She was in darkness now.
She could not feel herself.
Herself?
Who?
She…They had blended together until she no longer knew where she began and they ended. They were one….her memories…their memories.
They remembered being astride Faza, mightiest of the Warg chieftains, sending their slavering armies down into the forges of Gwaith-i-Mirdain to break the brittle will of the firstborn ringsmith, the howls of their talismans a sweet symphony of death, of subjugation.
They remembered the deck wet with blood as they held up the head of the arrogant captain by his long blond hair, his crew and their passengers butchered like dogs across the sloping deck...another trophy claimed for the sons of Castamir as they threw their head back and howled like the rabid dog they were.
They remembered hanging quietly in the twilight shadows for the torches to walk below and beyond them, then plunging upon their prey like a horrid wind, their wings like scythes, feasting on blood and flesh until all that moved were the carrion they had summoned to the festivity.
They remembered walking briskly through the town, playing their flute and singing nonsense verse as the children flocked after the clown. They remembered cutting a merry caper as they patted the head of each darling moppet…then stacking the heads at the edge of town for their parents to find, their broken spirits and hopeless tears shattering the very clouds above.
They remembered standing on the ridge in the rain, watching the foolish runaways die by blade and beast, watching the she-elf scream as the ballista struck and pushed her down into endless darkness, feeling her lifebeat slow, then fade, then die. They felt the sense of accomplishment as vengeance fell on those who would defy the Slavers of Angmar.
They remembered the look on Arion’s face, so trusting, so content as she looked out at the sunset over the Linhir Coast they had pointed out…”We’ll be friends forever” they had murmured, and then the soft, warm feeling as they slid the blade over the girl’s throat. Feeling Arion’s heart flutter like a bird….then grow still.
No..those were NOT HER memories, they were THEIR memories…or were they? Did it matter any longer?
She was in darkness now…it caressed her, fondled her, dragged her deeper and deeper away from the light. She felt them walking beneath the town, to the Port of Souls, to the Victory of Shadow, to the Tide of Blood.
Soon there would be no more her at all, just they. Their triumph.
Just theirs.
They.
Wait.
Her.
She could feel her.
Nethrida. The ties of blood, strained but there…she could feel her.
Her.
She forced herself up from the darkness, feeling it like the weight of death itself, feeling it dragging her back, dragging them back....resisting, resisting, and SCREAMING. Screaming loud and long. SCREAMING FOR HER SISTER!!!!!
Then silence.
But was she too late?
She?
Too late.
They were in darkness now…
In triumph.
