Quendalon/Session25BadDreams
Howling winds tore the breath from Li’s lungs as she staggered across the icy plain. In the distance, a spire of rock bleached white by the snow towered and Li fixed her gaze upon it. She felt something there calling to her. She was needed.
The distant clamour of battle drifted to her ears. The cries of men and of inhuman things echoed faintly across the plain, and the tramp-tramp of booted feet was a drumbeat, summoning her, pulling her on.
Around the base of the spire the fight raged. Surrounded, overwhelmed, a tribe of Northmen hurled their defiance at the host of fey that assaulted them. The Wyldlings howled to the sky as they closed in. Many fell to the iron and flame of the Northmen but more of the mortals were dragged down and their souls fed the dream-eaters.
Li drew forth Burning Tiger and flame erupted along its length. She screamed a challenge to the Fair Folk and they turned in horror to see their scourge reborn. She charged into their midst, hewing left and right and the fey fell back in disarray. Burning Tiger danced in her hands like a flickering image, belying the brutality of its power as it struck the fey down. She laughed, a sick, mad joy in the killing rising within her.
A third army came to the field then, arrayed all in shining iron armor and led by the mighty Children of the Dragon. They turned upon the Fair Folk and trapped between many foes, their army broke and fled. Then the legions of the Realm turned upon her, crying out, “Anathema! Anathema!” She continued to laugh as the Dragon-Bloods charged her and she killed them one by one, leaving in her wake the dismembered bodies of the Terrestrials and their servants.
At last, the legions of the Realm turned to flee as well, leaving the field below the spire to the Dawn Child and the Northmen. Li turned to see a giant of man, huge even by his people’s standard and glowing with the light of the Unconquered Sun. Putting up his greatsword of cold iron, he spoke to her in the Skytongue, which she did not comprehend, and extended his hand in friendship.
With a cry of rage, she struck him down. Burning Tiger cleaved him nearly in half and as his anima flickered and disappeared, his eyes showed astonishment and betrayal.
She woke screaming. Thorwald, ever-vigilant, burst into the room a moment later, his jade daiklave gleaming in the dim lamplight.
“What passes?!” he bellowed. “Where is the enemy?”
Li sat on her bed, her breathing ragged. She could only stare at Thorwald and shake her head.
“Sister, what happened?”
She finally managed to regain her composure. “Dream… a dream. A… bad one.”
Thorwald put up his daiklave and nodded gravely. His eyes darted to Burning Tiger, lying in its sheath by her bed. She noticed his glance and nodded back.
He growled in disgust and spat on the floor. “You should have never taken up that accursed thing.”
“Fate brought it to me, placed it before it. There was a reason for it.” She smiled wanly. “And I can scarcely refuse a challenge, much like you, brother.”
The tall Northman grimaced but nodded in assent. “We all have our burdens.”
Li sighed and laid back. “Indeed we do.”
