janestarz | Omen 9 – Visions of the Veil

Friday
Six months it was since last we saw Dur'Ithil. Luthine had finally ceased her pacing, and the scouts I sent out only shook their heads when they returned: no sign of him anywhere. And then one night, he stalked the dimly lit night, and called me to him.

"Captain." he said.
"Dur'Ithil." I replied. It was not a warm greeting. "I am glad to see you have returned."
Dur'Ithil spoke of my dreams and the Crimson Hunt. On how he had been tested by Rystill, and how that dream had forewarned me of his decision.
"Can I still trust you to follow my orders?" I asked.
"Captain, I will follow you to death, whenever it may come;" he laughed bitterly; "although now it may come sooner. If you accept me back into the Anarquendor, I will follow your orders, until death takes me. But you must ask them if they will still accept me in their midst. If not..." he fingered the lassíla on his leather tunic; "...then I will return this to you."
"No." I said. "That you have been given for past services. It is not mine to take. But I will take your service, and I will use you as a weapon in this war."
We shook arms, hands in elbows, a warrior's grip. His touch was warm through my coat, but not as hot as I have known it to be before.

Back in the camp, I called everyone together and spoke of the Crimson Hunt. I know but little, but when I was appointed captain to lead elves into battle, I had been forewarned. As such, I could spread the word among the Anarquendor.
To be honest, when I heard Dur'Ithil had joined the Crimson Hunt, I had expected him to serve Rystill aside from the regiment, to take on a position much like Asterion once had. As an advisor to me, I would have listened to him, and he would have had more freedom than I can give him as his captain. The Crimson Hunt is no part of the army, and serves the Queen, because they serve Rystill. Mostly, it is just a seperate entity that is ruled by primal instincts.
But he asked to be accepted once more, and though I feared it would be hard for all of us to adjust to this change, I trusted Dur'Ithil to know his heart well enough. And as such, I trusted him to be a part of the regiment once more.
"When an elf has lost everything he cares for, when he has nothing left to live for, sometimes the elf gives up and dies;" I told the Anarquendor, watching Rána's reaction in particular; "and sometimes he hears the call of the Crimson Hunt. It is when the elf has nothing left to live for, he can give himself over to the Hunt. It becomes a part of him, and drives him. Either he answers the call, or ignores it.
"It is not something that is uncommon in nature, for we all know how the bear fights to protect her cubs; the forces of nature are very diverse. That Dur'Ithil has answered the call of the Crimson Hunt, does not mean he no longer serves Rystill. It means he serves her from Nature's vengeance, in stead of the nurturing side."
I asked them: could they still accept Dur'Ithil in their midst, knowing this, knowing what he had become. One by one they answered. Arevalo and Balamaethor wanted to speak with Dur'Ithil first, but none of them said no straight out. And none of them asked me what I had decided either. Perhaps they thought I had already made my decision clear by letting them choose at all.
I called out to Dur'Ithil, who approached us in the dark. He went off with Arevalo and Balamaethor, and I told them Dur'Ithil and I wanted their answer later that night.

Dur'Ithils situation occupied my mind for most of that night, but duty called. From nearby Stoppeldorp some people had arrived, followed closely by satyrs. Their musky scent was overwhelming, but their voices gruff. "They hurt forest!" the largest growled. "Their village! Black...stinking...hurtful and bad. They bad! They die! You kill. Now."
The other satyr, younger, with a pointed face, smashed a large hand on my shoulder to emphasize his words. "They die. Now. You do."
I sighed. More death, more demands. The precarious peace with the satyrs of the past few months should not be broken so lightly, but I wasn't happy to kill helpless humans, bleeding and hurt as they were. "You are sure?" I asked. "What did they do?"
"They hurt forest. Forest not lie. They must die. Must!" the satyr replied. He turned to others, to tell them the same.
Before I would do anything, I checked in the bar. Jean-Louis, Reinard and others that lead the refugee camp were more noticably dismayed, but soon enough one of the seers told me that Stoppeldorp was a pool of black magic, sucking in the souls of the Stoppeldorp villagers. The satyrs had killed most of the villagers, which had been a massacre on both sides, and these few, little more than a handful, had escaped to here.

When I returned to the satyrs, the villagers had been secured in a tent, and were guarded by mercenaries. They refused us access, but in the end I managed to get Lady Fithe to examine the villagers. She said most were innocent, but one in particular was tainted. This was not enough proof to the mercenaries guarding the tent to cease their vigil. And I was not about to bribe them to get my hands on some villagers.
It took us a while, but in the end Amras, Rána and I weasled away one after another of the Stoppeldorpers. I took the arm of a small girl and pulled her away from the tent. The satyrs stood behind me, pacing impatiently. They had beheaded one of the villagers already, and were anxious to kill the others.
"But my mother!" the girl whined.
"She will follow shortly." I said to the girl. "Amras, bring the girl's mother."
Two paces further, I put my sword into the girl's chest, and she sagged, dying shortly after. The satyrs nodded. "Good."
When the villagers were all killed, the satyrs thanked us.
"Are you satisfied?" I asked.
"Mmmmyes." the larger one grunted. "We go to seer. She say if all gone."
And with that, they disappeared into the woods. It was Jacques who took care of the bodies, and their souls, so villagers, refugees and satyrs would be safe from whatever evil was in Stoppeldorp.

"Captain Beriadanwen, I have a request." Reinard stood awkwardly in his plate mail, holding a small box close to his chest.
"Please, tell me." I said.
"We will be leaving on Takgar's quest soon." Reinard said. "While we are away, please safeguard this. It is imperative that it does not fall into enemy hands."
"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the box. It was covered in silverwork, and looked expensive.
"It holds one of the pieces of Kalithé's prison. It is magically shielded in this box, but it must never fall into the hands of an undead."
I promised I would keep it safe, and buried it under one of the trunks around our campfire when there was no-one around, rolling the trunk over the spot when I was done.
When they left for the quest, I shook everyone's hand. "Return to us, safe and victorious." I said. Their guide opened a portal a little way from the village, and as it snapped shut behind them there was nothing I could do but wait for them to return.

The Anarquendor set out for their mission – Photo by Maarten

Saturday
Come morning, they had not yet returned. There was nothing to do but wait. I was expecting our own guide to show up any minute, and I had no intention of digging up the box to hand it over to someone else. Bereklauw had seen me bury it, and if anyone needed it he would know where to find it.

I called the Anarquendor together for a mission briefing. "Sumolan, you take Nessa and Arevalo in the left flank. Balamaethor leads the right flank, with Dur'Ithil, Luthine and Sairahiniel. I will lead the center, with Amras, Rána and Radag'hén."
As Arevalo gave us a briefing on which salves we should use and when, I saw movement in the village. Reinard and Krughal's expedition had returned. The black-clad man I had seen the day before walked with them, and demanded we make haste.
I had just enough time to check with Reinard whether they had all returned – only Raphael had fallen – and then we were off ourselves.

Our guide never introduced himself, but he pulled us through a shadow portal into a different landscape, and then again; jumping several times before we reached our destination would ensure at least some element of surprise.
He laughed at us, waved us into a direction, and said he'd wait until we returned. The flanks formed up, and we moved out.
The forest was decaying around us, and I could not tell where in Weylin we were exactly. It wasn't long until we ran into the first signs of life though. Three elven warriors, panting and sickly. One still held his sword, and another was lying between the black-spotted decaying undergrowth.
"Don't go further." they said, voices wavering. "It is death for anyone. Please, save yourselves."
I checked them for injuries, and found puncture marks in the man's neck. "Can we help you?" I asked.
"End our lives. It will be merciful." he whispered.
I checked with our healers, who were freaked at the sight of the wounds, and said they could do nothing. Nessa was crouching next to the man, but Sairahiniel stepped away. I gave the order, reaching for my dagger and telling Nessa to step away. I did not want her to carry this burden, and I would take the responsibility upon myself.
I asked the elven man one last time. "Do you wish for Rystill's mercy?" He nodded.
With my left arm around his shoulder, I pulled him into an embrace, supporting his wounded body with my own. With my other hand I put the dagger into his vital organs. "May Rystill welcome you into her Grove, brother." I said softly. He twitched and then his body went limp against mine. Carefully, I let him slide down. I wiped my dagger on the moss and stood.
"Make sure they can never be raised." I ordered.

We moved on, following the path. Soon enough, we saw movement up ahead. Undead! They broke through our ranks and while Dur'Ithil jumped them from the right flank, I felt their rusting swords slice through my armour and I went down.
I opened my eyes, the taste of a goodberry still on my tongue. Everyone was accounted for.
Luthine unrolled a piece of parchment. "I will read the prophecy to give us courage." She started to read, but I saw movement from the left. More elves! Amras and I approached them, greeting them. They looked well enough, but they were wary.
"Here, we found this today. We're underway to Torquil, to the queen;" one said. "Perhaps you can do something with it. We cannot dally."
I unrolled the papers she gave me. A map of some sort, and a sign. I handed the parchments to Radag'hén to keep them safe, and saw that Luthine was ready to move again. I had not listened to the prophecy, but many of the Anarquendor had, and we had found our courage again.

Not long after we saw a man approach us. The scouts to the right had found a part of the forest where no living thing remained, and undead stood in the sandy ground that was all that remained of the forest. From that direction the man approached, uncaring for his own safety.
"I bring an invitation." he said, holding his head high. A sneer played over his features. "You do not stand a chance, and my master has told me to offer you eternal life. Come now, who does not want to live forever? What say you?"
I raised my bow. "This is our answer." The arrow struck his chest, the holy water on its tip scorching the vampire thoroughly. "No, we will not take him up on this offer. Sumolan, finish him off!"
As Sumolan set to staking the vampire, Amras and I checked out the field. Approaching it would be difficult, and shooting from the forest edge impossible. The rim of some kind of magic circle was crackling with magic, and I waved Arevalo over to start salving everyone so we could pass through uninterrupted.

The battle went badly, so badly. I have ever seen undead to be slow, and lumbering, but some of these were very fast. They weaved through, and we could hardly hurt them. The flanks were seperated and slaughtered, and I fell too, hearing the cries of the wounded Anarquendor ring in my ears.
Once I got back on my feet, I took off my belt with quiver and lay my bow in the sand, taking only the large elvish longsword from its scabbard. I saw a large undead come closer. His flesh was rotting, and the armor he wore dented. He swung a huge sword overhead, ready to strike at me. I stepped in close, caught his sword between our bodies, and tried to strike at him. Instead, another undead caught me from behind and the world went black once more.
Again I was healed, and again I rose to my feet, checking to see who was still standing. Dur'Ithil was wrestling with a death knight, and Nessa and Sairahiniel ran between the wounded, dodging the undead as best they could. Some were wounded, some were bleeding and on the ground.
I decided to go at Boris. He was standing at the back, smiling a predatory smile at us. I called out to Amras and Dur'Ithil to come with me, but before I could get to Boris, I was tackled from behind, and again I lost consciousness.
When I came to, Arevalo's strong hands were moving my jaw to make me swallow a goodberry. He followed it up by handing me a few more, which I placed in my mouth as I stood up. Behind Arevalo lay Boris. There was little left of the once-vampire. Next to a stake through the heart, it seemed like a small tree had sprouted in the vampire's chest, pinning his remains to the very ground he once corrupted.

I can no longer count how many times I had gone down in the fight, or who had helped me get up by healing me, but when I counted the Anarquendor I was glad to see all of them had survived. Many were still wounded, and Sairahiniel shook her head when I asked her if she could still heal them.
"Bandage the wounded, we're getting out of here." I said. "Make sure everyone can walk, but we're leaving this place as soon as we can."
"What are you still doing here?!" a voice came from outside the circle. The black-clad guide had arrived, and he forcibly opened the magic circle with his hands so he wouldn't have to pass through it. "We have to get out of here. What are you all standing around for?"
"We're ready." I said. "Take us to the Queen."
"The Queen?" the man exclaimed in surprise; "Oh no, we're going back to Adare."
"We would be going to the court, or to wherever the Queen is now. I had a deal with Takgar, that we would report to her in person after this mission is completed!" I said. I had a promise to keep.
"Torquil is surrounded by undead on all sides. Kalithé himself is there, just like your queen and Takgar. Even if I could get there, I wouldn't dream of going anywhere near it. We're going back to that refugee camp."

Wounded but alive, we limped back into the refugee camp where our guide had dropped us off. I joined Balamaethor, Dur'Ithil and the other wounded at Aimée's home. The lady herself took care of our wounded while I ran to get them some water.

After we were all back on our feet we tried to get down to making some tea. Reinard and Madeleine had been invited – the latter having gone through a change of heart of some kind. The lady in question had been knocked out in the bar on Fridaynight, only to wake up and demand to know where her armour and sword were. Madeleine went from lady-in-waiting to Aimée to paladin of Driscoll overnight, asking the dwarven smith Thorgrim to make her plate mail.
As usual, when we are making tea we hardly ever get to the point where we get to drink it. Villagers from Stoppeldorp came to ask us why we had killed their relatives. Before we could very well answer them, they attacked us in full force.
I did not participate in that fight much. My time would come later. However, I did suggest to the village council to send out a scouting party to Stoppeldorp, to see what was happening there exactly. Reinard and Krughal agreed with me and bullied the village council into appointing Jacques the coordinator of the scouting mission.

I told Jacques that with his skills as a priest of Angharad, he would know exactly what the expedition would need to be and stay safe from the undead they might find. Jacques set to organising everything.
I was also approached by Thorgrim Anvilhammer, a new arrival. He was a dwarven runesmith and "in the interest of new friendships" he wanted to offer me a rune. It would be a protection from arrows for five minutes. I thanked him profusely.

Sairahiniel asked me to join her for a talk. I sat with her in the shrine of Rystill, a quiet place in the madness all around us.
"I have seen enough war, enough death." she said. She told me of the egg she found that day, of how she knew it would be a new start, a new life. And that she wanted to be there, for nature all around us. "The Child of the Forest has only just awoken. I would nurture it, as I have nurtured you. And that means I will leave the Anarquendor for a while."

Meanwhile, Krughal had found Erik, a tall human in chainmail and plate mail pieces who like me wanted to learn more about Krughal's strength.
Krughal set us some exercises, first of all a game of "Skaak^*". It's a sophisticated human game, which is played on a square board with circles, where you hit one another. We had procured a paper plate from the bar, which was round, and folded it until it was square, then stood on top of it. Krughal told us to hit one another, one at a time. The first one to fall off his plate would be the loser.

Erik was a little unsure of what to do, but I started well by placing a fist on his jaw. I shook out my hand. He countered by a blow to the breastbone, which nearly shoved me all the way off, and then I simply placed my elbow against his nose.
After winning three rounds of Skaak against Erik, Krughal deemed we were ready for some teambuilding. I grabbed an axe from one of the tents, and we chopped wood for an hour. There was a big log near the camp and Krughal wanted us to hack it into two pieces, so we could do leg exercises. But after an hour we had not yet split the trunk into two pieces, even though we tried to break the remaining wood. In the end, we had to work together to get the trunk into the firepit, which was tough in itself. The trunk was really heavy and my arms were already tired from chopping.

It was a good training though, and Erik was happy to have made a new friend, although I was still a bit hesitant to return his abundance. I felt a huge bruise coming up on my jaw where he had hit me, and he was still a human after all.

News reached me that the Stoppeldorp mission had gone badly as well. A younger elf approached me, asking if I'd seen H'eldaran lately. He had not returned from the Stoppeldorp mission yet, though others had. A man told me he had joined the mission, but they had turned back. H'eldaran had not been seen for a while, and he feared that he had fallen.
"I know H'eldaran has been in tight spots before. I hope he just got away through the undergrowth. Perhaps he'll show up in an hour or two." I replied.

Later that afternoon I heard something disturbing: the mercenaries who had been to Stoppeldorp were now followers of Kalithé. The council had said that anyone who was a follower of Kalithé would get the chance to repent – or they would die. Most of the village turned out to confront them. The mercenaries gathered near the firepit, where the Anarquendor thwarted their possible retreat into the forest. Dur'Ithil and Bereklauw were more than happy to attack them, but so far it had not yet come to blows. When Amras came a bit too close, an elf that had been speaking with the mercenaries turned to us and told Amras to lower his weapons. Amras refused in no uncertain tones, and things started to spin out of control. The elf stood far to close to me, close enough so I could work him to the ground if need be. "You will not order my men." I told him. "You may request of me that they lower their weapons, but you will not presume to give them orders."
The elf shouted, said I was scared of him and his two fellows.
"I am not afraid of you." I spat. This was not keeping the peace, but he went too far! "If the council wants the mercenaries to be tested in a ritual, I await the council's decision. But I will not allow you to order my elves around."
That deflated the elf visibly. "If you will let us perform the ritual, that would be fair and good."
"Now will you tell me your name, so that I know to whom I have spoken?" I replied.

Before the ritual could even start Lyavanna and several other seers needed to go into the forest. The map we had brought back from Weylin could be used in combination with the symbol on the other parchment. They had visited these places in a ritual, and in each place there was something special. The point on the map closest to us was only 30 minutes on foot away, between us and Stoppeldorp. When we arrived there, we found another symbol carved into the soil, but no sign of life.
"This is where the ritual will be held." Lyavanna said. "It's good to know where it is. Now we just need to find out what it is we're supposed to do here."

At our return in the village, we found dinner to be served and after dinner I noticed that the mercenaries were bound to a tree. It turned out that they were indeed followers of Kalithé.
Jean-Louis was adamant they should die, but several people stepped in between us when I tried to execute them. "They should have the chance to repent, to turn back to the Gods." someone said. Another person suggested a ritual, to convert them.
"You cannot force someone to follow a god if he doesn't want to." I spat.
"Once you go to Kalithé, you can't go back!" a dwarf, Kromlech, next to me said. We looked at eachother, surprised to be in agreement. The dwarf muttered something in dwarvish, which I didn't understand.
One of the mercenaries asked for a dagger. "I followed Shivaun;" he said; "and I would like a warriors death. Let me take my own life."
I nodded because I understood the sentiment. With several tall paladins standing by, there was little chance he could do anything to get away. Besides, I was there, standing ready as well.
They unbound his hands and gave him a dagger. With a mighty cry, he plunged it deep into his heart.
The others soon followed their comrade, either by their own hand or by another's.

With loud shrieks of warning, Dur'Ithil and Luthine came bounding out of the forest. "Something's coming!" they shouted.
Balamaethor braced himself, but I was thrown back when the wave washed over me.
"What was that?!" we shouted. I ran to the tent of Reinard, but he was at the inn.
"We don't know." he said when I asked him.
"Perhaps it was the sun shield?" I suggested. "Which means there are undead coming."
And I was right, there were undead coming.
The first wave hit us when the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. Lumbering undead, wave after wave and slowly growing stronger. Rotting stinking flesh, oozing black blood. Slowly but surely Death Knights appeared. I singled some out, jumped on top of them. I had put down my bow and quiver, switched once more to my longsword to help me in this battle.
I took many wounds. Each time, someone dragged me from the battlefield, fed me goodberries or whispered a prayer to their gods to heal my wounds. Each time I would get up again, and jump back into the fray.
When the first wraith appeared I tried to hit it, but my weapon passed through it. It turned on me, its weapons passing through my armour and both its daggers stabbing down deep into my chest. Again I went down. Again I woke up in the healer's section, a line of fighters protecting the wounded and their healers.

It was a long fight, and I went down many times. I heard necromancers chanting their spells in the name of Kalithé and in my desperation tried to tackle them. I saw one of them disappear in front of my eyes. I struggled with wraiths, pinned a death-knight to a tree and head-butted him. I fought like a lion, keeping my eye on the other leaders and Dur'Ithil.
When Reinard went down, screaming Fithe's name at the top of his lungs, I charged to him, trying to get the death knights to get off him.One of them hit me so hard, I flew five meters backwards... right into the arms of a banshee. A wraith stabbed its dagger through my heart, and I crumpled down.
When I came to, I was lying under the benches in the bar. Someone had rolled my body under the canvas of the bar tent, and Arevalo had been feeding me goodberries. Bereklauw stood near. "You shouldn't go back out there." he said.
"My elves need to see I am alright." I said as I struggled to my feet. "But I will not jump back into the fray."
"Promise me?" Bereklauw said.
"Alright."
Of course, promises only count for so much. When I saw Dur'Ithil go down, I ran to pull him out. My sword stayed in its scabbard, and soon after that the undead were defeated for the night. The fight had taken hours, and the healers were just as exhausted as the fighters, but it was a victory.

Balamaethor played the guitar, and the Anarquendor gathered around him. I took a bottle of elvish cherry mead and stood. "My friends, we have had a long day, with many battles. We have taken many wounds, but tonight we feast. For Life! And for Death, may she be long in coming. Let us drink that we are alive!"
There were cheers all around, and I toasted and drank with them. I remembered a voice, spoken under the leaves of a forest far from here.
"Celebrating life and defeating these dreadful creatures is all the redemption you might ever need. And believe me, if slaying those undead is redemption... then by Rystill you have done a lot of redeeming."

I passed the bottle on, and took Bereklauw outside for a walk. We spoke long, but I doubted he really understood me. Later, I also spoke with Jacques. It seemed both of them, human and elf alike, thought I was suicidal for jumping into the fray so often. I tried to convince them I wasn't, but truly I don't think I did. How could I explain to them what I felt, or why I had fought so hard?
"I think that if you die;" Jacques said; "Someone will be waiting there, at the bridge, for you. Some people have done so much in this war, have served their deities so well. And I think, captain, that you are one of them."
His voice was light, matter-of-factly.
"I do not seek death." I said. "But it is good to know that they will fight on. You must tell them what my wishes are, should I fall."
"Will they listen to me?" Jacques sounded incredulous. "What if they just take up and leave?"
"If you suggest to return my body to Rystill, I think none of them will object. You can tell them we spoke, if they don't believe you. But I think they will listen. They know I respect you." I said.

The Anarquendor – Photo thanks to kainelslor

Sunday
The dawn was clear, and I dressed in haste. After the theft of the portable sun-shield the day previous and the battle with undead, I feared more would follow today. If Arthur Souleater corrupted the portable shield, it might mean there would be undead inside Adare. And they would probably come for us.
Right after I broke my fast Radag'hen and Lyavanna had some disturbing news. "We heard a voice, pulsating on the winds. It said 'Asterion...Frederick...revenge...' It's coming this way."
I sprinted towards Reinard and Krughal and told them the news. "If this means Benjamin is coming this way..."
"But Asterion and Frederick are dead." Reinard said bluntly. "What is he coming here for."
"It is possible he doesn't know." Krughal said.
"We must prepare." I said. "I know how they returned from that mission. I have an inkling of what precautions they took. We really need to prepare."

Orothan had asked us time and again to join him on a mission of exploration. That morning we finally got around to it. I told Amras I wanted him to take command of the mission, and he set about gathering Anarquendor.
"No." I stated. "We're not taking all the Anarquendor along."
Balamaethor, Amras, Arevalo and I joined Orothan, and then Xanvier, Wolf and Grigory joined us as well. Amras took the lead and asked me to cover the rear. Nevertheless I could observe how he worked, and our departure was messy at best.
We found a cave a good walk away from the village, where some kind of earthcreatures lived. Some of the group went inside, and I patiently kept an eye on the path until finally Amras came to report. "I'm not going to make a decision on this one, captain."
I nodded, and went to the entrance of the cave. There was a small ritual to get inside, but it was painless and quick. The earthcreatures were interested in our ears, and danced around a large mineral at the end of the cave.
"That's exactly what I was looking for." Orothan said.
"Hold on, we're not just going to take that mineral. There's no telling what'll happen." I replied. The creatures wanted me to dance around the stone, and I obliged them. Nothing happened.
When we tried to go outside again, there was a kind of force keeping us in. Nothing we did seemed to work, not even Wolf rolling around in the muddy cave to gain the colouring of the creatures. Until one of the creatures changed his ritual.
"Captain!" Amras called out. I turned around and a large elemental approached. I ducked and avoided it, and it seemed to go straight for the creatures. I tried to drag one of them out, picked up a fallen one, and made for the exit.
The elemental followed us, and despite Orothan's well chosen rock-to-mud spells, kept advancing. I dropped the dead creature, for there was no more time to heal it. I shoved the living creatures in front of me. "Go, run!" I said. They were terrified of the elemental, but I was not about to fight it. Xanvier's huge hammer got stuck in the creature's mud and it would seem we couldn't hurt it.
Wolf shoved the mineral he had filched into my quiver, which I held in my arms awkwardly, and we ran back to the village, carrying word of the elemental.

Once back, a small girl approached and stood in front of me. "Where are my parents?" she asked.
I recognized her immediately. Though I felt no sorrow for her death, I wondered why she was back. Jacques had guided her soul to Angharad, she should not be a ghost.
The Duke, a new arrival I had spoken with several times, took the girl outside the village. "Come, I'll help you get to sleep."
After a short talk with the ghostly girl the Duke turned towards me. "You should apologise to her!" He was adamant.
"Right." I said. "Sorry you're dead. Shame about your parents."
I could not add any warmth to my voice. Lyavanna and Marleen had said that it wasn't a small girl in front of me, but a blob of black magic. I wasn't about to let it get a hold of me.
The Duke took the girl into the forest, and I thought that was the last I would see of her.

But first there was Arthur Souleater to worry about. He approached the village with his undead, wave upon wave of them fighting their way through our ranks before Arthur himself showed up. I had jumped into the fray again, and the results were not that differently from before. One time, I jumped on a necromancer only to be picked off by a death knight, and I fell behind enemy lines. Again, people risked their necks to drag me out. Lena started a ritual to bless our weapons, but as far as I could tell it had no effect.
Suddenly, as I was ready to attack a death knight, a fog descended over me, and I was completely confused. What was I doing here? I looked at the person in front of me, extended a hand. "Oh hello." I said. "I'm Beriadanwen."
The undead in front of me groaned a surprise, took his mace over in the other hand, and shook my hand. Then it shook its head, and took a hold of his weapons again, only to strike at me.
I snapped out of the spell, raised my sword, and was then jumped from behind by Wolf.
"Captain! Warooo. Stop it!" Wolf slapped my face hard several times, while others made sure the death knight would stay down. "They're not our friends! Wroooo!"

It was not the only time I caught the bad side of a spell. Once, a powerful haze overcame me, and I sought out Reinard in the battle. I placed my hands on his face, and asked him to take a moonlit stroll with me, but he refused me and dove into the fight. (Damn that Inspire Love spell!)

I attacked several other deathknights, and several times I lost. The taste of goodberries turned sour in my mouth as I struggled to get up again and again, the battle still not won. I pinned a death knight to a tree with my body, punching him through his chainmail and bringing my forehead down on his nose.
When another fighter brought down a wraith, I did not hesitate, but before I could drive my fists home I was confused again. Before I could even introduce myself to this new gentleman, the wraith placed his hands on my back and started to drain my life's force away. Slowly, every limb grew cold and I lost consciousness once more.

When the battle was over, I limped over the battlefield, trying to count the dead, or rather, trying to see if all the Anarquendor yet lived. They were all accounted for, but I heard Fithe shrieking from the other side of the field. "It's trying to take me over!" she shrieked. "Kill it! Kill it!"
She pointed towards a ball at the feet of Arthur Souleater's corpse. As if struck by a hand, I stepped back two paces, afraid that all was lost. But several people took their swords and struck the ball until it burst into splinters, dissolving the shield of black magic that allowed the undead inside the Sun Shield of Adare.

Dur'Ithil was meditating, Luthine sitting next to him singing softly. I was glad to see they had survived, though the flames danced on Dur'Ithils arms and he struggled to remain calm and to extinguish the inner fire before it would consume him. On the other side of the field, Fithe lay in Reinards arms, looking for comfort hidden beneath a hard plate mail shell.
I looked to the trees, searching for the shape I had known so well, knowing he would never walk with me again.
No, I do not fear to die, but I don't actively seek it either. All I look for is redemption.

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*) I suppose that would be "Tjess" in English.