“'Ay! Did yous ‘ear? Dee say she wuz spotted again.”
“Still go'n in de same direction?”
“Em- hm. It seems she is a 'ead'n fe de war up in Epis. Betweun Earthsea and de Firehills.”
The three fishermen spoke in hushed tones, their heads bent close together, as they discussed the latest news about The Pale Rider. The dim lighting and smoky air mixed with the late hour, gave the Seafront Tavern an extra layer of quiet this night. The three usually boisterous fishermen, discussed Lady Death in quietly hushed tones. The other patrons paid them little mind.
“Nolan o’ Beddoc, says dat Shattuck an 'alf de Kelpie’s crew saw 'er whun dee docked in Bridgeport at de newn bell.” Said Sully, the youngest of the three.
Barely twenty-two, he had been working as a dockhand at Wellingsford Bay for the last ten years. He had a strong, stout build, that told anyone who looked at him that rumors of his mother’s family having Dwarf blood in their line wasn’t untrue. He kept his long, dark, red hair pulled back in a tail, and his patchy red beard close cropped. His hazel eyes, a dreamer’s mix of brown, green, and gray, held weary excitement.
“'ow can’a ‘ee knows it’s 'er and not some noble onna white 'orse.?” asked Fisk, a burly man at the end of his prime. For a man quickly approaching his twilight years, he didn’t look it.
He was broad shouldered and a barreled-chested, his long wavy, gray streaked, chestnut hair, hung lose down his back. His thick beard was just as long wild as his hair. Beetle black eyes peaked out from under heavy brows. His large hooked nose, the tip of which was slightly squashed, had been broken at least twice in his life and healed crooked.
Fisk captained a small fishing vessel, the Will O’ Wisp. Like many a seafaring man he had named his ship for one of the fair folk. It had long been the custom in the land of Diwa to name things such as wagons and boats after one of the immortals, to help bring luck and prosperity to the owners of such things.
“Oh its 'er or'rite.” said Wayde, a man in his prime, “It’s all ways de same description. a fair skind, dark 'aired wench, dressed in black. rid'n a pale 'orse and wi’ a big ol’ black bird fallow'n close be’ind.
Unlike his fellows Wayde was long limbed and gangly. He was tall toping at nearly seven feet. His shoulder length golden blond hair had a slight curl to it and his summer sky eyes shone with sharp intelligence. He was clean shaven, and handsome enough that he drew many an eye. Though he didn’t have a ship of his own, Wayde could often be seen out in the bay, aboard his brother’s skiff the Dracling. Though he had no grate power Wayde’s Gift gave him the ability to clam the tides and ensure that his table was never without food.
“See?” said Sully, “Wi’ a description like dat there’s nah one else it could be. It’s de Pale Rider, Averna, Lady Death 'erself!”
While the three men discussed the possibility of the Pale Rider and whether or not she would be making her way to Wellingsford, they failed to notice the dark-haired woman who’d been sitting at the bar. Listening to them as she nursed a tankard of ale. If they had, the men would have noted that the woman had very pale skin, night black hair and eyes the color of pitch. Her cloths were worn and dirty from travel but of good quality. She wore lose fitting black britches, a black knee length split tonic and black calf skin riding boots.
Her waist length hair was woven into an intricate braid that hung down her back with two smaller braids framing both sides of her face. Each of her three braids had a combination of ivory bone beads and glassy black feathers woven into them.
If it weren’t for the glamour she wore to hide who and what she was, the whole tavern would have seen the most exotic, wild, beautifully graceful face. It was said, a man could drown in the depths of her, large almond shaped, eyes. Her lips had the barest touch of peach color to them. Her ears came to sharp, delicate points much like those that belonged to the elfin races. Her face had the sharp-edged beauty, that was a gentle comfort to those ready to embrace her and produced debilitating fear in those who knew her wrath.
Averna, was not a Child Of God, and she had no seat on the Counsel Of Five. She was an independent entity, having existed as long as God. She was no Goddess, and wish not for others to see her as such. Though she knew some did anyway. She knew there were just as many temples dedicated to her as there were to God and his children.
But Averna, or Ava as she was known to her chosen, could never be a Goddess. God was life, and she was death. Though God could not exist with out her nor she without him. The two completed each other in an unending cycle.
She did not often come to the land of the living, but she enjoyed the pleasers that could be found there. Sensations were dulled in The Twilight Realm Of The Dead that was her home. Only among the living could she enjoy the taste of cool ale. Or the feel of Bonecrusher, her Pale Horse, as she rode astride him. Only here could she feel the painful clamping of Battlescry’s talons as they sank into her flesh.
Ava spent several hours at the tavern, listening to village gossip and enjoying a hearty meal. But as midnight approached, and the number of patrons visiting the establishment petered out until only she and the three-gossiping fisherman and the barkeep remained. Deciding it was time she take her leave; Ava slapped a down few silver marks on the bar and left.
Taking her cloak from the peg, were it hung by the door, she walkd out of the tavern savoring the scent and feel of the cool gray mist, as it came sweeping up out of the bay to blanket the village of Wellingsford. Raising her right arm to the sky above, Ava was soon greeted by the shrill caw of Battlescry, one of her dearest and trusted traveling companions.
Battlescry was the first Crow, and thus mother to all other crows who existed in the world. As a child of Father Sky one of Counsel Of Five, she was immortal. She was the deepest shade of pure ebony. Only her talons, the brightest silver, where diffrent. But it was in the bird’s sightless white eyes that Ava found a measure of comfort. Though the bird was completely blind she could see strait into the souls of men.
Battlescry was a warrior sprit, who along with Lady Death, had been gathering the souls of fallen soldier stints the Chaos Wars. It was on those blood filled plains that they had met more then ten millennium ago. Perhaps it was because she lacked physical sight, but the bird had a way of knowing what was to come. Her gift, that which she put out into the world, was second sight, along with being the first Crow she was also the first Seer.
More then a fortnight ago the bird had come to Ava. The bird had told Lady Death that she was to travel along the coast from Sueiko and Diwa, and on into Earthsea. Before she made her way on to Epis and the border war between Earthsea and the Firehills. Along the way she would meet one who would bring a grate change to the world. Her meeting with that one was pivotal. For if they did not meet there would be much suffering among the living. Thus they set out and began traveling, all the while Ava, kept an eye out for this one. But so far they had yet to meet.
As Battlescry settled on Ava forearm, silver talons sinking into flesh and cloth so as not lose her grip.
Shall we go now Sister? Asked the bird.
“Yes.” answered Ava a moment before she sent out a shrill whistle into the mist.
The gentle clip-clop, a deliberate sound, was the only warning he gave, as Bonecrusher strode from the mist. True unto his breed Bonecrusher walked upon silent hooves. Or rather it was that his breed was true unto him for Bonecrusher was the first Pale Horse. And thus like Battlescry he too was immortal, a child of Mother Ocean of the Counsel Of Five. Bonecrusher was a beauty with his pale coat that was not quite white but was not quite gray either, black eyes and silver hooves. The gift he put out into the world was the same one she looked for in her chosen, was Death Magic, the ability, to see interact with and gather the dead.
All her chosen rode Pale Horses. Pale horses where one of the only living beasts, aside from crows and ravens, that could walk to the border of The Twilight Realm. Atop their pale horses, her chosen could do what no others could. They gathered the spirits of the dead and took them to the border of The Twilight Realm.
Ava swang into Bonecrusher’s saddle with such practiced ease, she didn’t even jostle Battlescry from her perch. Silently, Bonecrusher set out of Wellingsford, fading into the evening mist.
“Naaa! Naaa! Let me goo!” A young girl screamed. A man had grabbed her from behind. Pinning her arms to her sides. The child flailed, bashing her heels against her atacker’s shins. Fling her head back; she clipped his chin with the back of her scull. The man swore but didn’t let go, ignoring the dribble of blood that leaked from his lip.
Ava watched the scene, with passive interest. She wondered what would befall this child in the days and months to come. In all likelihood the girl would be takin to the docks and the Slavers Ships. She knew this child’s fate would not end in death, at least not any time soon, he spirt was too strong. However, Ava, being who and what she was, knew that death was often a release for those who suffered much harsher fates. Especially for children. Slavery and abuse took a toll on young bodies. Few children lived to see adolescents let alone adulthood.
She knew all too well the horrors that be fell young children taken from their homes or stolen off the streets. She’d herd many a tail, and not just by the children who suffered but by those who took them as well.
For in death all stories were told, and all secrets reviled. That was the price one had to pay for going on. The Twilight Realm is a sanctuary, that only unburdened spirts could enter. A place for sprits to rest. Before being carried back to the world of the living and being given another chance at life.
Turning away from the child, and urging Bonecrusher onward. Her thoughts turned inward as she grumped that she still had yet to find the one she sought. The one who’s meeting would bring grate change the world of the living.
The battle in Epis was still raging and she was sorely needed there. Though she had already sent many of her chosen, they could only lead the souls of the dead to The Twilight Realm. However she could collect the souls of the living as well as the dead. She often gave peace to those who were suffering. Everyone knew that Lady Death could be as gentle as a summer breeze or as cold and ruthless as a winter storm. Both were facets of her power.
“Lady! Lady Death wait! Pleas! Pleas 'elp me!”
Ava wiped around to stare at the girl’s tear streaked face. Still held fast in the arms of the brute who had snatched her.
“'Ay! Dat 'ill be enoof av dat. Yer wee wench.” Said the man as he slapped a hand over her mouth.
Ava stared transfixed. Blood red hair and pale eyes. Not pale blue, as she’d first thought, but pale. As pale as Bonecrusher’s coat. Deathly pale skin and a sharply pointed face that fit awkwardly on such a young child.
She always used a glamour when traveling through a city or village. It was a precautionary tactic to prevent wide spread panic while she moved through the masses. Not even her chosen could see through her glamour unless she allowed.
There had only ever been one who could…
Though nearly eight hundred years had past snits that time. It was as though she had held him in her arms only moments ago. He was the only being she had ever given life to. Her son, Than.
A child born between her and a mortal man, Than was unique. His powers and his lineage made him that, but it also made him mad. A child who’s very being was an embodiment of death. He never should have existed. Even now she knew not how it was that he had come to be, but she could not regret his existence, despite what he had done, what he had become. He would always be her child.
Because of the pairing of a mortal man and Lady Death, the boy’s body had always been unstable. His mortal body could not contain the whole of his immortal soul. He’d had too much power and his body began to burn out. Though she did not know how or when, eventually her son learned that if he devoured the souls of the dead he could replenish his energy and fortify his body.
So for years, that is what he did, but with every soul he ate he corrupted a part of his own. Eventually madness took him. Using the power that was his because of her bloodline he began to summon the sprits of the living. He would walk through a village and leave nothing but corpses.
Looking at this girl child with a face so like that of her son, Ava knew this child was the one she sought. She turned to look at Battlescry, perched on her shoulder. Though the bird could not see her, she answered the unspoken question all the same.
She is the last of his bloodline… The last of you’re bloodline.
Before Ava could think of what to do, she felt a surge of power. The power of death. The man’s grip on the girl went slack a moment before he fell to the ground lifeless, around the girl and the corpse of her attacker were five other bodies. The ghosts of each stood dazed beside their bodies. They had no idea what had just happened.
The girl had slumped to the ground, sobbing.
The seal has been broken; you will need this girl and her powers if you are to stop what is to come.
Ava looked at her friend, if the bird’s word where true, and she had no reason for doubt, then Than was free. And if Than was free then she would need all the help she could get and one who was like him could be useful.
Dismounting, Ava dropped her glamour and startled Battlescry into flight. She wasn’t really worried about causing a panic anymore. The site of six seemingly healthy people dropping dead around a sobbing child had caused a kind of eerie calm. Much like the calm before the brake of a large storm. She needed to be careful, or the child might be hurt by the crowd. If showing them who and what she was would help the child then, all the better.
Ava knelt before the girl, slipping cool fingers under the her chin she tilted the girl’s head up so she could look at her. Tears streamed down the girl’s face, her eyes were red rimed and puffy.
“’m sorry. ’m sorry.” Sobbed the girl “Oi didn’t mean it.”
“What is your name?” Ava asked in a cool clear voice that made all those who watched her and the girl shiver.
“Val, Valdis Thanaughter.” Answered the girl, her voice thick with tears.
“Well then Valdis, would you like to come with me?”
Fear touched the girl’s eyes.
“I can teach you, so that nothing like this ever happens again.”
Val looked at her surroundings, taking in the bodies of the dead as well as their ghosts, and at the crowd that encircled them all. She looked back at the Lady and into her dark comforting eyes.
“A-ah’ight…” the girl stammered.
The lady nodded and helped the girl to her feet. As she stood Ava gathered the sprits of the dead into the fouls of her cloak. She mounted Bonecrusher and pulled Val up in front her. They rode through the town passing houses and shops, slipping down side streets avoiding the now growing crows. As the cobbled streets ended Ave and her companions rode out of the city. With a wave of her hand she opened the pathway to the border between the world of the living and the Twilight Realm of the dead.
She first needed to deliver the spirits of the dead to the Twilight Realm before she, Battlescry, Bonecrusher, and the young Valdis made their way to Epis and the border war, there and along the way she would begin training the girl.
