Eryin's Story

Eryin waited patiently at the door while the young man announced her arrival.

"She's here," he said to the yet unseen person behind the curtain.

"Well for Celestian's sake, bring her in," he replied, drawing the curtain back. The source of the voice was a human male in his late forties. Tired blue eyes regarded her softly as he ran a hand through chestnut hair that was peppered with gray, as was the mustache and goatee his thumb found afterward, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"So you're the one."

Eryin nodded her head yes. "Not what you expected?"

She figured as much. Eryin wasn't exactly what you'd call imposing, nor did she have the eerie omnipotence mages sometimes possess. Of course, she wasn't a mage.. not really. While she'd been gifted with a few innate magical abilities, they were hardly worthwhile but in the most ideal of circumstances. What she claimed to be was a fighter.. an archer. She was unremarkable even as such. Medium build, brown hair, brown eyes. Golden brown complexion. Her half-elven heritage was almost a perfect split of genes, as she appeared as much elven as she did human. She wore warm earth tones, seeming to blend with her surroundings, even in the soft light of the room she stood. She'd expected less than impressed observations. She was used to it. They didn't have to think she could do it for the job to be done.

The man's blue eyes warmed to a twinkle. "Much better, actually."

Eryin raised her eyes in surprise, offering a bit of a smile.

"Why don't you come in, and I'll fill you in?"

The half-elf nodded her head, and ducked beneath his curtain holding arm.

"You are Bran, I take it?"

"Yes, lass. I am Bran." He motioned towards two chairs in the corner. "Have a seat... I'm sure you're tired after your journey."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather get started right away. I'd like to go straight to the temple. You can fill me in on the way."

"Of course." Bran furrowed his brows a bit. "So eager to begin what might be her death," he thought, shaking his head sadly. Reaching for Eryin's hand, he chanted softly, bringing them to their destination.

Eryin found herself in a hallway, along either side of which were doors spaced about 20 feet apart. The ceiling was high, decorated with ornate carvings of celestial bodies that were covered with the gray film of age. Cobwebs hung from various corners, spots too high to be reached with a broom handle. The woman moved to open one of the doors, making a face as it's creak nestled in her spine.

"There's not been anyone here in a while," Bran explained.

Eryin nodded without looking back at him, her orbs intent on the apparatus within the room. "What is this?"

"Some sort of cage, as best as we can determine."

The woman shut the door with a soft click. "I'll need to see."

"I thought I might just tell you..." Bran began.

"I've already been told. I need to see it for myself."

"If you must." The man stepped back, drawing his cloak around him. He'd heard what she could do, and the thought of it sent the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Still, he was curious. "Might I?"

Eryin offered her hand silently as the other withdrew a glass vial with what appeared to be blue liquid. Upon closer inspection however, it seemed as if the liquid were frozen, although the bottle wasn't cold to the touch. As Bran took her hand, Eryin closed her eyes, clutching the bottle above her head. Gradually, the blue began to swirl into true liquid form, bubbling into the pointed top of the vial.

She could see them... there were six... four girls, and two boys. All were about the age of 13... maybe 14. She saw them, huddled in the rusted cages she'd seen just before, although in this image, they were new, and the steel was shiny. Each child was chained by wrist and ankle to the center of the cage. The girls were crying. The boys appeared to be unconscious.

Focusing, her consciousness drifted down the hallway of the past, finding the doorway where the Evil One sat cross-legged on the stone floor, surrounded by black candles, their flames making a macabre dance on the ceiling above him. Cradled in his hands was a dagger. It was clearly metal, though black as pitch, and the hilt was nearly transparent - glasslike. Raising his hands to the ceiling, he lifted the dagger high in praise to Nerull. Bran shuddered and pulled his hand away, leaving Eryin to finish her travel alone.

Eyelids fluttering a bit, she moved the vision forward, and saw the children.. all dead, save one... their throats were slit, but no blood adorned their nude bodies. The Evil One moved to the last child who whimpered in her shackles. He raised his hand before her face, and the child froze, raising her head high to offer her neck. Eryin retched as the dagger drew it's viscous line across the tender flesh of her throat, and drank it's fill of her blood, the once clear hilt now crimson with the life-force of innocents.

"It is done!" the Evil One cried, and the sky opened up with a crash of lightening, bathing the city in an eerie red mist that Eryin knew had eventually crept it's way across the country side. It had been almost 30 years ago.. and Nerull's merciless reign would soon begat an heir... if Eryin could not stop him.

****

Eryin awoke groggily, her eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the darkness of the room. She appeared to be in a tavern.. or what used to be a tavern. As she tried to sit, a sharp pain went through her side, and she winced with a whistle of air into her lungs. Groaning, she pulled herself to a sitting position.

"You're awake." Bran's voice drifted from across the room as he rose, drawing near to her.

"What happened?"

"We were attacked," he explained. "You were shot-"

"The vial!?"

"It's in your pocket, safe and sound," he replied gently. Lifting her loose tunic, he examined the wound. "I can heal this.. but I was afraid... so much I don't know..." He trailed off.

"Please do. I'd be most grateful." Eryin managed a weak smile.

Bran laid his hands upon her wound and closed his eyes, coursing healing light through his hands and into her skin, feeling the wound close beneath his fingertips. Pulling his hands away, he smiled at her. "It is done."

Eryin stretched, testing the area for movement and soreness. Satisfied, she offered a smile back. "Thank you."

Hopping off the table, she looked around for her belongings. "How much time do I have?"

"Plenty," he replied. "How about a drink?"

The warrior nodded, and Bran retrieved a bottle of pale orange wine from behind the bar, pouring a healthy amount into each of two glass mugs.

"What is this place?" Eryin took the offered mug and sat down in chair near the table where she'd awakened.

"It's one of the many buildings abandoned sometime after the Evil One took over. It used to be called the Flaming Ale.. it was my father's business."

A faraway look appeared in his eyes, and he pulled a chair up in front of her, sitting backwards upon it with his arm resting upon it's back.

"Now... it's a safehouse... more or less." He raised his glass. "A fully stocked safehouse."

Eryin raised her glass and tapped it gently against his, and brought it to her lips to take a sip.

"Ow!" She pulled the mug away and brought a finger to her lip. A sliver of glass was embedded there, and her finger came away crimson.

Bran's face turned ashen. "It's an omen."

He rose from his chair to kneel before her, and bringing his fingertips to her chin, and he delicately removed the tiny shard from her tender flesh, tossing it to the floor as if the mere sight of it was malevolent. "You mustn't go... something is going to go wrong."

Eryin's brows furrowed slightly as he ran his thumb across her lip, wiping away blood that was slowly replenished. "I must go. There's no other time."

Her face was steeled with determination, but her eyes could not withhold the trepidation she felt. Something told her he was right.

"Eryin..." Bran cupped her cheek in her hand, his eyes brimming with emotion. Eryin's eyes flickered from side to side, efforted attempts at holding back her own deep sense of dread.

"I have no choice."

"I know," he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

****

Bran and Eryin still lay in each others arms when the young man who'd answered the door earlier burst in. Surprised, he turned his head, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you... it - it's time."

"What?" Eryin jumped from the table, searching the floor for her clothes.

"I thought we had plenty of time." She turned a puzzled gaze to Bran, who looked as surprised as she.

"It - something happened.. our estimates were off," the boy explained sheepishly. "You must hurry."

"Damn it!" Eryin began pulling her clothes back on hurriedly, looking for her weapons in the process.

"They're safe," Bran said softly. "Sein will bring them." He began dressing in haste as well.

"Yes sir," Sein replied, and hurried off.

Eryin strode to the door, tucking her tunic in as she went, and looked out across the red hued city, and to the storm brewing overhead. "He's right. We have to go."

Bran met her at the door, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her deeply once more, his meaningful gaze interrupted by Sein's arrival with their mounts. A soft rain began to fall.

The two were somber as they pushed their horses through the rain that only came down harder the closer they got to their destination. Soon, the pond came in view, it's murky waters seeming filled with blood in reddened illumination.

Eryin leapt from her horse, and started a run for the center.

"Eryin!"

"There's no time!" She plodded through the muddy silt, her movements almost comical were the situation not so grave. Reaching the center, she turned to look at Bran, calling out over the rage of the storm.

"Don't worry! It will be okay!"

The sky seemed to part as she withdrew the blue vial, holding it high over her head. Thunder roared as a white streak broke through the blackened sky, finding it's destination in the swirls of blue over Eryin's head. Electric current bubbled in the glass vial, and coursed through the half-elf's body, shuddering the ground around her... and then she was gone.

****

Eryin woke with a pounding in her skull, her muscles seeming welded in place. She opened her eyes and stretched them with a groan. She was in the temple hallway. Damn it! She was supposed to have arrived outside it's doors. She hoped the time frame was correct still.

A noise to her left drew her attentions, and she drew a sword from her back, spinning to regard it's source. A young man in pale blue robes stood in a doorway, the door opened only a crack. He began to shut it quickly as she looked his way.

"Wait!" Eryin lowered her voice. "Please."

The boy paused, eyeing her curiously. Replacing the vial in her pocket, she padded over to him, regarding him with a tilt of her head.

"You're Bran."

The boy took a step back, shock registering in his orbs.

"Give me your hand," she said softly.

Bran was hesitant, but offered his hand. Eryin took it, and turned it over gently, palm side up. Reaching into another pocket, she withdrew what looked to be a coin, and she pressed it to his palm. A pale yellow smoke arose from the edges of the coin, and Bran jerked his hand away with a soft cry of pain. Eryin smiled at him as he looked down at his hand, now marked with a crescent moon, and surrounded by a circle of stars. Bran looked back up into her eyes, and swallowed hard, pointing down the hallway to the door where Eryin had seen the Evil One in her past vision. The warrior nodded her thanks, and softly tread to the doorway.

"Fare the well, Eryin Coiasirohtar," the young priest whispered, and disappeared behind the doorway.

Eryin laid her ear against the wood of the door, listening carefully. She could hear the muffled sound of chanting from within. Trembling, she opened the door a crack, peering inside. Her target was kneeling in the middle of the room, his back to her, and involved in a long incantation. His hands were in the air, and the dagger was nowhere to be seen.

"It can't be this easy," she thought, her eyes pouring over the rest of the room. She could only hope that his eyes were shut, and that her shadow wouldn't betray her as she crept across the room, sword in hand, and stood behind him, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Not the most honorable way," she thought, as she plunged the sword into his back.

The priest uttered not even a cry as his body slumped to the floor, blood pooling beneath his rust robes and staining them crimson. Eryin reached to place her fingers at his neck, but the heat of the vial in her pocket made her pull back. There wasn't much time left. She had to find the dagger.

Rushing in a crazed search, the vial begged her attentions with intense heat against her thigh. Withdrawing the vial from her pocket, she held it high, scrambling over to the slumped figure, kicking him over in search. She could feel the energy coursing through her, beginning the pull to carry her back to her own time.

"At least he's dead," she thought as she regarded the blood on the floor, cursing herself for not finding the dagger. Closing her eyes, she let the magic take her.

A yelp of surprise and pain escaped from Eryin's lips, and she looked down to the dagger within her thigh in shock. The priest laughed maniacally until the blood choked his efforts, and drowning him even before he fell to the floor. Reaching down to pull the dagger from her leg, she realized she'd dropped the vial.. but the energy coursed through her still.. and combined with it was a new energy, an energy borne of the dagger, and the priest's evil laugh seemed to taunt it's way into her blood. As she pulled the weapon from her flesh, an icy dullness smoothed it's way into her warm eyes, and she echoed his crazed laugh through the hollows of time.

****

The warrior awoke again, finding herself back in the tavern. Bran paced beside her, his brow creased with worry. Absently, he rubbed his thumb across the markings in his palm.

"The dagger," Eryin intoned emotionlessly.

"You didn't have it on you when you arrived... the priest?"

"Dead."

"Then the mission was still a success," he offered, drawing close to brush the hair from her eyes.

"More than you know," she replied.

Bran wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I guess I was wrong."

"Oh no... you were right," she remarked, an eerie quality in her voice causing Bran's brows to crease curiously in wonder, and he started to draw back. His eyes opened wide and a gasp escaped his lips as Eryin's dagger found purchase between his ribs.

Her laugh echoed about the tavern as she pulled the blade from his chest, wiping it on his shirt.

"For Nerull's glory."

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