Tink tick tink tink tick

The ring of chisel against metal echoed out like the passing of grains through an hourglass. Sitting cross legged on the floor in the center of the dilapidated hovel, she rested the makeshift bench on her lap, hands full of the chisel in one hand and the little hammer in the other. Pupil-less, violet eyes, squinted in the fading light as she engraved the delicate patterns onto the heads of the arrows strapped to the bench.

Completed arrows sat in ordered bundles by her side. The largest pile that of those with hard lines zigzagging at angles carved onto their heads. Next to them, a half-dozen arrows with shafts ensconced in metallic scales that each shared a starburst etching upon the arrowhead. The final pile was of just two arrows.  These were larger and longer, thick shafts with large flared fletchings that counterbalanced a large arrowhead etched with dancing lines of flames.

With a series of final strokes, and the light of the setting sun drifting off from the makeshift bench, she finished with the last three arrows.  Deftly she transferred each bundle from the ground into her quiver and then she stood.  Her back ached and she blinked, eyes tired by the strain of her delicate work.

“Is it time Mistress Landian?”

Violet eyes looked to the cowering forms at the back of the hovel.  Some of them had offered to help but it would have been a waste, a danger more than anything else.

“Yes,” she answered flatly.  Walking towards the building’s single exit she pulled the belt from the nearby peg.  An old sword dangled from it and the Landian strapped it on, affixing the quiver to it before reaching for the bow that rested by the door.  It was an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, the golden wood nearly radiating despite the fading light of the day.  It was of course beautiful, she’d taken her full time in crafting it.  She strung the bow in a practiced motion and then reached for the door’s handle.

For a moment she paused.

“They will come for me first but if I fail they will hunt you.  Make your peace with the Sisters should I fail.”  She pushed through the door then, it creaked, something in it cracked, as she opened and then shut it after her passage.  The light level didn’t change much, the hovel had offered little protection, but the time was right.  The light of the setting sun was filtering down through the branches of the trees.  It cast hundreds of swaying shadowy fingers across the open space of the ruined village.

A perfect sight of unease for the monsters to hunt in.

She took a deep breath and set about her final preparations.  The large arrows she pressed into the dirt, their oversized fletchings swaying now by her side.  Taking a breath she felt the breeze, it’s coming and going as it ranged across the peaks and valleys of its strength.  Then she shut her eyes and waited.

It was not long before she heard them.

The hordes of dragonkin were not known for their minds, it was numbers that gave them their strength.  It was those numbers which had hunted her friends and family and which she had learned to fight.  The thrashings of the mindless beasts were evident as they pushed through the woods around the town.  She heard a crack as branches broke to her left, of sudden scurry and the wet sound of their mouths snapping as some group came to her from the right.  Itt was the scratch of claw against dried dirt that centered her attention.  Her pupil-less eyes opened, her left hand reaching for one of the large arrows and nocking and sending it flying towards in noise in a smooth motion.  The kercs had just noticed her and had begun to give howls at the sight but the arrow soon ended those cries.  As it flew, lengths of the arrows spiraled off, fragments of flames that touched upon the enraged dragonkin and set them ablaze.

She reached for the second of the large arrows as the rest of the horde burst from the tree line around the ruined town.  Leaning back she set the second arrow up into the sky.  The light of its fragments lit up the ruin buildings, restoring a hint of the light of the day and pausing the swarming kercs for a moment as their beady eyes shied away from the sudden blaze.  The Landian took advantage of the pause as she reached for her quiver.  The storm etched arrows were those that she first let fly.  Where each arrow landed a kerc fell and a heartbeat later azure bolt jumped out and arc through a handful more of the closest beasts.

Despite the deadly arcs of the arrows, they alone were not enough to stop the horde.  As the kercs neared she shifted to the scaled arrows.  The first went into a kerc, the beast falling backwards before the arrow exploded, the scattered scales shredding through the surrounding dragonkin.  A second she planted in an overhanging timber of a near collapsed building.  When the arrow bursts it fell amongst the advance kercs.  With these she broke their advances, and with the etched arrows she thinned their numbers.

As long as she had arrows there was no risk.  That had ever been the case, but she had seen plenty of battles where quivers had emptied and her people had fallen.  Today was a near thing, it justified her time in preparing, but as she loosed a final arrow, and found that no kercs moved about her, a half dozen arrows still rested within her quiver.

She took a breath and shut her violet eyes.  There was not yet silence around her.  None of the dragonkin still prowled about her but that did not mean that they were all dead.  She heard the stuttering, pained breaths of the dragonkin wounded but not yet dead.  That made it time for sword work, the old blade drawn from her belt as she moved about the aftermath of her battle and set about ending the last of the beasts.  The silence had drawn a different attention though.  As she finished with the last of the wounded kercs the residents of the ruined village made their way out.  They surveyed the carnage, their pupiled eyes turned towards her.

“Is its done milady?” one manged, looking to the Landian as she cleaned off the old sword and returned it to her sheath.  Her own pupil-less eyes surveyed the carnage of the battle.

“It’s never done with kercs,” she begun, the hunai all glanced at her with concern, “but for now, for all of you, it is safe.”  She expected them to move on then but the group remained, whispers and concerned looks passing amongst them.  The Landian for her part salvaged those arrows and their parts that she could.

“Mi’lady, it is not safe, would you perhaps wish to travel with us?” the same hunai who had addressed her before the battle asked.

The Landian looked up.  She wanted to say that no where was safe but that would do no good.  Instead she settled for, “Where is it that you are going?”

That brought a look of surprise from the hunai, which grabbed her own attention.  Her violet eyes looked up from her work.  “Mi’lady, we head towards the rising sun, it’s said that one of your kin is gathering an army, and building lands free of Dragons.”

The Landian, her bloodied hands full of her arrows straightened.  In her chest she felt the stutter in her breath.  She fought it down as she asked.  “What is said of my kin?”

The group looked amongst themselves again, bewilderment.  Surely they had thought she knew all that was going on with Landians across Illithiust.  The delay was a exercise in patience as she fought the thundering beat in her chest.  “A great warrior, wielding the power of the storms much as you have.  They say that…”

“He wields storms with a sword?”

The interruption startled the hunai but he had caught his courage.  “Yes, that is what we have heard.”

She took a breath.  Their had been few Landians left to raise her but amongst the stories passed to her there was one she had been waiting to come true.  The Heir of Lehn had finally shown themselves.

“Very well, I will travel with you to the east,” the look of relief on the hunai was immediate.  The Landian turned away from their looks to resume retrieving her arrows.  “Gather your things, I will finish here and then we will head out.”

“Yes, mi’lady,” the hunai answered and then after a pause, “If I might, what may we call you?”

“You may call me Elhandriel,” she answered, ripping one of her arrows from the charred husk of a Kerc and inspect its head.