Commissioned By Knightperson
A Tale of Two Sisters
"What do you see?"
"Um…a bird!"
"Obviously it's a bird, but what
kind?"
"…a falcon! What?"
"I saw an eagle."
"Oh."
There was nothing but a quiet silence between the two young elven girls as they lay on the sands staring up at the fluffy white clouds above them. It was the perfect time for a bit of cloud gazing. They'd done all of their chores, and their father was off answering a summons from Lord Suncrest. Which, in turn, meant that they weren't going to be going to the workshop today to work on the chariot. Father was rightfully quite proud of their legacy as carpenters, but to make a chariot accepted by a lord was another thing altogether. There would be many competing now for their creation to become the official ride of a noble after Lord Suncrest's last chariot had been destroyed in battle elsewhere. So they'd gone wandering, as was their wont, to just relax and enjoy the paradise that was Ulthuan, and the stubbornly rebuilt and reclaimed glories of Tiranoc. The vast sandy shores were gone now, drowned beneath the waves, but the rocky, scrabbled shores it possessed now were no less enjoyable for children.
Both were black of hair and slim of body, coltish little waifs in truth, with neither of them more than a hand's length past their first decade of life.
"Either way, it's pretty," one of them, ever so slightly shorter than the other, declared as she sat up, digging her hands into the rocky sands to look out at the ocean beyond and the distant worn tips of towers and stone that poked through. "Falcons are the representative bird of our kingdom, though."
"Oh?" The other sat up as well. "Oh right. Falcons and freedom," she said, a tiny giggle that came from nowhere but childish innocence bubbling out of her. "But eagles are bigger and stronger."
"Yeah well…," the petulant response died a swift death as the youth stared out at the sea once more. "Hey, what's that?"
"Hmm?"
"There, right there," she pointed, tilting her head as some of the waves shifted against the rest of the tide.
"Why is the ocean…,"
Eyes widened as both leapt up from where they'd been sitting, rocky sand spraying out beneath their feet as they ran. It didn't matter what it was, or how it was, anything strange or odd out in the waters was a danger, they'd been drilled on this for their entire lives. The nearest watchtower was not too far, surely, but when they turned for it, eyes were wide in fear and confusion as they saw smoke rising from it, and from far, far beyond, even more smoke deeper inland. Words ceased to be spoken, only hard breaths in tiny chests as they ran, before there was a loud shifting and crunching of timber and metal against the shore.
"There, there!" A cold, cruel voice laughed.
"Don't look back, just keep going!" One sister hissed at the other.
But the other could not help herself, and what she saw chilled her soul. Light unbent and altered, to reveal a small fleet of ships of black-clad elves swinging on ropes and hooks to the shoreline.
"Those two are mine!" Said a louder voice.
At their head was an elven matron, dark power blazing in her eyes and a smile on her lips as she stalked forward with a staff capped with a black crystal.
"Ah!" One of the sisters cried as she tripped, falling forward into the sand and cutting her forehead on some of the stony shore. "No no no, keep going!" She cried out as her sister spun about and ran back for her. "No! Go!"
"How delightful. How loving!" The sorceress sneered before she held up her hand and gathered more magic there. "How stupid."
At twelve and fourteen, the sisters did not have a chance.
They were only the first victims of the Sorceress Mellis' raid upon Tiranoc.
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The Black Tower of Ghrond was a cold place for newly inducted members, regardless of how or why they had come to be there. There was no point in keeping it well heated, when a sorceress was meant to be able to maintain a constant host of enchantments about her person to allow her to go anywhere in the world regardless of the environment. Which meant that those who had not yet mastered such things were left shivering, cold, and miserable. Elven girls and young women from all over Naggaroth were sequestered in uncomfortable, compressed dormitories, something that many of them having come from noble families had no issues complaining about – to each other, that was. On the first day since two terrified sisters had arrived, one of them had dared to speak up to one of their instructors, a Druchii woman who had no name known them other than 'Mistress'.
The speaker's screams would never be forgotten by either of the two.
"Get off of her!" One sister screamed, leaping onto the back of one of the Druchii, "Leave her alone!"
"Get off of me Asur!" The Druchii girl shouted, flailing as she was hauled off of a bleeding and battered young Asur girl whose face was now swollen and bruised.
Battered as she was, she still managed to rise up and tackle the Druchii, sending all three toppling to the ground. Other young girls laughed, clapped, or watched in glowering silence at the scrapping, until finally the door to the dungeon slammed open and a sorceress stalked inside, a casual gesture causing all three participants to scream in pain as Dark Magic flowed over them.
"Enough!" The Mistress barked. "These two were brought forth by a colleague of mine, it does not
matter from whence they came," she hissed, glaring daggers at the Druchii girl. "They are of the Black Tower now, do you understand, girl?"
There was no immediate answer from the bully, too busy gasping for breath with tears in her eyes.
"As for you two…," the Mistress smirked, anger in her eyes. "I owe Mellis enough to not have you put down outright. Little else. Tell me…," she leaned in, "What are your names?"
The two Asur shook where they lay on the ground, eyes squeezing shut.
"My name is – AAAAAHHHH!" One of them screamed, eyes wide as lightning wracked her body.
"I could see the wrong syllable forming on those lips," the Mistress chuckled. "Your names are Alyssa and Hultressa, the daughters of Mellis. Do you understand?"
"I…," the other spoke up before she too began to scream.
"Please, continue to defy me. It pleases me," the Mistress laughed.
All the Druchii laughed, even the one on the floor.
=====================================================================
Two young elven women faced each other across the battle-scarred arena with magical staves in hand. In the stands watching were dozens of Druchii women of various ages and powers, all of them sorceresses or apprentices. A particularly powerful guest was present today, though her presence was well concealed from the two down below. With discipline literally and liberally beaten into them, they began to conjure Dark Magic with extreme focus and care, lest the Dhar run wild. There was no announcement, no command, only rote routine and the knowledge that they would have to begin sooner rather than later. No salutes, no recognition, though there it was known that they had embraced – secretly, or so they had thought – before they had arrived at the arena together. The duel began swiftly, and yet Mellis Screamtaker only had half an eye on it as she turned to the currently indebted Baela Painbringer, who had two more centuries of instructor duty within the Black Tower before she would be free to do otherwise.
"Well?" She asked impatiently.
"They're strong, both of them are," Baela sighed, rolling her eyes.
"Of course they are, otherwise, I would not have bothered sending them to the Tower," Mellis said snidely. "Nor remanded them to your custody."
"True enough," Baela huffed before narrowing her eyes. "They resisted the first few years, but with the right punishments and rewards, I've broken – adjusted them," she amended as Mellis raised an eyebrow. "Properly enough. Nightmares they could not defend themselves against, a few weeks without sleep, the usual. It did take longer than I expected," she admitted. "For both of them."
"And? Which is better?"
"They're relatively equal, for now. It varies," Baela waggled a hand. "Hultressa is-,"
Both paused as a particularly powerful – relatively, for a stripling – doombolt was thrown through the air, only partially shielded against by the target. A muted boom sent the neophyte sorceress bouncing against the ground to land in a crumpled heap. She gasped out in pain, skin charred black in some places, and stared with open, angry eyes at the one who had struck her so. The standing neophyte's eyes were just as wide, staring in shock before she quickly remembered where she was and took on a more haughty and satisfied expression. Mellis leaned forward, as did many of the others in the stands. Humiliation and failure suffered by another was always a sweetmeat in the Covens, for the Hag-Queen who stood above them all did so enjoy it, and thus so did they.
"Congratulations on your victory," Mellis commanded, rising up in the stands, her voice crossing the arena easily.
The loser and winner both jerked, staring up at her as she tore the veil of Ulgu from herself, and Mellis reveled in the recognition in their eyes.
"My daughter," she continued in a purr.
========================================================
Screams filled the air as the village burned. It had a name, certainly, but not one that any of the corsairs of the
Claw of Dominion cared to learn. After all, it was a human village, and the less their filthy primitive tongue had to pass their lips the better. Some of the corsairs gave the humans the false chance to run, if only to make the hunt a little more enjoyable. The leader of the raid had gone off towards the local temple, for reasons known only to herself, while the rest had spread out to follow her orders. Orders which meant that by the time they were done, there would only be ashes to mark their passing. So it was that two young sorceresses stood shoulder to shoulder as they stared at a burning home, listening to the screams of the family within as they tried to escape what they had thought would be their shelter.
"…heh."
One sorceress looked to the other as a wobbly smile started to push its way onto her lips.
"Aheheh…," she continued, the quiet chuckles starting to grow louder as the screams grew quieter.
"Alyssa?"
"Hhhehahahah!" The sorceress shook her head, eyes stretched wide as a hand came up to cover her face. "They…why would they…it was pointless! They could have run, but they thought barring their doors would save them!?"
She laughed, louder, exasperation mixing with her mirth.
"Those wretches in the tower didn't have a chance – but these…they did! And this is what they did with it!" Alyssa laughed louder, a cruel note that did not have to be feigned growing clearer. "They didn't have a chance after all! Hahahahah!"
Hultressa's lips thinned.
"No. I suppose they didn't," she said quietly.
=============================================================
"You have failed me, daughter," Mellis Screamtaker sneered before she slammed her staff down, a single whispered word wracking the lesser sorceress before her with agony.
Hultressa screamed.
"But you, child, you have succeeded," she nodded to Alyssa, who nodded curtly, though she did spare a glance towards Hultressa before snapping her eyes back to Mellis.
In Mellis' other hand was a faintly glowing stone box, Eltharin scrawled across its surface. Beyond them, the battered raiding party was resting in the camp, their gear and bodies being seen to by slaves and healers respectively. In the far distance, the old ruins were no longer visible above the tree line, the destruction enacted in the course of retrieving the prize within having reduced what had barely survived the War of the Beard all the more. Within the camp, now waiting to be sorted, was a pile of retrieved arms and armor, as well as other old Asur items. What was of value would be taken, the rest destroyed. But only one thing had really mattered, in the end. The goal of the race in the first place, the race that Hultressa had lost.
"Thank you, mother," Alyssa bowed. "I aim only to excel."
"Hmm, I know you do," Mellis nodded before glancing down at a weakly whimpering Hultressa. "Do better next time, girl."
Then she turned from them and stalked away to begin peeling the secrets of the relic open, leaving the two sorceresses alone. Only after she entered her tent did Hultressa dare to begin healing her wounds, a gimlet glare sent towards Alyssa.
"You…said we would…give it to her together," Hultressa hissed as she gathered herself, struggling to stand and wobbling as she leaned one her staff.
"She wouldn't have shared the grimoire between the two of us," Alyssa shrugged. "One of us ought to have benefited from it."
"I was the one that banished the wraiths protecting it!" Hultressa growled, eye twitching as she straightened fully, her wounds fading from her as Ghyran washed through her body.
"And I broke the enchantments that kept it from being removed," Alyssa shot back.
Dhar thickened in the air between them for a brief moment, an eager light entering Alyssa's eyes as Hultressa bristled, before it abruptly faded away as the younger sister shook her head.
"So be it," she dismissed with wave of her hand. "Are you going to at least
share what you learn?"
Alyssa pursed her lips.
"…perhaps once I have mastered it," she allowed, shrugging a single shoulder.
Hultressa tossed her hair and stalked away, leaving Alyssa to snort in dismissal before heading towards the tent of Screamtaker to request her prize.
=========================================================
"So. Dies. Cissala. Cinderheart," Mellis Screamtaker announced as the Supreme Sorceress of the
Claw of Dominion silently flailed.
The Coven watched as she struggled, clutching at her throat, her magic suppressed beyond her ability to break. So instead this mighty, ancient Druchii could only silently flop about, desperately trying to find the air that would not enter her lungs.
"Do any here dare to challenge my supremacy?!" Mellis cried out, arms wide in invitation.
None spoke.
All kneeled.
Including the two sorceresses that were her greatest apprentice, her two daughters. Daughters who had served Mellis since before she had managed to gain a berth upon the Black Ark for many, many years. Across the world, they had gone, ravaging and ruining as was the wont of the Druchii. They had won acclaim and wealth aplenty, for their years at least, and had been participants in more than a few brutal celebrations across the lands of Naggaroth alongside their mother.
"Then so be it," Mellis laughed, tossing her hair as she stalked towards the vast crystallized Dhar atop the Tor of Dominance. "Then let it be known that the
Claw is
mine!"
An hour later, in the quarters of the old now in the process of being claimed by the new, found Mellis being approached by her most prized assets.
"Mother," Hultressa and Alyssa murmured in unison.
"Daughters," Mellis smirked to them, raising a glass of wine as she lounged in the throne of the now dead Cinderheart. "You did well, subverting your targets."
Both of the sorceresses bowed their heads.
"Many of them even your seniors," she continued, glancing back and forth between them. "For now. Alyssa," she glanced to one daughter, "The grimoires you requested will be yours. Hultressa," she glanced to the other. "With Cinderheart dead, the Ark is without a Terror-Maker. I have better things to do than split my attentions as she did, which is why she is
dead. You may replace her, as you requested."
"Thank you, mother," Alyssa bowed again, before narrowing her eyes at her sister and tilting her head. "You would take on such a task, sister? Truly?"
"I learned enough as an apprentice to her," Hultressa defended herself, tossing her hair as she said it. "It was how we lowered her defenses, lest you forget. And terrors are a potent force on the battlefield regardless, and effective bodyguards."
Alyssa wrinkled her nose as Mellis chuckled.
"You may think that she is weakening herself needlessly, Alyssa, but she recognizes that her position would be a secure one, and one that would bring her much wealth," Mellis lectured, sipping from her wine. "If she devotes herself to it as she should, especially."
"Coward," Alyssa snorted, as Hultressa glared, Dhar springing to life around both sisters as they faced off while Mellis laughed again. "Do you deny it?"
"I do not feel the
need to politick and play for power as you do, Alyssa," Hultressa ground out. "I shall forge my own path. Besides, mother believes I have shown great aptitude for fleshcrafting."
"Indeed, and I shall be calling upon that talent very soon," Mellis nodded, making Alyssa stare at her in shock. "Oh don't be so surprised, Alyssa. Hultressa has simply taken a different course from you. One with its own rewards."
Now Alyssa glared at her sister, unveiled jealousy and other, darker things in her eyes.
"Enjoy your grimoires, sister," Hultressa smirked, bowing once more to Mellis, before turning and stalking away.
Neither of the two Druchii who remained behind saw the grimace on the third's face as she departed.
=======================================================================
"What do you see?"
"A shoreline of desperate, pitiable primitives. And humans."
"Mmm, true enough."
"What do you want, Alyssa?" Hultressa asked coldly as the
Claw's ramps fell upon the coast of Lustria to let a mighty army march out. "I did not miss how you engineered our both being assigned here for final landing overwatch."
The cruel smile that had steadily carved its way onto Alyssa Voidreaper's face over four hundred years grew wider.
"How long has it been, sister? Since we last talked? Truly talked."
"A few decades, more or less," Hultressa muttered, arms folded beneath her chest. "Why? I have nothing for you, no grimoires, no scrolls, no power that you do not already possess."
Or did not wish to bother gaining for herself, she did not add. To make a terror was considered a tedious, tiresome task that Alyssa disdained. After all, as she herself had said more than once, she had far more productive, winsome things that she could be doing with her time. Insults, petty and grave, had peppered Hultressa's hide for centuries now, a storm that she'd long grown used to weathering. Did she make use of the terrors herself? Of course. Hultressa Horrorheart was one of the best fleshcrafters known, having spent so much time carefully peeling apart her subjects before putting them back together without magic that it was practically unwholesome by the standards of the Druchii. Aloof. Standoffish. Odd. All these and worse had clung to Hultressa's name, yet she cared little for it, and in truth, little others truly cared when her services were so great and prices so reasonable.
"You do yourself a disservice," Alyssa shook her head, hands folding behind her back. "You are a power I do not possess – a whole, second sorceress."
Hultressa blinked before her gaze narrowed to slits.
"Speak plainly, sister. I-,"
"Tire and care little for wordplay and diction, I know," Alyssa interrupted, "Honestly, you've degraded terribly from the old days. You spent a century worming your way into Cinderheart's good graces perfectly well, but nowadays you spend so much time in your workshops that you speak as bluntly as a beast."
"I can affect diplomacy and intrigue fine enough," Hultressa hissed, eyes burning with a faint trace of Dhar now. "When I
need to."
"Of course, of course," Alyssa chuckled dismissively before raising a hand as her sister turned to leave. "I wish to believe you, in this case, I truly do."
"Oh? And why is that?" Hultressa ground out through grit teeth.
"Because I think that Mellis Screamtaker punished us enough over these past thousand years to deserve to be paid back tenfold," Alyssa said with a shrug.
Immediately Hultressa grasped her staff tightly, a dome of Dhar appearing around them to try and locate and destroy any lingering enchantments or scrying attempts, which only made Alyssa laugh.
"Calm down, sister. I made sure before I even arrived here that it would be a private conversation."
Hultressa's grip grew white-knuckled even as she straightened and glared at Alyssa.
"She whines. She wavers. She's going to go try and challenge a Slann again after we caught that skink priest, and be beaten back for it, then it's punishments all around," Alyssa drawled, acidic hate burning to life in her throat and voice. "She has grown weak. Weak enough to take vengeance that we
deserve."
"Drakira speaks through you, hmm?" Hultressa mused, her shoulders relaxing only slightly.
"I only offer you a chance to join me, when the time comes," Alyssa held out her hand.
Hultressa stared at the hand, the horizon where Screamtaker had ventured, and then back again.
"Fine," she huffed as she clasped the hand, jerking slightly as Alyssa drew her in for a hug.
The first in over nine hundred years.
"Excellent," Alyssa hissed. "I promise you, it will take time…there is some raid on Ulthuan I have heard rumor of coming up, but we will have our day. All the vengeance and the power she has denied us," she spat angrily, "Will be ours!"
"I…yes," Hultressa said uncertainly as they broke from each other.
Alyssa smiled wide, too wide, and could only laugh as Hultressa gave a curt nod.
"First her," Alyssa glared at the horizon. "Then the
world."
Hultressa did not nod. Did not smile. She simply looked at the horizon as well.
There was a cloud shaped like a falcon floating there.
