Heart of Ice (Closed for DarkWarrioress)

“There is a lesson to be learned here.” Prince Taldar said as a fact, using the sleeve of his robe to wipe the blood off the dagger in his hand. The other Va'neshi men in front of him nodded in understanding. Like their Prince, they too were dressed in thick robes, with layers of dark leather armouring their torso's and forearms, weapons holstered at their hips. Even the one lying dead on the crimson carpet wore the same uniform and bore the insignia of Taldar's personal retinue. “The next man to talk of mutiny will have his face skinned before having his throat slashed. Spread the word.” the young Prince finished. Some of the other high-born in Va'nesh might turn their back to signal a meeting adjourned, but not Taldar for he knew that no true Va'neshi would present such an opportunity to their own backstabbing (literally) kind. Instead he dismissed them with a simple flick of his knife.

The men wasted no time in leaving the confines of the tent, making sure to drag the dead soldier with them. For the split second that they opened the tents canvas flap to exit, a harsh breeze blew in as well as the sound of howling wind. Taldar sighed with comfort, glad to be inside the moderate warmth of his tent rather than be with the rest of the others outside. Taldar and his men were based at an outpost not too far from the pine-forests of Va'nesh, a punishment set to him by his father due to recent shenanigans. Taldar had become blinding drunk at a recent family gathering, threatening one of his many older brothers with a bread knife. Not that he regretted it.

He contemplated his dire duty as he sat himself down at the command table, catching his own miserable grimace in the reflection of a small mirror that had been pillaged from another lands high born some years ago. Taldar was a young man in his mid-twenties, the youngest son of the King of Va'nesh. Like the rest of his people his skin was pale like alabaster, with long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, the colour of midnight black. His face was sleek and treacherous as the dagger he still held in his hand, which he was now using to slice an apple. Taldar cut through the fruit with expert hands, using the keen edge of the blade to methodically dissect the delicacy into tiny pieces. He was about to have his first taste when his tent flap opened, causing cold air and chilly air to invade. Taldar snarled, turning in his chair ready to rebuke whoever had disturbed him, until he realised it was one of his chief scouts.

“I apologise for the intrusion dread lord, but I bring news of movement in the forest.” the warrior said in a whispered voice that was trademarked by the Va'nesh scouts. “And I don't suppose you'll be telling me this if it was just a bear or frost-troll.” Taldar grinned, to which the scout, humourless as they were did not. “Elves my lord, with royalty. We have been tracking them since sunrise.” the scout said, taking a step back as Taldar suddenly stood up and began to attached his sword scabbard around his waste. “Should I send for reinforcements- “

“No you fool!” The young Prince spat as he finally attached the scabbard to his waist. “Do not let the other outposts hear of this, I need this glory if we are ever to see ourselves back in mountain-city.” he said, tightening the laces of his fur trimmed boots as he prepared to venture out into the snow. “Just get what warriors you can from here and lead the way back to your scouts. Then we will spill elven blood.” he finished with a devilish grin, eager at the prospect of murder.

They rode in two columns, one on each side of the Lady’s coach, except for one lone rider at the top of the procession. Riding forward guard, as was her wont, was Shyael Windstar, personal guard to the Lady Keishara Moonglade of Qu’sar, Land of Two Suns, to the west. Lady Moonglade was the Queen’s mother and acting emissary for the kingdom. They were traveling to Ba’rok, to the east and there was no other way then to pass through northern territory. Shyael didn’t like it. She opposed the idea in Council. The Council, polite as they were, for all Elves were polite, made Shyael’s teeth grind. No matter what she pointed out, they always had a counterpoint and before she did something rude, she took her leave.

There simply was no other way, they had to pass through the southern end of Va’nesh territory. If they went quietly enough, disturbing as little as possible, surely they could pass unnoticed with no incidents to speak of. Once again, Shyael pointed out the rudeness of not getting permission to simply cross the lands to get to the east and to Ba’rok.

The Council pointed out that the Va’neshi weren’t exactly known for their hospitality. They would rather slit your throat and confiscate your gold, striping a body of anything of worth, rather than be hospitable. Aside from that fact, the Council was certain that if they had sent a messenger with a request for safe passage through the forests of Va’nesh, he wouldn’t be returning so why waste a warm body for politeness sake?

She gave up. She simply gave up and followed the orders of the Council. Did she truly have any other choice to begin with? So, here she was, riding with 20 riders and the Queen’s own mother. They had ridden out from Qu’sar just before the dawn wrapped in thick warm furs, that had been hard to come by and had cost a small fortune to purchase. The people of Qu’sar lived in a land where the two suns always shone, the weather was warm, and consequently, their skin bore a soft golden hue. They had little use for furs.

One of the riders rode up beside Shyael. The woman turned her head, her brow peaked questioningly. She rode with her sword strapped to her back along with a quiver full of deadly arrows. Her bow, was lying across her lap, pressed to the pommel of her horse.

“What is it Anthranion?” Shyael kept her voice low as they rode through the trees.

“Lady Moonglade requests your presence.”

“Very well. Send Balthain up here to lead and inform her Ladyship I will join her shortly.”

Young Anthranion rode back to the end of the line and spoke briefly with an older Elf. Balthain joined Shyael, pulling his horse alongside her own. Shyael inclined her head in thanks before peeling from rank and sent her horse back toward the Lady’s coach. Snow flew from under its hooves as she made a sharp turn in the snow, bringing her horse along side.

“Milady? You wished to speak to me?” The thick brocade curtains parted.

“How much longer, Shyael?”

“I’d say another day’s ride before we have safely crossed Va’neshi territory and we can breathe easier.”

The Va'neshi were known for their unnatural skills in hunting, and they applied their trade to great effect as they stalked the elven intruders. It had taken Taldar a little over an hours march in the falling snow before coming to the pine-forests and making contact with the scouts. Crouching beneath the thick canopy of towering snow covered tree's, the scouts had briefed the young Va'neshi prince on the elves movement, numbers and of the royalty they were protecting. The Prince could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of capturing high born elves, knowing the great deal of respect it could earn him. But he also knew they would have to play the game of cat and mouse carefully for the elves were not ones to be taken half-heartedly in a fight, especially since their was twelve of the Va'nesh including himself. Only the most cunning plan would make the hunt successful.

As luck would have it, Prince Taldar had been schooled by the cruellest tutors of Va'nesh in their own personal ways of war and tactics so it wasn't long before a plan came along. Using the scouts advice, Taldar estimated the path that the elves had been following and what direction they would continue heading in. After some quick tactical planning and preparation of weapons, the small war band moved further away from the elves whilst leaving two scouts behind to continue tracking them. The plan was that Taldar and his group would prepare an ambush along the path that the Elves were taking. Time and location would play an important role in the hunt, since Taldar relied on the day turning to night by the time they intercepted the elves at the ambush point. As the elves would come come near, the two scouts would regroup with the main war band to prepare the attack.

Prince Taldar thought about his plans whilst crouched against a tree hours later. The sky was turning dark above the lands of Va'nesh like an ugly bruise, making the snow covered ground seem a high contrast white compared to the chilly night. He looked across at his warriors who were nothing more than devious shadows as they crouched and lay against the dark bark of surrounding trees, armed with crossbows loaded with evil-barbed arrows. Taldar had his own one handed crossbow resting against his lap whilst carving random runes into the snow with his sword. It was the length of his arm with a slight curve, made of the darkest iron that matched his own black soul.

“Dreadlord?”

The voice made him jump, snapping him out of his thoughts as he turned to face one of the scouts barely a foot away from him. Taldar snarled at the man for sneaking up on him and was about to rebuke him until he realised it was one of the scouts tasked with tracking the elves.

“Report.” He said to the scout, trying to shake off any notion that the scout had spooked him. Such an expression in Va'nesh showed great weakness. “They come my lord.” the scout bowed. Taldar clicked his fingers and the sounds of drawstrings being pulled on crossbows filled his ears just as much as the whistling wind. As an afterthought, he grinned and ran his tongue over his top lip in a snake like motion before giving the last order to his men.

“Take the females alive.”

Riding at the front again, Shyael looked thoughtfully up at the sky. It would be nightfall soon. They sky was already changing from blue to a darker blue-black and would turn completely black as the deepest part of the night settled in. She wanted to be camped by the time that happened. So far they had been lucky, no signs of the Va’neshi. She really didn’t want to run into any either. Tomorrow by sundown they would make the border and Shyael could breath easier.

She wheeled out, speaking quietly to the men riding in the right column. She did the same thing on the left side. They had reached an area crowded with trees and Shyael grew nervous. Her horse grew nervous. She wanted out of the trees and into a little clearing if she could find one. Too many trees meant too much cover for an ambush. She kept them moving a while longer. Then up ahead she saw it, a small clearing with the trees well laid back. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do in a pinch. She sent a scout on ahead to investigate. In the meantime, she wheeled back around to the coach, her horse's hooves making a crunching sound in the snow. As the day gave way to the night, the air was getting colder. Making a fire was risky and one she wasn’t sure she wanted to gamble on.

“Milady?” The sound of Shyael’s voice was low.

“Yes, Shyael?”

“We’ll be making camp soon, Milady. It’ll be just a little while longer.”

Without waiting for a reply, Shyael moved her horse up the line slowly, her eyes peering into the copse of trees. Something didn’t feel right. She adjusted her bow that was riding across her knees, to make it more accessible.

“Shhhhhhh.” Prince Taldar cooed to the elven scout pinned beneath his weight whilst the other Va'nesh witnessed the scene behind cover. Keeping his hand over the wide-eyed scouts mouth, his other held the serrated blade of his sword against the frail elven throat. “You're a long way from home elf-ling.” he grinned sickly, putting enough pressure on the blade to draw blood from the scouts neck. “And I'm afraid the toll for crossing my land is paid with blood.” he finished before slicing his captives throat with one swift stroke of the sword, steam rising from the wound as blood met cold air.

How insulting he thought whilst rolling the limp body beneath a thick fallen pine-log. For anyone to think they can scout these lands as skilful as my people. With the body hidden out of sight Taldar returned to his position behind one of the tree's, tall enough to blot out the full moon above. Just in time too, for he heard the sound of voices and the unmistakable crunch of snow beneath horse hooves. The Prince looked at his group of well hidden soldiers and scouts, who nodded at each passing glance of his merciless gaze.

Silhouettes soon appeared within the fog and it wasn't long before Taldar could finally make out the Elves. They were getting close enough that he could make out their sex, weapons and the coach that they guarded. How kind of them to put my prize in a gift box he thought to himself, his dark leather blending in with the dark tree trunks that he hid behind. They came ever closer, looking weary as they entered the clearing. The columns passed by, some of them close enough that if they were aware of their stalkers, could reach out and touch them. It was now or never.

Taldar was the first to fire his crossbow, the one handed weapon making a sharp ping as the draw string launched one of the barbed tipped arrows. His aim was true, striking one of the lead horse riders in the throat and knocking him off his steed.

“Voi'shet ish Va'nesh!” the Prince signalled with a war cry, raising his sword and dropping his crossbow to the floor. Hearing his signal, the other Va'neshi fired their crossbows, attacking both sides of the elven convoy and dropping both horses and soldiers alike. With their volley of crossbow bolts finished, the Van'neshi warriors drew their swords and leapt into the fray of surprised elves with brutal shrieks and curses.

And hell hit the fan.

There was mass confusion at first as her men started to fall from their saddles from arrows. She counted on Balthain to take charge of the riders. Her responsibility was Her ladyship. Controlling her horse with her knees, she snapped the bow up, pulling an arrow from over her shoulder and shot. She kept shooting all the way back to the coach.

“Milady! Get down on the floor and stay there until I say otherwise.”

The instructions were terse and sharp. There was a grunt as she kicked one of the humans in the chest, knocking him down. He never got back up as her arrow was sticking out of his throat.

“Mereth en draugrim*,” she muttered at the corpse, turning her head as she wheeled the horse around to spy Balthain’s horse going down.

“BALTHAIN!”

She sent her horse charging at the man who held a knife to her second in command’s throat. However her interference came too late as the wicked looking blade slid across his throat, glinting off the moonlight as it did so. The horse’s hoof clipped the man’s forehead as Shyael brought the horse up on its hind legs. The man and horse dropped simultaneously. Dropping her bow in the snow, she pulled her blade from it’s sheath as she rolled the man over with her foot. She contemplated his slack form. Dead or unconscious.

Rule One of Warfare: Kill your opponent or he’ll kill you.

She would have followed that rule if she hadn’t been concerned with Balthain. Resheathing her sword, she knelt in the snow, whipping off her warm fur cloak, draping it over the older elf and pulling it up to his chin as she put his head in her lap.

“Balthain?”

He never answered. He gurgled as blood gushed from his mouth. Then his neck went slack, his head lolled to one side, his blood stained her lap from the wound across his throat and stained the pristine snow at her side. She stayed like that for what seemed an eternity before a blood curdling scream made her blood run cold. Her Ladyship. Gently laying Balthain’s head in the snow and jumping to her feet, she took off running for the coach, snagging up her bow as she went. Reaching back a hand, she drew an arrow forth, notching it as she got closer to the now silent coach.


* "Feast of wolves."

The plan went gloriously well as the Va'neshi warriors leapt into battle like jackals. Lightly armoured and outnumbered, they had made up for their disadvantage with the element of surprise and ruthless aggression. There was no honour in the way that the Va'neshi fought as they weaved in and out of their preys guard, cutting limbs and spring up behind their opponents backs to plant their weapons in delicate elven flesh.

Taldar took in deep breathes of cold air, the oxygen stabbing into his lungs like icicles that sent him into a state of hyper awareness. Like a shadow, he leapt from elf to elf bringing swift crippling strokes of his sword to legs and arms. From the corner of his eye he witnessed one of his warriors go down from a horses kick, leaving him sprawled in the snow. Taldar pushed through the swirling melee, heading over to the unconscious warrior and kicking him in the ribs with a heavy boot.

“Get up you fool, get up and fight!” he shouted. The warrior just lolled his head in a daze, causing Taldar to kick him spitefully in the throat with frustration. Turning on his heel, Taldar saw a clear opening within the fight towards the coach. The prince licked his lips and signalled for two of his warriors to follow him. They finished slitting the throats of their wounded opponents, leaving the blood to freeze into glassy pools upon the snow before regrouping with their master. They sprinted across the snow as the other Va'neshi warriors held back the remaining elven defenders, who were fighting even more valiantly now that their carriage was under attack.

Before one of his men opened the carriages door, Taldar grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “Keep her alive. But don't be too gentle.” he said firmly to his warrior. Any other orders that Taldar was about go give were lost, as his second soldier smacked into the side of the carriage, pinned by an arrow. Taldar turned to face the new challenger, his face turning into an amused smile as he ran his thumb playfully around the hilt of his black-iron blade.

“My lady.” he bowed mockingly. “Perhaps if you were to drop your weapons now, I could let you live to serve me. A small price to pay for your survival.” he grinned, bringing his sword to his mouth and running the tip of his tongue along the edge of the blade, drawing a slither of blood.

She was already notching another arrow as her bow turned toward the man standing in the snow, his eyes glittering with dark enjoyment as he brought his sword to his mouth, licking the blood of her Elven warriors from it. Her eyes narrowed dangerously but her aim remained steady, even as he spoke, giving a little mocking bow.

“My lady.”…. “Perhaps if you were to drop your weapons now, I could let you live to serve me. A small price to pay for your survival.”

“Antolle ulua sulrim,*” Low and husky, sounding like honey stroked with smoke, there was no denying the deadly intent of her voice as she laid insult to the mocking arrogance of the man standing before her.

Her fingers twitched on the bow’s string. Suddenly realizing that he may not understand the language of her people, she switched to the guttural language of his own, the sound of which was harsh to her ears.

“If you drop your weapon,” she retorted, “I may just let you live, serving out your days in a cell. Such a small price to pay for your continued survival.” She mocked his words, throwing them back at him.

The air around them was tainted with blood. Its scent was strong in her nostrils, enough to make them flare slightly. Her eyes were like small emeralds glittering in the growing moonlight, daring him to make even a small move. The desire in her flared for him to do so. She had lost too many this night and she felt the need to take a life in return. Whom better than his?

Her loosened braid hid the small points of her delicate ears. Tendrils of her red hair had escaped in the ensuing fight, curling to lie against her forehead and neck. Resting against smooth golden toned skin, it was not an unpleasant sight but one he would hardly appreciate, given their circumstances.


* "Much wind pours from your mouth."