Reapers

Chapter Thirteen: Lady of Darkness

Darcie stood in front of a lake with silver water, black rocks circled her while the sky was grey and eerie.  Only the light of the full moon allowed Darcie to see her reflection in the silver lake; her chestnut colored hair was pulled into a braid with silvery black ribbons woven in, the golden flecks in her green eyes were vibrant against her skin, but the most noticeable thing about her was the black armor she wore.  It covered her arms, chest, and legs while a helmet rested at her feet.

"Meus Era." a young woman said; Darcie recognized it as Latin for My Lady.

She turned around to see a young woman with black hair, grey eyes, and tanned skin.  She wore black armor and held a helmet in the nook of her arm, dark wings sprouted out of her back and folded behind her; they were elegant and beautiful despite their dark color.

The young woman knelt in front of Darcie, "We await your orders, My Lady; however, time is of the essence.  Reaper Elvira leads a counterattack on our forces to the north of the Tower of Light.  I fear without you we are without hope." she said in Latin.

Darcie wanted to step back, to take off the armor though it seemed weightless, but she couldn't.

"Aletta, we leave at once.  I will not allow her to take another tower, not when our forces are dwindling." Darcie heard herself say, but it wasn't her; the person who spoke had anger that Darcie was a stranger to.

The young woman named Aletta bowed her head, "We will win, My Lady.  We are few in numbers but great in power, while they are weak but with many."

"Our odds are matched then." Darcie's voice said as Aletta stood from her kneel.  Darcie felt a chill go down her back, she threw up her hands; the silver water of the lake shot past Aletta and created a dome of water around them, it froze as a black arrow pierced the ice dome.  Darcie's body moved without her control, the frozen silver water liquified and fell to the ground and, avoiding her and Aletta, ran back to the lake as if magnified.

Aletta scolded, “You disgrace your kind by not facing us in battle!” she called out.

Darcie stepped out in front of her and spread out her arms, the black rocks parted revealing two young men; one held a bow while a quiver was strapped to his back and a dagger at his waist while the second one had two swords hanging from his belt.  They too wore black armor though it was less elegant than what she, or Aletta, wore.  

The second man unsheathed his sword and and ran toward them while the first followed behind wielding only his dagger.  Darcie felt her hand wave in front of her, the air became thin as it rushed toward them.  Small cyclones circled the two young men until they were lifted into the air, they struggled but it did no good as the cyclones only squeezed them more.  Their weapons dropped from their hands, they thrashed trying desperately to escape.

“Fragilis.” Aletta spat.

Darcie turned her head, “No, they are not weak but merely a distraction.” she said responding to Aletta’s insult toward the two.  “They are part of something greater...” Darcie felt the cold metal of a blade against her throat.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a black blade against Aletta’s own throat; for a moment Darcie forgot that it was not her speaking or moving, that this wasn’t some vision or nightmare.

Darcie was slowly turned around as did Aletta, blades still pressed against their throats, two men stood in front of them.  Darcie swore they looked familiar, as if she had seen them before.  

The young man to the left with a blade to Aletta’s throat had snow white skin, dark brown eyes, and black hair that hung carelessly into his eyes; he wore a silvery black chest plate over a black tunic and loose grey pants along with a pair of dark boots, his arms were marked with swirled tattoos that appeared as if they were scars on his skin.  While the young man to the right who held a blade to Darcie’s own throat had that same snow white skin and black hair that instead was cut short, however, he had dark green eyes that reflected anger and suffering; he wore black chainmail over a dark grey tunic, dark pants, and boot.  His arms were also marked, but with scales that seemed to coil around his arms until they came to a stop at his wrists.