"I think I shall name you Aethelflaed." Erdudvyl smiled as she patted her relatively newly purchased white horse on the nose.
The sun had gradually disappeared below the horizon, encouraging Erdudvyl to dismount and set up camp in the middle of a dense wood, a day's ride out from Ravenscourt.
She had been fortunate to come across a farmer who was willing to sell one of his horses to her. She had plenty to choose from, but this horse's beautiful snow-like coat instantly caught her attention. Despite the haggling she had attempted, the farmer was reluctant to sell the horse cheap, but the moment she sat on Aethelflaed to ride towards Ravenscourt, all thoughts of the lost coin were instantly gone.
Aethelflaed was a working horse, but Erdudvyl had no option to find a riding horse at such short notice. Despite being a working horse, he still managed to reduce the travelling time by more than half. As the Emperor prepared his forces, there was nothing Erdudvyl wanted more than to raise the alarm to Ethelston and Ravenscourt.
Sitting down by a fire, Erdudvyl allowed her newly named horse to graze, permitting herself to bite into a succulent apple she had acquired from a nearby tree. Her first bite was elegant and more of a nibble, causing her to shake her head at the instinctive need to remain sophisticated. Even when no one would likely be around for miles, the years of training caused her to always perform like an Elven lady. Prim, proper and far superior to any other living being. Yet here she was, under the stars, sitting on the ground staining one of her expensive silky turquoise dresses, worried about her human friends and their settlement which she aimed to reach quickly.
As she glanced towards Aethelflaed, Erdudvyl took another bite, this time with a little more vigour. It made her chuckle at her feeble attempts to rebel against her natural protocol.
Reaching into a small pouch, Erdudvyl pulled out a perfectly spherical orb, no bigger than the palm of her hand. Despite the sun being well and truly hidden beneath the horizon, the orb glowed unconventional. As she looked at the orb, she sighed, knowing that putting off using this tool was no longer an option.
Placing her hand out in front of her, Erdudvyl closed her eyes and allowed the darkness around her to gradually be absorbed by light. As a strange clouded figure made its way towards her, she tried to smile. Her face felt uncomfortable and weird; it had been so long since she needed to fake a smile.
"Father," she responded as the figure started to take shape.
"Lady Ar Moal, it has been some time." Vaalyun Ar Moal commented with a hint of disdain in his voice.
Erdudvyl was determined not to rise to the bait. To express frustration or anger at this time would all but solidify Vaalyun's choice to have her exiled from Elven society.
"I have been somewhat busy, father." she lied, knowing she had plenty of time to contact him within Lionmane.
Vaalyun's silver flowing hair swirled in the breeze created by the magical orb; his pale white skin couldn't hide his displeasure at his daughter's answer; however, he wasn't here to argue. "I have spoken with the other elders. It has taken a considerable amount of persuasion, but they are willing to forgive your hastiness and transgressions and allow you back into the Elven community."
A smile swept onto Erdudvyl's face; a deep joy rose inside of her. No Elf had ever returned from exile, and to be the first would have considerable implications to her standing within the Deayitora Dominion. Then her heart sank, her smile disappeared, the realisation gripped her. Only three elves wielded the power of the elements, including herself, which automatically made her special. Without needing to go through the list of exiles, she was almost certain to be the only one to be a Sorceress.
They wanted her to return because she was an asset to them.
"And what would you have me do should I accept?" Erdudvyl asked.
Vaalyun's face seemed to almost turn into a frown. "Why would you not accept? What could be worth more than being a part of the Dominion? No elf has been allowed back into the fold, abandon your fools quest and return to where you belong, as my heir to the circle."
This time it was Erdudvyl's turn to frown. Unlike her father, though, her frown was plain to see. "Fool's quest? Protecting the living from the dead? Uniting the kingdom's behind the Elemental Sorceress? Is there no greater calling?"
"ENOUGH!" growled Vaalyun. His pupils flashed white with a hint of rage. "Your place is among elves, not among humans. They are chaotic, primitive beings, bent on their own destruction. And the destruction of those around them."
For most of her life, Erdudvyl had respected and obeyed her father, never once asking for anything in return. Her powers had always exceeded his but never had she displayed that in front of him. She had not lived a life as a daughter, but instead lived a life of servitude to her father.
"Yes," she replied, her voice soft but assertive, "they are as you say. But they are also passionate, joyful, full of potential and love. You have not been among them, you look from afar, and you judge."
"Love!" Vaalyun scoffed, "A pointless and baseless emotion which causes unpredictability and irrational behaviour. You of all people should know what it can do to a person."
Erdudvyl took a deep breath, knowing that to evoke an emotional response would only harden Vaalyun's resolve. She forced the tears back but watched her father with glistening eyes. "Your lack of love drove my mother to her grave, not love itself. The closer I get to love, the closer I get to that unpredictability, that fear and that lack of understanding, the more I want to embrace it. There's little I want more than to be among my people, but I can not abandon the opportunity I have, right now, to embrace those that I can call friends. To love them, to cherish them, to live for them and if necessary, die for them."
"Foolish girl, you can not live outside your kind." Vaalyun sneered.
"But father, I disagree. Never before have I felt so alive as I do now. I must decline your offer."
Vaalyun looked at her, his face twisted with frustration and surprise. "If you decline me now, there will be no other opportunity. I have given much to provide you with this chance."
Erdudvyl smiled; she looked away briefly to avoid any chance of tears befalling her eyes. "I respect you, father, I always have, and always will, yet I still must decline."
Vaalyun was briefly silent as he stared at his daughter. For one small moment, a tinge of regret flashed across his face, but it quickly disappeared before it could embed itself. "I must venture south on the morrow. A taint has started to rise in the land, and I must clear it before it rises further. Farewell Lady Ar Moal, your mother would be proud." As he turned towards the glowing light behind him, he quickly turned and responded "As am I" before disappearing leaving Erdudvyl alone in the dark forest.
Erdudvyl sat, awestruck as the fire beside her crackled to life. For the first time, her father had mentioned pride. It was such a fleeting comment, yet it warmed her heart more than the fire next to her.
Smiling, she turned towards Aethelflaed, hoping to elicit some response from the horse. As she stared into the horse large reflective brown eyes, Erdudvyl could feel a real uneasiness and tension. They were not alone.
Standing to her feet, she studied how Aethelflaed froze in place. Erdudvyl could sense the animals around, but she could also sense that none were a danger to them. It didn't feel like bandits, it was too quiet, and they would have to be exceptionally skilled to get to them without being noticed.
No, it was something else.
Instinctively, Erdudvyl raised her hands instantly producing an energy shield just in time for three metal objects to deflect harmlessly against it. As the objects caused ripples in the energy, she looked around into the darkness. It wasn't until she saw a bolt hurtling towards her that she knew where the attack was coming from. Raising her hands again, the bolt bounced away, mere inches from her face.
The sound of metal sliding against a scabbard brought a new sense of dread through Erdudvyl's body. As two glowing white eyes appeared from underneath a dark hood, a menacing dark figure clambered over a broken tree and into the small clearing in front of the frightened Erdudvyl.
The figure clenched his sword tightly as he started to circle his prey. His dark cloak hid all but his eyes and a golden emblem on his harness: a spider, an infamous legendary golden spider.
Erdudyvl's fear levels started to peak; her heart was beating rapidly. She may not have been human, but the renown of the knight in front of her stretched far beyond their realm. All elves knew of the Widow Maker well, one of the most accomplished and feared human knights to roam the land. He had died a few winters back but now stood just a few menacing metres away from her. It could only mean one thing — he was a Death Wraith.
"Your parlour tricks will not help you, elf." the accented, deep, but calm voice echoed from beyond the hood. "Tonight, you die."
With no weapon to hand, Erdudvyl looked to the floor and grabbed one of the sharp objects that had almost hit her previously. Holding the knife in her sweating hands, she looked up to the mysterious Death Wraith that was standing before her.
As he strafed around, Erdudvyl knew he was attempting to intimidate her. His mind games were starting to wear her down, and she could feel her movement was beginning to become uneasy. At any moment, the attack would come, and there would be little to stop her from meeting the grave.
Lunging forward, the Widow Maker attacked, his sword swished through the air like lightning narrowly missing Erdudvyl's torso. The attack had woken her up, and before she could be struck, her skills as a phaser had instinctively moved her out of the way.
"Hah!" the Widow Maker laughed. "And I thought this would be an easy kill."
Gliding along the ground, the Widow Maker rapidly removed the space between him and the unnerved elf. He was preparing to attack again, and just as he struck, Erdudvyl's skills expertly manoeuvred her out of the way once more.
How could she beat the legendary undead master swordsman? He was as quick as a snake, agile as a gazelle and stung like a scorpion yet all she had in her hand was a small knife.
Circling her again like a bird of prey, the Widow Maker studied his opponent as she was planning to make her next move. As he raised his sword, it encouraged Erdudvyl to react.
Hoping to use the element of surprise, Erdudvyl phased directly behind the Widow Maker, ready to plunge the dagger deep into his back. Still, as she opened her eyes, they glared directly at his frigid white irises. Before she could make her move, she felt cold, hardened steel slide deep into her stomach.
The pain was overwhelming, the fear of death even more so and as the Widow Maker twisted his off-handed dagger to maximise the damage, Erdudvyl let out a long wounded yelp before falling to the ground.
Laying on the ground, she held the wound tight knowing that even in the short moment since the stabbing, her consciousness was gradually starting to fade. As she looked up to the Widow Maker, Erdudvyl watched as he wiped her blood from the dagger he had just stabbed her with.
"Oh gods!" she cried, her hands soaked in the blood from her gut.
Standing over the stricken elf, the Widow Maker sighed. He knew a stomach injury was a long and painful death. He was not about to let his quarry suffer in the dark night.
Anger rushed through Erdudyvl like never before. Moments before she had spoken to her father and found peace and a purpose to her life, and now she was lying on the floor ready to be executed by an agent of the enemy. However, most importantly, if she did not arise from this predicament, Ravenscourt would fall, and Ethelston along with them.
With the Death Wraith leaning over her, her thoughts were drawn towards the most frustrating yet brilliant human she had ever met, Ethelston. Her cries then turned to laughter when she realised her last thoughts were turning towards a human and contemplating the most illogical and irrational feeling towards him. Love.
With the blade closing to her throat, Erdudvyl knew one thing among all else, that one irrational emotion was about to do everything it could to keep her alive.
"âblendan!" she called.
A blinding flash pushed itself against the Widow Maker's face causing him to repel back and cover his eyes frantically.
"Anlêc." Erdudvyl called again. She could feel the mortally fatal open wound closing just enough that it would likely see her struggle through until the next moon.
Rising to her feet, she pushed her way forward to Aethelflaed and clambered on. With one hand on the reigns, the other on her stomach Erdudvyl turned towards the Widow Maker as he was preparing another bolt for his target.
It would be mere seconds before he would fire the bolt and likely cause Erdudvyl to breathe no more. She just needed enough time to make Aethelflaed run like the wind and gain distance between them and the Death Wraith.
Smiling towards the Widow Maker, she calmly said "Cîepeðing!"
As the crossbow was raised, and Aethelflaed took flight, just as the Widow Maker was to make the shot, three wolves pounced through the bushes and launched themselves at him.
As Aethelflaed galloped onto the road towards Ravenscourt, the sound of the wolves ravishing their prey was sickening but satisfying. As the yelps from them pierced through the darkness and with her wound still oozing, Erdudvyl prayed she would make it to Ravenscourt in time. For not only did her life depend on it but also the man who flooded her thoughts in her deepest, darkest moment—the human known as Lord Ethelston Darke, the Duke of Ravenscourt.