The frigid wind howled through the mighty tree branches. It rustled the long evergreen needles shaking the clumps of snow from the branches with soft thumps. The fresh, crisp air stung at the lungs of the small porcine creatures, their breath pluming white from their flat snouts. Many stamped their leathern boots in the snow as they shifted nervously. They start at the distant wolf howls that emanated from deep in the dark foreboding forests. Yet despite their fear, they remained, waiting in the darkening, cold underbrush.

One of the porcine creatures dragged some fallen branches. It piled them up in a haphazard fire pit. It stepped on the dry branches, which snapped loudly, bringing a startled squeal from the others. High in the trees, above the creatures, a taller than average figures turned and hissed a single warning. The lone creature froze, terrified as it felt the presence of the dark mistress behind.

Her amber eyes glowed in the low light of the dense forest as the wind blew her red hair across her face. She looked menacingly at the poor creature as it turned and fell on its face in worship. She stood over the porcine frame. And with a small movement, her foot rolled the creature over and pressed into the neck. The terrified creature thrashed under her as she put her entire weight on it. She did not let up and watched the pitiful creature.

After a long, arduous struggle, the goblin finally went still; its small beady eyes glazed over as death took it. The dark mistress started to walk away. A few of the goblins went to collect the body.

“Leave it,” the dark mistress said. “And let it serve as a warning to the rest of you.”

She effortlessly climbed back into the upper branches of the trees, leaving the still bewildered goblins shaking out of cold and fear. They slowly meandered back to their hiding spot, waiting for the order to attack. The band hardly wore any armor, preferring the skirmishing tactics rather than conventional battle lines. As such, each one carried with them a small dagger and a crude leathern sling. On their hips, they have a large leathern covered box where they hold the smooth sling bullets.

She watched along the hard-packed snow-covered road, searching for any signs of their prey. She could still smell the foul goblins below her. She curled her lips into a snarl with disdain for these unholy creatures. If it were not for their usefulness to the king, she would have slaughtered every village of these bipedal porcine animals.

As she watched the road, her thoughts turned towards the events that led up to this night.

A carriage, drawn by four magnificent white horses, rode through the massive white gatehouse. The driver pulled on the reins bringing the beasts to a stop. They had stopped at the base of the entrance to the keep. The dark mistress and the king were out, going towards the garden to spend the crisp afternoon before the hard frost could set in. The page came up and bowed before them, saying that a visitor has arrived and asked for hospitality.

“And to whom do we owe the honor of giving our hospitality?” asked the king.

“She had asked to remain anonymous and reminds you that the gods favor those who freely give of their table to those who are in need, Your Majesty.”

Instead of being angered at the plain rudeness of the statement, he was amused. He had given this woman permission to stay under the rules of hospitality, despite the dark mistress objecting to it. The page returned to the carriage as they started to walk down the stairs. They had talked well into the mid-day meal up to that point, but she could tell something was bothering her husband. It was then that she noticed the girl.

She was stunning and looked precisely like…. No, it cannot be accurate. The warrior had found the remains of a woman and infant twenty-some years ago. Rot and scavengers had done a number on them, but there was a clear sign that it was them. Surely this young woman would not be who the dark mistress is.

The king bowed gracefully to the young woman, whose man-servant had helped down from the carriage and was now collecting her bags. The lady curtsied to them both along with her young lady-in-waiting. The king had welcomed them to his castle and asked the accustomed duration of the stay.

“Your Majesty, we are here to inquire about the next ship that will cross the Dragon Sea,” said the young girl. “It should not take too long, but that is also sadly dependant on whether or not we get an early winter, as some have claimed will be this year.”

“Of course, my lady,” he said. “In that case, you are most welcome to stay here as long as is needed. It is, of course, my responsibility, as decreed by the gods, to ensure your safety while you are here.”

“Then I thank you, Your Grace, for the hospitality and would enjoy the comforts that your House has so graciously offered.”

Throughout the next few days, the king had given her many rich and exotic gifts. They had very quickly taken to each other, often found playing High-King as they chatted about many subjects like books, politics, and cultures. Often the prince would be among them, half smitten by this young lady. She had a tremendous grace about her, where even the lowest of servants worked harder for her. She was never unkind to those around her, yet she kept council only with her lady-in-waiting.

And she was still there, nearly a month after her arrival. The dark mistress did not like this young woman, and she had been successful at bringing the prince to terms that she was well below him. But she was unsuccessful at getting her husband's attention long enough for her to give him her doubt about this girl. She believed that their deaths haunted him that he sees them in this girl; thus, he is doting her with gifts that he planned to give to the deceased princess.

She nearly missed the soft click of a hoof on a protruding rock from the snow in the distance. She snapped out of her thoughts and listened more closely. She closed her eyes and let the energy of her magic flow through her to enhance her hearing. Even then, the trotting hooves were faint and distant. She opened her eyes, letting her magic to improve her eyesight instead. Through the darkness, she saw a glimpse of the white plumes lazily drift by. She was able to catch the dying light glint off of exposed metal.

She let the magic fade away, as she gracefully dropped down to the snow-packed earth with a soft crunch underneath her boots. On silent feet, she moved towards a tree that offered the best concealment and vantage point. She gave a quick command, which the anxious goblins quickly followed. The bushes rustled violently for a few seconds; then all went still.

The patrol marched around the three riders, the snow crunching rhythmically to their steps with their leaf-bladed spears resting against their shoulders as they walked. A thin-bladed arming sword hung from their belts in decorated scabbards. They each wore dark leathern brigandine covering their chest, forearms, and shins. Each wore a nasal skullcap.

The three horsemen wore finely made plated armor covering their chest and back, upper and forearms, and their shin. They had a set of riveted mail protecting the rest, occasionally being overlapped by the plates. Each wore a mail coif with a rounded great-helm hanging from their saddles. Two of them had lances that they carried in gauntleted hands, and a longsword fixed to their hips.

The third, a woman, wore a full set of riveted-mail over a thick padded gambeson. She had a bastard sword hanging from her hips alongside a dueling dagger. Resting on the saddle in front of her was a large cloth pouch, which she periodically looked to see if she still had it there. Draped around her small frame, was a green hooded cloak. She had the hood up to try and keep any eyes off of her sorrow-filled face.

In the dying light of day, the faint shadows seemed to tell a foreboding tale. The woman could see in her mind’s eye, the spirits drifting from tree to tree. Some watched the armed band, while others scurried away with the fey speed. Each one giving information that she sought, but with no corporeal bodies, their thoughts and speech were foreign, even to the practiced spiritualist such as she. But each one had the same foreboding sense of danger ahead.

The woman opened up the cloth pouch. The fabric slid down the smooth sapphire and emerald stone with ivory veins spiderwebbed across the surface, making a profiled picture of a blue and green dragon. She caressed the stone softly, feeling a warm tear slide down her cheek. She watched as the stone seem to glow around that single drop.

She ran through these woods, over two decades ago. She had in her arms this very stone and a child—her child. She had to escape him for he had changed. He was darker than he had been, more prone to anger and fits of insanity. He was dangerous now, and she had to run. She had to take her daughter with her, for she would forever lose the one remaining joy she had in her life.

When she had reached the border town, she was on the verge of starvation and death. The girl also would not stop crying because of her hunger. She was close to giving up when she found the town. She asked the lord for sanctuary for a time. He had granted it to her and the child. He gave them the best care that he had, but he had recognized her. He had sent word to the Elvehan king, who had quickly come.

When the king entered the great hall, she was afraid. She knew that what she had done put the people at risk. She stood up from the table, holding her child. She walked over to the Elvehan king and knelt in front of him, her head bowed in submission to whatever judgment was to come.

“You have returned during dark times,” he said softly. He did not need to be forceful with her.

“Aye, father,” she said softly, trembling. “I am sorry.”

“I have heard that you were with child. Is this she?”

“Aye, father.”

“I wish I had the room for her, for your sake, but alas, I cannot help her. Lord Raylocke told me of your flight from him. It is the one saving grace I have for your act of treason. It is for that reason alone that I am giving her over to our human friends. If she can prove useful to them, then someday, she may rejoin you as she should.”

The pain struck her heart hard as she realized that her one joy was removed from her anyways as punishment for what she had. She looked up at the king searching for any once of mercy, but all she saw was the cold sadness of one who had to do what was best for his country.

“Father,” she had whispered, “please do not punish her for my sins.”

“It is not she that I am punishing,” he said softly. “I regret that she will not know who you are to her, but I cannot have you go unpunished. Also, if she stayed here, what is going to stop that cursed husband of yours from invading?”

She bowed her head again, weeping. She held her girl tightly. She then offered her over to her father.

“At least have the decency to deliver her yourself, father, for my sake if not for hers.”

The king looked down at his daughter, and for the first time since she had left, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He nodded as he held onto the infant, who looked up at him with a big happy smile.

She stood up and unclasped a small golden chain with a nameplate. She handed it to her father and asked if he could have her daughter’s name, which she had given, added to the blank side before she was given over to their human allies. She kissed her daughter on the forehead and returned to her room, never looking back.

“Not yet, youngling,” she whispered, a small smile on her face. “The time is not yet come for you to reunite with her.” She chose to keep the stone because it was the only tangible memory she had of her. And she would not give that up.

The stone slowly faded as the last daylight hit across the stone. The woman put the stone back into the cloth bag and looked up, now feeling refreshed. She then felt her. It was faint but undeniable. The danger that her guides spoke of was here. And she will stop at nothing to take back what belonged to him.

“Captain, we have enemies who crossed into our borders,” she said, feeling her looming over the road.

The one horseman nodded to the woman and told the other to ride back towards the war camp and explain the situation to the general. The men saluted, and the one rode off at a gallop. The captain then ordered the footmen to change formations. Those that carried shields took up position on the right-most side of the formation. They then continued to march down the road.

The dark mistress, who could now see the group, cursed as she watched one of the riders leave the group at a fast gallop. She looked about the forest, getting a very uneasy feeling that something was watching her. She then noticed a small dark form move on the opposite side of the road.

Impossible, she thought, her eyes flitting back to the smaller of the two remaining riders. It was then that she could feel her warm presence and smell her soft scent. She was in awe, her heart pounding in her chest.

They had been giggling to each other when he came walking into the tent. They laid on the pillows embracing each other as they waited for him. Their soft bodies press into each other. The dark mistress had often loved suckling on her soft breasts feeling the nipples harden in her salivating mouth. She tingled as she listened to her sweet, gasping moans. She had felt this golden angel comb her fingers through her red hair as her tongue lashed out over the nipple.

She had felt him behind them and, with quick yet loving strokes, pushed into each one, in turn, making love to them.

The dark mistress ripped the thought out of her mind. Her female love was dead; that was the truth she needed to accept. This woman, who has the same scent and structure as her, could not be her. She had died along with her—their—daughter.

She looked out at the group again. The woman, now sitting proudly upon her horse, looked right at her. Her forest green eyes glowed with magic. Their eyes seem to meet holding each other as they pass by. She was powerless to move until she realized they are getting by.

“Attack!” she cried. She noticed the two horsemen are now galloping past the ambush site. She ran to the outcropping of rocks the overhang the road, using her magic to increase her speed.

She reached the top of the outcropping seeing her band of goblin raiders harassing the heavily armored horseman. He had slowed down some charging into a small team of goblins, but he was still to close to the woman. She channeled magic through her body and used it to move shards of rock up in front of the horse, spooking it suddenly. The beast reared up violently, throwing the captain off.

The woman turned her horse but found herself trapped in going only forward. Her hood had dropped, the silver light of the rising moon reflecting off of her golden waves of hair. She spurred her horse forward, her bastard sword drawn. She held onto the pouch as she rode hard. As she was about to reach the outcropping, a shadow suddenly darkened the light. She looked up in time to see the dark mistress collide with her.

The dark mistress used the leverage to push off of the falling woman. She performed a backflip before landing on her feet, her sword drawn. The woman rolled to her feet, the cloth pouch tied to her belt. The stood watching each other, waiting—judging.

“You need not die here, Elvehan,” the dark mistress said, her red hair blowing forward from the wind at her back.

“Then let me go, Eli’ond’ra,” said the woman.

“Not without that.” The dark mistress pointed to the pouch.

“Then it seems, Rhoswyn, that our blades will cross again, but this time in anger.”

The woman moved into her guard stance, holding the bastard sword up. With a practiced step, she moved to the right. Rhoswyn responded, meeting the swing with a parry, however, the woman’s strike pushed her sword out of the way. Going with her momentum, the woman spun around, sweeping at her head. Rhoswyn moved her sword to parry the attack. At the last possible moment, the woman changed her direction and swept downward onto her opponent's wrist. The blade glanced off the plated vambrace slightly. The woman then pushed in for a stab, only to have her sword parried aside. She jumped back out of striking range. She then parried a strike from the left, using the bind to cut Rhoswyn across the cheek.

They separated, stalking around studying each other. The two women kept their guards up, watching each other. Their breaths plumed in the cold air.

“You cannot win, Elvehan,” Rhoswyn said, ignoring the pain in her cheek.

“Do not be so sure about that, Lylith,” the woman said softly. “We had often sparred each other over twenty years ago. And each time I came out victorious because I know your weakness.”

Rhoswyn sneered. “And how will you know that?”

“Because you are quick to anger,” the woman said, looking square into Rhoswyn’s eyes.

Rhoswyn then noticed the one small detail that she had ignored on this woman, the dark dragon patch just below her right eye. Rhoswyn gaped astonished.

“Nay, this cannot be! The guards have found your body. I was the one who identified your dress. How can you have come back to life?”

“Because I never was dead to begin with, Rhoswyn.”

Rhoswyn lowered her sword. “We do not need to fight, love. Come back with me to our husband. We can be together again.”

The woman bowed her head and sadly shook it. “I cannot go back there, Rhoswyn. I told him that if he attacked our people, I was gone.”

“Do not be hard on him. He only did what he had to do because the Elvehan attacked us first. You do not believe that he would purposely risk losing you, did you?”

“And yet he ordered the army to gather on the field of battle, instead of sending an envoy. He went against my council and ordered an attack on an innocent village that was going through a hard time. You slaughtered every woman, child, and infirmed. You took what you wanted and torched the rest. And you have betrayed your people.”

Rhoswyn was shocked at the venom of her words. “I am no traitor because I did what I thought was right. The Elvehan attacked us without warning. They betrayed us. We had to retaliate. Do you not understand that?”

“Do you know why they attacked, Rhoswyn?”

“They wanted to stop our husband.”

“Nay, they attacked because our armies raped Elvehan refugees before butchering them like cattle. I had gotten there too late to stop it, but I still had enough sense to try to open communications with my father in hopes that we could make recompense for the slight we gave him.”

“Well, apparently they are still at fault. They still attacked us even when they were in communications with them.”

“They attacked because our husband refused their demand. They wanted General Malicath, who ordered the slaughter of the Elvehan, to be imprisoned and transferred for judgment at Syvarn’ishdal.”

“What did you hope would be the answer? Malicath was the military genius of our kingdom. Did you honestly think that our husband would surrender him over?”

“Yes, I did because I told him that the general had to be given over for violating the treaty with the Elvehan.”

“So, you blame all of this on our husband because he refused to let his kingdom suffer?”

“I blame him for not having the character that I first fell in love with. It was that point that I realized he was not the man I loved.”

“And so you betrayed us because you couldn’t get beyond being spited?”

“I left because it was the only right thing to do. I do not regret my decision to leave. These people that you are murdering, they are my people. They always have been. I could never turn my back on them. I turned my back on my husband and wife because they have gotten in the way.”

Rhoswyn’s fury burned deep within her. This woman that she loved had just admitted to her that she did not regret betraying the kingdom she had helped create. Rhoswyn, in her anger, lurched towards the Elvehan woman.

With a flurry of slashes, Rhoswyn attacked. She fueled her attacks with her anger and betrayal, not letting this woman have a chance to retaliate. However, the woman matched each strike with a parry or a dodge. But despite her defense, she was still pressed back. Finally, when their swords came into a bind again, the woman used her magic to push Rhoswyn back about ten feet. Rhoswyn slid on her toes, trying to stay on her feet.

The woman was not breathing hard. She didn’t look like she was confused, but her thoughts were racing. How could she gain that much control to fuel her rage like that? She looked over the rock wall seeing her companions litter the ground. Their moans loud in her mind as guilt racked her body. She could see the goblins’ porcine heads turning towards them. She looked back to Rhoswyn, who is now calming herself into a ready stance.

Oh, father, I hope you know what to do with this, she thought in prayer. She pulled out the stone and started to concentrate on the spell she needed to cast. Rhoswyn smiled, thinking that she had one. She ran forward, reaching out to the stone. As she touched it, the stone vanished, causing her hand to grasp the Elvehan woman’s. A moment later, they are thrown back with a tremendous magical explosion.

Rhoswyn somersaulted backward and landed on her feet, sliding back fifteen feet. She looked over to her former wife, lying crumpled at the base of one of the stone pillars. She watched as the ugly porcine creatures, who noticed that this was a woman, surged towards her. She felt their desire to impregnate. Her anger burst forth significantly, which did nothing to stop these monstrous creatures.

Rhoswyn, in her rage, charged forward, slaughtering the surviving raiders despite several of them trying to flee. She stood amidst the massacred goblins looking all around. She then took out a cloth and cleared off the black oily sludge-like blood from her sword before going over to the unconscious woman.

Rhoswyn knelt beside her, remembering all the times they spent together. They were happy at that time.

They often stood back to back when human rogues thought that it would be fun to take an Elvehan woman to bed with them. She remembered how the last time they did that, a young human rogue walked into the square and loudly proclaimed that they were his guests. From that point on, they agreed to follow him.

Rhoswyn, at first, was only too happy to watch her friend and the rogue fall in love with each other. But when her friend asked her to join one night, that had changed her life. She never knew at that time that she was in love with both of them, but that night had changed her world. She could not see herself without them at that time.

“I love you, Rhoswyn,” she said after her explosive pleasure had subsided.

“As do I,” said the human rogue.

All Rhoslyn could do was stammer and blush.

“And I love you, Arianwen,” Rhoswyn said, fighting back the tears. “I always had. And now I am taking you back to where you belong: with us. And I promise you; we will find our daughter. Whatever it is going to take.”

She lifted the broken form of Arianwen. She walked into the forest, carrying Arwen back to their home, as the snow began to fall.