Bird on a Wire - Part 1
Bird on a Wire - Part 2
A deep mist had rolled into the Beggar’s Alley, obscuring the very stones in a heavy, oily cloak. Hastily lit lanterns seemed to slowly wander in and out through the haze, throwing strange shadows as the cries of fell beasts and brutal adversaries drifted through the smoky air. Sometimes a word would seem to form, but then would fade before it could be understood. Somewhere a clock struck midday, though the sky was black as perdition itself.
A man’s laugh echoed harshly through the alley, crowded with indistinct forms, the accent not of Breeland but impossible to place otherwise. “After all...an injured bird cannot fly far…” The voice seemed to flow out of the haze itself, everywhere and nowhere. The sound of metallic footfalls echoed as the street emptied in panic or anticipation. An excitement seemed to rise in the air, a keening for blood, a lust for vengence.
Walking slowly through the haze was a woman, in armor of elvish make, brass and supple leather hanging about her frame as if unfamiliar to her, her face obscured by the endless haze. Her boots were large on her as their steps echoed, almost comically so…but as she walked they seemed to fit her better.
With a sudden cry, a bird plummeted from the dark sky, a bird of prey by its silhouette yet as it fell it was clear it was a seagull, its resplendent white plumage blackened by the smoke of the alley…the woman reached out a gauntleted hand and caught the bird in her left hand. A sword was suddenly held unsteadily in her right, still gleaming with the wax of long storage.
The walls of the alley seemed to grow taller, darker as voices were raised in anger…so familiar yet so different. And then the sword was held out as the angry voice echoed “'He has t'stay away from Hawk”, the blade gleaming red in the torches, thrust forward again, and again, again…red staining the dirty cobblestones as the dripping blood seemed to scream and swirled into a map…a road traveling west until the blood pooled into the shape of a slaver ship at dock, before bursting into flame.
The woman sobbed “I'm sorry…I'M SORRY...SO SORRY…”, but then as she was distracted by her horror the seagull flew from her hand. The smoke engulfed them both, the bird darting through the air as it transformed into a Crebain, racing through the smoke over a verdant tree line as arrows whizzed after it, the darts missing the bird, slaying instead a dark haired figure as it stood like a scarecrow amongst the trees.
The bird finally lit upon the edge of a burning stone bridge as the woman in the elvish armor stepped into the flames bravely, enemies withdrawing before her, yet a foe rose behind her, a one-eyed dwarf with the badges of the Dourhand, the sigil of Angmar scarred into his cheek, a slaver’s dog. He raised his axe behind the woman in brass, who spun, her sword held across her chest, but the dwarf brought the axe over its head and downward, avoiding her guard and cutting deep through the woman’s armor and collarbone, black blood pouring from her mouth as she fell to her knees, pitching off the bridge into the angry water below.
The Crebain screamed in rage and seemed to start to fly after the dead woman, yet it faltered as if ill and was caught in midflight by a serpent leaping from the far shore, crushed between its jaws as the stench of burning flesh filled the air, the smoke thickening as a soft male voice echoed over and over in Sindarin “'Right...until the appointed time.”
Xanderian opened her eyes abruptly, the dream seeming more real than the darkened room around her for a moment. Staring at the stucco ceiling of her chambers at the Pony, she whispered a single word, “Audea”. She rose silently so as not to disturb those who still slumbered in the bedding behind her and shed her nightclothes.
Without making a sound, the elleth girded herself in her war armor and slipped both Lovelorn and her mother’s dagger under her belt. She took up two full quivers in one hand, the other holding Heartbreaker. She glanced back at the two slender forms as they continued to sleep, whispering a few words for them to hear when they woke, and stepped out into the night to see what the Songstress had done.
