The Lady Penitent

I. The River

...She could hear the water rush past her as she tossed stones into the river...

The world slowly came back into focus, the blur fading and the ringing fading away as the roar and flare of battle returned. Flashing lights streaked through the air above, illuminating the pathways of screaming primeval vengeance. The woman sprawled on the ground—like a ragdoll flung aside by a child in the throes of a tantrum—slowly started the agonizing process of rolling gingerly over and getting up. Around them, ancient ruins battered to pieces. Above her, the twisted and crumbling skeleton of the ruinous building was beginning to groan in protest. It was time to leave. She staggered out with all the grace of a drunk amidst the icy tears of heaven, one arm curled around the half of her ribcage that was cracked or maybe even broken.

Holland was very much an average woman, not tall and not short, not thin and not fat. She was strong, though, made up of lean muscle and dense bone.  The only unusual thing about her was the brand of runes that ringed her neck. Her brown hair was plastered to her face, wet and muddy. Hazel eyes gazed at the world from bruised sockets. Her lip had split at some point in the explosion, but the world had returned...and what a mess it was. Behind her, creaking metal gave way to a sudden collapse and plunged towards the ground. She looked down, checking her armor. It was still intact, mercifully, though it had a few new scars and scorch marks. Perfectly fitted, dull gray plates molded to her torso, arms, and legs. Her helm was gone, but this remained. Each piece was so light it was almost as if she was moving unhindered. It had been crafted using the dreadful artifices of the smiths from the First World, their cold and unfeeling hands fitting each piece to her exact measurements. The paint had long ago been stripped off it, with all its designs and memories.

"Mage!" someone screamed nearby.

She looked up just as a giant, twisting distortion in the air hit the group of soldiers next to her. It shattered the ground as if made of glass and blew apart the bodies with such a vengeance that fragments of bone went hissing past her at lethal velocities and the world rolled around her again. She wasn't certain how it was that she wasn't hit as she picked herself up out of the mud. Apparently the gods were with her today. She picked up her sword. It was a long, cruciform, two-handed blade shaped of a steel alloy and tapered to a wicked point. Only the last six inches were sharpened, the rest of the blade blunted, though it still came to an edge. A deep fuller ran the length of the blade. The hilt was unadorned and strictly functional, but scarred and worn.

She looked around for the mage, but she couldn't see anything through the torrential downpour. The spell had been easy enough to see because the raindrops had suddenly twisted and flowed back up towards the sky or outward in any number of directions.  She heard a horn sound. Someone somewhere was retreating, though she couldn't be sure who anymore with how the formations had shattered. Thunder rolled, almost drowning out the shrieks of the harpies as they descended on the wounded. She couldn't make out any of those light riders with their wicked lances descending on the fallen but still living enemy, but she knew it was only a matter of time now. Both sides would break contact and retreat soon, drawing back to more fortified positions. She was far from the center of the battle, near to the village.

She leaned against the stone of the ruins and tried not to breathe too deeply, lest it tear apart her sides. Her ribs were in agony. Vaguely, through the buzzing in her ears, she thought she heard someone calling to her. She looked around hazily, then let her eyes close and her head fall limp as her body rushed towards the ground. She didn't even react when hands picked up her tortured body and started to carry her off the field. It was easier to just shut her eyes and sleep the sleep of the dying.

It didn't last long. She woke to agony in her side as someone unfastened her armor and peeled it off. Her first instinct was to panic, but she didn't have the strength in her limbs to fight them off. She saw serious faces of both genders, but before she could really focus on them, the world was dark again.