Echoes. Unintelligible echoes. Every soundwave, echoing all over. Echoes. Haunted, sorrowful, yearning echoes. Maddening. Saddening as much.
Urnyras Jael woke up with an acute, yet low cry; somehow sounding like a painful screech, from her deep sleep. She was sweaty all over in her tent, probably breathing as fast as her lungs would allow her. She thought she had a nightmare, but she could not remember the specifics. She only knew that she was somehow very scared, and she was sure that it was somehow very familiar. She, however, had no idea what it was that scared her that much.
As she calmed down, her surroundings started to make sense to her again, one by one. She knew that she was somewhere deep in the southwestern outskirts of Lyca'naus Mountains, within lush borders of Orbh Forest. The next thing she remembered was why she was here: they were at war, and the war was against the onthox; a half living-half dead race from the island called Dytheria. The onthox invaded the Empire, and as the leader of the Intelligence Corps of N'ya City, she was assigned to ambush the enemy troops trying to make their way south and to cooperate the Ranger Division of her city.
She was in a tent, as well. One of those tents that the division leaders had, large, comfortable.
All of those realizations, however, lasted less than two seconds.
She slowly stood up in her tent, which was about the size of a marqueé - she could easily stand up and walk in it. It was covered with crimson linen and supported by wood. She had numerous pillows and a comfortable bed on the floor; also a big, round table closer to the exit of the tent covered with maps and various intelligence reports all over Northern Ossax.
She remembered how she felt when she stepped in that tent for the first time. She thought about the tents she has slept in before. This was probably the best.
She slowly got off her bed, grabbing her daggers and attaching them to her belt, making sure they are tightly attached. She, then, grabbed her dark lynx leather gloves and wore them. On her way out of the tent, she grabbed her hooded cloak and tied it around her neck, hooding herself shortly after while walking towards the armory.
"Fa'na Hel," she said to the blacksmith of the encampment. "Did we recieve the shipment yet, Hochnar?"
"Alas, my Lady," he pursed his lips. "We are still waiting. I assume there was an unexpected delay. Could be an ambush, Gosto forbid."
"We need those weapons, damn it," she glared angrily, but not to the blacksmith. "They ask us to make a blockade on our own and they dare to leave us unarmed? Why not send all of us to a cliff and ask us to jump down rather?"
"You are right, my Lady, that was an act lacking foresight for sure," the blacksmith wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Me and my apprentices are working as hard as we can to at least supply some blades for the Corps. But in any case we need the help of N'ya."
"Your service will be awarded, I'm sure, Hochnar," Urnyras Jael said. "Just you wait. Wait until Eoria arrives. Then we can be triumphant against whoever dares to stand in our way."
...
The weapons arrived the next morning, and the Intelligence Corps merged with the Ranger Division to situate themselves all over Nin Rivien Valley. Slowly but effectively, Eoria, the Arch-Ranger of the Ranger Division, and Urnyras Jael, Master Assassin of the Intelligence Corps; started their journey to north. After a while, they stopped in a small plateau with trees all around to establish an encampment after receiving reports about a nearby onthox presence.
It was nighttime, and wherever they were, the nights were definitely cold; despite the fact that it was summer, she was almost shivering.
"What is this place, Feurin? It looks dreadfully familiar. Have we ever set foot to those forests before?" asked Urnyras Jael to one of her fellow scouts.
"I doubt, my Lady," he answered. "This place is known as Galdwin. We are somewhere to the east, I assume. And you are shivering - are you cold, my Lady? Rinoch! Bring Lady Jael some blankets, and hurry up!"
Rinoch's voice of approval was heard from a distance, as Urnyras Jael started to tremble faster.
"I know this place," she said. "I've been here before."
"I doubt it was during my service, then, my Lady," he replied. "Maybe it was during your previous services?"
"This is the third time I lead the Corps outside N'ya, everything else took place before was personal assignments, not massive actions," she replied, frowning and rubbing her arms. "And none, I tell you, none of my assignments were in Southern Ossax."
"Maybe," he replied, "It was when you were younger, I don't know, family visits?"
"My family and I would never come to this region, why would we?" she asked. "The only thing it has is apparently trees and the plains - N'ya has plenty of trees. How many fyllas do you know that enjoy a long, undisrupted walk on an unchallenging plain? None. It has to be something else... something more."
Urnyras Jael stopped talking, and Feurin did not reply. Rinoch shortly arrived with a green-crimson blanket and helped Urnyras Jael to hold it all over her shoulders and back. She thanked Rinoch before the scout left shortly for his post.
Then heard the fyllas, the deafening screams of the approaching onthoxian warriors.
Urnyras Jael quickly ran to the northwestern post of the encampment, where the sounds presumably were coming from; she narrowed her eyes to the darkness and saw the enemy.
"They are moving fast," she said to the scouts. "Arm yourselves. Be ready for anything. CORPS, WE RETREAT TO THE WOODS. STEALTH, FORGET NOT!"
The Corps approved their leader with a brief shout.
Intelligence Corps immediately and professionally faded into and merged with the nearby woods, camouflaging themselves.
Meanwhile, Eoria ordered her Rangers to establish two parallel ambush lines at where they assumed the onthox might go through.
...
"NOW!" glared Eoria, and followed a thousand flaming arrows over the tiny passage the onthox decided to go through over them. The first attack killed some, nonetheless it wasn't the best way to slay an onthox.
Urnyras Jael let out her typical war screech and the Intelligence Corps rained over the onthox and engaged them in melee combat. As brutal it was, these assassins were performing an art. Urnyras Jael was a cold-blooded killing machine when it came to warfare; just the opposite of what she is assumed to be in her private life. She was slaying the enemy one by one. Mercilessly. Without one moment of hesitation. She was more like dancing than fighting, to some.
In the battlefield, she hurled one of her daggers to an onthox eventually. When she looked up at the onthox's face, she couldn't swing it anymore, the moment she saw her face, she froze. Her eyes were fixated on the onthox in surprise, horror, the worst of thrills. It was like the Death God was swinging his staff above her head now. The world has gone black - and silent at the same time; not because she was wounded physically, but because she was more like paralyzed mentally.
"Sister," said a child to her.
"No," she spoke in echoes. "No, that can't be."
"It had," the child carried on. "Here I am, sister."
The child smiled at Urnyras Jael, whose legs were shaking. She eventually kneeled in front of the child in desperation, trying to hold her tears. She always thought crying in front of her loved ones was a sign of weakness; put aside strangers. But if she could, she would. She would cry for a millennia, at that very moment.
"Hold my hand, sister," the child said to her, with an absolute compassion and sincerity in her words. "Hold my hand, and we shall find our mother and father."
"No, you are not- you can't- you are dead," Urnyras Jael could say, as she was inevitably sobbing now. "You died, in front of my eyes."
"Do you feel cold too, sister?" she asked. "Do you feel cold too, at this very realm where I took my last breath? Are you surprised to have seen me here, at this very realm where I joined the dead?"
The phrase 'joined the dead' echoed in her mind. After a while, it started to loop in an accelerating decibel, until she trembled for the last time and fainted; only to wake up again in a few seconds. At least, according to what she've felt.
"It was unavoidable, sir," said a scout to Farin, Second-in-Command of the Intelligence Corps, who was just standing next to Urnyras Jael who was lying on a floor bed under supervision of a medic. "Helinach, too, sir. They are converted. They all joined the dead."
"NO!" screamed Urnyras Jael, trying to get off the bed. She pushed away the medic in her fury, literally making the poor fylla hit the tent wall and rip it. Farin held her arms. "Easy, easy, my Lady," he said calmly. "You are wounded. Severely, I might add. Please let the medic finish your stitches before you bleed to death."
Urnyras Jael calmed down quickly, realizing she just pushed the medic. She apologized him when he came over again, rubbing his head and politely nodding.
As she calmly let the medic complete the stitching, Farin stared at her with worried eyes. When medic left, he sat by her and gazed at her closer.
"What is it, Farin?" said Urnyras Jael, sighing.
"They say you froze, in front of an onthox, and kneeled," he said, while still staring at her. "Is that true? What happened?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nevermind. It happens recently. Nighttime and daytime nightmares. I don't even remember."
"I doubt it," he said suspiciously. "You look troubled for the last three days. If you have anything to say-"
"I said nothing, Farin," she said. "Ghosts, maybe. Ghosts of the past. I might be haunted. Cursed, even? Please leave me be. I need to rest."
"As you wish, my Lady, " sighed Farin, while leaving the tent.
Urnyras Jael woke up with an acute, yet low cry; somehow sounding like a painful screech, from her deep sleep. She was sweaty all over in her tent, probably breathing as fast as her lungs would allow her. She thought she had a nightmare, but she could not remember the specifics. She only knew that she was somehow very scared, and she was sure that it was somehow very familiar. She, however, had no idea what it was that scared her that much.
As she calmed down, her surroundings started to make sense to her again, one by one. She knew that she was somewhere deep in the southwestern outskirts of Lyca'naus Mountains, within lush borders of Orbh Forest. The next thing she remembered was why she was here: they were at war, and the war was against the onthox; a half living-half dead race from the island called Dytheria. The onthox invaded the Empire, and as the leader of the Intelligence Corps of N'ya City, she was assigned to ambush the enemy troops trying to make their way south and to cooperate the Ranger Division of her city.
She was in a tent, as well. One of those tents that the division leaders had, large, comfortable.
All of those realizations, however, lasted less than two seconds.
She slowly stood up in her tent, which was about the size of a marqueé - she could easily stand up and walk in it. It was covered with crimson linen and supported by wood. She had numerous pillows and a comfortable bed on the floor; also a big, round table closer to the exit of the tent covered with maps and various intelligence reports all over Northern Ossax.
She remembered how she felt when she stepped in that tent for the first time. She thought about the tents she has slept in before. This was probably the best.
She slowly got off her bed, grabbing her daggers and attaching them to her belt, making sure they are tightly attached. She, then, grabbed her dark lynx leather gloves and wore them. On her way out of the tent, she grabbed her hooded cloak and tied it around her neck, hooding herself shortly after while walking towards the armory.
"Fa'na Hel," she said to the blacksmith of the encampment. "Did we recieve the shipment yet, Hochnar?"
"Alas, my Lady," he pursed his lips. "We are still waiting. I assume there was an unexpected delay. Could be an ambush, Gosto forbid."
"We need those weapons, damn it," she glared angrily, but not to the blacksmith. "They ask us to make a blockade on our own and they dare to leave us unarmed? Why not send all of us to a cliff and ask us to jump down rather?"
"You are right, my Lady, that was an act lacking foresight for sure," the blacksmith wiped some sweat off his forehead. "Me and my apprentices are working as hard as we can to at least supply some blades for the Corps. But in any case we need the help of N'ya."
"Your service will be awarded, I'm sure, Hochnar," Urnyras Jael said. "Just you wait. Wait until Eoria arrives. Then we can be triumphant against whoever dares to stand in our way."
...
The weapons arrived the next morning, and the Intelligence Corps merged with the Ranger Division to situate themselves all over Nin Rivien Valley. Slowly but effectively, Eoria, the Arch-Ranger of the Ranger Division, and Urnyras Jael, Master Assassin of the Intelligence Corps; started their journey to north. After a while, they stopped in a small plateau with trees all around to establish an encampment after receiving reports about a nearby onthox presence.
It was nighttime, and wherever they were, the nights were definitely cold; despite the fact that it was summer, she was almost shivering.
"What is this place, Feurin? It looks dreadfully familiar. Have we ever set foot to those forests before?" asked Urnyras Jael to one of her fellow scouts.
"I doubt, my Lady," he answered. "This place is known as Galdwin. We are somewhere to the east, I assume. And you are shivering - are you cold, my Lady? Rinoch! Bring Lady Jael some blankets, and hurry up!"
Rinoch's voice of approval was heard from a distance, as Urnyras Jael started to tremble faster.
"I know this place," she said. "I've been here before."
"I doubt it was during my service, then, my Lady," he replied. "Maybe it was during your previous services?"
"This is the third time I lead the Corps outside N'ya, everything else took place before was personal assignments, not massive actions," she replied, frowning and rubbing her arms. "And none, I tell you, none of my assignments were in Southern Ossax."
"Maybe," he replied, "It was when you were younger, I don't know, family visits?"
"My family and I would never come to this region, why would we?" she asked. "The only thing it has is apparently trees and the plains - N'ya has plenty of trees. How many fyllas do you know that enjoy a long, undisrupted walk on an unchallenging plain? None. It has to be something else... something more."
Urnyras Jael stopped talking, and Feurin did not reply. Rinoch shortly arrived with a green-crimson blanket and helped Urnyras Jael to hold it all over her shoulders and back. She thanked Rinoch before the scout left shortly for his post.
Then heard the fyllas, the deafening screams of the approaching onthoxian warriors.
Urnyras Jael quickly ran to the northwestern post of the encampment, where the sounds presumably were coming from; she narrowed her eyes to the darkness and saw the enemy.
"They are moving fast," she said to the scouts. "Arm yourselves. Be ready for anything. CORPS, WE RETREAT TO THE WOODS. STEALTH, FORGET NOT!"
The Corps approved their leader with a brief shout.
Intelligence Corps immediately and professionally faded into and merged with the nearby woods, camouflaging themselves.
Meanwhile, Eoria ordered her Rangers to establish two parallel ambush lines at where they assumed the onthox might go through.
...
"NOW!" glared Eoria, and followed a thousand flaming arrows over the tiny passage the onthox decided to go through over them. The first attack killed some, nonetheless it wasn't the best way to slay an onthox.
Urnyras Jael let out her typical war screech and the Intelligence Corps rained over the onthox and engaged them in melee combat. As brutal it was, these assassins were performing an art. Urnyras Jael was a cold-blooded killing machine when it came to warfare; just the opposite of what she is assumed to be in her private life. She was slaying the enemy one by one. Mercilessly. Without one moment of hesitation. She was more like dancing than fighting, to some.
In the battlefield, she hurled one of her daggers to an onthox eventually. When she looked up at the onthox's face, she couldn't swing it anymore, the moment she saw her face, she froze. Her eyes were fixated on the onthox in surprise, horror, the worst of thrills. It was like the Death God was swinging his staff above her head now. The world has gone black - and silent at the same time; not because she was wounded physically, but because she was more like paralyzed mentally.
"Sister," said a child to her.
"No," she spoke in echoes. "No, that can't be."
"It had," the child carried on. "Here I am, sister."
The child smiled at Urnyras Jael, whose legs were shaking. She eventually kneeled in front of the child in desperation, trying to hold her tears. She always thought crying in front of her loved ones was a sign of weakness; put aside strangers. But if she could, she would. She would cry for a millennia, at that very moment.
"Hold my hand, sister," the child said to her, with an absolute compassion and sincerity in her words. "Hold my hand, and we shall find our mother and father."
"No, you are not- you can't- you are dead," Urnyras Jael could say, as she was inevitably sobbing now. "You died, in front of my eyes."
"Do you feel cold too, sister?" she asked. "Do you feel cold too, at this very realm where I took my last breath? Are you surprised to have seen me here, at this very realm where I joined the dead?"
The phrase 'joined the dead' echoed in her mind. After a while, it started to loop in an accelerating decibel, until she trembled for the last time and fainted; only to wake up again in a few seconds. At least, according to what she've felt.
"It was unavoidable, sir," said a scout to Farin, Second-in-Command of the Intelligence Corps, who was just standing next to Urnyras Jael who was lying on a floor bed under supervision of a medic. "Helinach, too, sir. They are converted. They all joined the dead."
"NO!" screamed Urnyras Jael, trying to get off the bed. She pushed away the medic in her fury, literally making the poor fylla hit the tent wall and rip it. Farin held her arms. "Easy, easy, my Lady," he said calmly. "You are wounded. Severely, I might add. Please let the medic finish your stitches before you bleed to death."
Urnyras Jael calmed down quickly, realizing she just pushed the medic. She apologized him when he came over again, rubbing his head and politely nodding.
As she calmly let the medic complete the stitching, Farin stared at her with worried eyes. When medic left, he sat by her and gazed at her closer.
"What is it, Farin?" said Urnyras Jael, sighing.
"They say you froze, in front of an onthox, and kneeled," he said, while still staring at her. "Is that true? What happened?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nevermind. It happens recently. Nighttime and daytime nightmares. I don't even remember."
"I doubt it," he said suspiciously. "You look troubled for the last three days. If you have anything to say-"
"I said nothing, Farin," she said. "Ghosts, maybe. Ghosts of the past. I might be haunted. Cursed, even? Please leave me be. I need to rest."
"As you wish, my Lady, " sighed Farin, while leaving the tent.
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