Vengeance in the north
part 3
After what seemed to have been an age she had finally arrived to her destination, the harsh cold in these mountains would keep her hidden from the world. Her cousins’ attempts to stop her had been futile and for every battle on her way deep into the north she had felt the shadows grow and she had triumphed. Now she resided in the closest thing she would call home. The old fortress had been rebuilt a couple of years back and its tall dark keep and high walls had been reinforced. Of course, no siege equipment could be brought to her gates but she wanted to be certain that nothing could break through. The three towers rising like torched pines into the sky was part of the original citadel and now her banners swayed in the wind. The elite guard that had accompanied her where ever present, where ever she went she would have at least two of them close. The days had turned to months and she had felt something stirring inside of her, something was clawing into her energies. She sat down on the golden throne in the hall, the fire raging before her and there, on the skin of a white bear, laid her son. Her beautiful son, spawned with vengeance and destined for a glorious fate. She reached down and caressed his forehead.
“Love…” she said with a snarl. “What a treacherous feeling, they say I love you my son, that I have grown ever so gentle and kind.”
She laughed and leant back, resting against the soft cushions and furs. Holding out her hand to her right a young serving girl gave her a glass of wine and as she raised it towards her lips and was about to take a sip when she saw it. There in the dancing flames it was, she lowered her glass and looked straight at the grinning face in the flames. Her son moaned slightly as he turned onto his back, still asleep, she could see the lips of the gaunt like face move, speaking to her:
“I’ve been sent for you, little raven, to take back what you have stolen. I’ve been sent to find you…”
The voice was thin and raspy and as she stood up the shape of a gnarled clawed hand reached out towards her son from the fire. She acted, making a gesture with her left hand and speaking the ancient words of shadow; she cursed and banished the being. Both the fire and the candles in the hall roared in anger, the red and golden light turning blue and the warmth from the hearth turned cold. The being in the flames resisted her, she felt the anger in her heart and calling upon the deepest of shadow she spoke once more, the fire hissed and the being let out an unearthly scream. Then silence, she looked down at her son and knelt beside him.
“Still sleeping…” she said softly, looking up at the fireplace no trace could be seen of the being that had come to haunt her ever since she first saw it all those days ago. The fire now red and the warmth from it caressed her body, she sighed.
“You’ll become strong my son, like the warlords of old you shall strike at the southern lands and with my guidance, bring nothing but despair to those who stand against us.”
She rose to her feet, sitting down again onto the golden throne. The night passed slowly and as the suns bleak rays struck the black towers she reached down and woke her son, taking him into her arms she called for the servants to bring her the morning meal. Here in the cold north should she plan her vengeance, here she would harness her strength and soon, soon she would send word south and bring life into the sleeping shadows, having them prepare for what she had in mind. Prepare for the rise of darknes.
part 3
After what seemed to have been an age she had finally arrived to her destination, the harsh cold in these mountains would keep her hidden from the world. Her cousins’ attempts to stop her had been futile and for every battle on her way deep into the north she had felt the shadows grow and she had triumphed. Now she resided in the closest thing she would call home. The old fortress had been rebuilt a couple of years back and its tall dark keep and high walls had been reinforced. Of course, no siege equipment could be brought to her gates but she wanted to be certain that nothing could break through. The three towers rising like torched pines into the sky was part of the original citadel and now her banners swayed in the wind. The elite guard that had accompanied her where ever present, where ever she went she would have at least two of them close. The days had turned to months and she had felt something stirring inside of her, something was clawing into her energies. She sat down on the golden throne in the hall, the fire raging before her and there, on the skin of a white bear, laid her son. Her beautiful son, spawned with vengeance and destined for a glorious fate. She reached down and caressed his forehead.
“Love…” she said with a snarl. “What a treacherous feeling, they say I love you my son, that I have grown ever so gentle and kind.”
She laughed and leant back, resting against the soft cushions and furs. Holding out her hand to her right a young serving girl gave her a glass of wine and as she raised it towards her lips and was about to take a sip when she saw it. There in the dancing flames it was, she lowered her glass and looked straight at the grinning face in the flames. Her son moaned slightly as he turned onto his back, still asleep, she could see the lips of the gaunt like face move, speaking to her:
“I’ve been sent for you, little raven, to take back what you have stolen. I’ve been sent to find you…”
The voice was thin and raspy and as she stood up the shape of a gnarled clawed hand reached out towards her son from the fire. She acted, making a gesture with her left hand and speaking the ancient words of shadow; she cursed and banished the being. Both the fire and the candles in the hall roared in anger, the red and golden light turning blue and the warmth from the hearth turned cold. The being in the flames resisted her, she felt the anger in her heart and calling upon the deepest of shadow she spoke once more, the fire hissed and the being let out an unearthly scream. Then silence, she looked down at her son and knelt beside him.
“Still sleeping…” she said softly, looking up at the fireplace no trace could be seen of the being that had come to haunt her ever since she first saw it all those days ago. The fire now red and the warmth from it caressed her body, she sighed.
“You’ll become strong my son, like the warlords of old you shall strike at the southern lands and with my guidance, bring nothing but despair to those who stand against us.”
She rose to her feet, sitting down again onto the golden throne. The night passed slowly and as the suns bleak rays struck the black towers she reached down and woke her son, taking him into her arms she called for the servants to bring her the morning meal. Here in the cold north should she plan her vengeance, here she would harness her strength and soon, soon she would send word south and bring life into the sleeping shadows, having them prepare for what she had in mind. Prepare for the rise of darknes.
