the tale of urnyras jael, part XI: daughter of the bannerlord.

The first week has gone very slow and very painful for the new initiates: an instant overload of studying, lecturing, practising (mainly Ùrda, and it was very tiring and time consuming) and not-so-heartening insults of Fauran were simply too much to handle. Dheinach, or Urnyras Jael, as she was constantly and consistently referred to; realized how skilled Fauran was in Ùrda and dagger fighting. Him being skilled in many ways was not something new, but she just thought he was meant to be a skillful blacksmith - nothing else.
"Master," Urnyras Jael said one day, during a blademastery practice. "I do not understand. You have said we need time for meditating, but it has been over a week and we have never had the chance to be able to meditate!"
"You did," Fauran shrugged. "The times you are given to rest and to sleep also includes your time to meditate."
"But," said Shevach. "But it is only a couple of hours, and we hardly ever can rest our bodies! How can we meditate in such short time?"
"That is the trick, young one," said Fauran. "You have to learn how to fit many worlds into mere minutes, if you are to be one of us."
Shevach slowly nodded.

"The practice is now over," said Fauran. "I want you to gather at the main entrance to the Meditation Halls in fifteen minutes. There is a new occasion. A new arrival, more specifically."

"New initiate?" asked Urnyras Jael impatiently.

"Oh, maybe," winked Fauran. "Now go and change your clothes. We will be proceeding with the meditation lessons for the rest of the day."

...

Urnyras Jael was the first one to dress up and arrive at the Meditation Halls. The corridor leading towards the Halls was rather dark - there were some hung torches on the walls, but they were remarkably insufficient.

As she approached towards the huge, brown doors of the Halls, she saw Fauran with a young, hooded child. He was holding her shoulder, and both were constituting a rather disturbing, threatening image. A dark red corridor with weak torches, dark columns, a barely visible door and a man, holding the shoulder of a hooded, young female - presumably a fylla too.

Both were looking towards Urnyras Jael, as she approached. Shevach and Gea, shortly before she made it in front of them, ran and reached Urnyras. They stopped at a distance, peering at Fauran and the girl. They were doing the same. There was an awkward, brief duration where they just stared at each other. Urnyras Jael felt that it lasted more than an hour.

Fauran took a breath, than exhaled with a neutral sigh.

"Come in, all of you," he said calmly. "Let me introduce you your friend and colleague."

They entered the Halls, as Fauran slowly pushed the (apparently) heavy, brown-red doors. The halls were not any lighter or darker than the corridor. There were columns, torches on the columns and a weak, insufficient firelight that could barely light around itself.

There was a soothing, fresh yet heavy smell inside. They could see the smoke coming up from somewhere over at the other side of the Halls, but the floor was too dark to see the source of the smoke. Urnyras Jael started to feel relaxed and less tense as she inhaled more. She smiled. Then she wondered why she were smiling. She forgot the question shortly after, and she smiled again to that eventually.

She noticed Shevach and Gea were not any different, but Fauran and the girl looked rather sober. She felt a little dizzy, almost fell on the ground but kept her balance the very last second.

"Sit," commanded Fauran. He showed the comfortable-looking pillows around a small shrine, ornamented with candles and the lovely scent of incense, mixing with the other scent; making the Halls filled with freshness - just like a lush, endless, pine forest; under heavy snow. Fresh, white and free. Pure, wild and natural. Undisturbed.

The girls sat, peering at the hooded girl. Since they were sitting on the pillows on the ground, her hooded face was a little bit more visible. Urnyras Jael could see her red eyes, reflecting the closest torch light. It was like a cat's-eye, glowing. It was a chilly moment. Urnyras Jael realized she actually was a bit scared, but then came another realization - that her first realization took very long. She enjoyed it and started to smile again, eventually turning into a laughter she could barely prevent. She was feeling a bit dizzy, too.

...

"Meet your new friend, my young apprentices," said Fauran, gesturing at the girl. "She is from N'ya, just like you. She had to travel some weeks later than you did, because her father did not want anyone to notice."

"Why not?" asked Gea, rather dreamily.

"For reputation," he said. "Her father is the Bannerlord of N'ya, Krischnokh Ilinarth. I want you to welcome Eoria Ilinarth, your newest colleague and friend, my newest apprentice. The last member of this group."

The name "Eoria" echoed in Urnyras Jael's brain. She has never heard of this name - she even barely has heard of the Bannerlord of N'ya. She smiled. She liked the way it sounded, though. Eoria. Such a nice name, she thought.

"She is here on a secret request," he spoke. "Officially, she has left for Anuìn Barracks, for blademastery training. Krischnokh does not want anyone to know. You will not have anyone to tell this secret anyway, but even after your training is over, you will keep this secret."

Three girls nodded.

"Now, meet each other, you have an hour," said Fauran, starting to walk outside the room. "Then we will start our meditative training."

He left, slamming the doors behind him.

...

"Nice name, Eoria," said Urnyras Jael.

"Thank you," she said, still hooded. Her voice was monotone.

"Well, this place is very tiring, you know," said Shevach, itching her ear. "And I don't know what Fauran made us inhale again. You look sober though. Why are you still hooded?"

"I prefer it better this way," she said, just as cold.

"Come on, we are going to spend many years here together," Gea said. "You being cold and silent won't help you!"

"And?" Eoria said, turning at Gea.

Gea didn't reply.

Urnyras Jael observed the girl, without saying anything. She could sense a little insecurity in this girl, yet she could figure out Eoria was full of resolve and had a strong will. Eventually, still hooded, she sat on one of the pillows too. She did not speak.

...

An hour passed, with almost no talking. Sometimes Shevach and Gea whispered at each other, then looking on the ground, ocassionally smiling. Eoria was observing the three in silence.

Fauran came back, in his meditation robes. He walked slowly and lightly towards the apprentices. He sat on another pillow, peering at them.

"If you are ready," he said, "Let us begin."

Apprentices adjusted their positions and sat accordingly to the meditation techniques - folded legs, hangs on lap, eyes closed. Muscles comfortable.

"Clear your minds," he said slowly. "Now, Eoria, do as your friends do."

Eoria tried to imitate the sitting position, somehow succeeded. She closed her eyes, slowly unhooding herself.

"Clear any thought, good, bad, doesn't matter," Fauran said. "The most appropriate state of mind for relaxing is numbness and blankness. Let your eyes dive into darkness, let your mind flow into it. Let it all go, young ones. Let it all fade away."

As he spoke, Urnyras Jael realized that Fauran was somehow controlling her senses. She felt blank, she couldn't think of anything specific - many different ideas and thoughts were flowing, yet too fast to focus on. Eventually, not being able to focus one specific thing made her mind blank. She was floating within the dark caves of her mind. She felt cold.

It was darker than black.

...

"Welcome," said Fauran's voice. "To your subconscious."

She slowly opened her eyes. It was windy.

"Syera?" he peered down from the hill they were sitting atop.

Urnyras Jael did not move. She slowly nodded, her eyes fixated on the city's beautiful image under the sunset.

"Why?" Fauran asked.

"I don't know," she shook her head. Her eyes slowly shifted towards the Tower.

"It is a beautiful sight," Fauran said. "I have never been there recently. Once, when I was younger. That's all."

"It still is beautiful," she said. She smiled, but not because of happiness - it was, ironically, expressing a tragedy. "At least, I hope it still is."

"Do you miss me?" said a girl's voice.

"I did," she said. She had no idea why she said that, she wasn't even-

"You could've saved me, slight chance," she said. "You never tried."

"I couldn't. Go away," Urnyras Jael said. It felt more like she was locked inside her own body, not able to control what she's saying and doing. "You're dead."

Girl smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe not. Why don't you let me go, if I am dead?"

"I let you go," Urnyras Jael said. "Go."

"What?" she asked.

"I hereby let my beloved sister's soul go," Urnyras Jael said, realizing she started to cry. "For she deserves to rest in peace in the Forests of Ossax."

"Wh-"

...

"It is cold," Urnyras Jael said. "What is this place?"

"You can't know," Fauran shrugged. "Dramatic thing is, there is noone else that can know it. But you can't know it either. Thus, it can't be known."

"It is cold," repeated Urnyras Jael.

"No," said Fauran. "It is not."

"I don't want to die," Urnyras Jael said, not having any idea why she'd say something like that.

"You won't."

She saw Eoria. Hooded, just like she was a couple of minutes ago. Waiting at a distance. Stable. Not moving - not one bit.

She drew two cutlass from her hilts hanging on her belt. Urnyras Jael panicked, and turned towards Fauran - only to see that he was already gone. It was a lone, wild, cold and a scary mountain peak. Desolate. Desperate. Sad, filled with crooked pines. It was snowing. Softly, as if watching the snow in slow motion. Urnyras Jael closed her eyes.

Her hand felt the cold steel. She opened her eyes again.

"Come," she said. "Come, and face your demise."

Eoria hissed hearing that, and charged towards Urnyras Jael with an unexpected agility. Shortly after, they engaged in a duel.

Urnyras Jael blocked a swift off-hand attack with the greatsword she held in her hands. Eoria was very quick, and the sword was a bit heavy - it was definitely a challenge to parry her attacks.

"You are weak," said Eoria. "You deserve to die. Weaklings can't survive here."

"What is this place?" asked Urnyras Jael.

"Why do you care?" she hissed again, trying to slash her chest. "This is your tomb. That's all it matters."

'Furious,' Urnyras Jael thought, still in a defensive stance; blocking the agile attacks from Eoria. 'She is full of hatred.'

Eoria found a gap in her defense eventually, and opened a wound on her left arm. Urnyras Jael screamed, stepping back.

Eoria grinned.

"You are weak," she repeated. "Still a lot to learn."

"No," said Urnyras Jael. "I am not weak. I am afraid."

"That is weakness," Eoria said sagely. "Fear is a weakness."

"You are wrong. Weakness is not the fear, but the lack of ability to control it."

"Consequences are the same," shrugged Eoria. "Enough talking. Now it is time to die."

She launched another full attack on Urnyras Jael. Her attacks were reckless, swift and rather berserk, and as Urnyras Jael kept blocking the attacks, she observed her. She realized her left arm was rather weak. She blocked one final off-hand attack and went directly for a counter-attack to her left arm. She carefully turned her sword around, drawing a circle with her off-hand cutlass, and disarming it.

Eoria smirked, then letting a warcry, attacking again. Urnyras Jael held her ground, easily blocked the attack and disarmed the main-hand cutlass too - she held her greatsword to Eoria's throat.

Eoria froze.

"Let's assume fear is a weakness," Urnyras Jael said. "Hatred is more of it, in any case."

...

The scent of candles embraced her. She opened her eyes. She was at the Halls, sitting on the pillow. She gazed at others, who apparently opened their eyes as recently as she did. She peered at Eoria, just to see her peering back at her, surprised.

"It is enough for today," Fauran said, slowly standing up. "Now rest."

"But Master-" said Shevach.

"No questions," Fanrach said. "Rest."

And he left four extremely confused initiates at the Halls, sitting on their pillows.

The candles burned out, eventually. They left for their rooms.

the tale of urnyras jael, part X: ghaow and solitude.

"Congratulations, Rudhor," said Urnyras Jael, somehow frowning.
"Thank you, my Lady," he said. "You well know I always did and will respect you as a senior."
"You are the Commander now," Urnyras shrugged. "I have done nothing to be respected. In fact, I have done disrespectful things that ended up in a demotion. Enjoy your position. I am under your command now." she bowed her head.
"Since I am now the Commander, I suppose I can appoint you as my Advisor, can I not?" he rubbed his beard.
"I suppose you can," Urnyras Jael said, she did not look or feel one bit enthusiastic.
"So it is done," he smiled. "I will do the paperwork. I think Eoria will not oppose that."
"She is opposing everything, nowadays," she grunted. "I'd not be over-confident. That would be my first advise to you, actually."
Rudhor smiled again.

...


The army, on its way, witnessed many massacres - the fall of Nin Rivien, the betrayal of Lystendalh and Umbrys.
Darcovìl forces were approaching Ghaow territory more and more every day, with a massive onthox army going by their side through the open plains. They were trying to keep a reasonable distance where they both will be safe from being spotted, and they will be able to launch an assault whenever they want. Eoria realized that the Empire armies were slower than the onthox, and the enemy was opening the distance.
By the time the onthox reached Rhen Valley, the Valley that eventually leads to the Inner Lakes where Ghaow is located in, the Empire Armies still had at least two days to make it near Rhen Valley. Pythe Teleane was aware that the distance was getting bigger and bigger everyday, so he assigned Darcovìl to slow down the onthox within the Valley until the Empire armies catch up.
"You should encourage Eoria to split," Urnyras Jael said to Rudhor, Fanrach was also with them. "I've heard that N'ya is planning to send in reinforcements to Ghaow and to us, but we cannot wait for reinforcements. We have to keep them busy before they reach Ghaow. Krischnokh trusts us."
"We will not fail, I believe," Rudhor said, with self-confidence.
Urnyras Jael turned to Fanrach. Her face expression was somehow a mixture of seriousness -and desperation.
"I do not want Eoria think that I am not up to that duty," Urnyras said, as if she was holding it for too long. "I do not want to disappoint N'ya City any further, and the trust they have granted us. We should take the woods and cut their path, even it causes our lives. Do you understand, Fanrach?"
"I do, my lady," Fanrach said.
"Rudhor," said Urnyras Jael. "Tell Eoria that she should immediately move her forces south as soon as possible. You should assemble your forces to track the enemy down. We will meet at Rhen Valley, southern cove; I think they will not be able to go any further. Eoria will not oppose to that idea."
"How do you know?" Rudhor raised an eyebrow.
"I know her," she said. "She will like it. This is what we should do. She is well aware of it."
"Fanrach," said Rudhor. "Tell Eoria I want an audience as soon as possible regarding that topic."
"As you wish, Commander," he said, leaving the tent.

...

Rudhor and Eoria agreed on the said topic, just like Urnyras Jael predicted. The forces were relocated and Eoria left for Rhen Valley immediately from the woods surrounding it, when Rudhor and Urnyras Jael led the forces further south, to establish a front base for the planned ambush. This way, they thought, they could establish an information bridge between Ghaow, Empire Armies and Darcovìl.
"I need you to sneak into Ghaow," said Rudhor to Urnyras Jael. "You, aside your previous Commander role, are one of the eldest of Intelligence Corps."
"As you command," Urnyras Jael nodded.
"See if you can talk to Ottho Droca and get information regarding their defenses," said Rudhor. "I will send Fanrach to the Empire Armies to measure the distance they have. Oh, and - Fanrach is relocated to the Ranger Division, by Eoria's request. Thought you'd want to know."
"When should I leave?" she asked, ignoring the news about Fanrach.
"Immediately," he replied. "Fetch one of the steeds from the stablemaster, it will be faster."
"Consider it done," she nodded. "I will be back in two days at most."
She did as she was told, she left the Valley, and reached Ghaow in half a day.

...

Ghaow. It is a beautiful city located on the northeastern coast of a lake, slightly bigger than the city itself. The townsfolk are mainly miners and merchants who travel south and east, but it also welcomes many of the merchants and traders at the region, since it is at the very road between Dwese and Orbh. You can come across any of the races present and loyal to the Empire: be it fylla, humans, kheronae or dwarves. Even some of the Empire-alligned siblion live there, yet too few.
Urnyras Jael asked an audience with Ottho Droca, who managed to turn the city into a stronghold in no time. The entire city was converted into militia with men, women, elders and even children. Everyone, but everyone was armed and ready to fight.
"Ottho Droca," said Urnyras Jael in Solian language, to the strong-looking, handsome yet anxious man. "It has been a while, has it not?"
"Indeed, Raven," he replied. "What news from North?"
"Nin Rivien fell, so did Fortosoweth," said Urnyras Jael. "Dwese is almost entirely ruined but the Empire still keep the city. Dytheria, we have no connection. I am here to return the news of your current conditions, the enemy will be here in no time. You will need to hold on to your lines until the reinforcements arrive."
"I will be frank, Jael," said Ottho, sighing. "I assume we will be crushed, because we were not expecting it to be that swift - eventhough we now are aware that Fortosoweth defense won us so much time. Without the immediate help of the Empire army, Ghaow will fall - in hours. Since it is summertime, most of our young have gone to work in Akaramedia. We cannot reach them, all the messengers we have sent seems to be somehow prevented. We will not be fighting to win. We will be fighting to achieve a glorious death, defending our homes. That is all we will cling onto."
"This pessimism and desperation will not grant you a glorious death, but a massacre," she said. "There is no glory in death - none. You should fight to win. You should believe in it."
"I am a war veteran, Jael, for a human at least," Ottho smiled. "I have been in many, many battles; been in many dire situations and saved my life and my collegues', but this is something else. Our intelligence report indicate that the army is almost as populated as Ghaow's winter population. This, in mind, also makes me consider the fact that the enemy is full of vengeance, hatred. They are trained well. Very well. You know it."
"I do, but-"
"Let Darcovìl know that we will be waiting for reinforcements, but we do not hope to get any," he interrupted. "There is nothing else I can tell you about it."
Urnyras did not say another word. She looked at Ottho, touched his shoulder and left the place shortly after.

...

When Urnyras Jael returned to Darcovìl Headquarters, Eoria was not pleased with what she had heard.
"That is not acceptable," said Eoria. "We are not letting them to perish, we can't! Ghaow can be protected. Empire army is slow and heavily armored, but we are trained for this very moment! We can cut their path, slow down and get more time for the army to reach Ghaow in time!"
"If you could have seen the city, you wouldn't be that hopeful," Urnyras Jael sighed. "Their defenses consist of almost only militia. There are a few local soldiers, but that is not even one sixth of the entire defence. No ranged infantry, no cavalry, no siege weapons, no nothing. If the Empire Army can't make it in time, I guess Ottho is quite right - they will perish in hours."
"Fanrach returned shortly, Urnyras," Rudhor said. "The Empire Armies are about half a day far from us. Considering that the onthox will reach Ghaow about the same time, if Ghaow manages to stand for a day, the King might help them."
"Impossible," said Urnyras Jael. "It is not easy to calculate their exact time of arrival, that can't go any further than an approximation. For the onthox, on the other hand - they do not rest, hardly eat and drink. They can make it there shorter, and the Empire Army can arrive here later."
"So, what do you offer?" asked Eoria.
"Nothing," Urnyras Jael shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. You know I will follow you. But I do not believe in it. It appears to me that both Ghaow and Darcovìl will be perished without the Empire. That's all I have to say."

...

When the onthox army arrived at the northern gates of Ghaow, it was rainy - just like many of the sieges they've had done on the Mainland. Their God, Zethor, is known as the God of Rain; and he used it for the good of its 'people', the onthox, thugs, Dytherian humans, Dol'sharen zealots; many, many more.
Darcovìl made it into Ghaow about the same time, shortly after the onthox arrived and the siege begun.
"Here we go," said Eoria, under the rain, to her rangers and assassins. "This is the day we will serve N'ya and the Empire with our steel and blood. This is the moment we will die for the sake of others to survive. This is not a speech to hearten you, my friends, but a speech of goodbye in case we do not survive."
"Fear not, for we are to be feared," she yelled. "Fight to the last man standing. We will not surrender, and will take a bunch of these rotten fleshbags with us to Hente! Attack!"

...

"A young girl, like you, should not meddle in those grown-up matters," Dyrun said. "Why would you worry about things like that?"
"Because I want to know," she said. "I want to know what will happen to me after I'm dead."
"But why?" Dyrun said. "You will have a long, beautiful and peaceful life; why would you want to know what happens after death? Are you scared?"
"No," she shook her head. "I am not scared. Not about my death."
"But whose?" Dyrun carrassed her hair.
"My loved ones," she frowned. "I don't want to see them die before me."
"You cannot prevent it, my girl," Dyrun said. "More or less, all of us will witness the death of our loved ones. Our friends. Comrades. We have to be strong."

...

She came to her senses with a dreadful mace smash she hardly (and instinctually) could block with her daggers over her chest, but she could not prevent it hitting anyway. She fell down. All the sounds came back to her, battlecries, cries of pain. Screaming. Agony was in the air. She looked above as the time slowed down drastically. She could see a gray-black sky, with smoke and shadow. She saw one huge onthox approaching her, with his huge mace hanging over his head, ready to smash her brain out.
That was, pretty much, the last scene she remembered.

...

She woke up to ash, smoke and the unbearable smell of burnt flesh. There were no voices. She've felt something very heavy on her body. She managed to look down. It was a body. A fyllian body, presumably a dead fyllian body. She slowly pushed it away, without looking at him. She realized that the onthox was somehow killed by him before he could even swing his mace. An unknown lifesaver, she thought. She kissed dead fylla's forehead. The face was entirely disfigured and smashed, and he was missing one arm and his legs, as if they were torn apart. The blood was almost dry.
She somehow felt something familiar about this fylla. She did not dare to think further, she was so sure it was a friend, at worst.
She tried to stand up on her feet, getting support from her left arm - when she tried it, she screamed in pain. Apparently now, she had a broken arm. She couldn't avoid two teardrops.
"Why?" she asked to herself.
She looked around for the first time. Ranger corpses, assassin corpses, onthox corpses and various body parts besides these - it resembled a butcher - a slaughterhouse for stable animals. The grass was not green anymore; it was a filthy mixture of red and black. It smelled so bad that Urnyras eventually felt dizzier. She realized that she had to go into the city to see if she could do anything.

...

The city was not there anymore, there wasn't one single standing building. She saw some Royal Empire soldiers from the distance and started to walk towards that direction, then she reached to a newly-made tent.
She stopped by half of the body of a young boy, the dreadful expression on his face, his small hands holding a shortsword even after death. There were thousands like him. Tens of thousands. After literally crawling for half an hour around the ruined streets of Ghaow, she saw two Royal Guards. She tried to talk, but she realized her voice was entirely gone now. She held her hand in front, her legs started to shake and she somehow managed to make a grunting sound. The guards realized her, immediately ran towards her and helped her up.
"Urnyras Jael, N'ya Intelligence Corps," she said to a guard. "I need m-medical.. assist-tance. I also need t-to update... t-the King.."

...

The next thing she has seen was the sight of the medicine tent's ceiling. Her arm was bandaged, her armor partially cut open, apparently for medics to mend the wounds. She lied still for sometime, then she slowly stood up.
Other than the fact she broke her arm, she was lucky to have the rest of her body in one piece. Remembering the scene back on the battlefield, she was so sure that she was among the luckiest. Maybe she was 'the luckiest'. She couldn't tell.
Resting after two days without even leaving the bed, the stench of the corpses eventually embraced the entire city. She had learned that the Empire Army somehow made it earlier to Ghaow then expected - but too little too late, apparently. By the time they arrived, the onthox had invaded more than half of the city, making their way to the other parts, slaying everyone mercilessly.
She got out of the medical facility. She still had a limp and a cracked bone on her right leg, she was leaning on a wooden stick to stroll around. She approached to four chattering footmen she saw by the rabbles of old town hall.
"I am looking for the King's marqueé," she asked to them weakly.
"Over there, behind the governor's residence," one of the footmen said, pointing towards another pile of wood, cement and iron.
She slowly left them, walking around the 'governor's residence' to reach the said tent. It was a big, crimson tent with serpent figures on it. She stopped in front of the entrance and gazed towards two Elite Royal Guards in front of it.
"I want audience with the King," she said.
"Who are you?" one of them asked, bluntly.
"Urnyras Jael, of N'yaian Intelligence Corps, I need to talk to the King," she repeated.
Royal Guards swiftly stepped aside for her to walk through.

...

Inside the tent, it was more crowded that Urnyras expected it to be. There was the King and four humans and a kheron around the round table inside. One of the men was talking in a fierce manner about what to do next.
"You know my stance, my King, I still support that we should immediately leave for Orbh City, for we have seen how slow we advance. We should at least send our cavalry first. Better than nothing. I also concur about a stronger intelligence web, now that we lack it; inevitably."
Pythe held his chin, peering at a blood-stained paper on the table thoughtfully. He did not respond.
"Quarlyn," said the kheron, with his deep voice and kherae accent, "I understand your emotional exhaustion, but even if we were a day faster that would not prevent a war here. You are aware of it. Splitting the army into sections and seperating them will not benefit us. I doubt Dytherian Army will attack to Orbh right away, before they devour all other smaller cities first. If only those rumors about a possible rebellion in Kith'lath come true, than we should decide to split the Army. Otherwise I will stick to my idea as well."
"These men died brutally," the man whose name was supposedly Quarlyn hammered the table with his fist. "Brutally! Like in Waesandra! L'isain, Iogard Yjes! All those cities suffered ultimate massacre until the last one died. Dwese was almost invaded. Lystendalh was purged down. Nin Rivien, needless to say, my liege, you witnessed it with your own eyes! Now Ghaow. Costed us a dear patriot, a hero; along with the entire city. The ones somehow surviving are cripples who are thought to be dead, or waiting to die in the medical facility. We don't even need a medical facility anymore, because we do not have any injured. Everyone dies. They only devour. They vanquish. We have to strike back instead of sticking to template military tactics. This won't work. We shouldn't be meddling here. Let us send the cavalries and rangers -Lyca'nae knows if we have any left- and let us move the infantry as fast as possible towards Orbh. That is the only way!"
"I will have to agree with Quarlyn, if you allow me, my King," said a mid-aged yet handsome knight. "I volunteer, along with my Knighthood, to take the lead of the army as a forward force. I suppose if we could merge your cavaliers with Lyrant Knighthood, we could proceed faster."
"Granted," said Pythe. "We should split the army then."
Everyone around the table bowed their heads once, before turning back to their conversation. Urnyras Jael kept watching the discussion silently, at the edge of the marqueé, near the entrance with patience.
"Krischnokh Ilinarth required a detailed report on the survivors of N'yaian forces," asked the kheron.
"I know," said Pythe. "So I've heard. Can you please check the reports if they are accurate, preferably now?" He pushed a paper towards the kheron.
"Let's see," he peered down to the reports. "Eoria Ilinarth managed to survive with twenty-five rangers of her own Division. Rudhor of the Intelligence Corps, dead. Hrm..." He started reading it silently. Urnyras Jael could not believe what she just heard - Rudhor? Dead? What about the leader of the Intelligence Corps now, what would happen to them without a leader at a time like this?
"Well, apparently there is no need for a leader for N'yaian Intelligence Corps anymore, my King," said the kheron, as if he has heard Urnyras Jael's thoughts. "Apparently there are no survivors. Only that female at the medical facility, what was her name, let me see-"
"Urnyras Jael," she said, revealing herself. "My name is Urnyras Jael."
Kheron folded the report and bowed his head in sorrow, as Urnyras Jael stepped forward.
"Noone survived?"
Kheron shook his head in sorrow. The pain he had could be read from his eyes, just like the sympathy he have felt towards her at that very moment.
"I understand." she headed back towards the entrance of the tent. Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.
"Let's take a walk, shall we?" said Pythe, weakly smiling.

...

They walked slowly towards the burnt down Temple of Fire. Pythe aided Urnyras Jael while doing so, holding her waist and arm. Eventually, he helped sitting on a broken wooden bench.
"I miss Syera, my King," said Urnyras Jael, calmly. "The plains and shores of Syera. I miss them dearly, I do not want to be here. Forgive my weakness."
"I know you don't, Urnyras," said Pythe. "None of us want to battle. None of us want to die, or to kill. None of us want to be reputed as barbarians in the tomes of history. But we are fighting to survive. You are fighting to survive. Fanrach fought to survive, Urnyras. For you to survive, for his people. He is the one to save you from certain death, as long as I have been informed."
"I do not understand," she said.
"Witnesses," he said. "They have seen you collapsing, shortly before Fanrach blocking a certain death blow. He died protecting you. His body was found disfigured, his legs and left arm ripped apart."
"Was he-" she could say, before she looked up at the sky, letting the tears flow inside instead.
"I am sorry for your loss," he said. "He will be dearly missed."
"May the Demi-god grant us the victory, my King," she said. "Then their spirits may rest in peace."
"You are the only survivor of what your Corps had, Jael," he said. "Eoria left for N'ya to inform them of the fall of Ghaow and to alert them. She'll be happy to hear you are fine."
"I wish to be leaving soon, too," she said. "I can't linger."
"A free spirit like you," said Pythe. "Cannot be held captive in a ruined city. However, let us wait until your arm heals. But I have different plans for you, after you are healed."
"As you wish, my King," said Urnyras; directly looking at him.
"Thank yourself, my sweet Jael," said the King. "I was desperate, you see. We have lost Ottho Droca, we have lost many good patriots that day. You, among all these, returned to us. You are the living form of hope now."
Urnyras Jael managed to feel slightly better.
"You are Urnyras Jael, fyllian light," he said. "You are the tiny sparkle of hope arose from this rabble. You are the key to these chains in my sorrowful heart, everytime I look at my ruined Homeland. You give me freedom. You are my freedom."
He stopped for a while, kneeled in front of her and kissed her forehead, before leaving her alone to think.

the tale of urnyras jael, part IX: anywhere, everywhere, nowhere.

"Move, stretch your legs," he shouted towards the growling snowstorm, as they were climbing the narrow rampart within merciless nature of Lycanaus Mountains. They were all dressed thick, with fur coats and a huge backpack with them. It was Fauran, Urnyras Jael, and two other initiates called Gea and Shevach. Master Fauran was taking them away, to a place he called 'the Nest', a dojo, a hall of meditation, art and warfare built by the ancestors of the eila many centuries ago. Cut from the outer world, it was just the place for ultimate and absolute isolation for their training.
Yet, where it was placed was just as hard to reach as it would serve as the best spot for training when reached.
The snowstorm was getting stronger as they climbed up high. Urnyras Jael could feel the decreasing pressure in her ears, she had this urge to hold her nose and breathe out so she could keep it in balance. Her blood-red eye pupils were drying out everytime she dared to keep her eyes fully open. Her crimson hair was free in the snowstorm, just above her brown, fume colored thick coat, the contrast of colors was like a piece of art. Gea moaned after a while, but it was too low for Fauran to hear, or at least, it was low enough for Fauran to justifiably pretend that he did not hear it.

...

They eventually made it to a manor, built atop of some cliffs. The snowstorm was now preventing the entire vision for them to see the details of the architecture. Urnyras Jael could guess, before they approached to the Manor, that it was quite huge compared to the Manor the Intelligence Corps use as headquarters down back in N'ya. She sheltered her eyes, and followed Fauran towards the entrance of the building.
They walked and eventually stopped in front of a wall. Fauran observed the wall for a while, touched it, then slowly chanted a spell with his eyes closed. He kept his palm on the door and the initiates observed how his hand started to glow, and ultimately pushed a secret door which appeared from the wall. A white light drew the borders, along with a dagger strangled by a snake appearing in the middle of the door. He was pushing that very symbol.
They realized that door was opening towards a giant training ground, with a quite high ceiling and horizontal, rectangular windows at the very top of the sidewalls. There were fyllian inscriptions on the walls, a weaponry at the end of the room, an altar similar to what she had seen back at her initiation. There was nothing else, as far as Urnyras Jael could see, in the dark.
Fauran moved his hand towards the columns in the hall, and with his hand movement the candles on the columns started to light up one by one. When all candles were lid, the halls looked a bit more chilly, yet cozier and smaller. The ambiance was soothing, but ironically urging the one to be more aware, more awake. 'This,' Urnyras Jael thought, 'Would probably be the exact assassin training place I would imagine, if I was to imagine one.'
"Get yourselves ready," Fauran said, as he took off his thick fur coat. "Today will be our first lesson. Do not bother bringing your weapons with you. Meu will show you your rooms."
"Let'sh go," said a creepy, thin voice, out of nowhere. Presumably an eila, a male, with an apparent limp on his leg, and a terribly disfigured face, was looking at them; leaning on one of the nearby columns. He was wearing a torn, gray shirt and brown trousers, just as much torn as his shirt. "Followh mei."
The initiates followed him hesitantly. Urnyras Jael was a bit intimidated by the terribly ugly look of this man, but it wasn't long before she was ashamed of herself for being intimidated by the looks of a person. She was never such shallow.
"Sho, what are your namesh?" he asked, slowly looking back while walking towards a corridor at the end of the hall. The initiates told their names.
"Very well," he said, with a unique cheer in his voice. "It'sh been a whileh shince Master Fauranh brought inh new initiatesh. It'sh my pleasure to sherve you here. Anything you needh, you tell me. Okay?"
Initiates nodded.
"Perfecth!" he clapped his hands. "Here are you roomsh, you must be Urnyrash Jael, your room ish thish one, you girlsh are goingh to shtay together there, shince I guessh there will be one other initiate arriving later, who will share her room with Urnyras." he showed the rooms as he was talking.
After doing so, Meu left, with monotone, slow and limping footsteps on the wooden corridor.
"He was a bit scary, don't you think?" asked Gea.
"I guess," said Urnyras Jael. "I wonder what had happened to him."
"Meh, I hardly care," Shevach said, heading towards her room. "I wonder who will be coming as the fourth initiate." she got inside and closed the door.
"Yeah, why did not the last initiate come with us?" asked Gea.
"How am I supposed to know?" shrugged Urnyras Jael. "Probably because she's... special or something. I don't know. I don't care. I have to go now." then she headed for her room and closed the door calmly.

...

"I see anxiety within your souls," Fauran spoke in a remote corner of the hall. "If there is one thing I'd start your training with, young ones, that would be urging you to leave aside any feeling that is not certain. Anxiety, doubt, dilemmas of any sort, emotional complications - they are your arch enemies. An assassin cannot and shall not doubt. If you doubt, you die. It is a simple equation."

"A fylla, young ones, is born with many specialties. A fylla is strong, agile, perceptive, cold-blooded and a master of emotions; and when you merge all of these with a high level of sensation, you will realize that a fylla has everything there is to be a wise warrior. The trick is, not every fylla is born with the treat of revealing these powers and being aware. You, among your brethren, are the ones who might be able to that. And the art of war we will teach you is the ultimate way for a fylla to battle. We are not blunt footmen, we are assassins. We are shadow, we are fog, we are darkness. We are anywhere, everywhere and nowhere."

"Never forget where your allegiance lies within. First, it is to your people, the fylla; and the second, it is to the Empire. The unity, peace and serenity of the Solian Empire is one of our best interests. No matter how dire the situation might get, and no matter how dreadful the enemies you may encounter will be, never forget that. You will not doubt, you will build your own spiritual shields around you against deceit and manipulation. Your souls are strong enough for that."

"Without a doubt, it is apparent that this path you are now obliged to take is challenging. It will be tough. It will be painful. Most importantly, it will be long. It will be in solitude. Solitude, young ones, is one of the best mentors of an assassin. You will learn how to battle and survive in solitude, as well as you will be obliged to serve the cause as a team. You will master both. You will be a member of a team, even in the most desolate place, in the most remote point of the planet. However, this will not prevent you from being a part of the team, and you will know it. We will know it."

"Your training will be in five sections. One of them will be the Blademastery. Your weapon of focus will be daggers and shortswords, and you will learn how to use them."

"The second will be Ùrda, a technique only us fyllian assassins know; it can be defined as focusing your spiritual energy and converting it into different forms of material energy. Can be offensive, defensive, rejuvenative, reproductive or necromantic. Not many assassins know the limits of Ùrda, but every and each of them are obliged to know how to use it to a certain point. Never forget, however - Ùrda will not tolerate recklessness."

"The third one will be the Meditation. As an assassin, your usage of spiritual energy will tire you mentally, if not physically. Mastering the skill of Meditation will grant you the chance to regain your energy. Meditation is also used by several assassins and Masters for means of communication with distant colleagues."

"The fourth one will be Stealth. This is one of the two fundamentals of an assassin - subtlety. You have to learn how to remain hidden. This very training will grant you many secret powers. Only by this training you will learn how to turn into shadows."

"The fifth and the last training will be Politics. We, as you might have figured out, will not only turn you into skilled war artists, but also skilled diplomats and manipulators; for you will have times when you will have to act as intelligence gatherers. We are the Intelligence Corps of the N'yaian Army, so this might have given you an idea about what this is all about. You will learn disguise, different accents, different languages, different cultures, politics, diplomacy. A broad knowledge of history."

"Your training will be eternal. Slacking, tiredness and whining are not tolerated. Never forget; you are to be assassins. You are to shake the very foundations of this world. You are to protect what is rightfully yours from the evil. You are shadow. You are death and life. You are the cold breath at the necks of our enemies. You are the warm blood flowing down, and the ground that very blood falls onto. Now, rest, young ones. A long journey awaits you."

Urnyras Jael, Gea, and Shevach stood up, bowed their heads and went back to their rooms.

the tale of urnyras jael, part VIII: obsession, blood and the fall.

She rubbed her neck.
"You seem worried," Fanrach said, eventhough he knew why. "Is there something wrong?"
Urnyras Jael did not reply.
It was very recent that she met that man, but she was already convinced that they somehow had a strong communication between them. He was extremely charming, good-looking and intelligent; a perfect soldier, an artist.
Urnyras Jael was not as strict as she would be towards this man anymore. He was more than an ordinary fylla, an ordinary soldier. She considered her situation to be pathetic, was she somehow falling for him?
She was amongst the people who thought nothing would and will last forever. She despised emotional commitment, for how she has seen where the ultimate commitment she had brought her to. She was avoiding revealing anything. Fanrach was a distant possibility.
Yet of course, she never revealed it. She never admitted it to herself.

...

That night was one of the nights after Pythe ordered Intelligence Corps to establish themselves back in Nin Rivien with the Ranger Division. Fanrach was off-duty, and Urnyras Jael eventually found herself with his company above the outpost. She took out a weed roll, properly making it ready.
"Is that Alaìs Weed? I'd recognize the smell from the depths of Lake Hente," Fanrach said.
Urnyras Jael lifted her head, peered at Fanrach for a few seconds, then smiled weakly.
"Yes, Alaìs," she approved. "Directly from the Northfields."
She finished rolling the paper. She lifted her finger and lit the weed, mumbling a chant*.
Time passed very quick.
...

She woke up in her tent, naked; with Fanrach lying next to her - naked. She was not fully sober yet, but she was more aware of herself and her surroundings. Waking up at the tent did not make sense at the beginning, but in a few seconds she remembered all: the moment she got high, the moment they walked back to the tent and the entire experience they have had, to the fullest; she remembered. It was beautiful. She smiled, just like a violet growing among gray-yellow barren grass. She realized that smiling was something her facial muscles did not perform for years now. She smiled bigger.
She lied down back, slowly reaching up for sleeping Fanrach. She slowly carrassed his hair. He moved, but did not wake up. Then she realized the marks he had on his body; the marks of war. Slashes, blade wounds, fence wounds, presumably arrow wounds and more blade wounds.
'He is either older than he looks,' she thought dreamily, 'or he is just too young with an old soul.'

...

Next couple of days were rather unexpectedly distant. She did not talk much to him and he did not seem to be so interested in talking with her. 'He is either aware of our formal hierarchy out of bed,' she thought, 'Or he is not interested in me at all.' The second possibility was a bit heartbreaking, but she was ready for both.
Nothing happened in the upcoming days, either in terms of privacy or battle. They were mobilized and moving fast, they were almost in Ghaow now. They stopped after a while, to meet up with the Ranger Division. Eoria found them shortly after they arrived at the region.
"Anything?" she asked to Urnyras Jael, with curious eyes. "What of the onthox movement?"
"Nothing happened," Urnyras Jael replied, in thoughts. "The onthox are moving slow, and there are no cities or towns in between for them to ruin on their way. Eventually they will be caught in front of Ghaow. I suspect the Empire Armies are a bit behind, though."
"I see you are a bit thoughtful," said Eoria, raising an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yes, a bit of tiredom," Urnyras Jael smiled. "Let me rest a bit and I will be much better."
Eoria was surprised to see Jael smiling.
"Well, fine," Eoria said, with a bit of a hesitation. "Go rest. There will be scouting mission tomorrow, I want you to lead it."
"Consider it done," said Urnyras Jael. "Now if you excuse me..."
Her mind was constantly on Fanrach now. Every minute passing, she was realizing how grand her feelings were becoming, and how her mind was flinched; how it was focused on him and him only. She felt utterly disturbed by this after a while, she was not used to it. She was not used to having her mind on something and not being able to change her object of focus. She was failing in it, probably for the first time in her life. As she was walking back to her newly-set tent, she saw him. He was waiting for her in front of the tent. He was expressionless.
"Good evening, my Lady," he said, bowing his head.
"Good evening, Fanrach," she replied, trying to keep her calm.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
"Sure, come inside," she smiled.
They got inside the tent. It was quite dark inside, with a bunch of almost burnt-out candles hanging from the wooden supports. Urnyras Jael dropped her daggers on the table, then she sat on the bed's edge and started watching Fanrach.
"We can't do this," Fanrach said straightforwardly. "I can't be this way. I can't let it happen."
"Can't do what?" said Urnyras Jael, somehow pretending to look and sound surprised.
"I am not the one you wish to be with," he said, rather desperately; with a soft tone. "I already have a mate, back home. I love him. I can't do this."
These words were as if someone was stabbing her. She stood up quickly, walked towards Fanrach and wanted to say something, but instead, she made a growling sound.
"How dare you!" she glared. "How dare you speak these words with me, with your Commander? Who do you think you are? Begone, or I swear to Gosto He'uch I will squeeze your body liquids out!"
Fanrach left, bowing his head.
Urnyras Jael could not stop crying for the rest of the day. She did not leave her tent.

...

She barely slept. She was up and ready for the scouting mission Eoria told her about by the dawn. She wiped away the last of her tears and got out of the tent. She was still furious. Still disappointed. Still hurt. That was making her less emotional than she normally is - and that was a drastic decrease. She felt like an ice block, impossible to break.
"Intelligence Corps to be ready in ten minutes," she ordered. "The ones to arrive at the grounds at eleventh minute will be punished."
Two of the privates, just because one of them was very sick and the other trying to help him, was a bit late; and they were both punished to a day-long duty mission in the frontier. Urnyras Jael prohibited medical care for the sick one.
"Are you insane?" said Eoria. "What the hell are you doing? What's gotten into you, woman, you are acting evil!"
"Do not interfere with my methods of establishing authority, Eoria," she said.
"Oh yes, I will!" Eoria smashed her hand on one of the trees nearby. "Whatever makes you furious, you better get a hold of it - or I swear to Gosto the relocation petition and the documents for your demotion will be on their way to N'ya, you better keep that in your bloody sick mind!"
"Fine," she said. "Whatever. Bring the sick one back. But the other one remains right where he is."
"You are pathetic," said Eoria, and left with fast steps back towards her tent. She stopped for a moment. "Oh, and," she said with her back turned to Urnyras Jael. "You better not kill your own men, that is just a scouting mission. Don't get too excited."

...

Fanrach was there. In her mind, always, all the time. She was fully grasped by the obsession of a desperate lover who cannot reach the loved one; she was suffering badly. She was leading a squad of ten men, including Fanrach himself. She sometimes gazed at him secretly, and could see the worried expression on his face. She could easily gut him. So easily.
"Assemble yourselves," said Urnyras Jael eventually. "Lieutenant, take the path over there, let's see if there is any movem-"
"Kakhnora!*" yelled someone within the woods, followed by an onthox ambush.
The battle was fierce. Out of ten men, only Urnyras Jael, Fanrach and a private named Gheas survived. The onthox were somehow repelled. They went back to camp shortly after, for the news of failure - and apparently an onthox presence about.
"How- what," said Eoria, trying to find the right questions. "You are a bloody assassin, a tracker, who is supposed to smell them from one thousand felios* away!" Eoria wasn't shouting anymore, she was roaring.
Urnyras Jael had nothing to say. She was not even focused on the task at hand, but at her lieutenant.
"It was unexpected," she said. "I know I could do better, but we did every-"
"Shut up," Eoria said, calmly. "Shut up. You are demoted. I cannot let you lead the most elite squad of N'ya with such a state of mind. You cannot even focus. I am not even sorry for doing that, I have to add."
"You can't-" said Urnyras Jael.
"I already did," said Eoria. "You do not talk, you do not let anyone help you, and most importantly - you do not let me help you out of whatever you are in. For the sake of our survival you can't be in a leading position anymore. Inform Rudhor Gamlach that he will be the Commander for Intelligence Division at least for a while. I'm done with this, Jael."
As he got out of Eoria's tent with almost unleashed tears in her eyes, Fanrach was watching her.

the tale of urnyras jael, part VII: jael.

They walked down Deluin Street, until they took a turn left to a narrow ramp. Fauran did not talk, did not make the slightest of sounds - even footsteps. She realized that her perception, with her fear, increased - she could hear anything surrounding them, the nature, wildlife surrounding them, but he was mute. She was tense, hesitant about following him, but she had no other option but to obey. Was this really her master? The cheerful, happy blacksmith she met back five years ago and served throughout all these times? She did not know. She was afraid, yet she managed to keep her composure.

They walked until midnight through a narrow path climbing atop one of the nearby mountains, when she looked down she could see the insignificant lights in the city and Thyke, the Torch. 'The view is beautiful up here,' she thought, for a few seconds.

Eventually, they stopped in front of an old looking manor with a different architecture - some sort she has never seen before. The roof was huge and tall, the windows were vertical rectangles; yet they were narrow. It had a huge door. She has seen a figure resembling a gargoyle atop of the roof as a silhouette, with Mastras, the Red Rider of the Night, at the background. It was a thrilling scene.

"Master," she could ask, "Where are we?"

"Patience, young apprentice," he said, calmly. "Fear not."

They stepped into the house. Interior was almost empty, however she saw some paintings hanging on the walls of some shady-looking eila and fylla.

They went up to the first floor. He pushed a door.

...

"So," said one of the men inside the square room, around the round table. He slowly removed his mask. "That is your promising apprentice?" He had a subtle arrogance in his voice.

"Indeed she is," Fauran replied, in an informal manner. "She is more than promising."

"How can you know, when you have not seen her fighting?" another said, with an apparently increased level of volume.

"Well, Master Shinach," he shrugged. "As we all know, the disciples are not supposed to be fighters before initiation. She has the spirit and the potential skills. I suppose you will respect the reference of a Senior about that issue, will you not?"

Shinach remained silent.

Fauran turned to another figure around the table, who was sitting on the biggest armchair of all. His face was within shadows.

"I hereby demand the Council to approve her trials, and the continuation of her apprenticeship under my Masterhood," Fauran said, directly to the shady figure.

"It has been a while I have seen you this enthusiastic," spoke the figure. This was a woman's voice, soft and soothing. "I suppose I will trust your judgement, Master Fauran. The Council approves the trials; and should she pass them, she can be initiated into the Order as your apprentice."

"The Council will not regret the decision," said Fauran, and he headed towards the door after bowing his head. Dheinach followed.

"Master, what is going on? What is this place? What initiation, what disciples? Who are those people?" said Dheinach, in an obvious panic.

"You are going to be a part of this Order," Fauran said, without looking down to Dheinach. "You will be an assassin. A Blade of the Intelligence Corps of N'yaian Army. This is the headquarters for our Order. You should consider yourself lucky, young one."

"Assassin? But... I do not want to be one!" Dheinach said.

"You do not have an option, my young Jael," he stopped walking. "You are strong, cold-blooded, consistent and loyal. These are enough. You will be welcomed here, you will be among the strongest. I can feel it, young one, you will achieve great victories. You have to be trained. You have to learn. This is a path you cannot deny. Your future lies within these dark walls. Trust me. You are not a blacksmith. You have the soul of a fighter. You should be one, thus."

Fauran was speaking as if he was hypnotised, and this attitude was nothing Dheinach was familiar with. It was probably the first time his Master addressed her as 'Jael'. She felt the chill all over her back.

"Come on in," he pushed another door and stepped in.

This was not a big room. It was more like a disfigured rectangle, with a long, dark gray carpet leading to a shrine. The shrine was apparently an emerald figurine of Gosto He'uch, the Demi-God of fylla race and the Nature, looking above the sky, holding a bow and an oak leave in his hands. The room was entirely dark, if not for the candles around the shrine.

"Kneel," Fauran said, as he approached the shrine. Dheinach did so.

"Here I witness the rise of one of your Silent Servants, the birth of a Glory so bright; here I witness the wings of a raven, them stretched into the night," he chanted, and continued: "Here I witness a beam of light, blindingly wandering the skies; here I witness a warmth to consume, every foe filled with despise."

He pulled out his dagger. Dheinach dared to lift her head for one second, and then she saw a carving on it; it was shining orange-red. Fauran slowly held Dheinach's neck and turned her around with almost no effort. He put her hair over her shoulder and pressed the knife's carved edge to her neck.

...

Everything slowed down.

She turned her dreadfully heavy head towards the shrine. 'I'm tired,' she thought. 'Why are those candles so bright, my eyes; they burn, they...' she got tired of thinking.

There was pain. Not only pain, but also pleasure; somehow resembling a passionate, tough sex. She could not stop smiling towards the candles. Her eyes were watery, she wanted to touch her neck, she couldn't. 'Is this death?' she thought. 'Is this over?'

Fauran was not in the room. She realized that, as her head and body felt less heavy, and with a desperate attempt she managed to peer around her. The figurine of Gosto He'uch was dreadfully scary. She held her belt. She was content and fully aware of everything around her now, with an increased perception beyond her imagination. She sniffed the air. The tears in her eyes started to pour. Her vision was blurry, yet still, she could see the details of everything. The paradox confused her. She wanted to scream, she failed. She moaned.

'What was that sound?' she thought. Only if she could get rid of those tears, only if she could-

"Who is it?"

She heard someone breathing heavily, just at her neck.

There were whispers surrounding her. She could see moving shades. She was sure they were there. She wiped away some of her tears. She was amazed by her vision. It was crystal clear. Only if she could get rid of those blurriness...

She attempted to stand up. She instinctually held her belt. She realized a hanging dagger. She grabbed it.

"Die," whispered an echo. "You will suffer." It disappeared.

"WHO ARE YOU?" she glared, panting.

"Death," said the voice, circling around her. She was feeling more and more dizzy every second.

'Calm down,' she thought. 'I have to remain calm. This is a test, this is a test, this... feels real.'

"It is real, Jael," the voice said, circling the room. Her eyes got fixated on the figurine. She could swear that it was that figurine. "You will die."

Her legs started to shake.

Did just someone hold her shoulder? She never knew.

She blindedly swung her dagger to her back. She was still trying to wipe away the tears. She could hear every single crack of the candlelight. She could hear the bugs walking the floor below. She could hear the whispers of other assassins in the Manor. She could hear her own heart beating so fast, as if it will blow away.

She sniffed the air again. The tears were slowly drying.

She eventually managed to stand up on her feet. She sheltered her eyes in the dark room, for some reason it was blindingly light.

"I sense the fear inside, let it go," a familiar voice said.

"I fear not," she replied. "I fear not, let me go!"

"I will not," the voice said, as it turned into echoes again. "You are mine now. Only mine. Even if you do not want it."

"Curse you," she shouted, literally spitting. "CURSE YOU, I WILL GET YOU!"

'I love the hatred,' the echoing voice said, in joy.

'Calm down,' she thought again. She heard someone stomping on a bug, presumably upstairs. She felt bad for the bug.

She swung the dagger all around her. Her neck started to burn, letting the warmth flow all over her body.

"Nothing will be the same," the voice said. "Your old life has come to an end. You are mine now. You are only mine."

Every word was like a spear dashing through her mind. She eventually had the urge to obey. She sniffed the air again.

"Yes, Master," her lips spoke unintendedly. "I shall obey."

She turned around instinctually, grabbed some shade and stabbed it with the dagger. The flow of energy from her to the shade was beyond comprehension - she've felt more complete, stronger, more aggressive.

She thought of her sister.

She thought of her mother and father.

She thought of Syera.

"Einuchar," she could say, before falling to the ground.

Fauran catched the girl just before she was about to touch the ground.

"My little girl," he said. "Welcome to a bigger world. My young apprentice... Jael. Urnyras... Jael."

the tale of urnyras jael, part VI: betrayal.

Several months after Urnyras Jael's breakdown in Galdwin, during the siege of Fortosoweth; the Arcane Academy, the runaway La-Ru Pythe Adymund Teleane declared his hereditary reign to restore the rule of Teleane bloodline. N'yaian forces were summoned to Nin Rivien once more, but this time Intelligence Corps and Ranger Division of N'ya were merged by the new King; under the rule of Ranger-Commander Eoria Ilinarth. The name of the new order was the Nightbow, Darcovìl, which was chosen by the Ranger-Commander. The Intelligence - Rangerhood division remained, however, now there was one single leader for both: Eoria. Urnyras Jael was not pleasant about it at all, but she had to accept that it was for the better of the structurized forces of N'ya. Less hierarchy meant faster action.

In any case, she was overwhelmed: the reports from Ow'landen were alerting. Some of them were indicating a remarkable Dytherian presence around Lystendalh and surrounding towns, and eversince the landings to Caliptiche had started, they have never stopped. Every report Urnyras Jael read was just another confirmation that the onthox army was almost infinite.

She was afraid that the real army wasn't even on the Mainland yet; that the former forces they've defeated sooner or later were just small in scale. She knew it. She could feel that something bigger was coming. She couldn't understand how others were so comfortable, uncaring. Reckless.

...

"This just in, Lady Jael," said Fanrach, one of Urnyras Jael's newest (and finest) lieutenants. "The onthox are repelled from Dwese. They are heading south, presumably to Lystendalh. We do not know their next destination yet, but the Lyrant Knighthood are chasing them. His Majesty is leading the forces. Partially, Royal Army and the remnants of Dytherian Garrison are with them."

"Figure where they are going to," she said, tossing away the report papyrus Fanrach just brought her. "And then appear before me. And I want a detailed report about Dwesian casualties."

"Very well," he said, half pissed, half offended. 'Reckless, aggressive bitch', he thought; 'As if I am regrouping those bloody undead by the Gulf!'

...

Only days later they revealed that the onthox army was indeed heading towards Lystendalh only to invade the entire town with the help of locals, who mainly consisted of Solian citizens of Dytherian heritage. The city was under siege by the Solian Armies, and the onthox were merely defending. Both sides were giving dire casualties, yet the onthox did not even attempt to breakout. They, it seemed, were willingly stuck in a small town - as if waiting for something.

The King was furious and somehow confused. What were they doing? Maybe they were just giving up, maybe the victory was near. Maybe these blasphemers were already defeated. It was just one last desperate struggle. Maybe, he thought.

"Send word to the Intelligence Division of Darcovìl," said the King one day. "Summon them here. Ranger Division is to remain in Nin Rivien for further instructions."

...

A week later, Intelligence Division made it to the outskirts of Lystendalh, where the Main Expedition Headquarters for Lyrant Knighthood were established.

"The situation is dire," said Tyranius the Graysteel, rubbing his head. "We have surrounded them, but they are all around Lystendalh - the townsfolk are enemies now, too."

"Since we have surrounded them," said Urnyras Jael, "How dire can the situation be?"

"It is always dire when you do not know the intentions of your enemy, Jael," he said. "That's what we don't know. We have scouts all over Ossax, even down south until Nin-Thu. There is no movement. The front armies that massacred mid-southern cities have been exterminated already, there is no enemy elsewhere. This, hear me, cannot be that easy. There is something wrong about it."

"I don't see why you are so hyperbolic, Tyranius, I apologise," she said. "We got them. We will smash them like insects."

"You do not understand," said Tyranius, this time louder. "If you did, you would not speak that way. We are talking about an army with thirty - fourty thousand light infantry, as well as another ten thousand of elite troops; Dythenesea*, Guardian Assassins* and many, many more. If they somehow unleash, we will be squeezed to death until our liquids come out. The question is why. Why they don't unleash and squash us is the question. One logical answer I can give to that question is, they are presumably after a more fierce victory. If I know one thing about that army is that unless they are mindless -which, I assure you, they are not- they just would not waste an army like that without a fight. That's exactly why we have summoned you here, His Majesty asked for your presence first-hand. You are to figure that out."

"Well," she said, with a weak, sarcastic smile, "If His Majesty asked for it, how can we fylla not obey his wish?"

...

When Urnyras Jael and a selected squad arrived to Lystendalh, they have witnessed the gruesome battle between the onthox and the Royal Army. During their tactical briefing, they were assigned to spot the headquarters, the identities of the commanders and most importantly, their intentions for upcoming days.

"Raulin, left flank, evade the onthox watchtower there," she said, with their secretive body communication language. It was nighttime, so they had the advantage of a natural camouflage.

"Fanrach, right flank, I have seen a narrow pathway down to a bigger alley there, could be good for investigation," she said, using the same body language.

"Roger, but what should we do, if we engage the enemy?" Fanrach asked.

"If outnumbered, flee; if not, kill immediately yet silently," she ordered.

"Understood," said both lieutenants, nodding. Shortly after, they left for the town center. Each group consisted of six agents, and remained another three; with Jael.

"We will assemble here and monitor the battleground," she said. "That's very interesting, though; normally Solian soldiers do not battle during night."

"I assume," one of the assassins said, "It's not the Solian Army wishing to fight beneath the dark sky; but the onthox, my Lady."

...

"This is indeed very annoying," she said, just before the dawn. "The battle never stopped, and the onthox are obviously able to smash the Royal Army. And where in Lake Hente these idiots are? It's almost sunrise!"

They waited for another hour or two, before Fanrach and his squad arrived in exhaustion.

"My Lady," said Fanrach, standing straight despite his all tiredom.

"Speak up, what did you learn?" Urnyras Jael said.

"Onthox will unleash, my Lady," he gasped. "They are waiting for the desertmen. That might be a cipher. They continuously referred to whoever they are as desertmen. But what we know is, at least, they are waiting for another group."

"Desertm- What the hell are you talking about?" she kicked on of the small stones on the ground. "Damn it! You've been inside that god-forsaken town and all you tell me is that they are waiting for a bunch of desertmen? What does that even mean?"

"Let us wait for Raulin, my Lady," said one of the nearby assassins. "Maybe he'll bring the information that might complete what Fanrach have brought us."

"Very well," she said, exhaling. "Let me know when he arrives. In any case we are leaving before afternoon."

...

"What's that noise?" Fanrach asked.

"I have no idea. It feels like the city is awakening. Where the hell is that Raulin? It's been hours!"

It was slightly afternoon, and none from Raulin's squad returned. Urnyras Jael was sitting on a rock, tapping her chin and thinking, while her focus is set somewhere in the sky. She was aware of the noises heard from Lystendalh as well.

Then the noises increased, up to that point when it started to shake the ground; first, irregularly, then it slowly turned into a regular march of an enormous army.

Here it was. The city was unleashing.

Urnyras Jael immediately moved to the outpost that the Intelligence Division established the night before to observe the movement. It was expected. As the onthox left the city towards south, the Royal Army gathered up to follow them. This process took hours, and the onthox simply ruined the city on their way out.

"Raulin is not back yet," she said. "And where are they going? I assume these 'desertmen' arrived? Then, where are they?"

"I have no idea, but this is one of the bigge- no, the biggest army I've ever seen in my life," said one of the assassins, apparently he was impressed.

"Go back to the Headquarters, inform Quarlyn. Tell him that the front base is mobilizing to chase the onthox," Unyras Jael said. "Tell him that the onthox is marching southeast, presumably towards Ghaow."

"That is right, my Lady," Raulin appeared behind a rock, severely injured, trying to catch his breath. He was alone, too.

"Raulin!" said Urnyras Jael, ran towards him to help him. "Aurach, help him! Hurry!"

"The onthox," Raulin said, "Going towards Ghaow... the desertmen... Umbrys*... made a pact, my Lady, with these wretches against... the Empire," he frowned in pain, as Aurach, the medic of the squad, treated him.

"Umbrys attacked... Akaramedia, slain everyone," he said. "Everyone. We have been betrayed... They are marching north... They are..." he gasped.

"Raulin!" Urnyras Jael somehow made a growling sound. "No!"

"They'll stomp us, my Lady," Raulin could say. "We're lost. There is no hope."

He gave his last breath, right after praying in fyllian in mumbles.

*: Dythenesea: An elite and rare special force established shortly before the War of the Lament, Brell-Kyrosvenna. These forces are also presumed to be responsible for the death of the former King, Xemopathia Teleane.

*: Guardian Assassins: Guardians of the Chaotia Temple and The Temple of the Rain; in Chaotia region and Waesandra, Dytherian Capital.

*: Umbrys: A sultanate situated in the Southern Echiott, the Mainland.

the tale of urnyras jael, part V: a new path.

"This is unbelievable!" shouted Shinas, one evening, at the new house. "How do they not allow us to benefit from our old status, what is going to happen to us, then? You are trained to be a diplomat, Dyrun, not some low-life carpenter! "
"You are right, my love," he said calmly, yet sad. "But this is an entire different system here. Things do not work like that. We are not in Syera anymore, do not forget. Our reputation apparently died along Syera herself. We will do what we must; anger, we should not allow to overtake our souls."
"But!" glared Shinas in anger, hitting the table she's sitting behind. She gasped, then exhaled in surrender, not saying anything else.
"I know and feel your disappointment," he said softly, after walking behind Shinas' chair to touch her shoulder. "We are not lustful people. We never were. That, we owe our reputation to. Our kin is cold-blooded, which I consider a gift. I am also a craftsman - you know how much I wanted to run a workshop all my life; don't you? Performing art. Working on wood. Carving it. I am sure it is not as bad as you think, Shinas. For the children, at least, we have to do our best to make it not as bad as you think."
"What should we do with the kids?" Shinas asked.
"They should be trained as crafters, too, what else? At least until the time they decide what they will do for themselves. Well, I can take the boys to train them," Dyrun shrugged. "The girl is strong, almost stronger than her brothers. I am not sure if she can work with the wood, she needs something... tougher." He smiled.
"You have a point," Shinas said. "What about I talk to that blacksmith north of Deluin Street you know? Maybe he can help us?"
"That sounds just fine, he is a wise man," Dyrun approved. "Please do so. See? That is not as bad! Our kids will be raised as worthy, creative minds instead of being suffocated inside the bureocracy of Syeran nobility. I consider this fortunate."
"Oh, Dyrun," she said, looking behind with an admiring smile. "What would have happened to us if it wasn't for you?"

...

"Father is going to run a workshop?" Dheinach said, half surprised, half amused. "He's going to be a craftsman? With those aprons? That is exciting!"
"Yes, indeed," said Shinas, during a walk back home from the Market Square. "He is going to carve wood, work with it. Maybe your brothers will learn how to work with wood too, with him."
"Why not I?" she asked offendedly.
"You are going to come with me, that's why," Shinas assured Dheinach.
"Where to?"
"That, you will see soon," Shinas rubbed Dheinach's hair.
They walked around the street known as Deluin Street, about three blocks away from where they live. Throughout the street, Dheinach realized it was a craftsman avenue full of workshops for tailors, carpenters, tinkers and blacksmiths. Eventually, they stopped in front of a small, old-looking yet neat blacksmith. It had one window, and they could see an old fylla working on a light plate armor with full focus. Shinas noticed the initials 'F' and 'N' just above the door. She sighed, and entered inside; telling Dheinach to wait outside.
Dheinach saw how the old blacksmith greeted Shinas cheerfully, then started to listen what she has to say with a soft smile on his face. He gazed outside the window for a second, directly at Dheinach - then he turned his gaze back to Shinas. After a while, he rubbed his chin, slowly replying Shinas. He nodded several times, holding Shinas on the shoulder; then smiled. After a while, they came out of the shop together.
Blacksmith slowly approached Dheinach, eventually kneeling in front of her.
"My, my," he said with a dreamy voice. "This is our little, strong fylla, then? She looks just like a raven, Lady Shinas."
Shinas smiled.
"So, do you want to learn how to be a blacksmith, work with iron, other ores?" he asked.
Dheinach was surprised: she wasn't aware that she was here as an initiate apprentice for this old man, and that was just the moment she realized it.
"Um, well, I guess?" she could say.
"Oh, you did not tell her, did you?" he then laughed, holding Dheinach's shoulder. "No worries. You indeed look like a strong girl, unexpectedly, even - if you accept being my apprentice, I can give you a trial. Being a craftsman is not easy, young one."
Dheinach did not know what to say, so she just nodded.
"Perfect! My name is Fauran Norlach, some refer to me as Phavuil, for I am very interested in birds!" He was cheerful. Dheinach could not remember seeing a more cheerful man than him in N'ya from the very first time she set foot in this city.
"I am Dheinach Scharren-El'nar," she said.
"A double surname, oh, so you are Syeran?" he asked, rather surprised. "Good, good!"
He held his hand forward for Dheinach to shake. Dheinach did so.
"So," He turned to Shinas. "When shall we start? I have a lot of work to attend to, that was just the time for an apprentice, to be honest." Then he turned to Dheinach. "Though, do not get too excited, for if you fail, that means you can't remain my apprentice. Do you understand, Dheinach?"
Dheinach was amazed how he could manage to sound so positive even when threatening her.
"Yes, sir," she could say.
"Not sir, but Master," he said. "You are my apprentice now, as I am your Master."
"Yes... Master," she said.
"Now, my apprentice, I want you to run inside and observe the shop," he said. "I will have a word with your mother."
Dheinach did what she was told.
"She is very strong, that's for sure," Fauran rubbed his beard. "She has a great power inside. I will do my best."
"We will appreciate, Master Fauran," Shinas said. "We wish her to be a worthy craftsman."
"Who knows," he shrugged. "Maybe she will become something... more."

...

Fauran came inside the shop and observed his new young blacksmith apprentice, after Shinas left. Dheinach, as well, observed him back with curiosity.
"So," Fauran said, folding his arms. "Have you ever worked with ingots and a hammer?"
"No, Master, I have not," she replied, rather hesitantly.
"I see, I see, no problem," he smiled, as he reached for a blacksmith hammer. "This is called a hammer, young one. This will be an extension of your body from now on. This is how you shape metals; of course, with the help of fire."
He slowly approached one of the smaller forges, taking a spike-shaped metal. It looked very hot, apparently.
"This is a dark metal we fylla call eurin," he said, before starting to hit the spike from the edge slowly. "This is going to be a sword, oh and hear me, a very good one!"
"So, you make only armors and weapons, Master?" Dheinach asked.
"Mostly, yes," he nodded. "But not always. There are more peaceful things I make, when I want to. But for now, that is what we will be learning, young one."

...

Months passed, and Dheinach spent her entire time in the blacksmith, learning to shapen less challenging metals into armor and weapons. Each day passing, Fauran admired her commitment to hard work and her fierce character more and more; there were many hours he watched her working on her assignments. She did not differ hard assignments from easy ones; the care she's put into her work was equal. She never slacked, she never got tired. She was serious, respectful; but definitely not boring. In any case, there were two features Fauran realized in her which surprised him the most; she was strong, and she had an iron will. She did not question the orders, and no questionable orders were given to her. It was, from time to time, like she had no life but only her hammer and the metals to shapen. Eventually, the streetsfolk started to address her as Raven, Jael, in Solian language; not only because her dark, shiny and long hair and dark, Syeran skin tone; but also because her cold-blooded, committed, straight and consistent attitude.
The progress she took was remarkable and unexpectable, even to the experienced blacksmith.

...

One night, at her fifth year in N'ya and with her Master Fauran, a man with a dark hood entered the blacksmith; at an hour when Fauran was out elsewhere.
"How can I help you, stranger?" she said, while forging a sword. She wiped her sweat.
"I am looking for Fauran Norlach, the blacksmith," he replied. His voice was straight and emotionless.
Dheinach raised an eyebrow, she stopped forging and dropped her hammer on the anvil. "He is out," she said suspiciously. "I am her apprentice. What business have you?"
"None that concerns you," he said. "Tell me when he will be arriving, little one."
"I'd change that tone, if I were you, hooded man," she said challengingly. "You are not giving the best impression for me to call for my master, since you are rather threatening."
"Oh, what if not?" he replied. He slowly reached for his dagger on his belt. "Will you kill me?"
"You are not threatening me here, scum," she glared. "Begone, or I'll slit your throat!"
Hooded man attempted to throw the dagger to her, but before being able to do it, Dheinach grabbed one of the daggers on the shelf next to her and with an unexpected agility, she jumped on the hooded man. He blocked her first reckless attack. Dheinach realized he was not attacking but merely defending himself, and in her confusion, he disarmed Dheinach and held his dagger to her throat. She spit on his face.
"Enough," said a familiar voice. It was Fauran, dressed in black. He was wearing a dark, long cloak, and Dheinach could see two long daggers hanging from his belt. He made a gesture with his head, and the hooded man bowed his head; shortly after he left.
"What was th-"
"Come with me, my apprentice," he said; much more serious than he usually were. "We have things to discuss."

the tale of urnyras jael, part IV: massacre.

Urnyras Jael tumbled over a confused onthox spearman; and taking advantage of his situation, she stabbed him on his back, through the intestines. She twisted the blades until he eventually stopped screaming, finishing him slitting on his throat. She tossed away the corpse.

"That was the last one," she said. "I do not understand this. They keep sending small troops through the Valley. Where is the damn army?"

"I do not know, but this is indeed awkward," Eoria approved. "We were supposed to give the southern cities time, not meddle here doing nothing - oh well, other than consuming these pawns." She spit on a nearby, headless corpse.

"This can be a bait," Urnyras Jael rubbed her chin. "These bodies, these onthox - they don't even fight back. Haven't you felt their senses, at least some of them who do not know how to hide them? They were afraid, surrendered - some of them knew they would die here. I suspect they are distracting us. They might have found another way to south. They are-"

"Lady, my Lady!" said Faerach, a spy scout, running towards them, in kind of a panic.

"Halt, Faerach, catch your breath!" said Eoria, "What is going on?"

"Speak up," said Urnyras Jael cold-bloodedly, unlike Eoria, she wasn't one bit interested in him resting or catching his breath. "What is it?"

"An Onth-ahem-Onthox Army," he said. "They, Onthox, ruined and burned down all the villages on their way, they dodged us, they are- my Lady, that is horrible, they've slain the kids, the elderly, everyone, they do not show mercy, they-" Then, he fainted.

"Take him to the medical tent," Urnyras Jael said. "Physicians will take care of him. Raulin!"

"Yes, my Lady," said Raulin, another scout.

"Gather up the Second Division and head to south," said Urnyras Jael. "Faus, too, tell him to take the lead of the Third Division and assist you. We will meet nearby the fields north of Freunbragh. Do not leave Galdwin, no matter what happens. Stick to the orders from N'ya."

"My Lady," said Raulin, he then bowed before leaving. Now it was only her and Eoria.

"What really happened that day?" Eoria asked, rather hesitantly.

"What day?" Urnyras Jael asked, without looking at her. She was busy sharpening the edge of her daggers and applying liquified poison.

"You know, the day you blacked out and got wounded," she said. "We were worried."

"I did not black out," she said harshly, she was sharpening the edge faster now. "And please, Eoria, stop worrying about me. I do not need the pity of anyone. I am fine, it was a moment I could not avoid, I don't even know what happened to me. I was just there, standing silent."

"Noone told you, then?" Eoria asked, rather surprised.

"Told me what?" Urnyras Jael turned around. "What ar you talking about?"

"You called for someone, a name," she said. "Einuchar, if I'm not mistaken. You were crying. I cannot believe noone told you that."

"Noone did," Urnyras Jael said, successfully avoiding to give away any surprised or sad expressions and immediately getting herself together. "I do not care. I told you, I do not even remember it now. If you excuse me-" She headed towards her own tent, Eoria stopped her with her shortsword, holding it to Jael's chest.

"Don't be an idiot, woman," Eoria said. "You are one of my closest friends and sisters-in-arms, if not the closest. I know and sense when you are troubled. Stop trying to hide things from me, will you?"

"I do not wish to discuss this any further, Eoria," Urnyras Jael said, with no expressions on her face or her voice. "Let me go. We can't waste any more time."

Eoria lowered her shortsword, and Urnyras Jael started to run towards her tent, with a few subtle tears in her eyes that Eoria has never seen before or after - merely a lousy illustration of how much she was crying inside, ironically.

...

She lifted her hand. Raulin lifted his too, over behind a farmstead. Three Divisions, Two and Three under command of Raulin and Faus; and the First Division under command of Urnyras Jael, quickly merged at the entrance of the town called Freunbragh. There were no lights, even if it was nighttime, as if it was abandoned.

It was one of the oldest towns in the province; and ancient settlement, a grand city before some destructions it had experienced. It was a small town now, but the townsfolk did not abandon the "city", "-bragh"; as a remembrance of these glorious days.

"I sense death," Urnyras Jael frowned. "This can't be good. This stench... Death is in the air. Raulin, cover the northern entrance and report back."

...

"You have to see it for yourself, Urnyras Jael," Raulin said. His face was terrified, shocked. Demoralized.

As Merged Divisions entered the town, they have been surrendered by the darkest shade of black. The main street to the town square from the northern entrance was covered with corpses. Disfigured, half eaten, torn apart bodies. Corpses were hanging on the trees, some were nailed to building walls - all of the corpses shared one more similarity other than the brutality they were subject to: their expression, at least the ones with intact faces, were terrified.

Urnyras Jael felt sick. She started to inhale and exhale faster. She held her tummy. She was dizzy, she-

...was now in Syera.

Her dizziness faded away, as she looked around. A sunny day, atop one of the hills of Syera City, windy, familiar. She could see the entire city, the docks, the Watch Tower - the pride of her nation. All the gulf was under her feet now. She was in peace.

"Beautiful, no?" said a woman behind her back. She was too numb to react, even if it was a threat; she'd be dead by now. She had a feeling - it was no threat. She was peaceful. She's felt no tension. She slowly turned around.

"It is, Einuchar," she said.

The woman she called Einuchar was a grown-up fylla in a white, transparent dress; with flowers and leaves all over her long, red hair.

"Do you fear me?" she said.

"I do not, sister," Urnyras Jael replied. "I do not fear."

"Watch, now," Einuchar touched Jael's shoulder.

All of a sudden, she started hearing screams of sorrow from below, from the city. Everyone was in panic, mourning and shouting in despair; for their death. She remembered.

"What is it, sister?" she asked, nonetheless.

"The sound of death," Einuchar replied. "The disease. Wiping out our homeland."

Urnyras Jael bowed her head, still forcing herself not to cry.

"This is a catastophe, sister," Einuchar continued. "Will you let death lurk in our towns, wipe away everyone? Will you let the death prevail? Will you not fight against it? You have to stay strong, Dheinach, for you are my hope. You are the hope for your people. A hope for the Empire. You are chosen, my sweet sister; yet too early for you to realize it. Stand up, now."

...

"Stand up!" said Eoria, shaking Urnyras Jael on her shoulder. "What the hell in Gosto's name happened to her again?"

"We do not know, Lady Eoria," replied Raulin, rather confused. "We stepped into the ghost town and she faded into a... trance, or whatever you may call it. Not long before you arrived here."

Urnyras Jael was in a kneeling position, looking at a random spot on the ground, without moving or even blinking.

"Clear the city, burn everything down, after you conduct a full scale investigation. Search every home for possible living. Search every hole. I'll write the report to N'ya and to Rolinbragh City. We have to warn southern regions - onthox have found another way around us. Jael was right."

"Yes, my Lady," said Raulin, giving instructions to the rest of the Intelligence Corps.

"My sweet Raven," said Eoria, kneeling next to her. "What has happened to you? What troubles you? We will learn soon, dear friend. I will help you."

Urnyras Jael let one tear fall down.

the tale of urnyras jael, part III: n'ya.

"So," Dyrun said. "This is it."
He looked at the convoy officer that stood just next to him, in front of the southwestern gates of N'ya.
"Seems like it," he nodded. "We made it. Before we step into the city, convoy's physicians will check everyone for possible infections. The ones with a granted access permission will get into the city to meet the Bannerlord."
Bannerlords were the Governors of Empire-affiliated cities, however the usage of the word "Bannerlord" was merely traditional. It comes from many centuries ago, when the Law Regarding the Preservation of the City Banners was legislated, the King assigned all Governors to be in charge of the newly-established City Banner Shrines and Squares first hand. The term is a mere reflection of this small detail up to modern days.

...

Scharren-El'nar family luckily passed through the city gates when it was understood that none was infected. Dyrun and Shinas were helplessly amazed by the sight of the city: it was hard to tell whether it was a forest or a city, unlike many first-ever fyllian cities in Altor, that are situated at the coastline. All the buildings were professionally placed within the woods with similar colors, giving the city itself a successful disguise. 'This', thought Dyrun, 'Could well be useful for defenses.'
They arrived to the huge tower in the city center, probably the only structure that is explicitly visible even outside the city. N'ya had four seperate districts, and they all had passages and wide roads between them; and this tower the fylla called Thyke was at the very point where these seperate districts meet, in the middle of a square called Thyke'gaoch. It had a flame at the top, a flame fylla believe was a gift from Lyca'nae Verd, the Leader of the Council of Holy Spirits (which is practically a League of Gods) and the God of Flame, the main element of all Life. Fiery spirals from the bottom to the top ornamented and beautified the black, straight tower; up to the point where they meet with the fire proudly watching over the capital of fylla. One could easily observe how proud the fylla are with this gift, and they always spoke highly of Thyke.
When they arrived at Thyke'gaoch, they realized that N'ya City was already aware of the disease lurking Altor: the Bannerlord Krischnokh Illinarth, his wife, all the officials of N'ya City, health officers, aid supplies, huge tents for food, volunteers; they were all working very hard to turn the square into a safe refugee hub. Dyrun and Shinas had no idea for how long these people worked for, but apparently they succeeded. They were safe.

...

"Our blood brothers," said Krischnokh to the priviledged refugees, after waiting for all to arrive about half a day, around midnight, during a speech. "This day will show how fylla of the Wood and of the Sea shall be one and aid each other, without hesitating one moment. We mourn for the losses of the denizens of Syera, the beautiful watcher of the Gulf; the homeland to all of us. Rest assured, my brethren, N'ya will do everything she can. Here, we established a temporary residence for you. Arriving convoys after tomorrow will be scattered all over the suburbs, but all refugees that arrive to the safe embrace of N'ya shall not be rejected, this I vow. Now please, the ones who haven't eaten, the food tents are over there - the ones wishing to take a rest, our volunteers will aid you."
Dyrun was amazed. He rubbed Dheinach's hair, who also was looking around the city with a dropped jaw; holding his father's hand. "Do you see? We are safe now. We will be fine. Right, mother?" he said. It is common for Fyllian mates to address each other as 'mother' or 'father' when their children are around.
"Indeed," she smiled at Dheinach and her brothers. "Now, children, let us eat and rest a bit. We are all filled with sorrow, and we are obviously exhausted."
Boys approved, but Dheinach did not react at all. She was still observing the square and the tower, she was watching how everyone was running around, aiding the victims of Syeran Plague. She was deeply impressed, as much as a child would be impressed from things; fresh and alive forever until the day they eventually join the dead in Lake Hente.
...

After some weeks, when all the refugees from Syera and surrounding towns arrived in Ossax, expectedly the bigger population was initiated in N'ya. Most of the refugees in N'ya were of Syeran families with a higher reputation; diplomats, officials.
Scharren-El'nar family was given a house near the northern suburb of Khalios. It was one of the better suburbs, with a nice park and a large pond in it. It was mostly a merchant district with many crafters: blacksmiths, carpenters, cobblers, tailors and tinkers. Residential buildings were to the southern side of the district, exactly the area where the family's new house was situated in.
"This is," said Shinas to her children, while peering at the new house. "Our new home. It looks a bit old, but if we work together; and if we work hard, we can make an even better house than we've had back in Syera."
"We can't," said Dheinach. "I loved our house in Syera. This one is old. And I don't like the neighbourhood."
"Come on now, Dhei," Shinas said, with a subtlely trembling voice. "This house will be just as good! That's a bigger city with different people, more entertainment for kids, I'm sure! You should give it a chance, my dear."
"I won't," she cried. "I won't, I won't! I hate it already! I'm sick of it, already! I want to go back! Father, let me go back! I miss the sea, I miss the winds blowing through my face - Father!"
Dyrun was silent. The entire family was in front of their new house, and they were calmly listening to their young daughter screaming and expressing her hatred about N'ya. Dyrun knew how it felt, just like the rest of the family; and he could imagine how a kid would interpret, experience and express that kind of a feeling.
"Dheinach!" said Shinas, with tears in her eyes, she still was frowning. "Stop it, you are embarrassing us!"
"Shin, love," said Dyrun suddenly, holding up his hand towards Shinas. "It's alright. Let's talk about it later, shall we, Dhei? We can't go back to Syera now anyway, we have to wait for the physicians, priests and arcanists to cleanse the taint. We will talk about it when they do so, okay, my girl?"
She mumbled, and slowly walked inside the house; kicking and breaking the wooden garden gate on her way... She surrendered.