Somewhere along the road to Northgate
Spring of 216
It’s been almost a year, since Astarael made her escape. The journey so far has been rough. She’s done her best to keep a low profile- only stopping in towns when needed, bribing merchant traders to hide her in their wagons as they make their way north along the road. Sometimes, the risk is too great, and she is forced to trudge through muddy back roads and forest paths on foot. It’s not the fastest, but she needs to evade the patrol of Painted Swans that always seem just one step behind her.
She’s stopped in a small town, just south of a mountain range. After getting some supplies from the local shop, she heads off to find some shelter for the evening. She’s not having much luck, when she spots some Painted Swans exiting the shop she was in earlier. She darts behind the corner of the nearest building, and bumps directly into the shopkeep, knocking him to the ground. She offers her apologies, helps him up, and dashes for the edge of town, towards the mountains.
She’s not too far into the forest, when she begins to hear the noise of their pursuit behind her. An arrow flies past her. They are right on her tail, when she suddenly stumbles into a strange clearing — a near perfect circle of trees, charred by lightning, the earth webbed with glass — it’s alien and strange. The clouds above are roiling and the air is tense with a coming storm.
She drops her pack, as the soldiers surround her. Three men. Not odds she’s faced before. One man levels a crossbow at her. Lightning flashes overhead. She pulls her dagger from her belt, as the rain begins to pour down.
You can face three.
Use the stone. It shall aid you.
She hesitates for a moment, then reaches with her left hand into a pouch, and wraps her fingers around a familiar object. The stone, made from the earth she held when she was struck with lighting, on the cliffs of Maiden’s Drink. She’s reluctant to tap into that power again, knowing what it can do. But, best be prepared. Suddenly, the man closest to her, with a sword, comes rushing at her.
Use it, girl.
She ducks beneath the blade, and gestures with her left hand, which is clutching the glossy black stone. An intense thunderclap sounds, and the man with the sword, and the man with the halberd, who was sneaking in closer, are knocked to the ground. She turns her attention to the one with the crossbow, and gestures again. This time, a lash of lightning shoots from her hand, and strikes the man, drawing him close to her. Before he can react, she plunges her blade up and into his heart.
She turns, just in time to dodge the man with the halberd, who has gotten back up. It’s hard to fight a ranged weapon with a short blade, and she’s just managing to avoid his attacks. Suddenly, the man with the sword rejoins the fight. She’s doing her best to dodge them both, but the halberd connects with her side as her blade is knocked from her right hand. She takes a major gash, and her blood begins to run down her leg, swirling into the puddles on the ground.
She holds the wound, weakly raises her left hand, and a bolt of lightning, this time blue, shoots from it, killing the man with the halberd.
The use of the spell exhausts her, and she’s beginning to get dizzy from the loss of blood. Her stone falls from her left hand. The man with the sword sees this, and smiles. He’s not deterred by the deaths of his comrades. She’s now unarmed. He closes in. Her vision starts to blur.
She feels the tiny hairs on her skin begin to stand on end. The tension of static grows. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning comes down from the sky and strikes Astarael — the pain of a whip’s lash, and searing hot. It shakes the trees and sends the soldier stumbling backwards, and when the glare of the light fades, Astarael is holding a sword made of crackling lightning, traces of electricity running over her skin.
She smiles at the soldier, and steps towards him.
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