Cimmerian Chronicles

The Silverdawn

Chapter One

Alora couldn't breathe. Crushing weight, invisible weight, pinned her to the cold stone floor. Somewhere close by, far too close for comfort, the sound of sharpened claws raking along the stone wall of the tower grated in her ears. The crone had known she was coming. Despite her stealth and the magic she'd used to conceal her, the crone had still known. Alora cursed mentally as her mouth gasped for air. Her body going through the fight to live. Cursed herself for not seeing the trap. Cursed the infernal crone. Cursed the damned item she was there to retrieve. She shouldn't have continued when she found out where the relic had ended up. Should've turned around and abandoned the job. But it wasn't in her to back down from a challenge. Even if she hadn't meant to alert the crone to her presence. Had planned on being in and out before the thing knew she was there.

Crones were one thing she tended to stay away from. Twisted versions of witches, more creature than human, that preyed on everything living they could get their clawed hands on. They consumed the very souls of their quarry to keep their magic thriving before moving onto the flesh, often consuming the bones in some kind of broth too. They were sly beings with an excellence for remaining silent until they had their prey secured in their grasp. That was why Alora wasn't keen on picking a fight with one. She had no doubt she could kill one, if it didn't get the jump on her first like this one had. As the crone came into view at the side of her face cold fear laced itself through Aloras body.

Her head was swimming and her vision beginning to blur. When she thought she was about to lose consciousness the crushing weight started to ease a little. Not enough to free her, but enough for air to flow into her lungs again. Enough for her fingers to flex and her hands to rotate. It would do the crone no good if she died before it had fed from her very life essence. And they enjoyed their victims to be awake while they fed from them. As its strangely musical laugh flitted in her ears Alora closed her eyes tightly. Stilling her body and allowing it a flicker of reprieve.

This is not how I die.

When her eyes snapped open the crone was leaning over her face, its gaunt features studying her behind a tangle of long greasy hair. Close enough that it's strangely combined odour of earth and rotting flesh invaded her nose. Good. She thought. The closer the better. A wicked grin stretched across her lips and the crone recoiled slightly, startled at its preys reaction. It was not typical of something about to die. With a few quick flowing motions of her hands and fingers Alora blasted the crone backwards, her magic thrumming in the air and the tattooed symbols on her shoulders tingling. The crone screeched in surprise. Surprise that allowed a swift drop in its magic.

Alora jumped to her feet as soon as the invisible force holding her down had vanished and span to face the crone. She bore no weapons. There was no blade in her arsenal that was worth pulling out against the crone. Not that they wouldn't kill or maim it, but Alora knew that even with her skills she wouldn't get close enough. No. Magic was needed against the crone. As it pulled itself to its feet again a squealing, high pitched cry left its mouth, ringing past the sharp teeth bared at Alora. Its arms raised sharply in front of it in an attempt to capture her in its magic again, but Alora was quicker. Smokey black clouds billowed through the tower, crackling with brilliant blue lightning. The crone screeched as they held her in place. Screeched as the lightning struck and coursed through her unnaturally long limbs. When the smoke began to smother her the screeches halted and a rasping, gravely voice echoed through the tower.

"What are you?"

"Your death." Alora answered simply as she allowed the smoke to cover the crones face, muffling its screeches and howls as her magic reduced it to ash.