The Last Miststalker

In the land where I was born, in a place of honor and pride, there were two figures that dominated every bedtime story, and campfire tale – in fact every saga spoken. These two, called Rook & Seraph, were so well known, it wasn’t often one had to use their surnames. From the metropolis of Driencost, to the docks of Taryn, North into the Holorum Mountains, and South onto the Plaines of Etta these two hero’s dwelt – in the heart of every man, woman, and child.

My land, the land of Rhodigh, as it was called, has long since ceased to be. War, famine, and the sort, long ago erased it from this earth, leaving only a few with its memory. I am one of those few.

I’ve been called many things over the years: Daughter, Sister, Friend, Wife, Mother, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother…so many things in fact, I don’t recall that I ever really had a name, and I suppose since it is not important – as far as my purpose goes, I’ll keep on not having one.

I’ve lived so many years that even the decades number high, in fact I’ve lived more centuries than I can count on my fingers and toes – I shall say that I have lived 2 Era’s since age seems so important to the people of this generation – and over all this time, my memories of Rhodigh, and those tales of Rook & Seraph have not grown any less distinct.

Since I believe it a pity that your people have never had heroes such as they, I will attempt to render the words in writing that long ago in Rhodigh won the hearts of so many. Now, I have never claimed to be a writer, nor a decent storyteller of any kind – but it is my duty as the keeper of Rhodigh’s legacy to try. So, in keeping with the epic nature of the two greatest and most courageous characters ever to be spoken of – I will begin as it were, at the beginning, at Rook & Seraph’s first meeting, unconventional though it was.

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In the massive, domed building called the Ministry of WhiteMagic, wandering the halls, we find our heroin. She is the Deputy Ambassador to the Elves; a young, seemingly inexperienced Angel named Seraph Oakenbough – a girl full of potential, just waiting to prove herself. Her lowly position and few hours also made her the most unlikely to be a member of The Guild of CrossedSwords…and it worked like a charm.

As everyone knew The Guild of CrossedSwords was an ancient, secret organization that was created to undermine the actions of the group called the xFaction. (The xFaction is a similarly ancient group of organized evildoers, including: mercenaries, kidnappers, thieves, racketeers, pirates – needless to say, the most black hearted men in all of Rhodigh.)

In stark contrast to her humble position at he Ministry, here she was a more distinguishable figure. Seraph was one of the highest ranked Guild members, second only to the GuildMaster himself – she and hers are known as the FactionMarkers. They are the most renowned Guild members – those who track, find, and destroy the members of the xFaction called The MistStalkers.
FactionMarker Oakenbough, being one of the most reliable, experienced, and knowledgeable was assigned only the high-profile targets. The MistStalkers are the assassins of the xFaction, and thus are very similar to the FactionMarkers (except for being evil of course) – target important figures and kill them. So as you can see FactionMarkers and MistStalkers are the worst of enemies – and the most unlikely to fail.

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The sun was beating down into the courtyard, as it had been the past week. The grass was turning brown, the pond was drying up, and it smelled like burning leaves. To Seraph, though, the heat was no bother; she was in a state of bliss. The small piece of simple parchment that she held in her hand spelled out her greatest dream.

Oakenbough.
Summersend.
Mendenhall.
Your Blackbird is in Flight.

That was all it said, but still she was giddy, ultimately delighted really – so much so that she could hardly contain herself. Using the torch just inside the building, she destroyed the message. What she had waited for her entire life was now coming to pass!

At Summersend, at the Princes castle Mendenhall – Rook Thorngray, the most famous of all of the MistStalkers and the ultimate quarry, would be attempting an assassination. Of whom she wasn’t sure, but what did it matter…he would be dead before he could be within reach of his victim.

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Atop her stallion Rexus, she waited, lonely by the river. It was dusk then, and she knew the next day would be Summersend. Seraph watched the mist begin to roll up into the valley. It engulfed the world. Apathetically, it erased the trees, grass and stones and settled like a blanket over all she could see.

Beneath her, Rexus began to shift uncomfortably. He knew just as well as she that the MistStalkers used the evening and morning mists to come and go with limited detection. For a moment, she thought of how easy it had been to guess the time and place of his arrival – but she was constantly reminded that it might have been too easy.

That he would be coming in on the evening mist of the Ornlyn River had been a given. Rook was fearless and had never been perturbed by his movements being predictable – but this particular place…he would never have thought that she would have guessed there. The death mounds were slightly south of her, probably less than twenty paces away – some of which were Thorngray mounds.
She knew he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to visit his ancestor’s burial sites; it wasn’t often that MistStalker Thorngray found himself that far North of Settlerhaven. (The city rumored to be home to the xFaction.)

A slight rustling sounded just to her right – followed shortly by the sound of unshod hooves on stone.
It was Crimson Ghost, Rooks horse. (Which had accumulated as much fame as he in the past decade) Parents and Grandparents all over the land told the young tales of the “Haunted Horse”: a massive black stallion with blood red eyes and armor made of human bones, whose rider brought death.

Seraph was completely still, she dare not even breathe as she listened for further signs that the approaching horse bore Rook Thorngray. A muffled whinny, that was more like a growl than anything made Rexus stir. The distinct sound of a sword being slowly unsheathed caused to her reach for the short mace strapped to the saddle.

Everything was again silent.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the leather of the saddle.
“Oakenbough? Is that you?” A voice called out. It was deep, with a thick accent. The words echoed all about the mist so that she could not make out where they had come from, and although she was curious, she did not respond. “I needn’t have asked.” He chortled. “I know only you would be so good as to greet me upon my arrival.”

Again everything was quiet.

The mist was so thick she could see nothing but Rexus’s mane and the mace she held in her hand. The breeze was subtly whirring, and stirring up the gray so that it felt more like she was in a whirlpool than a valley. Her eyes were utterly useless – and the mist seemed to be clinging like kelp to her skin, it was sticky and hot.
“How goes your FactionMarking these days?” The voice asked this time, she could tell whoever was speaking was smiling. The MistStalker could see perfectly in the mist…giving her a major disadvantage, but most of them liked a challenge and would not try to battle by the rivers.

“Well.” She said at last, taking the reins and urging Rexus to circle the area a bit. “I’ve just come upon my mark in fact.” She couldn’t hide the twinge of anxiety in her voice. The man responded with laughter.

“Have you. It has been a night then?”

Seraph could make out that Crimson Ghost was circling the place as well, and it seemed that he was to the east, heading towards the trail that went out of the valley and towards Urivale, the city that surrounded Mendenhall.

“You might say that, Thorngray.” She said with a huff. Again he laughed.

“Do call me Rook.” He answered simply, and with that, he clicked he tongue and began to gallop up the trail. Seraph didn’t waste any time following. Rexus was known for what the Guild called “MistMemory”; he didn’t need to see in the mist because he remembered the way a place had been before it. Thus, the horse did not hesitate in the slightest as it strained to catch up with Seraph’s Mark.
The city was a full days ride, but they would be out of the mist soon enough, and she would finish him off long before then. She let out an excited yell and kicked Rexus to go faster.

Coming out of the mist felt like breaking through the surface of a lake. The clearness nearly blindedher and the air was so light it was hard to breathe. The night sky was black and starless, but the moon was fat and the moist grass sparkled. It was as bright as an overcast day. The trail widened and became paved with flagstones. Up ahead of her she could just make out the form of Crimson Ghost barreling towards the small village of Rhastbury, his rider obscured by his billowing dark cloak.

How they had gotten so far ahead of her was a mystery, but she did not become discouraged. Rexus seemed to have gotten faster once they hit the paving stones; she’d noticed long ago that he’d always liked to run on roads.

There were few lights on in the village, she could make out one or two. The glowing hides of spotted cows spattered the village commons, forming something like a beacon – and Rook was headed right for it.

“Rexus…” She whispered. “Go around to the west, and head towards the Canyon…” Without losing a step, the horse adjusted his direction and galloped west. The heavy hooves of Crimson Ghost on the stones were waking the villagers of Rhastbury, and several lights came on accompanied by the shouts and screams of the populace. They were being woken in the middle of the night to see their worst nightmares darting through their little hamlet. Seraph couldn’t imagine them not fearing for their lives.

Thorngray was not familiar with the area; he was running more to run than to get somewhere. He did not know that the road through the village would have to eventually pass through Myrddin’s Canyon, and that she would be waiting to cut him off there. He didn’t know that his powers would be useless there, because Coal Run Creek was dry during this season. He would be surprised and defenseless – except of course for his sword, which she did not doubt that he was adept with. But, Seraph was more so, and it was a certain victory for the Guild.

It was not twenty minutes before she was on the trail again, heading down into the canyon. She was right, the creek was dry for as far as she could see – he wouldn’t be able to pull any of his Mist tricks. Rexus who was panting backed into a crevice in the stone and in the shadows rested whilst his rider waited.

Seraph heard him before she saw him, the canyon walls echoed every noise and before he was wholly in the canyon she saw that he had slowed considerably, thinking that he had evidently outrun her. Crimson Ghost was in a state. His eyes, which were, as in the tales blood red, were drooping and foam was gathering at his bit. She could see that his body was shaking and shimmering with sweat in the moonlight, and that his hooves stepped more wearily now.

Patiently, she remained in the crevice…biding her time. He would soon be coming past her … and that was when she would strike.

Inside of her head she planned out her maneuver. She’d come out in front of him and stab Crimson Ghost with her long sword…right down into his chest. The horse would likely rear, and she would likely lose her sword…but he would be thrown off – or on a nearly dead horse and forced to dismount. Seraph would then take up her mace and short sword, and quickly get on foot. Thorngray would be surprised and disoriented for only so long…

NOW! She kicked at Rexus and drove him out of hiding and right into Crimson Ghost, who backed up just far enough so that her long sword was useless. Guiding Rexus around she charged at him, all the while watching Rooks face.

It was quite handsome for a MistStalker, and young…much younger than she had ever imagined him. Tales of Rook Thorngray had gone back for decades…and he was only human…it was amazing that he still looked so youthful. His eyes were bright blue, and his hair sandy blonde – not at all how she’d thought. He had a wide forehead, square jaw, and high cheekbones…he resembled in every way the ideal good-doer. How surprising.

It was a pity that she’d have to kill him.

He had looked shocked, but it hadn’t lasted for long. In fact, it had passed in a blink. Drawing his sword he made himself ready. Seraph didn’t doubt that he could do some damage, but she was confident. They circled around, staring into each other’s eyes, waiting for an opportunity to attack.

“FactionMarker Oakenbough.” He sort of chuckled. “You’re quite well-known in my circle…it’ll be a shame that your legacy will end tonight.” She smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow.

“Thorngray, I thought you’d be more of a challenge…all the tales I’ve heard about your doings have raised my expectations I fear.” She retorted. Crimson Ghost flipped his tail and whinnied at Rexus in challenge. MistStalker Thorngray swept his hair back off of his face and his white teeth glowed in the night.

“I asked that you call me Rook…MistStalker Thorngray was my father.”

Ah. She thought to herself. That’s why he looked so young. It wasn’t that he was blessed; it was that he was just…young. At the same time, though, it hit her that he wasn’t the Thorngray that she had always dreamed of slaying, and she was filled with disappointment. No doubt Rook saw her expression of discontent and took the opportunity to make his move.

He struck out with his sword, and swung Crimson Ghost around to parry her return blow. It was Rexus more than Seraph who had anticipated his lung and had drawn back just in time. Now they were at it, sword to sword. The ringing of metal on metal was almost deafening, but at the same time invigorating. Seraph gritted her teeth and smiled madly as she met his strokes.

Her opponent laughed as he fought, and twisted his mount this way and that to counter to her. As they were at arms, they began to drift further and further into the canyon. The shadows grew taller and darker. The echoes became more menacing. Even the breath of the horses was amplified. Neither rival grew sluggish, but it was soon obvious that their horses did not have the same energy. In one quick movement they dismounted.

Seraph whose feet landed first noticed the give in the earth. It was soggy…wet. Looking down she saw it…the creek. It was nearly dry…but just strong enough to fuel Rook’s Mist powers! He landed and immediately raised his sword into the sky and cried out in the tongue of the humans:
         “Icktor sevets – Minha trihnth!”
         He was calling the mist, she was sure of it.

Needless to say, the mist began to come. It rose straight out of the earth, twisting around her arms, legs, and sword. Seraph could feel her breath catching in her lungs, soon she would be blind … and he would either kill her, or run again. Not that she preferred being killed to him running, but if he ran he had a better chance to finish his mission – and she’d rather be dead that let than happen.

Thorngray was laughing again…it was a deep throated hooting, and in itself was not frightening. What was frightening was the evil look on his face as the mist swallowed him up.

Factionmarker Oakenbough ground her teeth and began to back up.

“If you think that is the worst that I can do, you are wrong Oakenbough…” He was saying, his voice once again echoing through the mist. “No doubt you’ve heard of the MistWraiths.”

Seraph swallowed hard. Of course she’d heard of the MistWraiths! MistWraiths being the most frightening things anyone could hear of. Her heart was beating so fast! She’d never gone up against a MistStalker advanced enough to have the power to call them up…but she’d certainly heard stories.

They were as gray as the mist, but could hurt you. They were lost souls full of anger. It wasn’t that they were angry with you…it was that they listened to the commands of the person who’d called them up from hell. In this case…they were going to be angry with her. Depending on his level of skill with MistWraiths, he could call up anywhere from one to a thousand of them, and that was what scared her the most…the fact that she didn’t know how strong he was…and her ignorance was probably going to get her killed.
         “Salex Vorosin … Teteantekay!”

Seraphs mind was racing, how could she have known that he had that much power! Kill Her! That’s what he was telling them she was sure of it. Kill Her!

Moans and groans and shrieks and shouts and every sound that pain causes in a person resonated in the canyon. Just hearing it could make one feel as if they’d been tortured in hell for centuries. Seraph dropped her long sword and took out her mace.

He was on her in a second. He was without his sword as he beat her with his fists. She supposed he hadn’t seen the mace – just that she’d dropped her sword. Swinging it upwards it struck him hard. Thorngray screamed.

“My face!” The words were slurred with the blood sloshing out of his mouth that she felt speckle her cheek. She could tell he was in intense pain…he had to be…she could hear him over the rising MistWraiths. Crawling away from him, she searched ground for her sword. Unfortunately, she found it by slicing her hand open…more unfortunately, befor she could grasp the hilt the Wraiths were all about her.

The Pain! It was like they were biting her flesh and ripping her hair out! All she could do was lie on the ground and stare up at the sky praying for help. It was then that she saw the torches.

Little dots of red flame were coming down into the canyon from the village…a hundred of them a least! It was the villagers, no doubt, who’d been woken by Crimson Ghosts rush through their streets. Not only did they hear, and see Thorngray…but they had also formed a mob to find him.

All Seraph could think of was the pain, but she thanked the heavens that the people of Rhastbury had overcome their fear and were ready to do something about it! That it would aid her was the last thing on her mind, in fact, the pain had increased since the lights had begun to appear.

Then all the sudden, it was like the wraiths took a second glance at the trail alit with torched. Her pain stopped. Rolling onto her side she curled into a ball. It was too much! The MistWraiths were too powerful for her!

“Rexus?!” Seraph called. “Come to me Rexus!” She hoped that the horse had not been tortured like she had been by the angry agents of the mist. He did not come. Rexus had left – doubtless after sensing the wraiths…horses were perceptive like that. All she could do was begin crawling, hoping to make it into one of the crevices like the one Rexus and she had hid in earlier.

Reaching out she felt stone; she followed it and found an overhang. Crawling underneath it, she nearly cried as her body shook and throbbed, recovering from the attack. Where had they gone? The Wraiths?
         Seraph gasped.
         The villagers!

Not only had she thus far failed her mission…but also, she would be responsible for the deaths of a hundred or so innocents! She could not let that happen…but she was aching so badly! More screams had erupted inside the canyon, that of the men of Rhastbury, and for a moment she thought she heard…yes it was…women, and even their children, wailing!

Seraph pulled herself out from under the overhand and clung to the rock to brace her as she rose to her feet. She was intent on doing something, even if she was blind and weaponless. Taking small steps she went towards the villagers’ screams. However, it hadn’t been more than a dozen paces before she fell over something.

Lying flat on her back now, she felt about her. Not even an arms length from her on the ground she felt something soft, then something harder…a torso. To make sure, she pinched it. Immediately, there was a moan.

“It isn’t a bad night, eh Seraph?” The man said slowly. “The stars aren’t out, but the sky sure is beautiful…but I suppose you can’t see that…” Rooks voice was tired, and low.

“Take away the Wraiths.” That was all she could say. She didn’t have time to make a point; all she could do was appeal to what humanity he had in him.

“Ha!” He snickered for a while. “So that it could be you and a hundred men against me? I think not.” Blocking out the sounds of the screaming women and men of Rhastbury she flat out wept.

“A hundred men – no.” She whimpered. “Perhaps fifty, and another fifty women…but that’s leaving out the children.” He didn’t answer for a long while. It was as if he were really listening to their screams for the first time.

“I heard them.” He said tritely. “Still even fifty men and then you…”

“Right. You kill for a living.” Seraph laughed, turning her head towards him.

“You aren’t any different.” He said matter-of-factly.

He was right. She did kill for a living. Seraph Oakenbough, FactionMarker had so far sought out and killed a hundred or more known xFaction members.

“I kill evil men. Men who kill...” She tried to explain.

“As do I.” Rook said, cutting her off. “Tyrants and men who get away with everything. They are just as evil as you think I am, you know. You just don’t hear about their crimes because they hire out people to do it…people like us.” Rook coughed loudly. “My face is numb. You got it pretty good. I didn’t see that you had that.”

Seraph was listening to the screams again. She knew what was happening. The MistWraiths were tearing at their skin, and burning their eyes, tearing off their fingernails, and suffocating them with their ghostly forms.
         “They’re innocent.” She said.
         “Maybe.” He replied.
         “They’re more innocent than most.”
         “Again, maybe. They might deserve to die.” He said with a rustling shrug.
         “And it’s your place to decide that?”
He was pondering that a long time. As he did so, the screams seemed to get louder. All Seraph could think was that the people had awoken to see the bringer of death in their village, and although Thorngray had done them no harm intentionally – he still ended up bringing them death. It was sad.
         “Imhuethis Ethnudae … Forn Hulentismar!”
He was calling off the MistWraiths. The screams died suddenly and whimpers of pain and anguish began as the men and women tried to pull themselves up. Even the Mist was lifting. Slowly but surely…she was able to see everything again.

“Did you ever think you’re on the wrong side, Rook?” Seraph posed as she rose to her knees and looked down on his sprawled form. His face was bleeding heavily, the clots were disgusting and one of his eyes had sealed itself shut. A step away was her mace, lying there, bits of his skin still on the spikes.

The one eye that was still open stared up at her sadly. A solemn expression clung to him like sap to a child’s fingers, and she could not bear to do it. She could not take up the mace and kill him – not after he spared the Rhastburians. He could have let them all die to save himself, he could have…but he didn’t and she respected him for that.

“Come.” She said. “I will help you up…” Seraph began to extend her hand to him. “But only if you tell me who you came here to kill…” He sort of smiled and took her hand. As he was doing so, Rexus came up alongside her.

“You’re friend has returned.” Rook said with an amused smile, looking around for Crimson Ghost. The stallion was nowhere to be seen. Seraph pulled Rook up and supported him because he was too weak to stand on his own.

“Rexus, Come here.” She called, clicking her tongue. The horse came prancing up, rested and holding his head up. Although the horse was apprehensive, he let her help Rook up onto his back. After Seraph had gotten up, she took the reins and guided the horse away from the villagers. When they recovered, they would be angry –she didn’t want to be around for that, and for the dead she could do nothing, thus she left the canyon by another path

They rode in silence for some time towards the city of Marsden where the Guild of CrossedSwords was based, but around the time they could just see it over the horizon she couldn’t help but ask.

“You never told me who you were sent to kill…” It had been part of their agreement hadn’t, had he changed the subject to avoid telling her, or had she just forgotten because she wanted to get away from the villagers as quickly as possible?

“Ha.” His laugh was melancholy this time, unlike the haughty laughs she’d heard him utter before. “Someone who has a way with a mace."