The Conquest of Mytheyr

You called Bas a Merax.” Vath said, an hour after they had set off for what he said was the closest village, “What is that?”

“They’re children of Selipnir. The Merax are spirits that can take any equestrian form.”

“Selipnir, as in Odin’s horse?” Vath said in disbelief.

“That was given to him by Loki, yes. Don’t tell me you never believed any of this. And I don’t mean just the Aesir, I mean the Dragonkin, too.”

“Well, I grew up believing it all was real. Every legend, every hero, every fallen race and every world. I just…. Never thought it’d happen to me. I’m nobody.”

Morgan smiled to herself.

“Very few heroes are somebody before they’re chosen.”

Morgan had been given some time to study her new companion as she followed him through the desert. His legs were toned, and his hands strong. A knife user, judging by the calluses on his palms. That was enforced by the fact he had no obvious weapons. His sleeves and boots could easily be hiding a long knife. His lack of back muscles told her that he didn’t use a bow, and there were no crossbow marks on his hands. Maybe he could throw knives, but otherwise he had no ranged combat. He wore modest clothes, a tan, long-sleeved high-collared shirt and matching pants, all made of linen. He also had leather boots with cuffs and a dark brown scarf. The only thing he wore that resembled armor was leather cuffs around his thighs, which Morgan didn’t see the point of. His white hair almost reached his waist. He also had a pleasing face and deep purple eyes.

“Dayum,” Morgan muttered under her breath, “he’s kinda hot.”

“We’re here,” Vath said, interrupting her train of thought. The village wasn’t much, a scattering of adobe houses and a trading post, set apart from the rest of the buildings. There didn’t seem to be any kind of defense, which seemed odd to Morgan. Though plagues had wiped out any human or orcish raiders, surely there were still dangers.

“Is this your home?” Morgan asked aside to Vath.

“I was born in a town, about a day from here.” Vath answered, dismounting. “Come on, it’s rude to ride in a small village like this. People will think we came to cause trouble.”

Morgan slid off Caspian and grabbed a hold of his reins, leading him onto the main road. The results were immediate. People barely so much as glanced at them before rushing into the nearest house. Vath looked side to side warily, but Morgan was especially on edge. Something else was wrong, something she could feel but not see.

“Three following us.” Morgan whispered.

“Five.” Vath corrected, “On the rooftops.”

“Eight, now. I think they’re thralls.”

“They’re what?”

“Dead bodies, and something is being forced to animate them. Necromancy.” Morgan clarified.

Silently, their pursuers made a rough circle around them. They were armored in standard Dark Elven steel plate, and had curved single-edged swords.

“Military.” Vath realized aloud, moving back-to-back with Morgan and pulling out two small throwing knives that were hidden beneath the hem of his shirt. A silver bracelet that Morgan was wearing turned liquid, taking the shape of a sword before re-solidifying in her hands. Bas bared his blunt teeth at the closest thrall, while Caspian shied away. Morgan’s stallion could handle material foes, but the black magic they radiated told all his instincts to run and never look back.

For Morgan, however, the sheer amount of black magic was disorienting. She saw where they were with her eyes, but her mind told her they were elsewhere. The overload on her senses made her dizzy. The first thrall attacked, and she managed to stab him, but barely swinging her body out of the way of another’s blow. She wasn’t used to fighting like this. Usually, her dragon’s sense told her where all her enemies were, but now it was clouded, telling her they were everywhere at once. She ignored it and focused on using her eyes and ears. She attacked swiftly and with force, trying to incapacitate her target as quickly as possible, so that there’d be at least one less person she had to defend herself from.

Vath was no slouch, either. After taking two of them out with his throwing knives, he pulled an elvish long knife out of his boot. Since their weapons were longer than his, he had to lure them close to him before he could strike, but his defense was a wall. He did his best to keep as many distracted and away from Morgan as he could, then when she was in a position where she could take them on, he used some fancy footwork to force them to move to where she could attack them.

Within minutes, though to Morgan they felt like hours, the thralls were finished. Morgan stood looking at the pile of bodies they had created. It made her sick, first the fact that these were elves she just killed, and second the unnatural magic that still hung in the air. No, she didn’t kill them, Morgan reminded herself, they were already dead. Their bloodless wounds attested to that. She was going to throw up.

“Company.” Vath said, as people slowly came out, looking in awe at the two strangers. Vath glanced at Morgan, who looked like someone had just shoved a four day old fish under her nose. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I will be.” Morgan coughed. “In a minute.”

“Excuse me.” said a male Dark Elf, approaching them, “but who are you? Are you part of the conspiracy?”

“This conspiracy is a very badly kept secret.” Morgan said, forcing herself to straighten up and swallow back her bile.

“I’m Vath Burntbush.” Vath told him, trying to make up for Morgan’s rudeness, “This is Morgan Silversword. She’s not… from here.”

“Morgan Silversword…. Of the Dragonkin? The Great Lady of Irideth?” he said in awe, and the people, hearing this, began to whisper among themselves, the gist of it being ‘I heard that she…’

“I’m not much of a Great Lady, but yes.” Morgan said. “I am here to help you. But I need you to tell me what happened here. Who were these people, how did they die, how did they become thralls and when?”

“Yes, of course, but please,” the Dark Elf answered, “you look tired and unwell. We will tend to our dead, you will eat and bathe, and then we will talk.”

He wasn’t asking, so Morgan nodded, and allowed herself to be led away. Vath was also led away, but a different family would be hosting him.