It hit her hard, that moment when she regained her consciousness. After several hours unaware of anything happening around her, when reality hit, it smacked her on the face like an overzealous lover.
The smell of death was pungent, overwhelming the smell of life with comparative ease, as Loldirr attempted to gain some sense of her surroundings. There was a time that the stench would have made her wretch, but now it had become commonplace, a smell that she had endured several times before that it was something her nostrils had embraced with ease.
Her head did feel woozy, and as she first opened her eyes, she understood why. With her head mere inches from the floor, and her feet dangling in the air, she realised that she had hoisted up like a slaughtered pig. A nervous chill ran through the length of her body as she attempted to move her wrists, they felt constricted and bound, tied up with vines that dug into her skin with every movement.
Loldirr had been captured but did not know by who or why.
Instinctively she focused her thoughts on conjuring fire to melt through her bindings, yet nothing happened. As she focused once again attempting to create some sort of warmth through her fingertips, the result was identical.
A nakedness washed over her, clasping her in a vice-like suffocating grip. For the first time since her attempted execution at Lionmane, she was not able to use her powers.
This bizarre feeling of complete vulnerability brought fear to Loldirr's mind. How was it possible that her powers could not manifest themselves? Why had she become so reliant on them? Was this temporary or would she never feel them again?
The final question also brought anger to her thoughts, that only one winter ago, she did not realise that she could command the elements, but now she was completely dependent on them.
Realising her powers were of no use, she decided to perform the next course of action. To scream her lungs out.
Opening her mouth and attempting to bellow the words of help, like her powers, her attempts were futile. Whatever predicament she found herself in had put her in a position of complete defenselessness.
Looking up toward her feet, she examined the vines that wrapped around them as they almost cut away the blood circulation to her toes. They were tense and strong, and while she could feel the life force flowing through their tendrils, it felt like her senses had been dulled, and the connection to them had been severed.
How was it possible that she could feel so helpless?
To her side, she heard a groan, and as she struggled to twist her head toward the noise, she spotted Jeffry and Sigurd, both in the same precarious position that she was in. They too were exiting their slumber, groggy from the supernatural encounter just a few hours before.
Loldirr watched as Jeffry immediately attempted to break from his shackles, and it wasn't until she noticed his thick muscular physique, that she noticed that he had been stripped of armour, almost allowing the elements to brush his almost carpet-like hairy skin. It was at that moment that Loldirr realised that her nakedness did not just focus solely on her powers.
The burning sensation in her cheeks as blood flowed effortlessly from her embarrassment took her mind away from the predicament that she was in, but as the sound of humming could be heard deeper into the forest, her thoughts were brought back into the present.
The humming was so peaceful and in complete contrast to the turmoil that had been stirring in her head just moments before. Loldirr recalled that just hours before, the very same humming had caused her thoughts to start drifting away from reality. The peaceful melody, the serene voice, the incredible illustrious harmony, how was it possible to hum in a way that let her body feel like she was melting into the vines?
With all her strength, Loldirr switched her focus back to Jeffry. His muscular frame, once struggling against his shackles, was now at ease, and his face, normally permanently in a frown of contempt, was showing a smile that exposed his surprisingly well-kept and bright white teeth. Just beyond the ecstatic Ruvian hung the wide-eyed and aroused Fæordic, Sigurd Halfhand. His smile, full of lust and desire, focused on the parting bushes as the tranquil humming came from a physical being.
With such grace and poise, the creature carefully placed its foot calmly onto the grass in the clearing of the captured adventurers. As a second foot seductively followed, they were both attached to two, long, almost perfect legs that left Loldirr with a tinge of envy.
Entering the clearing, the scantly clad woman of such elegant beauty was something far beyond mesmerising. Her long flowing midnight hair flowed effortlessly in the breeze while her almost milk-like skin seemed to glisten as the sunlight edged its way through the clearing in the trees. Her white flowing dress barely covered her thighs and left her arms exposed, while simultaneously struggling to stop her ample breasts from spilling from it.
Loldirr struggled to take her eyes off the beauty, the feeling of jealousy and arousal had put her body in a state of shock, leaving her hanging effortlessly mere inches away from the grass below, but then she spotted it, something unusual about the woman who had drawn all the attention of the three adventurers.
Something about the way she walked, like a cat wisping through the grass seemed to make Loldirr question their reality, and as she looked closely, she could see it, a small faint ghostly tremor around the woman.
The woman turned towards her, the beautiful song flowed through Loldirrs ears, the tremor seemed to disappear and as she stepped forward toward Sigurd, her soft hands gliding down his toned abdomen, Loldirr once again felt that all was right in the world.
"So beautiful," Sigurd exclaimed, his eyes gliding across her form and figure.
The woman failed to speak, instead, continuing to sing her harmony, carefully kneeling and placing her hand on the chest of Sigurd, almost admiring his heart that was leaping from his sternum.
The shimmer once again appeared, and this time Loldirr focused on it. It was as if the woman's focus had drifted away from the young huntress, and for a brief moment, Loldirr's reality has started to come back to her.
The shimmer, that seemed to radiate from the woman's body started to ripple and distort the world around her, encouraging Loldirr to direct her concentration on it. It almost appeared that the very edges of the woman's torso were starting to melt away.
Loldirr's thoughts were clouded, her actions numbed by the tune of the woman but like a thread of an unravelling vest, Loldirr was determined to grab ahold of the thin trace of reality that had presented itself to her.
The serenity of the song was now starting to be replaced with something else, a horror that only she seemed to realise, a horror that was now sliding its nail deep into Sigurd's chest.
Blood started to trick down his chest toward his neck, the nail appeared to grow to an unnatural length, but as it slowly inserted deep into the Faeordic warlord, his eyes and his smile seemed to show that he was completely oblivious to the pain that his body was enduring.
"No!" a little whelp escaped Loldirr's lips. A futile attempt to stop the woman from inflicting more damage on a member of Loldirr's party.
The helplessness of her situation and the feebleness of her attempts to stop the woman was enough for Loldirr's anger to start returning.
Edging deeper into his now bloodied chest, the nail pushed deeper. Despite his skin and face starting to turn pale, Sigurd continued to smile, his unnatural calmness appeared disturbing and uneasy, and as a result, it was causing Loldirr to become alarmed.
Blood pooled under Sigurd's chin, the gush from his now gapping wound displaying the brutal nature of the sadistic woman. His eyes, one starting to shut instinctively as blood started to flow into it, were still focused on her beauty, despite her cruel nature. While his eyes were focused, they were now struggling to remain open, as the wound continued to grow larger caused by the woman's sawing-like movements deep into his sternum.
Loldirr could see that he was dying while she hung precariously a few metres away. Her glance towards Jeffry was more alarming as he hung there and watched. He held the same lustful and naive facial expressions as the companion who was dying next to him.
Focusing on the shimmer around the woman's body, she could feel her anger rise within her as if for the first time in many hours that she was in control of her actions.
With one more look at the pooling blood forming on Sigurd's chin, Loldirr attempted to call out once more, "Stop!"
Her voice was pitiful, but this time the shimmer grew stronger and the woman's focus seemed to briefly pull away from her victim.
Pulling her finger from deep inside the Fæordic's sternum, she licked the tip of the retracting nail, her eyes gradually gleaming toward the vulnerable huntress. It was at that moment, that Loldirr recognised the horror that had ambushed her the night before.
Her beauty was astonishing, but yet as Loldirr focused on her blue eyes, she realised that reality was being warped, that the illusion was real and the situation was far more dire than she could ever imagine.
Despite seeing them several times already, the eyes were not blue, instead, they were an evil, bloodthirsty red and as the vile, sadistic eyes locked onto Loldirr's, she could see the anger that was behind them was pure and focused. Focused on the vulnerable, bound Empress of Isovine.
The woman snarled. There was no song now, not even a hum, and as she inhaled deep, bitter by the way Loldirr was breaking her illusion, she let out an ungodly scream, a piercing sound so brutal and evil, that it felt that the very earth around them would collapse in on itself.
Shattering the reality, the scream brought forward the true nature of the beauty that had seduced the three adventurers to their current predicament.
Her stringy hair was tattered and unkempt, with patches of it either clumped together or missing entirely, while the once beautiful face that had been pleasant on the eye was now replaced by skin, drooping and dishevelled, broken and cracked, struggling to remain on the skull that appeared determined to break through to the outside world. Her eyes were redder, more bloodshot, with tears of blood streaming from her sockets like a waterfall of the damned.
Muscles which appeared to compliment the milky tones of her skin were now atrophied and the skin remained pale and devoid of life, barely hanging to the skeletal structure of her now deformed and hunched-over body.
The illusion continued to the surrounding clearing. What was once green and lush, was now brown and scarred, with skeletal remains littering the ground around them. A half-mutilated body, rotting and lifeless, its chest cavity ripped half open finished the ungodly scene causing Loldirr to desperately try not to retch her stomach as she hung upside down.
Loldirr had read tales of Banshees as she investigated the myths of old, but like dragons, it had all been just some wild imagination, but as she watched the pure wrath of the undead Ghost of the Emerald Forest, she knew that all three of their lives were in perilous danger.
Struggling against her bounds, Loldirr could feel her body go into a state of panic. As she attempted to free herself, it felt as if the vines were pulling tighter around her limbs, and with the fang-like teeth of the Banshee exposing themselves, it would simply be seconds before Loldirr would be ripped apart by the creature of rage.
Jeffry was struggling too, his senses now returning to the chaos and horror around them, and with Sigurd failing in consciousness, blood spilling from his mouth, panic and terror was evident on the Ruvian's face too.
Neither he nor Loldirr could release themselves. They were soon to be ripped apart by the Ghost of the Emerald Forest.
Suddenly, the Banshee sidestepped violently, snapping her head around to a new threat that had emerged from the trees. The white lifeless eyes of Sir Gervais focused directly on the shimmering creature of hate as he stepped through from the clearing.
With a dagger in each of his hands, he edged forward like a dancer preparing for their main performance. His light footwork, his elegant poise, if it was not for the imminent danger that they were facing, Loldirr would have admired the spymaster's movements.
Questions on how he managed to acquire two daggers when he had been unarmed since they left Ravenscourt had initially plagued her thoughts, but all was forgotten as he lunged toward the creature of death.
The Banshee's speed was unnatural. With every lunge or slash from the exceptional Gervais, the Banshee seemed to slip to the side, leaving a trail of her movements in her wake. It appeared that the daggers had sliced through her several times, but with a mystical shift, all that was left was the whisp of sliced vapour.
Gervais was equally quick, studying the creature's every move, learning to anticipate her destination, instead of focusing on her movement, but ultimately his goal was a distraction.
Spinning around Loldirr, he quickly released a dagger into her hand before switching his attention back to the Banshee, and immediately, Loldirr got to work on cutting through the vine that was binding her hands.
Seeing the blood-stained Sigurd seemed to focus her thoughts on escaping the bondage, his consciousness was dwindling and it would only be a matter of time before it ceased to exist.
Slicing through the vines, she immediately got to work on the vines around her feet and in moments, she was falling unceremoniously to the floor.
Slamming the top of her naked back on the ground below hurt immeasurably. She stood to her feet quickly, walking gingerly across the ground as her back stung from the impact.
Placing the dagger into Jeffry's hand, Loldirr moved toward Sigurd, leaning down to him to try and retain his attention.
"You... You're... You're very pretty," Sigurd struggled to say, his smile bloodied and weak.
"Thank you," Loldirr smiled briefly, somewhat feeling that her response was insufficient given the situation.
"Were... Were it not for my pre... predic...predicament, I would try and impregnate you."
Loldirr's smile quickly turned to disgust as Sigurd chuckled, specks of blood hitting Loldirr's cheek.
"Raise his body," Jeffry instructed, as he continued to try and break free from the vines. "Lift his head as high as you can, try and lift it above his heart."
Loldirr stood to her feet, instantly performing the action that Jeffry instructed.
"You have rather harsh ha... hands for a woman!" Sigurd jested as he felt Loldirr's callous hands lift his body as high as she was able.
There was only so much time that she could do this. Sigurd's toned body seemed to weigh a tonne, and Loldirr was struggling to keep him up. She glanced over to Jeffry's progress just as he had cut through the vines around his wrists, before glancing towards Gervais dancing around the Banshee like a mantis and its prey.
It was like watching an artist painting on a canvas. Every slice of the blade, every stab of the point, they all effortlessly struck the exceptionally quick and dangerous undead creature, but the blade was useless in inflicting any damage. How long could he endure fighting the Banshee before her attention was once again drawn to the living?
"I'm... I'm sorry," a faint voice exclaimed from beside Loldirr.
Her focus returned to Sigurd as the words came from his mouth, "What?"
"I doubted you... I was wrong." Sigurd struggled to say.
Loldirr could feel his eyes starting to water, she wanted to reply, but at that moment, she felt emotionally drained. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"Lead the Fæordic to victory," the words appeared to roll out of his mouth, just before his eyes shut and his breath became ragged.
"Sigurd! Sigurd, stay with me," Loldirr responded with exasperation.
As Sigurd remained in her arms, unresponsive, Jeffry had reached their side and immediately went to work on releasing him from the vines that kept him up like a slaughtered carved pig.
Feeling the tears raining down her face, guilt seemed to flood Loldirr's mind. Another companion, dead as a result of her actions and decisions. Chasisting herself in her mind, she failed to grab him properly as he fell unceremoniously to the floor.
Jeffry dropped to his side, immediately trying to wake him from his slumber, slapping his face repeatedly in the hope that Sigurd's slumber was not eternal.
Loldirr watched as if time had stood still, looking at the blood that had gushed from Sigurd's wound, observing as Jeffry's lack of medical knowledge was not bringing the warlord back to life.
She felt so helpless at that moment.
"Death's Bain Loldirr! Find Death's Bain!"
Loldirr was instantly brought back to reality as she heard Gervais' calls from across the plain.
The call appeared to give her a focus and belief that she had not had before. Kneeling to Jeffry's side, a new determination seemed to be taking over her and directing her actions.
"Jeffry, find Death's Bain, and use it to slay the Banshee, I will do what I can with Sigurd."
Watching Jeffry gingerly move away on his bare feet, Loldirr felt frustrated. Her retinue of companions was falling apart at this very moment, and all she could hope to do was see if she had the capabilities to restore what was lost to the realm of the living.
Stretching her hand out over the deep laceration that had bloodied Sigurd's body, Loldirr tried to focus her mind on doing the unimaginable; restoring his life.
She recalled how Erdudvyl had mentioned that, through the sphere of life, it had been possible, though extremely rare, to restore the life of the recently deceased. Only a couple of Sorceress of the Elements had been able to achieve this feat, and the last one was many centuries ago.
The numbness of the life around her had significantly reduced since the illusion from the Banshee had ruptured, and she could feel the soul of her companion slipping away. In her mind, she saw a small light, a thread of Sigurd's assistance, and she was determined to reach it.
Attempting to grab it, it instantly slipped through her fingers, as if it was formless. With another attempt, she failed again, frustrated by endeavouring to grab hold of something that didn't seem to exist.
Looking around her, moments in Sigurd's life appeared and it seemed to draw Loldirr towards them. The raw, unfiltered, harsh emotion that Sigurd felt as he watched his father die on the battlefield and take his place as the warlord of his tribe. The frustration of seeing the Fæordic people constantly bickering and fighting amongst themselves. The pure joy as the first of his three sons was born into this world and an emotion that even he couldn't completely comprehend. Pride.
Loldirr struggled to contain her emotions as the thoughts of pride descended upon her. She felt angry at herself for the frustration she had continuously shown toward him, yet unbeknownst to her, Sigurd worshipped and adored her. Loldirr was the Empress that had, with minimal effort, restored unity among the Fæordic Tribes and could potentially bring them to a glory that the tribes had only dreamt about.
Her heart felt like it was bursting and her cheeks lay drenched in her tears as she could feel and embrace the sheer joy and delight that Sigurd had for her. Loldirr chastised herself as she realised how harsh she had been on her companion, and that she mistook his nonchalance for stupidity, when in fact it had been completely the opposite.
Once again, she attempted to grab a hold of the light, expecting it to slip through her fingers once more, yet this time, it had some sort of form. The ecstasy that she felt as her fingers wrapped around it was euphoric, and despite its desire to pull itself away from her, Loldirr used all her strength to pull it back from the brink.
There was an almighty piercing scream, shattering Loldirr's concentration like a hammer to glass. Her head snapped around to see the hate-fuelled rage of the Banshee shifting toward her, her bloodshot red eyes spitting out pure hatred as her hunchbacked atrophied body slid through the grass, ready to devour the Empress of Isovine.
Despite Gervais' attempts to distract her once again, the Banshee was focused on the huntress, her nails stretching to claws, preparing to maul Loldirr with extreme prejudice.
Loldirr raised out her hand, causing the Banshee to stop in her tracks. While the feeling of serenity could be felt by Sigurd, the Banshee had nothing but rage and wrath, and as the anger built inside of Loldirr, the serenity, along with the soul of Sigurd Halfhand was starting to slip away.
"No!" Loldirr cried, trying so hard to stop the undead creature's advance.
It was taking all of Loldirr's energy to stop the Banshee from progressing forward, and her thoughts of pride, serenity and happiness appeared just a distant dream. The soul of Sigurd Halfhand was effortlessly slipping away.
Just as all hope was lost, there was a thud, followed by a crash and just as the rage and anger had filled up inside of Loldirr, in an instant, it was gone. The intricate handle of Death's Bain protruded from the undead creature's head, before she fell to the floor, leaving the plain quiet and empty.
Loldirr wanted to thank Jeffry, but her anger was replaced with alarm as she searched for the soul of Sigurd Halfhand. With every ounce of strength that she had left, the spark of his life seemed to have disappeared.
With every ounce of strength Loldirr could muster, she tried again. Her focus was intense and her mind was dedicated to finding the life spark that was of her companion, but as she felt the cold dead fingers of Sir Gervais Vanderbilt rest on her exposed shoulder, she knew that the energy she needed had been expelled defending herself from the Banshee.
Because of self-preservation, her travel companion, Sigurd Halfhand, a key Warlord of the Fæordic tribes, lay dead in a clearing in the Emerald Forest. Another man lost due to the crusade of the so-called Empress of Isovine, another friend lost to the curse of her destiny.