Chapter 5 - Alone

"Death becomes you, servant," uttered a deep voice in the dark.

The moon shone brightly that night. Devoid of clouds, the sky was littered with countless pinpoints of starlight. A canopy of treetops pierced that sky from below, a pine forest growing amongst the foothills of a nearby mountain range. Rocks jutted from the earth, making for interesting footing, and many places to hide. Darkness pervaded the area.

It was cold. Winter was near. Bone-piercing chills swept lazily through the air, and in the distance one could make out clouds. Snowfall seemed imminent, soon to cascade down upon the landscape from the mountains.

Looking down from the trees, a clearing formed amongst them. On one of the rocks a human figure lay flat, exposed to the moonlight. It lay spread eagle, both arms outstretched, as though it had recently suffered a fall. However, weapons extended from both hands, longswords carried by this cloaked and armored figure.

Stepping forward from the darkness between trees then was another human figure. The shadows seemed to warp around this one, as though it were made of them. He wore robed garments, a hood cloaking most of his face. Shining through though were a pair of ghostlight eyes, a signature feature of the Forsaken. His breath chilled before him, escaping his lungs to the cruel fate the late-autumn air had in store for it.

"Your recklessness has proven your downfall," it spoke again. The standing man strode forward slowly, carefully choosing his steps amongst the precarious footing of the rocks. He continued, "Your prowess is easily side-stepped by the more cunning."

A howling wind picked up, blowing through the forest, causing the tall pines to sway and creak. The rustling sounds of foliage being moved against its will became a cacophony of whispers, each one trying to voice its complaint louder than the next.

The man continued to step forward while the figure on the rock laid still. Drawing closer, the feminine features of the dormant one became noticeable. A satisfied grin shone on the shadowy man's face, white teeth sparkling in the night.

"A pity," he continued. "I had expected some challenge from one of your notoriety, Champion Luthehza." He voice the girl's title mockingly, as though to provoke the other into action.

But she did not move. She appeared not to be breathing, as her chest did not move and any condensation of her breath was not to be seen.

The man frowned then, punctuated by a narrowing of the eyes and the disappearance of his teeth from view. "Majis brun'ure," he uttered words of dark magic, waving a skeletal arm in Luthehza's direction, the wide opening of the end of the sleeve drooping towards the ground. The shadows of the night weaved themselves around the man's hand, infusing them with power.

Nothing happened but for a loud moaning from the trees in the wind. The girl lay still, save for an errant rustling of her long hair.

The man slumped his shoulders then. He pulled his hood back, exposing a bald scalp and cold, blue-white skin. His face in a perpetual scowl, he walked swiftly to where the girl lay. "Too easy," he muttered, disappointed, as he closed range with the dead girl. "Death becomes you, indeed..." he whispered to himself, testing his footing before choosing his path.

Just then, his gaze temporarily averted, her eyes flashed open, their own yellow ghostlight shining brightly. In a veritable blur of motion, she jumped to her feet and set herself charging full bore to where the man stood. Her purple strands of hair lashed out behind her, and her expression went from one of dead calm to one of seething rage, and in her charge could be heard a noticeable, menacing growl. Swords at the ready, she shot forth.

Reactively, he screamed. Not from the lungs, but with his mind, aiming to strike fear into her. A foolish endeavor, she ignored the psychic attack completely, her inborn Forsaken willpower shirking the assault.

She was upon him within a matter of a second's time, traversing the distance between them with horrible speed and precision, her plated, skeletal feet clattering on the rocky terrain. She bull-rushed him, a plated shoulder slamming into his chest, knocking him to the ground and sending him skidding back roughly along the earth.

His view affixed on the sky now, he could see the moon shining brightly above along with the stars. Before he could bring himself to stand, the moon was abruptly blocked from his view by that of Luth. She was descending upon him, sword held above her, poised to swing in a vicious downward chop.

He laid on his back and called forth the power of his own soul to protect him, thrusting his hand upwards, palm held out towards her and fingers stretched outward. A thin, nigh-visible barrier formed then in front of him.

Luth fell full-force on this barrier, and her blade may as well have been trying to cut into a stone wall. Her body slammed into the shield, a burst of light shooting forth from that which the man had summoned to his aid. Luth turned her momentum to her side then, and lept off the man's body, landing on her feet in a patch of exposed sand, kicking up a small storm of dust.

Before she could regain sufficient balance, however, the man jumped to his feet and raised his arms upward. He called the shadows down upon her, and they answered quickly. A veil of darkness descended then, winding down around her and sinking in before detonating in an explosion of pain. She called out and fell to one knee, placing a hand on the ground for support.

Her opponent breathed heavily then. The powers he had summoned had weakened him visibly. But the fight was not yet done. With her in this weakened state, he called again upon the shadows, this time reaching out towards the kneeling girl's mind. He conjured forth a psychic whirlwind of blades, knives, and daggers, and focused that pain along a shred of darkness aimed for the collapsed warrior. The spell connected, piercing through to her core with sufficient effort.

Luth's armor offered no protection against this power. Only the solidarity of her mind could save her...and that was something she lacked completely. Her inner self, the shrouded one that was buried beneath hatred and torment suffered the blows, and was far too weak to combat it. The whirlwind enveloped upon her, cutting at her flesh. She screamed, crying out for help. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks, though if they were real or merely imagined she could not tell. The blades drew closer, and each implement began cutting away, flaying at her subconscious mind. She was trapped within them in a sea of nothing, and her only feeling was pain.

She tried to ignore it. She gritted her teeth and strained against it, trying to focus on the hate that had fueled her to this point as she was flayed alive in her mind's eye. It did not answer. Her body's muscles began to give way, and she dropped both weapons to the ground. The blades continued their assault, gnawing away at exposed skin, eroding her mind away. The pain was unbearable.

Her cries grew louder. The shadowed man concentrated further on his spell, driving the pain deeper. Each further second of effort resulted in yet more agony. The high-pitched and fevered sound of metal blades scraping against one another was all she could hear.

She could not fight it off. She began to cease her struggle. After a short time, she had no feeling left to give, and numbness slowly conquered both the pain and the incessant cutting and slashing sounds. Again in her dying moments, much as before, she became herself. Luthehza the warrior melted away, leaving Luthehza the frightened and lost girl behind to face whatever peril awaited her.

Her body fell again, this time to both knees. She hunched over her legs, staring at the ground in front of her. Much to her surprise, as the numbness had just begun to encroach, she began to feel the cool wind against her skin, the night air filling her decayed lungs. She beheld her hands, dead flesh draped about bony fingers extended to deadly points.

The man ceased his spell. His glowing eyes betrayed a quizzical expression. Standing there, he was a figure of pure shadow, his eyes the only indication of any presence at all.

She expected at this point, as was the case in the past, for the Banshee Queen to arrive in her thoughts, and infuse her with the willpower necessary to stand again. To recharge her with the Queen's purpose.

She waited. The Queen did not come.

Her eyes darted to the side in thought, away from her hands which had wrought so much hurt. The flaying having ceased, she was again in control.

As the night wore on, clouds had begun to move in, shielding the sky from the peering eyes of those below. The world grew a bit darker.

The other Forsaken seemed to sense this confusion in her at last. He began to stride towards her again, albeit more cautiously, with less confidence than before. He came at an angle, his head turned towards her as he walked perpendicular to her gaze. "The Queen cannot save you this time," he rasped, breathing heavily. "You are alone, Luthehza. Death," he said again, this time with a pause for breath, "becomes you."

The wind slowed a bit then, and quietly droned away until it was gone. No sound could be heard then except for the man's breathing and footsteps. Oblivious to the battle taking place, snowflakes began to fall.

She looked up then, her hair draping over her eyes. She made no hostile movement, but her opponent stopped in his tracks and merely observed her for the time being, another frown shaping his expression.

Luth looked to the sky. As though the stars were seeking refuge from some oppression above, numerous white pinpoints of light shone through the pervasive dark. They glimmered brightly to her eyes, and some shred of reason within her knew they could not be stars but instead the snow, but reason could not trouble her now. Despite the imminent danger, she let closed her eyes and just felt. More overwhelming than any pain she suffered now was just how good the cold felt compared to the white-hot rage to which she was accustomed.

The Forsaken man she had been fighting remained there, obviously confused. His curiosity having the better of him, he just observed. He remained tense however, hoping to be ready to react should any harm threaten him. And he had good reason to believe it would, as the woman's gaze lowered from the sky to him, and her eyes opened.

She spoke, calmly, almost forlornly. "I am alone."

Again, in a flash of movement, this time before her opponent could react, she picked up her swords, stood, and charged forward, hurling one of her blades with all of her might and momentum. Her ghastly thin build belied much of her strength, and the blade flew true, and so quickly that the man could not step out of the way. He had barely enough time to bring his arms forward, but it was too late to utter a spell of protection.

It cut into his chest from the pointed end all the way to the hilt. Hit brutally by the force of the attack, he spun in the air, landing on his back five feet from where he stood. He laid there, immediately dead, blood seeping from the wound into the earth.

There was a pause then, before the howling wind returned. Luth stood there, feeling it. She closed her eyes, the wind blowing her hair into her eyes yet more.

"Luthehza..."

Startled by the intrusion, Luth readied her blade and stood with knees bent, anticipating another attack.

That was not the Queen's voice, she thought. She had never been in control of herself for so long, and the rage that fueled her was not there to support her. She felt weary, and her breathing grew more labored by the minute.

The windy air grew colder then. Icy chills swarmed her, cutting to her bones. The wind maligned the weather, and the snowflakes seemed to become minuscule weapons, an entire army of tiny throwing stars. The peacefulness of the night gone completely, Luth sensed another presence. Her gaze darted about, but her perceptions were dulled by exhaustion.

Her eyes caught on then, another pair of ghostlight eyes in the darkness nearby. She fought to retain her stance, one she knew from instinct after years of combat and swordsmanship. She wondered for but a moment where she had attained these skills in the first place, but shook such thoughts away quickly. Perhaps there would be time to muse later.

The eyes seemed to move closer, indicating a figure stepping forward. The voice came again, from the figure's direction. A feminine voice, sounding much like her own, spoke, "I mean you no harm on this night. You may rest." The tone in the words struck her as strange, it seemed whimsical, and as the second sentence finished an inflection was placed on the last word such that it almost sounded like a question.

Luth frowned, exhaustion slowly transforming into an overwhelming drowsiness. She returned, "I...do not...know, or trust...you," she said, empty of any confidence or forcefulness. She was losing control, but fighting for every bit of it. "Who..." she began, but it was just too much. Luthehza collapsed, her sword clattering on a nearby rock.

The other Forsaken woman stepped into what little light there was then, and the cold air wrapped around her much as shadows swayed to the beck and call of the slain man nearby. Where Luth's breath became visible through condensation in front of her, this woman's very presence seemed to bring an icy sheen to everything nearby.

Her hair was a pale blue, and her skin shone of a death far more cold than any Forsaken Luth had ever previously seen, stark white and hued with blue. Her garments were white and blue as well, she wore a long robe that covered her from shoulders to feet, but was otherwise unclothed, her forearms and everything from neck up exposed to the harsh cold that was coming from the mountains.

Luth laid there, still breathing, but nearly unconscious, out of strength.

"My name is Hazel," said the other. "I have been observing you for a very long time. I am your ally, though against what you are probably unaware." Her voice continued its rampant and seemingly random inflections, emphases placed on odd syllables and words, making her difficult to understand. She continued in her dissonant sing-song voice, "For now, rest. Regain your strength. An explanation shall commence when you are able to comprehend what I have to say."

Luth lost consciousness then as her eyes closed, and the world grew quiet, fading beyond her reach.

* * * * *

Within the depths of the Undercity, Irgov shambled through the endless tunnels, the sounds of the unsleeping metropolis echoing noisily past him. The tunnels grew darker as he traveled farther from the city proper. Beyond one bend he came upon a figure standing alert, the latter's stature indicating awareness of Irgov's presence. The figure's eyes shone through a cowl which shrouded any facial features.

"Speak quickly, Mathe," Irgov said tersely, his vacuous cheeks whistling away.

Mathe pulled back his cowl, a stern and serious look on his face fading into a victorious smile. The more upright Forsaken inhaled sharply before speaking.

"We have her."