FSE

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Alrighty, this chapter and the next one are the last ones of the chapters I have finished at the moment. Hopefully it will tide you over until i get the rest done.

I hope you enjoy them.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from 'Lord Shaden's webs...'

15, 044 years AME

Shandi's eyes snapped open as she sat up suddenly, the blankets falling unnoticed from her, staring around her darkened bedchamber in sudden fear. She clutched a paw to her chest, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs were heaving as if she had run for endless miles at top speed, drawing heavily upon the cool air of her chamber, her heart hammering swiftly within her breast. A cold sweat was standing out all over her body and she shivered, the blankets and sheets of her bed suddenly doing little to warm her. She shivered again, taking a deep breath, trying to force her body to calm down. Her mind was racing as fast as her heart, adrenaline surging in her as she sought about her for the source of the sudden feeling of nameless terror. She was sure that something was dreadfully wrong this night, though everything in the room looked normal to her. Absolutely nothing was amiss that she could perceive with any of her senses, and yet, she could feel it, like some monster watching her from the shadows, reaching for her with greedy claws. She might have been able to dismiss the feeling as nothing more than a remnant of some nightmare she had been having, had she not also felt as though something were missing from her. It was the same feeling one got when a treasured object was misplaced. Quickly, she checked her room again, every sense as keen as a blade freshly sharpened by a whetstone.

Drawing in another deep breath, she leaned back on her arms, trying to calm herself. She shut her eyes again and then slid her legs off the edge of the bed, sitting up fully. She opened her eyes and made one last pass of her bed chamber with her gaze, despite it being clear of anything out of the ordinary. While the shear, wild terror that had been upon her when she had awoken had faded somewhat, the feeling of loss, of something missing from her was still strong. Taking another deep breath, Shandi got up from the bed, heading for the nearby table where Kaia had thoughtfully set out a carafe of cool water, the crystalline vessel twinkling in the starlight coming in from the windows. Shandi's favorite goblet sat next to it and she quickly poured herself a measure of the cool liquid, bringing the cup to her lips and drinking deeply. The cool water was soothing, and it cleared her head a little, doing much to calm her, slowing the racing of her heart to a mere jog. As she refilled her goblet from the decanter, she ran through every one of her senses quickly, her fur still standing on end with alarm. The fear that had woken her from sleep was changing rapidly to a feeling of foreboding so profound that it could not be ignored, some sense or instinct as yet unknown to her warning her of danger.

The night outside her windows was darker than most, the time of the new moon descending on the world. The stars were blotted out by clouds tonight, a storm brewing for the next day, which certainly went a long way to explain why her room seemed so cold, though it were still mid-summer. With the room so dark, she couldn't see much of course, but still, nothing seemed to be amiss. Likewise, to her ears, everything was fine, the faint whistle of a light breeze the only sound washing through the room. Shaking her head, she drank the second goblet in a single smooth draft. Maybe it really was just her imagination, some left over sensation from a nightmare clinging to her mind. And yet, even though that was the simplest, most logical explanation, she knew in her heart of hearts that it was not so.

And suddenly, the room got even darker, as if some creeping mist was filling it, the crystalline decanter that sat near to hand losing its shining reflection. This new darkness was cloying, oppressive, seeming as if it was clinging to everything, blocking out all light in the room. It was so thick that it seemed almost to be trying to suffocate her. Flicking her eyes towards a nearby candle, she reached for her magic, intending to drive back the darkness that threatened to steal her breath away. But, to her great surprise, the candle remained unlit, the wick obstinately refusing to heed her orders to ignite. Cocking her head to the side in confusion, she turned her attention to the candle once more, and reached for the spell again. And again, the candle remained unlit. Worry suddenly rose in her. This was not the darkness of night, nor of some nightmarish afterimage. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she touched the wick and immediately jerked her hand back, startled. The wick was as blindingly hot as if it had been on fire, but it produced no light, and no flame, as if either thing could not exist within the cloying black.

Quickly, Shandi went to a cabinet nearby and took out a flint and a twisted spill of treated cotton. She had not needed these things since she was about six, but Kaia had left them there to light candles with, not wanting to carry around chips of stone in her clothing, and Shandi was suddenly glad that she had. Returning to the table with the candle, she quickly struck sparks into the spill of cotton. The sparks caught at once, and kindled it to sudden flame, but just as suddenly as the flame lit, it went out again, extinguished as immediately as if a puff of breath had washed over it. A cold shiver ran down her spine. There was no other explanation. This was magic, some form of magic she had never guessed existed. Quickly, Shandi turned towards the wall, intending to take her blessed weapon in hand but she froze as she turned, a wave of panic welling up within her. The hook on the wall where the whip usually hung was empty.

At the same time, she realized that though the night breeze had faded, there was another sound in the room, a sound that chilled her blood as swiftly as if it had been replaced by ice. It sounded like someone taking great care to make sure their breathing was quiet.

"Kaia?" Shandi asked, hoping against hope that it was only her handmaiden, but knowing all the same that it could not be.

"No." A voice replied and that single word made Shandi shudder. It was a voice unlike any she had ever heard before. It was like a hissing rasp, a word spoken like a whisper, but much louder. Worse, it was as cold as winter, so cold it seemed to freeze the very air, the tone of voice making her skin crawl. It brought to mind creeping decay, the inevitability of death and the chill darkness of the grave. Shivering again, she looked frantically around, trying to see where her whip had gone, hoping that she had simply forgotten to hang it up before she had gone to bed. But then, a sudden light lit the chamber as if flame had been kindled within it, but it was not the warm red-orange light of a candle or a torch. It was a magic light, the kind that Shandi had used countless times. It always took the form of a globe of energy, substantial and yet wholly weightless. But while most of the time the spell's light was golden, or else pure white, this was not. It was sickly, pale green, as if the magic itself were somehow diseased. Its touch was vile, unclean, making everything in the room look contaminated.

And then, Shandi gasped, the panic returning full force, battering at her self control as if once again determined to drown her. The pale light had revealed that not one, but eight other people stood in the chamber with her, all dressed in clothing that was jet black, all holding perfectly still, save only one, the one that stood farthest from her. His face was hidden within a hooded cloak, and not even the ball of pale light that he seemed to be holding in one of his gloved paws lit his features. And to her ever-rising horror, in his other paw was the coiled whip, its length surrounded by a bright aura of power, the blessings laid upon it reacting to the presence of evil so close to it, for it was from him that the cloying darkness seemed to flow. It was also from him that the voice had originated, and Shandi could not help but shiver at its next words. "Looking for this?"

With that, the man tossed the coiled leather negligently over his shoulder, well out of reach of the young woman. Any normal woman would have given in to terror then, would have panicked and screamed. But Shandi was no normal woman. Quickly, the young master magus reached a hand out in the direction of her weapon, bringing her magic to bear, intending to call the whip into her hand, but, to her surprise, her magic seemed not to have any effect. The whip stayed where it was and the horrible, hissing voice laughed mockingly at her efforts. Its laughter was spine-chilling, terrible and dark, the laugh of one who delighted in terror and pain. Shandi stepped back quickly, fighting fresh waves of panic as she tried to understand why her magic was not working.

And then, in the eerie light of the globe of energy, she saw it. The air around the man in the hooded cloak was rippling, a subtle aura of magic almost hidden by the cloying darkness. But the ripple had no color, no sign of what kind of magic it was. And that meant only one thing. It was negative magic, and the man from which it streamed was a master of the obscure art, his spells canceling out her own with ease. To use spells powerful enough to overwhelm him would take time, time she knew she didn't have.

Shandi took another step back, raising her hands into a fighting position, clenching her paws into fists, her wings folding back, out of the way. She fought down the rising panic, a certainty coming to her mind that was clearer than anything she had ever thought before. She was in terrible peril, and she knew it. She was alone, outnumbered and unarmed, clothed only in a thin nightgown, and her magic was useless. Still, whatever these people wanted, they weren't going to take her without a fight. And that thought came with a feeling of odd calm that sealed off the panic as if it were a wall that had been built between them. But, even as she set into position, the magus laughed once more, his horrible voice alone enough to weaken her resolve almost to the point of collapse. Shandi let out a low growl, shaking off the chill and the creature motioned contemptuously toward her.

The closest sable clad warrior stepped eagerly towards her, his eyes lingering on her shapely form from beneath the assassin's veil he wore, lustful greed in their gaze, but Shandi didn't wait for him to come at her. With a motion swift as a striking snake, she lunged forward at him, her fist arcing towards his head. Though the man was caught by surprise by her fast movement, he still was able to deflect her blow, pushing it to the side. But that was exactly what Shandi had been hoping for, allowing the momentum of the shove to carry her around in a quick spin, closing the distance between them, leaping into the air and catching him right in the side of his head with her heel, sending him reeling. Using the last bit of momentum her spin had given her, she turned around once more, her fist connecting solidly with the man's temple. The black clad warrior fell to the stones with a soft thump, senseless. Setting back into her ready stance, she once again thanked her dancer's training for giving her such grace and balance that motions like that came naturally to her. Her teeth set in a grim snarl, she looked around at the remaining assassins, daring them to come forward and face her.

"Well, well." The magus hissed, seeming to be merely amused by her easy dispatch of one of his men, rather than worried as she had expected him to be. "Kitten has claws after all." Shandi bristled at this, a flash of red hot anger rising within her at his insult. The man she had so easily knocked around was now climbing back to his feet, shaky, but with murder in his eyes. But still, he did not draw a weapon, though plainly he was tempted to. And then the magus gave a command that Shandi knew was inevitable. "Get her."

All seven assassins suddenly charged at her, and Shandi readied herself to fight desperately. She had never had to face so many foes at once. It was a hopeless battle, she knew, but that didn't mean she wouldn't fight. The first man came at her again, lunging for her and she rewarded him for his effort by delivering a graceful snap kick to his chin that clicked his teeth together and dropped him to his back once more. The next assassin in line ran towards her alone as well, and likewise fell to a similar technique, a powerful sidekick throwing him backward as his lunge carried him into her leg. But the rest were much more experienced, coming forward in a group, already spreading out into a semicircle. As the warriors surrounded her, Shandi noted something that brought a faint glimmer of hope to her. Though each of the men wore a sword at their side, and each carried several gleaming daggers, not one of them had drawn a weapon. Not even their claws were unsheathed. Shandi could tell that it wasn't out of some sense of honor that they did it either. Men like this had no honor.

Shaking the thought from her mind, she backed up a little more, trying to give herself room. Looking around, she tried to see who among the five remaining warriors would make the first move. Then, all at once, two men rushed forward at the same time. They must have worked together before, for they came forward side by side, their hands up in the same position hers were, legs moving almost in lock step. Knowing that if she let them close with her, she would be in trouble, Shandi did the only thing she could think of. With a quick motion, she leapt wholly off the ground, both feet coming up, delivering a dropkick with her powerful legs. Her snarl deepening, Shandi pushed off of her opponents' chests, arching back in a flip and landing on her arms before coming up into a crouch, hoping that her insane action had bought her enough time to recover. But when she straightened back up, she knew her luck had already run out. Before she could move, her arms were seized and she was yanked upright. She tried to kick out, catching a third assassin in the crotch, but the warriors she had kicked were getting up once again, each seizing a leg and hauling her off her feet. Though she struggled and growled fiercely at them, they held her off the ground, easily restraining her as she thrashed around. She had no leverage with which to break free of them, and she knew she was truly out of options now. And then, she saw the first warrior getting to his feet once more, blood trialing from his mouth, rage burning hot in his eyes. Glaring at her, he spat a broken tooth to the floor, his assassin's veil torn asunder. He was a panther, yellow eyes staring out of a face that was as black as pitch, and now a snarl curled his lip upward, revealing yellowing teeth as he approached.

"We may have to take you alive," He snarled, and by his gruff accent, she guessed he was originally from one of the more primitive worlds that were now ruled by the nobles. "But I doubt anyone would mind if we had some fun first."

The others grinned widely in agreement and began carrying her towards her bed. Knowing what they intended, she struggled even more fiercely against their grip, but they were far too strong for her. She was helpless, though she still tried hard to free her limbs, wishing once again that she had her magic. They were almost to her bed now, and she struggled mightily, almost making one of them let go of her. He rewarded her efforts with a sharp backhanded slap that drew blood from her lip. And suddenly, Shandi thought of something to do, a source of help she hadn't considered.

Acting quickly, Shandi reached out for the link that she and her twin brother shared, intending to call on him for aid. But, to her horror, the link was gone, a hollow void in its place. That meant only one thing. Shaden was not on their world. Sucking in a deep breath, Shandi cried out as loudly as she could manage, desperately hoping against hope that someone might come for her, that someone might help her. But her desperation only seemed to excite her captors, the one that held her right arm grinning widely as he leaned close to her, his stinking breath hot upon her face.

"That's right, scream." He snarled at her. "Scream all you want. No one can help you now."

And then, as if to make his words a lie, the door to her chambers suddenly smashed open as if struck by a hammer blow, the lock shattering with its force, the hinges ripped loose from the wall. A moment later, an oddly shaped figure fell in after the door, the sudden bright torchlight in the darkness making it nearly impossible to see what it might be. The light from the hallway suddenly spilling into the room kindled a sudden hope in Shandi's heart, driving back both the darkness and the sickly green light of the orb held by the magus. All the warriors that had clustered around her turned toward the shape that had so suddenly interrupted them, and as they turned, Shandi was able to see at last what it was. Another black clad warrior lay face down on the stones, utterly still, his face contorted into a look of painful agony. His sword, splintered a few inches above the hilt, had fallen from his hand, and a bright figure was rising from his back, like a ghost rising from a grave. But it wasn't a ghost, not even close. Shandi's heart leapt to her throat upon seeing what it was. It was the Knight, drawing his sword from where it had stuck in the assassin's chest.

The assassins gathered around Shandi instantly dropped her, their hands going for weapons. It was a lucky thing that they had been so close to the bed, because she had had no chance to catch herself. Her head and shoulders landed against the soft bed, bruising her wings and leaving her slouched against the bedside, almost sitting upright. Astonished at her good luck, Shandi looked at her savior in the torchlight and what she saw surprised her. She had only ever seen him when he was wearing armor, the jingling rings and plates concealing his form. But it wasn't so now. Judging from his attire, Shandi realized he must have been sleeping when the assassins came upon him. The Knight was clothed only in a pair of white trousers made of close fitting cotton, revealing his bare torso and arms to her for the first time. The wolf was lean and muscular, giving him the look of someone who could withstand a great deal of punishment. His white fur blazed in the torchlight, almost blindingly white, but she also recognized the gleam of blood upon him, spattered drops and lines of darkness upon a white canvas. He had a long, fresh cut on his chest that had trailed blood down his front, staining the top of his white trousers dark red, but the wound didn't seem to hinder him in the slightest. In fact, seeing the serious look on his face, Shandi had to wonder whether he had even noticed the injury.

"Well, well, what have we here?" The rasping man said as his fellows approached the Knight warily, weapons in hand. "A single warrior, coming to challenge us? A fool, I think."

The knight's only reply was to bring his sword into fighting position once more, not even breathing hard, though he had clearly dived upon the assassin while moving very quickly. The sprays of dark blood that discolored his fur, far too much to belong to the single assassin that lay at his feet were evidence enough of his formidable skills.

When the knight failed to rise to his bait, the magus waved his men forward, turning fully towards the Knight as he did so, watching him with interest, seeming to have forgotten all about Shandi. The assassins walked slowly towards the white warrior, whose eyes were once again cold, like twin chips of ice, watching the assassins closely as they moved to surround him. The assassins drew their swords, and Shandi started to turn away, sure that the knight was doomed. Surely no one could face so many alone and live, especially when he was already wounded. Terror and anger, hope and despair warred within her, all seeking purchase on her heart and she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them close to her, knowing that when the Knight fell, her captors would come back and take whatever they desired from her, and there would be nothing she could do about it. But, even as the terror and despair began to win out within her, she forced herself to watch the fight. She would not look away as the seven black figures surrounded the single white warrior; he deserved that much at least. The Knight stood perfectly still, his lean body almost relaxed as the assassins encircled him, their weapons gleaming brightly in the torchlight. Only his eyes moved, seeming to catalog the positions of each of his foes in a fraction of a second. And then, suddenly, the Knight blurred into motion.

For years afterward, Shandi would often marvel at what she had seen that night, when one lone warrior had faced seven assassins. She often would remember how the white statue of flesh and fur that was the knight had been still as stone one moment, and a blur of motion the next. And she would remember how, with terror and adrenaline flooding her, she had seen every motion, every strike, revealing a fantastic and terrible dance of battle that she hadn't believed any warrior capable of. Though the knight's movements had been fluid, the fight seemed almost disjointed to her memory, some parts moving fast like lightning, others painfully slow.

Before the assassins could move to strike at him, the Knight had suddenly lunged backward, turning with a speed that was unmatched. He seemed to glow in the flickering torchlight, time itself seeming to slow around him, as if he stepped beyond its confines, his sword easily spearing the assassin that stood directly behind him through the heart. The assassin to the speared one's left swung quickly in reply, his blow intended to sever the knight's head, but the knight was no longer there. The white wolf somehow slipped past the strike, looking all the world as if he had allowed it to pass right through him, his free arm encircling the neck of the second assassin as the momentum of his missed blow put him off balance.

With the assassin locked securely under his burly left arm, the Knight turned, parrying a lightning swift blow from the assassin that had been in front of him only moments before. Then, with a swift twist, the Knight sent the assassin he had collared flying into two others, knocking them both to the ground, the flying assassin's neck giving a very audible snap as he spun free from the knight's grip. The assassin that had struck at him was likewise sent sprawling as one of the knight's white sheathed legs caught him full in the chest as he turned to face another assassin, his sword somehow now going the opposite direction it had been, the runes upon its length glowing brilliant white once more, slicing another assassin's paw off at the wrist. As the man cried out, reeling away from the Knight, the retainer rebounded from his ferocious kick, leaping into the air with a short hop, spinning around quickly and slicing the last standing assassin across the throat, his blade biting deeply, just the last inch carving through his foe.

Just then, when the uninjured assassins that had been knocked to the floor by their comrade were starting to climb to their feet, a beam of energy as dark as night itself speared suddenly at the white warrior, cast from the magus' palm, a shard of midnight torn free from the sky. Shandi thought that that would be the end of the Knight, for it was coming at his blind side, moving so fast that even to Shandi's sight it seemed to cross the space between them instantaneously. But incredibly, as the knight came out of his spin, the enchanted blade he held batted the spell out of the air, rebounding it back upon the castor with perfect precision, leaving no doubt that it had been intentional. The magus crumpled, his own spell washing through him, and his hood fell back, his leopard-spotted face contorted in agony. The two assassins that were climbing back to their feet raised their swords to strike at their foe, but the Knight was just too quick, turning like a whirlwind. In an instant, both assassins were staggering, bloody slashes across their chests. Even as the blow was completed, a dagger flew through the air, throwing spiraling reflections throughout the room as it spun towards the Knight's unprotected back. But even this strike seemed to have been expected. Even Shandi was impressed by the sudden grace the Knight now displayed, rolling forward on his shoulder over one of the fallen assassins, avoiding the spinning blade by a hair's breadth. And then, as he came up into a crouch, he half turned back to the dagger's owner, throwing one of the fallen assassin's daggers back along the same path, side arming the blade so it flew perfectly straight. The dagger buried itself into the surprised assassin's chest a moment later, his gasp more a sound of surprise than pain.

But Shandi's attention was not on the flying dagger, or its hapless target. Her gaze had been drawn by the handless assassin that had now on his knees, facing her. It was the panther with the broken tooth, and he had one of his daggers in his remaining hand, his sword still clenched in the severed paw. Though his skin was pale beneath his dark fur, his hand was steady as he raised a dagger to strike her, her death quite plain in his eyes. Shandi froze for a split second, terror having finally won out in her heart, and she saw the dagger's tip gleam in the red-orange torchlight as it came down towards her. She struggled to move, shouting at herself in her mind to take action, to do anything at all, but her body would not answer her. And then, just as the gleaming tip came down towards her, a brilliant arc of white light seemed to slice through the assassin's chest. The panther remained still for the barest moment, his eyes frozen in a look of utter surprise, and then, he slumped to the side, his body neatly bisected. Shandi stared at the assassin for a moment longer and then looked up. The Knight stood before her, all but his eyes shadowed, framed as he was by the torchlight streaming into the darkened room, bringing his glowing blade vertical before his face as if in salute, a ripple of bright blue running up the shining runes set into the blade as he did so. Shandi stared up at him in surprise, for his expression, while still serious, was calm, placid, as if he had done nothing more strenuous or horrible than to take a stroll beneath the silver moonlight.

But, the feeling of foreboding from which all the fear had flowed had not faded away with the death of her attackers. In fact, as she watched the warrior before her lower his sword and look around at the devastation he had wrought, seeking new foes to fight, the feeling sharpened within her, until she felt sure that something wasn't right. And then, a moment later, she understood what it was. The crumpled heap that was the magus, the heap that had lain so still where it had fallen, was shifting, a long, low hiss of anger and pain rising from it. The knight turned around swiftly at the sound, his sword held at the ready before him, and the heap began to rise. The magus' spell must not have been lethal. But, as the magus rose once more, the knight stalked quickly forward, pushing the magus back onto his back with one foot, pinning him to the stone floor, his sword poised above the leopard's chest. Then, after a moment's pause, the knight stabbed downward, driving his sword cleanly through its flesh. But at once, Shandi knew what had bothered her about that magus. As the blade passed into him in what was surely a lethal blow, the beast did not cry out. It didn't even flinch. Instead, a sound began to issue from its lips, a sound that grew louder moment by moment, a sound that was terrible to hear. The creature was laughing, but it was not the mocking laughter it had been before. It was higher, colder, the hissing quality in its voice becoming more pronounced.

And then, suddenly, the Knight was plucked from his perch atop the magus as if struck by a fist bigger than his entire body. He flew across the room, letting out a surprised yelp as he was thrown into the far wall with enough force that Shandi was sure he must have broken every bone in his body, slumping down into a white heap, his sword landing with a clatter beside him. Shandi gasped, for the magus was rising to his feet now, no injury upon him, though she had seen the knight's sword pierce all the way through his chest. And as he rose, his face twisted, changing before her eyes. The face was quickly becoming that which one could see only in nightmares. The whites of his eyes were black, like the deepest void, but the irises were brilliant crimson, pulsing with a terrible, dark power. And his teeth were lengthening, growing in size and sharpness, and as the magus turned his attention to her, the pulsing aura of negative magic filling the space around him, Shandi knew what danger she was in. This was no magus, not like she had known. But she knew the name of its race now, a name always spoken like a whisper of terror, a name of fear and darkness. Vampire.

The vampire chuckled lightly at her horrified expression, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he walked forward, clawed hands reaching out to her, long, wickedly sharp claws shining brightly in the torchlight. Shandi knew that without her magic or her whip, she was powerless to fight him, and she cringed away from him as the long shadow of his hand fell across her. Vampires were many times stronger than any normal person, and they had few weaknesses. It was little wonder that the spell and the knight's sword had failed to kill him. As he came closer and closer to her, a wild instinct rose within her, urging her to flee from this unnatural foe, and she scrambled backwards, climbing over the edge and back onto her bed. But even as she gained those precious inches, she knew that no sanctuary lay behind her. The only way out was behind the vampire, down the torch lit hall, a fact that the vampire obviously knew well, for his smile widened into a sickening leer as he watched her try to get away. And, when she saw his expression, a spark kindled within the black terror that had gripped her, a white hot spark of rage. The creature was enjoying this, deriving great pleasure from her terror, as if it were an entertainment greater than any other to him.

"You cannot run." He hissed, his voice chilling her once more, threatening to douse the spark that had flared in her soul. His crimson eyes were wide, unblinking, unclean powers reflected within them. "You are helpless before me." Shandi glared at him in reply, defiantly meeting his eyes while she frantically fanned the spark, kindling flame in her heart. And moments later, she realized her mistake. His eyes met hers, and at once, she felt a force surge within her, her body going rigid, unable to move, unable to look away. Still smiling, he reached out and ever so gently caressed her cheek with his claws, sending a deep chill down her spine. "You are really a rare beauty. Perhaps someday, if he lets you live long enough, we will have a chance to become...better acquainted."

These last words were worse than anything else he had said. The vampire was working for someone, obviously a man, and that worried her. Who had the power to command a vampire's allegiance? Frantically, she fought with herself, trying to wrench her gaze away from those terrible eyes, to break the enchantment he had cast upon her. In anger, she roared in her mind, almost begging her body to move, to stop him before he did something anything else to her. But then, as she struggled to break the vampire's hold on her, a sound shattered the silence, a sound she had never heard the like of before. It was a howl, akin to the wild song of the wolves that lived out in the unsettled places of her world. She had heard them calling to each other on occasion before, but their cries had always seemed so sad, so mournful and lonely. This however... This was more like a fierce war cry, akin to the sound of a trumpet crying aloud before an army, a sound that added immeasurable fuel to the flame within her breast. It was the sound of a warrior's challenge, full of anger and pride and it lifted the darkness within her like a sudden dawn, hope rising in her once more. The vampire turned away from her, breaking the enchantment that held her, unguarded surprise in his gaze, and then, something blindingly bright slammed into him, carrying him away from the bed and from Shandi.

Shandi quickly shook her head, chasing the last of the paralyzing energy from her mind, and then looked to see what had happened. The Knight was on his feet once more, a cold, merciless anger burning in his blue eyes as he and the vampire circled each other. Judging from the wide tears in the vampire's robes, the Knight had already seen that he could do no damage to the creature that way. But if he felt any fear at the prospect, he did not show it. Nor did he show any of the pain the impact with the wall must have given him. Desperate, Shandi quickly ran through all the lore she had ever studied, trying to remember how one went about killing a vampire. The easiest way was to use the magic of light against them, but even then, they took a lot of killing. But there were other ways of course, ways that were not arcane, but what were they? Shandi fought to call the knowledge to her mind amid the swirl of emotions, but other thoughts kept rising in their place, thoughts of what the vampire would do to her if the Knight failed, and who could have ordered the vampire to do all this. Frustrated, Shandi could only watch as the vampire moved forward quickly, quicker even than the knight could move, his hands darting forward. Blood splattered the stone floor and the Knight grimaced as the vampire backed up just as swiftly as it had advanced, its claws dripping with wolf blood.

And, as she saw the Vampire face his stubborn foe, grinning sickeningly as it licked the red blood from its claws, the answer suddenly blossomed within her mind. She knew what she needed to do. Quickly, she looked around for something that might work. And then, she saw it. One of the assassins had been carrying a wooden handled mace, a weapon that had been broken as he had tried to block a strike of the Knight's enchanted sword. The broken haft of the weapon was just within reach. Quickly snatching up the weapon, Shandi examined its riven end, where the head of the weapon had snapped off and smiled. It was perfect.

Shandi looked up, seeing that the vampire had its back to her, giving her the moments she needed. Quickly, she waved, trying to get the knight's attention. Though his gaze did not waver from his foe, she sensed that his eyes had caught the motion, and that he was watching her. With quick motions, she mimed what she wanted him to do. When she finished, the knight inclined his head ever so slightly, his bright sword not wavering in his grasp.

And then, with a speed almost quick enough to match the Vampire's own movements, the Knight moved, muscles straining as he pushed himself faster than ever. In an instant, his sword had swept through the vampire's neck, the glittering tip just visible to her as it sliced through the monster's flesh. And, for the first time, the Vampire reacted as though the wound had pained him. The creature staggered, turning away from his foe, his hands reaching up to hold its severed head in place. Still the creature was not dead, still, it would regenerate even from that terrible blow. But not for long.

As the vampire turned to face her, its skin already starting to seal the horrible slice the enchanted blade had left within its flesh, Shandi seized her moment, lunging forward, her eyes squinting as she struck, for she had never stabbed anything that was up and walking around before. And at last, the vampire screamed, its head falling from its shoulders. At last, Shandi felt the negative magic that kept her from using magic falter, and she reacted almost without thinking. At once, a brilliant flash of white energy surged along her arm, the drain upon her energy staggering her as she drew upon as much strength as she dared to use. And then, the rough stake of wood that had speared the vampire's heart suddenly seemed to explode, magic rebounding along its length as the vampire's innate powers deflected part of her spell. But she had chosen her moment well, when its defenses were at their weakest. The vampire's head screamed again in agony as its body dissolved, the spell consuming it utterly. And then, the head too seemed to burn, though no flame touched it, and at last, with a final hissing cry, all that remained of the deadly foe was fine black ash upon the stone floor.

Taking a deep breath, Shandi looked down at the black dust, a shudder running through her as the echoes of its dying scream faded away. And then, the toll of the spell hit her fully. Exhaustion welled within her, robbing her of all her strength, and she stumbled, her muscles quivering feebly as they strove to keep her upright. Shivering, she tried to sit upon the edge of her bed, but she couldn't quite manage to do so, almost falling against it, her feet sliding on the ash so she ended up in almost the same place she had been when the Knight had begun his fight, clutching feebly at the bedspread to keep herself from falling flat. Shandi drew in another deep breath, trying to regain enough strength to get back up, but all at once, with no strength left to hold it back, the realization of everything that had happened washed over her like a crushing wave, driving away all thought before it.

She had never seen death before, never seen someone fight another with no quarter given or asked for. She had never seen the awful brutality of true combat first hand. No bard's tale, no warrior's account could have prepared her for it. Blood covered her floor, blood streaming from the bodies of men that had, mere minutes ago, been alive and breathing. She shivered again, her fur standing on end, and revulsion washed into her mind, almost making her retch. These men would not have hesitated to harm her, even to kill her, given the chance. What was more, they had been so near to doing something dreadful to her, something she didn't even want to think about. And then, face to face for the first time with darkness in its most brutal, most savage form, the young noblewoman cried, bringing her knees to her chest once more and curled her tail around them, folding herself into a tight ball, her wings canting forward until they enveloped her. She didn't know the reason why she cried, whether from relief at having survived, or from revulsion and horror, she couldn't guess. All she knew was that suddenly, tears streamed from her, and she longed to hide within herself, hide until the horrors that assailed her went away. She shifted her wings, stretching them out over her, trying to block out the horrible mess that was left within her room. And then, even as bitter tears fell from them, her eyes were inexplicably drawn upward, past the veil of feathers, to the lone figure that still stood in her room.

The Knight stood before her, breathing heavily, glittering sword dripping with dark blood, bleeding from the wounds he had sustained that night. He looked horrible, indeed, almost monster-like, with blood splattered across his white fur, the after image of the cold rage still bright within his eyes. But then, his breathing eased, his face returning to the calm expression he usually wore. He leaned down, wiping his sword on the clothes of one of the fallen assassins, and then, he looked at her, his blue eyes seeming almost to be glowing, nearly matching the color of the runes upon his blade. When Shandi met his gaze, she felt a powerful shiver run through her again. His eyes seemed to soften when he saw her, his expression easing somehow, though his features had not moved. And in his piercing blue gaze, she saw something she did not expect. She saw understanding, and pity, and a sudden thought came to her. The Knight knew. He knew what she was thinking and feeling, knew and sympathized. And then, to her surprise, he took a step closer to her, laying his sword aside, and then held a hand out to her, his expression kind, warm and sympathetic. Tentatively, the young woman reached out and took the warrior's warm hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

And, though he was splattered with blood, and though he had been the one who had so brutally and efficiently extinguished so much life tonight, Shandi huddled close to him, sobbing bitterly as her emotions overcame her fully. The knight gently hugged her, allowing her to cry into his shoulder, not saying a word. Shandi wasn't sure that it was proper for a noblewoman to be hugged by a retainer of her family, but the moment she felt his arms enclose her in that hug, she knew she didn't care either. She needed to be hugged right then, the gentle act more soothing than anything else would have been. And, as she stood there, all the ragged emotions that had overwhelmed her seemed to flow from her mind as suddenly as if a stopper had been pulled. Despair, revulsion, even the horror at what had almost happened, ebbed away into nothingness. Finally, even her tears stopped flowing, and she quieted, an odd numbness filling her instead. It was as if she had lost the ability to feel anything at all, and it was a strangely peaceful sensation.

She suddenly felt utterly weary, her mind already shutting down, her horrible emotions seeming to have taken her remaining strength with them. She was only dimly aware of being gently lifted into the air, and then of soft cloth and pillows beneath her as the Knight laid her on her bed, kindly tucking her beneath the covers. Likewise, she was only barely aware of distant cries echoing in the corridor as an alarm was raised in the manor house, the clatter of guards in armor echoing throughout the corridors as they ran to secure their masters. Oddly, the only thing that Shandi truly perceived as the fog of sleep began to steal over her, was the Knight, standing near the foot of her bed, facing the doorway into the rest of the manor, his sword held easily in his hands as if he was on guard. Though he bled from wounds that would have kept others from even standing, he stood still, straight and steady, as if he were a statue. And then, as the fog closed in, drowning her sight in grey mist, a sudden, odd realization came to her.

As long as the Knight was there, his steady strength so near, she would be safe. She knew, as certainly as she had known how to slay the vile vampire, that he would die before allowing any harm to come to her. Smiling slightly, she closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her into its comforting arms, the bedchamber with its silent protector fading from her sight into a distant blur, and then, at last nothingness...