Rhia
The foremost Greynhym loomed over her. One of its arms hung crookedly, poorly fleshed and broken, the other grasped a long club with which it pushed her hard in her spine. She wouldn't cry out.
She saw deep unhealing wounds in the creature's leg where its breeches were torn. Its companions were made up of several diverse creatures. They shambled alongside clumsily, snatching nervous glances at the salt water they abhorred. She could hear the returning tide swishing up the beach behind her, but it would come too late to save her.
She searched her mind for all scraps of Greynhym lore. The corpse animators could not abide water, nor yet survive the touch of the sea. They inhabited the dead. The One-Eyed Cormorant that deals death does so in three pecks, she believed: its first stills the heart, its second empties the mind, its third expels the soul. She had heard that the Greynhym steal in after the second peck enslaving the mind while memories still smoulder within.
She knew that Greynhym slowed decomposition in their corrupt borrowed bodies and retained some senses. They valued touch only in their cold fingers, cared not a whit for taste, preserved sight over hearing, but prized scent above all.
There was one more thing, a thing she alone knew: the scrap of knowledge that had drawn her to this lonely cove; her message for the warrior Corund. It was a secret that had come to her unbidden; snagging on her like burrs upon a jerkin sleeve; a secret she was pledged to pass on.
To whom could she impart words of such value? All that she consulted said the same: 'If your words bear upon the Greynhym, find Corund, the Borderer'. Only he is cold enough to turn the dead. Only he reminds them of their place. Only he keeps them at bay. Find Corund, the realm's northern shield.
It took her many moons to trace him here.
She had learnt that Corund was campaigning in the hills behind this empty strand and made her way to these ebb-lands where the Greynhym marauded and no side held sway.
Arriving on the darkened beach, below plunging cliffs, she had scanned the gorse-crowned hillsides for the warrior's fires. The tide had fled before her as she crawled on new-broken legs over the flawless sand.
Dawn smeared a barren grey chill on her struggles and a sullen disk of sallow sun limped after it. She forced herself flat against the imperceptible contours of the beach and spread a tangle of hair over her nakedness.
The Greynhym came upon her as she had known they must.
They were poorly armed, rough spears and coarse clubs, but enough to prod and pound her to death. They would kill her because they were low Greynhym spawn and it was all they knew.
She raised her head to stare defiance into the leader's dull lifeless eyes. It hoisted the club above its head... then grunted and stared down at where an arrow tip had sprouted rudely from its chest. Apart from juddering forward a little at the impact, the creature seemed unaffected at being pierced by the arrow but spun around, curious to see from where it had come. She saw the answer as it did; between its legs she spied a figure racing toward them, flying boots raising puffs of sand.
The Greynhym leader stepped toward its assailant, and its followers paraded out upon each side, clubs and spears to the fore. In the Greynhym's back an arrow shaft protruded, fletched with three feathers, crimson barred with white. All in the Five Realms knew these colours. The arrow was Corund's.
He discarded his bow and unsheathed a slim sword as he ran. She knew it for an argentium blade. She had learnt its name, Peacebringer. She was aware of the power argentium wielded against the Greynhym.
They were fifteen and he one, but they were lost; he was Corund.
A/N Every comment appreciated and all ideas taken seriously. There's quite a few chapters written but the story's evolving...