The air surrounding her was dark. Filled with some thick, gaseous substance that made it hard to breathe. Hard to stand. She wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, but not here. Seventeen corpses lay on the ground around her, filling the basement room around her with the smell of blood. Or, perhaps it was the blood lining her sword, tainting the faint glow at its edges a hazy red. Thunder cracked from somewhere over head, causing her gaze to shoot up to the crimson banners on the walls. Banners marked with a bold, blazing eye. Carria was certain it shifted as she moved, watching her progress through the room. In the fog of the corridor beyond, barghests howled. Two large, hulking figures turned, their hooded robes not disguising their wolflike visage. Above the snarling snouts, red eyes peered out through the din. She swung her hand – once, twice, knives flying from it to strike them in the chest. They yowled, then snarled, one of them grabbing a giant axe to brandish at her. She didn’t freeze. Drawing her dagger, the Rohirric assassin sprinted forwards, leaping into the air. Her feet ran along the cage-posts containing the barghests, and when the first figure spun to chase her, she struck. Launching herself from the cage, she drove elvish sword and dagger into the heart of the beast, pushing it over. Flames danced along the blades, burning the flesh of the dark creature. An axe swung from overhead, and Carria dodged sideways, driving her dagger into the beast’s arm. She pulled up as she leapt, landing upon the beast’s shoulder. The monster howled in pain, trying to bring the axe up to swing. The young woman held her arms out to keep her balance as the creature beneath her shifted. In another moment her hands were wrapped around Sanyaxa’s hilt, severing its head with a mighty swing. Blood spewed from the arteries of the beast’s neck, spraying dark red fluid over every inch of her body, and the room. Landing on her feet she turned to see the door behind her close, locking her in the basement as it erupted into flames. Her vision goes red, leaving her only dimly aware of herself gripping the head of an axe as she swung its handle into the back of a dwarf’s head. Her friend’s head.
Carria’s eyes flew open, slowly adjusting themselves to the darkened green walls of her bedroom. She was home in Everslade, safe in Seraden’s sleeping arms. She reached across, gently brushing the muddy brown hair out of her lover’s eyes with a troubled smile. It wasn’t the first time she’d had nightmares. They came just about every night, leaving her completely unable to sleep alone. She slipped out of bed, carful not to wake Sera in the process. Her tunic was on the floor, and she wrapped it around herself with sad sigh, grabbed her sword belt, strapping it to her on her way out the door. A brisk breeze swept across her face, forcing her to close her eyes as her messy, sweat-stained red hair danced across them. Once it passed, she made her way over to the bench on her hill, overlooking her guest houses and Ash’s house. It was a place she went for quiet contemplation, which right now was sorely needed.
Her mind flew over the events of the past few days. Rescuing Dahlia Briarwool from the Sauron cult had been… an experience, for sure. But that wasn’t what was truly bugging her. What plagued her mind was the events of the day prior, in which she had strode into the Commons to find a visitor there. She’d asked to speak to him in her house, leaving Balnirar and Ollena alone in the square. The next thing she knew, Balni was banging on her door. She opened it to find out what the matter was, of course, and Balni had told her that Lena had simply wished to ask her a question. She sighed, watching her breath sail away in the night air. Having been angered by the matter she’d been discussing, she’d shut the door and told them to come back later. Balnirar had responded by driving an axe into her front door. And that’s when things escalated out of control. In a fit of rage, she’d dislodged the axe, whistled for her horse Chompers, and rode to Bree, attacking him with the axehandle the moment she saw him.
In her mind, she replayed it again. The haze of red, the crack of metal on bone as the handle smashed into the dwarf’s head. It was wrong. There was nothing righteous about it, and she could feel her sword seething at her. The thin line of justice had been stepped over, and now there was no going back.
“Shite.” She uttered, letting the word echo out into the darkness. The wind picked up again, tearing a poorly nailed page from the tree next to her and carrying it off into the wind. Her face buried in her hands, tears fell freely, the sound of her sobs lost in the isolation of the hill.
On the cliffside above, a dark-clad figure sat, dangling her legs over the edge and swinging them with a youthful giddiness that belied the seriousness of the worn garb she wore. On her collar, the Star of Arnor flickered in the moonlight. She held her arms out, sighing as the wind blew into her face, blowing back her hood and allowing her dark locks to float free for the briefest of moments. As she reached for her hood to pull it back up, a piece of paper smacked her hand. She closed a fist around it, bringing it in front of her for closer inspection.
“By order of the Mayor of Everslade:
Balnirar of Erebor is wanted by the Office of the Mayor, and is to be fined for the sum of fifty silver pieces for property damage. Until such time as aforementioned fine is paid and a written apology issued to the Mayor and her Town, the felon is to receive no welcome within Everslade by any of its residents. Violators may be subject to additional fines.”
“Oh.” The ranger said to nobody in particular. “Well, that’s pretty shitty.” She glanced around, certain that for the briefest of moments, she had heard someone crying in the night. Yet, no further sound would reach her ears. She hopped to her feet, pocketed the leaflet, and disappeared into the trees.
