[Memory] No Prey

[Laveriel]

No Prey

41st of Glade, Year 117 AoS

It had been two whole weeks and they still hadn’t managed to shake the Imperium soldiers off their tails. They were certainly persistent. As far as she could tell, this was the first time Veriel got to rest. In a soggy cave that reeked of bat droppings and rotting plants. She had found this cave by accident when she tried to lean against a cliffside and toppled inside instead. It was hidden with thick vines and shrubbery, almost invisible to the naked eyes. Which was why she felt secure enough to settle here for the night and take the time to deal with her companion’s injuries.

Laelithar laid on his back, eyes closed with only his chest heaving. She moved to his side and eyed his injuries for the dozenth time today, as if that could speed up his healing. Every last of her necromantic supplies she had spent on him. While the burns on his arms and legs looked mostly healed, she feared the infection had spread into his blood. Veriel had taken too long to start treating his wounds and now her companion was suffering because of it.

She also had her own injuries to take into account. There were a dozen cuts and scratches all over her body, but the most concerning was a deep laceration across her left abdomen. She was lucky she managed to dodge at the last second before the blade penetrated her organs. The pain she was used to, but she couldn’t let the blood continue flowing. What she needed was stitches but it was a difficult angle for her to do it by herself. With the last of their bandages, Veriel struggled to wrap it around herself. It wasn’t as secure as she wanted it, but it was the best she could do for now. All it needed to do was hold up until she finished what she needed to do.

Maybe she should keep running. Or find a better place to hide and wait it out. Laelithar was better at making these sorts of decisions. Veriel let out a series of curses in Silandris and raked her fingers through her hair – or tried to, considering some part of it was still crusted with blood. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a proper bath.

Laelithar was asleep and shivering on the dirt floor, but the Siltori didn’t dare risk exposing their location by making a fire. She had wrapped him in his cloak and hers, but it was nowhere near enough with the temperature dropping as the sun was setting. Another reason that she needed to dispatch their hunters and do it fast.

It was a big risk, but there was no way she would have the strength to drag around a full-grown man who happened to be a foot taller than her for another week. They needed to stop and find a proper place to treat Laelithar’s injuries, and get proper medicine instead of the hastily made sinew threads she concocted on the road.

Extending her hand in front of her, Veriel called upon her aether. It did not even take a second for Iratallin to materialize, the hilt fitting snugly in her hand. The sword had been her first and it had never failed her. She had been threading a jinx early in the day and she let it flow right into her blade. It wasn’t anything flashy, just a jinx to incapacitate their limbs quickly. “Wish me luck,” she said softly.

Laelithar’s eyes flew open and his hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. Definitely not asleep then. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Eliminating the threat,” Veriel replied plainly, meeting his eyes. Even though his body was wracked with fever and chills, his golden gaze was still sharper than most blades. “We won’t survive if we keep running.”

“You mean, I won’t survive.” Laelithar released his grip slowly as he took a shaky breath. His golden skin had turned even paler than yesterday, a worrying sign. He needed more blood, but it had been days since she managed to catch any animals. “You should leave me. That’s your best chance of survival.”

The Siltori scoffed as she stood, not even bothering to reply. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen – just like she knew he would defend her even if he had to crawl on all fours. They were both stubborn that way. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Sooner if I’m lucky.”

Surprisingly, he still had the strength to glare at her. “Don’t you dare die.”

A laugh bubbled from her lips as she stood. “I told you before, I have no intention of dying until I can make the Imperium pay for what they’ve done. Now, just rest so that I don’t need to drag your arse across the wilderness once I’m done. I’ve won against worse odds before.”

Let’s just pray that this wasn’t the time that her luck ran out.

[Laveriel]

With one hand gripping a dagger and Iratallin on the other, Veriel leaned past the tree trunk she was hiding behind to take one last look at the men that had made their lives hell for the past few days. It was past midnight and they had settled in comfortably in the middle of the forest. The moon didn’t offer much light, but darkness was a Siltori’s companion.

One man was sound asleep, a hand draped over his eyes as he snored loudly – covering most of her movements. Another was keeping watch while his companion poked at the small fire, trying to keep it aflame. Only the guard had his weapon in arm’s reach. Foolish. It seemed they were slacking off, knowing the fact that both of their prey were injured. Like every soldier that was sent to hunt her down, nearly every inch of their body was covered with armor. Her curses were most potent when her blades made contact with bare skin, even if it was the slightest cut. Perhaps Veriel should be flattered that she had gained enough infamy for the Gelerian Imperium to take specific precautions against her. Although, they made the terrible decision to take off their helmets to rest for the night.

This group was less disciplined than some others that she had encountered, and they had lost two men already. Laelithar had managed to take out the mage – and suffered the terrible burns – while she afflicted the leader with her sword. If it weren’t for her injuries, the former knight was confident that she could kill all of them with no trouble.

Veriel prayed for Yggrakas to lend her his powers and she leaped out of her hiding place. They didn’t even have the time to shout when her dagger plunged into the sleeping man’s neck and left it there as she turned her attention to the two. While the older one grabbed his sword, the younger soldier was disoriented trying to find his weapon.

It gave her an opening. The Siltori lunged with her sword, making a small cut across the young man’s face. He merely stumbled back and relaxed, but Veriel smiled. She turned just in time to see the last man rushing at her with his sword. She blocked his blade, but he simply came for her with a series of attacks. He was no beginner swordsman, older and more experienced. She could hear a thud behind her, enough to tell that her hex had brought down the young man. As the night was filled with the ringing of their swords, Veriel knew she could not keep up for long.

There was no way of telling how long they were locked in a stalemate. All she could feel was her arms weakening with every swing. Veriel gritted her teeth as pain flared from her side and she barely parried the blade coming at her. She could feel the blood gushing out of the wound and she wasn’t the only one who noticed. His fist came for her injury and her vision nearly went black when she felt the impact. The Imperial knocked Iratallin out of her weakened grip. Losing her balance, there was nothing Veriel could do when the soldier tackled and straddled her on the ground.

With a cry, she called for her blade, aether rushing through her. His blade was raised over her. Time stopped for the briefest moment before he drove it down. She swore she could hear it cutting through the air as her heart thundered. Just as the point pierced through her skin, Iratallin burst through his chest. The man’s eyes were wide, full of surprise before the light in them faded out entirely. Thick red blood poured from his chest, raining onto her face.

Veriel shoved him off her with a grunt and cursed in Silandris. That was far too close. Maybe Laelithar was right, after all these years of running she was losing her edge. She was getting weak. If she hadn’t been lulled into a false sense of security, perhaps she would have noticed that someone had been tailing them sooner. Or at least she could have dispatched the knights sooner, before they had the chance to injure Laelithar so severely.

Regrets would do nothing,, all she could do was try to do better next time. For now, her job wasn’t done. Leaning on Iratallin, the mage forced herself to stand shakily. The man who had suffered from her affliction still laid unmoving as she dragged herself to his side.

A young man, probably in his early twenties. The tip of her blade rested on his throat, hard enough to draw blood. The fear in his blue eyes was bright as they darted around in panic. She could tell he was willing his body to move with every ounce of will he had - it was a sight she had seen a million times. But of course, not a single muscle twitched. Her magic had forced his body to betray him. “Please please please. Let me live. I- I won’t tell anyone that we’ve found you. Please. I won’t tell anyone.” Tears streamed down his face, his words all over the place as he sobbed. “I’m scared. Please. I don’t want to die.”

Veriel sighed, yet the pressure of her blade on his neck never relented. He was probably one of their newer soldiers, recently trained. He would have had a long life in front of him with parents who must be proud that their son was serving the Imperium loyally. Perhaps he even had a lover waiting back home. And she was about to take it all away. “Forgive me.”

The least she could do was grant him a swift death.

[Laveriel]

The sun had almost risen by the time Veriel finished scrounging through the Imperials’ camp. It shouldn’t have taken so long, but with the wound on her stomach reopening, every movement was a struggle. She had gone through their knapsacks, hoping for some letter or orders or anything that would give her some information.

There was no clue as to how they found out that she and Laelithar were hiding in a remote village just out of Kathiid. It had been a few years of relative peace, of slowly reassuring herself that this time it might be the one. The time that perhaps they could finally settle down for good. But fate gave her a rude awakening. They would never be safe while the Gelerian Imperium stood strong. All she had in front of her was a life filled with vigilance and paranoia.

With that somber thought, Veriel tightened the knot of the makeshift bag she had created from one of the tents. She had taken most of their food supplies, some medicine and most of their clothes. The rest she would need a second trip to sort through the rest. She would have to make sure that no trace of them was left. The bodies would be the most bothersome, a task she would not be able to finish right now.

Veriel hoisted the bag over her shoulder and slowly made her way back. Well, not directly. On her way to the Imperial’s camp earlier that night, she had heard the telltale rush of a river. She had no interest in spending another moment covered in dried blood and grime. The last time she had a bath was more than a week ago - she could only imagine how awful she smelled.

While she couldn’t be entirely sure, the river might be Dorachen’s Flight. If that was the case, it could lead her to Kalzasi. There should be villages outside the city where she could gather more supplies. And, gods forbid, should Laelithar’s condition worsen she could always get into the city to get more sophisticated medicines.

Fortunately, it didn’t take too long for her to reach the banks. The river was rather calm, so Veriel dropped her loot in a bush in case she would need to hide. With a wince, the Siltori took off her bloodied clothes. Pain flared as she pulled off the parts where it had stuck to her wound, but she did not have the patience to pry it off slowly. There was no hesitation in her as she plunged into the river.

Cold. The water was so cold that for a moment the pain of it overwhelmed every other sense. Still, Veriel made herself wade to the center of the river. She had no soap, only a measly scrap of cloth. Inch by inch, she wiped off the filth of her pale skin. All her fingers had pruned by the time she was satisfied, but rinsing her hair took much longer. Her dark locks were tangled and matted with blood - her mother would have screamed at the sight of her.

Once she was done, she changed into the clothes of the dead soldiers. They were oversized and their fabric scratchy, but it was clean enough. Still, she picked up her dress and started washing it.

The local tailor in their village gave it to her after she had helped cure his daughter from a fever. It wasn’t the most intricate dress she had ever seen, but it was still a beautiful one. Most of its lilac fabric was now brown, covered in a mixture of soot and blood that refused to come off no matter how hard she rinsed it in the water.

Another home ruined. Friends made that had to be left behind. It would have been easier if
But every time it would take a few years before the Imperium would somehow find out. Almost like the gods were toying with her, making her believe that there could be a chance to live normally. Every time that dream was shattered. It did not matter how hard they tried to hide. She had even tried ceasing the use of Reaving - it had been a year since last she summoned Iratallin. Still, here they were again, injured and hiding in the wilderness.

She wasn’t sure how many more times she could live like this. Always at the edge of her seat - torn between hopefulness and despair. Would it have been easier if she had died with her comrades back at Ailos? At least then she could claim that she had done everything in her power to protect their organization. Instead, the Siltori was left wondering what happened to the rest of her friends and her home.

Pain shot up from her left hand and she cursed. She hadn’t realized that her hands were red and raw from scrubbing the bloodied clothes as her mind wandered. It was useless. There was no salvaging it. With only the river and the trees as her witness, Veriel let the tears fall.

[Imogen]

Review

Lore:

Reaving: Returning a Pact Weapon
Reaving: Using Returning to Pierce an Opponent
Reaving: Varnishing with an Immobilizing Jinx
Blades: Fighting Against a Bigger Opponent
Blades: Blocking Another Blade
Blades: Holding Up a Sword While Injured

Points: 8, may be used for Reaving.

Injuries/Ailments: Hoo boy. Let's see here:

1. Serious abdominal puncture wound
2. Looks like abdominal bruising
3. Minor skin lacerations

...not that it matters in the present!

Loot:

Notes: This was a very cool thread; I love to see the effects of the Imperium's long persecution of the Sunsinger Order. Great attention to detail, and a nice flow to the action, too.

Do let me know if you have anything else you're looking for from this thread. Thanks!