Ashlyn-NightEyes

6 Never more than now was Fiveplay thankful for all the training she had received over the years. Faolan’s tracking lessons and Riven’s art of stealth came flooding back to her in a rush of memory as she trotted across the length of the Southern Plains. In the early morning of the day, she had paused to lap up water from a small pool. She didn’t linger; game trails cut through the tall grass and the call of predators could be heard in low bellows across the misty expanse of the plain. As the heat rose, she was forced to stop again in the shelter of a large tree, climbing high to ensure protection from any hungry beast that mig

5 The first thing that flooded Fiveplay’s senses once she woke was the scent of dried blood caked to her lips. She slowly licked them, narrowing her eyes at the bitter taste as she washed it off. She ached what seemed to be all over; her knees, stomach and head radiated pain. Raising her head, she squinted in the darkness. The moon’s light slanted through the tent flaps, falling across her equipment that had been thrown aside. All but her sword, which lay across her thighs as she knelt in the dirt. Powerful magic bound the blade to its owner; Ombra Pallida would need great arcane coaxing to be taken from her. Her shoulders ached an

4 Dark had fallen by the time they reached the edge of the Varhax river and the ferry that resided there. The raft man, a hulking creature with sharp taloned fingers and burning red eyes escorted across the river without word. Fiveplay was forced to blindfold her mare before the white would walk onto the raft; the aura of death and decay most undead carried was much more than any animal could bear. Fiveplay had done her best to sooth the horse’s frantic shuddering, but the white didn’t calm down until they had left Varhax and the Necropolis far behind.  The horse had panicked herself into a frothing sweat, forcing Fiveplay to walk

 The interior of House Windwalker was quiet, but not devoid of silence. At first, Fiveplay thought her overly taxed nerves were playing at her imagination. However, as she pressed forward into the dimly lit hallway of the mansion, the sound became clearer and more pronounced. That music, coupled with the melodious sounds of a fine voice, tugged at the edges of her mind with sensual promises of both benign and sinister in nature. She shuddered; rarely did one survive a banshee’s scream, so infused was it with the very powers of death and insanity. However, as she had come to know through dreaded experience, the love song of a banshee was