I started this about ten years ago, and never finished it. I'm sure canon has moved on, but I still think it's kind of nice. Thought it might as well get out there for a moment, instead of stagnating on my harddrive.
============================
The man crouches over the fallen woman. Her ebony hair radiates out from her head like the flames of a dark sun; her helm lay some distance away, lost in the final conflict. Her armor, the finest steel chased with gold, is rent from shoulder to stomach, and the alabaster flesh underneath is stained with great swathes of blood, though it is nearly whole. Directly below her breast, a slender wooden shaft pierces her body.
Around the two lies chaos. A broken sword weeps a thick, foul-smelling, crimson fluid onto the marble flagstones. Three other bodies lie on the floor -- unlike the raven-haired woman, the wounds on these are painfully obvious; gaping wounds carved by a prenatururally sharp blade wielded by one of fiendish strength and uncommon skill. Still, they have been carefully cleaned and arranged, laid side by side on the opposite side of the stone bier that is the centerpiece of the room.
The man reaches out, and his slender fingers making trembling contact with the ruby lips. The words that fall from his mouth are quicksilver, disappearing from the mind as he speaks them, impossible to remember, the words of sorcery.
"Feodi meus sobbrichiaten, camus vinle. Ha'kmatain disones sep Drelnza hu Nonusi." Slowly he withdraws his hand, and even as the crimson lips part, he whispers, "Tell me."
Drelnza's Tale
The woman who would be known as Drelnza the Dark, or Drelnza Iggwilvdottur, was born in the year of the Weeping Horse, when all the steeds of the tribes of the Wolf were seen to cry, great tears falling from their equine heads onto the fertile plains of the Wegwuir. This was a fell omen indeed, and moreso when it became clear that the ground touched by the salty tears had become barren. Even today, the circles of stony ground where the herds of Wolf Nomad steeds were tethered are empty of life, and the Wegwuir avoid them as places of darkness and evil.
Drelzna was born of Iggwilv, a witch of some power, and Ilhurgin, the Tarkhan of the Wegwuir. Iggwilv had come from the south, perhaps from as far away as the great kingdom of Kee-ho-land, as the Wegwuir called it, to study with Bortei the Ugly. Bortei was an old woman, but the powers she commanded were still great, and Ilhurgin feared her greatly. Still, he was taken with Iggwilv, who was pale of skin and fair of hair -- features unknown to the Wolf tribes -- and he sought for and won her as his third wife. Four weeks later, the horses wept. And nine months after that, Iggwilv's only daughter was born.
Drelzna was not the first child Iggwilv had birthed. There had been others, mewling things that sickened and died within days, or, later, a son, who was not weak and crying, and nor did he sicken and die. But Drelzna was the witch's first daughter. Her pale head was capped with the finest ebony fuzz, and she screamed and cried as lustily as the sturdiest child of the Wegwuir.
Interesting and atmospheric. As it happens, there hasn't been any canonical development of Drelnza to undermine anything in it. Iggwilv might well have spent some time with the Wolf Barbarians. We have no idea how old Drelnza is, or who her father might have been (or even if she had one, really).
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum
Canonfire! is a production of the Thursday Group in assocation with GREYtalk and Canonfire! Enterprises
