raised an eyebrow.
And well she should be.
“Ashyla is not going to know,” she replied in an attempt to soothe the pale woman. In truth, Saber was nervous as well. It was just her anxiety was buried deep under a red storm of rage. It had to be done. There was no other way. “I entrusted you with her, so now all I am asking is for you to return her. Ashyla is not going to know.”
Calitha nodded but remained silent. This was no time for games. The Mother never took kindly to such open acts of disobedience, but Calitha agreed with Saber, at least partially. She did not understand Ashyla’s apparent lack of concern for the winding events. It had to be done.
Raising her hands, t
he clearing suddenly grew dark and ominous. Not a single disturbance could be heard in the clearing. Even if Calitha tried to speak, no sound would come forth. The black sky above the clearing roiled and bubbled, churning like a boiling pot of water. But as quickly as it started, the oppressive silence disappeared, along with the growing darkness. The inky sky returned to its tranquil calm, as if nothing had happened. Satisfied, Calitha curled her pale legs, and returned to her floating perch in the cold air. She nodded to Saber before turning away. She did not care to know what Saber wanted Mariah for. The less she knew, the better.
“Mother must not know, Sister.” Calitha said, her voice wavering under the stress. Unlike Saber, she would remain fiercely loyal to Ashyla, even after the strange turn of events. It was never wise to play Mother’s game.
Saber smiled, and her eyes gleamed with blue fires.
“Worry not, Daughter. Ashyla will never know.” Satisfied, she turned about, only to find a beaten and bloody Mariah laying upon the soft ground. It was always unsettling dealing with the ghostly woman, but it did have its uses. She had to open Ashyla’s eyes. And drastic times called for drastic measures. It had to be done. A smirk twisting her rosy lips, Saber stood over the bloodied Mariah as a lion would its prey. Her eyes drove into the fiery woman.
“So nice to finally see you again,” Saber sneered. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Mariah said nothing, and tried to rise to her feet, but a brutal kick from Saber kept her in the dirt. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back, she would not give Saber the satisfaction of seeing her broken. Oh, how she wanted to retreat into her despair, but she did not. She had saved the companions. There was still hope, and that twinkling spark is what she clung onto. For what else could she do?
Chuckling maniacally, Saber thrust another kick into Mariah’s ribs. She was going to enjoy this. It was not that she hated Mariah; nay, she did not hold anything against the fiery woman. Rather, she was just another victim to Saber’s seething fury. Saber’s thoughts flashed with visions of Ashyla, and the smug look she bore as she summoned a dreadknight to slaughter the poor Captain.
Damned Ashyla. Why can’t she see what she’s doing? She’s dooming herself.
Another kick jabbed into Mariah as Saber roiled in her frustrating thoughts, and then another, and even another. The companions had to die, and it seemed that Saber had to take matters into her own hands. So be it. It had to be done. There was no other way.
Pathetic whimpers of pain trickled from Mariah, but the proud woman still refused to cry. No matter the cost, or the pain, she had rekindled Ansalon’s hope. The Beacon had come; may the Shadow quake in his presence. No amount of darkness could last forever. There was always a Light that would bring back the shining dawn. At least that is what she told herself. Right now, while being beaten by Saber, it seemed a feeble thought indeed.
Growling with pleasure, Saber hounded over the pathetic woman. Gashes and bruises marred Mariah’s olive skin, and blood trickled down her alluring figure. Reaching out, Saber grasped the woman’s orange hair and pulled her to her feet. Mariah’s scalp was scabbed, and chunks of her hair were missing, but Saber did not care why. Just a consequence of Calitha’s labyrinth, she supposed. Saber glared at the miserable woman, her eyes shooting raging lances of flame. Mariah struggled to break free of Saber’s iron grip. But there would be no escape for her now. There would be no one to set her free.
Saber pulled the woman close and inhaled her pleasant scent. She smelled of a cool, autumn day, tainted by the heavy scent of iron from her blood. Saber smiled, the wicked, devious smile of a tormentor.
“I hope they remember you when you’re gone,” Saber whispered in Mariah’s ear, her voice cutting deep like a frozen dagger. She pulled away from Mariah and looked deep into her amber eyes.
Mariah’s look of pure, uncontrollable terror was one that Saber would not forget.
She would most certainly enjoy this.
♦♦♦
Ashyla studied the mangled corpse of Mariah with more than a hint of disgust. Sword gashes covered the poor woman’s body, and patches off skin were torn from various places, leaving dark splotches of dried blood. The fiery woman’s luxurious red dress hand been stolen from the corpse, leaving Mariah battered and naked on the cold, stone ground. Her limbs were spread in unnatural directions, and a gruesome cut ran across the right side of her face, leaving a bloody socket where her amber eye had once been. Most disturbingly, a flaming cross had been etched into Mariah's chest. The symbol of the Flame.
The symbol of the Beacon.
Ashyla had little doubt as to who had done this dastardly deed. There was only one person she knew who would mutilate Mariah this way. It was a shame, surely, for Ashyla was quite fond of the fiery woman. But it did not matter now, Mariah was gone, and there would be no bringing her back from the cold clutches of death. Not even Ashyla was capable of such a feat — at least not now. She sighed, and she drew her marvelous sword, turning it over in front of her.
My dear Saber, so lost in the meaningless words of the world. So fixated on slaughtering the supposed Beacon and his group of companions. When will you learn that they are inconsequential?
Sighing once more, Ashyla sheathed her sword, and reached down, straightening the brutalized corpse as best she could. It was not Mariah’s time to die, but what could she do? Ashyla had no power over peoples’ fate. Ashyla narrowed her eyes.
She had little power at all.
Ashyla scanned the gruesome corpse of Mariah once more, only to rest upon the hollow eye socket. Her thoughts danced in her fractured mind. Who knew it would be so difficult to regain what was hers? Everybody pranced about, praising that their cause was just, that they were the ultimate source of good in this dark world. But what of her cause? Was it not just? She was merely attempting to regain what was once stolen from her. Is that not a noble cause? But people were blinded by their own greed, their own desires, and so they refused to cooperate. It was a simple task, to return what was stolen, but people insisted on fighting. So be it. Those people insisted on dying.
Shaking her head, Ashyla straightened herself, and turned away from Mariah, her eyes gleaming dangerously.
My dear Saber, ever the fighter.
Ashyla was never fond of traitors, and this was most surely an act of defiance. So be it. Her patience could only be worn so thin before it snapped violently.
You play a dangerous game, child, and I have never been one to refuse a game. How … tragic. You had so much potential.
Ashyla strutted out of the barren, stone room, leaving Mariah’s corpse behind, where it would no doubt rot away into oblivion. She did not care. It was never wise to be tangled in the past. She always looked to the future, to the untapped potential of the surrounding world. And if Saber was still lost in the winding ways of the past, perhaps it was time to replace her.
You never did learn, child. So focused on my doings, you forgot to worry about yourself. There are too many pieces in play to be focused on the happenings of one, pathetic person. Such a shame. I always did think you the more … interesting sister.
Ashyla’s eyes shone with a green fire. Her cause was just. She would break the seal. She would undo what was done. She would repair the damage that the miserable Smiter had inflicted. She would regain what was once stolen from her. And if that meant she had to rend it from this broken world with the vile claw of the Shadow, so be it. Any who dared stand against her would be devoured by the ever-ravenous darkness.
How … tragic.
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A Land in Shadow Page 30
