Season's Change Winter's Plight Book 1

1 Commanded

Quietly, with almost frightening grace and speed, she moved through the trees, her footfalls falling silently upon the thick branches. Every muscle and sinew was tightly coiled prepared for the inevitable. In the distance, she heard the heavy grind of blade upon bone and the last anguished cry of the fallen. Her breath was steady, her heart calm as she approached the scene. She slowed her pace through the trees, pulled her bow from her back and notched an arrow all in one swift smooth motion. She held the arrow to the undrawn bowstring and quickly assessed the situation below.

An embattled warrior stood, a large and broadsword coated with the blood of his enemies, held in both his hands. He was surrounded by Fallen Plains denizens. The dead and dying's fetid black blood was saturating the earth and befouling it as several others looked on greedily with their crooked poisoned blades clasped in grimy claw-tipped hands. They were no doubt waiting for the warrior to fall. His labored breathing formed small white clouds as it escaped him. Wisely, or unwisely perhaps given what sat in the tree above him and watched as death approached, he had his back to the massive trunk of the Elder tree thus shielding him from an attack on his rear flank. From her position, she could see the crooked shaft of the black arrow protruding from his back. He didn't have much longer to live, without treatment he'd die in a handful of hours, with it maybe a day.

With her decision made she stowed her bow and silently moved to flank the warrior. Effortlessly she dropped from the tree without a sound, her lithe form seeming to float down from the branches. It was one of her few innate abilities left to her. She stood slight of form and tall between two of the Fallen Plains denizens. So stealthy was she that they did not detect her presence, nor could the warrior, being human, see her in the dark. The moon she loved was hidden behind a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the snow and blood laden ground. She kept her eyes cast low so not to reveal herself as she quickly assessed the damage and the situation she had cast herself into without thought or worry.

The warrior must have foolishly come down from the Northlands. He was dressed in a heavy cloak of colorless fur clasped at the throat with an intricate pin and thrown carelessly over his broad shoulders. He was human. She'd never seen a human she wanted to give her time to before, though there were reports of wild clans somehow surviving in the area. He was shorter than she expected a human to be, a whole lot hairier and much thicker than the males of her race and the other human males she had seen. He had to be a male, human females were small and narrow and hairless at least that was her experience. Her eyes, capable of perfect vision in the lack of light easily detected the heavy armor he wore under the fur and tunic in the dim gloom around them. There was a good chance the arrow hadn't touched his skin at all, yet he seemed like his body was failing. His breath came in rapid gasps intermixed with coughs. How long had he run with that arrow in his back? Half a day, half the night? Could he even run? The poison was taking its toll on him way too fast, unless... that was his plan all along. Humans were not known for their cleverness and being caught alone by nine, no ten, starving denizens was not clever. Humans were inherently stupid, not one was ever smart enough to survive the gauntlet. They could not learn the language of the land. They did not possess magic and could barely wield a sword. They were the Scum of the Plains, the Scourge of the Lands, The Bane of the Faerie and Destroyers of the Heart Land. They were short-lived, but they procreated like vermin, spreading their disease and filth everywhere they went, so there was a lot of them. She heard their ears were round like their eyes and that they were literally blind in the dark. It was also rumored that they were kept as slaves in the cities of the Southlands. But, what Faye would keep slaves? It was so cruel. Never mind she knew the answer to that question. She watched as this human, head hung low, deep green eyes watching the six remaining beasts that would cut him down very carefully, as he began to succumb to the poison flowing through his body, prepare to die as the mob of monsters advanced on him in his weakened state. He straightened his long back despite the arrow in his shoulder, how painful that must have been, and raised his too large sword a bit higher in defiance. Humans were not only stupid but stubborn. They didn't even know when to die or how to die right. Soon he would become just another dead human briefly lying in the snow, his red blood flowing from him until the denizens descended upon his remains and ripped his flesh to shreds and ate him. Selfish discussing beasts, they that would dine on the flesh of the fallen, even their own, before taking food back to their young and infirm. That was right, they had no infirm. Those that could not fight were eaten. 'Meat is Meat'. Oh, the poison, that would not bother them, it came from their own blood. Suddenly she felt pity for the poor hapless human with the interesting green eyes and long colorless hair, that was no way to end up, even a lowly human, unworthy of the Goddess' grace did not deserve to end up in pieces inside the gut of these filthy perverted creatures.

Just then, the dark clouds parted as if on command and the blessed light of the Goddess shone down upon him. She felt the air fill with power as the jewel within the hilt of his blade and the runes along its length began to glow. Moon fire erupted from the length of the blade burning the blood of the denizens from it. The denizens stopped their advance.

"Save him." Her Goddess commanded her.