It was windy, as she knew it would be. Leaves rushed past her and danced at her feet, warning her to slow her pace, to rethink her actions. She clenched her fists and bowed her head against the frigid air. The Gods fight when they sense someone going against them. First they put doubts in her mind, confuse her senses, then they move the air and shake the trees. Soon she knew they would alter the ground, creating rain and mud so deep she would trip and fall and have to crawl on her knees to reach her destination. But they wouldn't kill her, for that was against the arrangement.
She had left the cave at dawn, a breeze whispering past her ears as she walked towards the second moon. Her cloak was blue, as all high priestesses' were, and her step determined. The others needed her. They needed her because she was the only one who could help, the only one with the gift to see beyond and the strength to use it. And she needed them as well, she knew. She needed to know that humanity was not lost, that despite the horror and blood of her dreams, the nightmares which followed her every breath, the agony of her work, she knew she could only continue if she was sure that she was helping them, that her sacrifice would aid their world and better their simple lives.
But the world changes, and she is of the old ways. She knows this. She knows this but she doesn't let it stop her. Her mentor, Lady de la Brume, had warned her of this. She had told her upon her rebirth that her passage was to be the most difficult of all the members, because she was to be born upon the eve of change. She listened, thinking she understood, but De la Brume knew she didn't, knew she couldn't. In her ancient wisdom gathered from the thousands of members before her, she knew that change was a sudden thing, and no matter the signs, the warnings, the shift within the air and the earth and the sea, no matter the preparation, when the world moves to accommodate a new age, those who attempt to stop it will be decimated, and only those who are fluid, who bend like the reed in the stream, can survive. And as Clara trudges through the hurricane around her, feeling the hail beat her shoulders as the sky gathers dark above her, Lady de la Brume is in her home, weeping against the window pane. For she knows her young apprentice well. She knows she was chosen for this age because she is angry and young and proud and strong. But youth and strength and anger and pride are limited, and easily distorted. Lady de la Brume weeps, because she sees they will be Clara's doom.
"Please Laurie. Please stop. I cannot continue!"
Lady Grace dropped to the floor of the weapon room, her delicate palms pressed behind her as she struggled for breath.
Lorelei smiled as she regarded her mistress. She did not begrudge her ladyship her beauty or her delicate nature, but she could not let it interfere with her job.
"My lady," Lorelei squatted next to the gasping princess, "we must continue. I know you are exhausted," She smiled and patted her pale locks. "but you are doing very well and the lesson is almost over. Afterwards I will ensure that your ladies in waiting will prepare you a bath, and I will buy more of your favorite scent from the village."
Lady Grace looked up at her protector. They were the same age, the same height and had been raised in the same kingdom, but apart from that, there were no similarities. Lady Grace was on the golden Lorendive lineage, the eldest of her family's children and the first in inherit her mother's throne. From the age of 6 she had been schooled in diplomacy, foreign languages, instruments, dance, song, science and now, with whispers of war on the horizon, she was being taught sport, more specifically, how to defend herself and kill when necessary.
Lorelei was born to Rowenstock parents. Her breed was dark, with black hair and eyes, but skin as pale as her Lady's. Her people were born to serve the Lorendives. She had been chosen as Lady Grace's personal bodyguard due to her superior strength and intelligence. Luckily, the two women had been friends since childhood. The queen had permitted Lorelei to attend all of Grace's classes, so she too was capable of diplomacy, linguistics and science. But song, dance and music always fell by the wayside. Her mother had consoled her, telling her that her hands were meant to hold a sword not a violin, to pluck the strings of an archer's bow, not a cello. Her voice, she was told, was for calling soldiers to war, not singing romantic lullabies.
Together they grew up, Lorelei spending her extra time in the battlefield, as Grace spent hers in the music room. As they grew older, they spent more time apart. Lorelei's initiation took her from the kingdom for 3 years. She never spoke of what she saw or of what she was forced to do, nor even of where she went, but when she returned Grace saw the change in her eyes. She noticed it at dinner, the celebration of her own coming of age, at 25 she was set to inherit the kingdom, to rule alongside her mother until she was 27 and would become the sole queen of her country. Lorelei, she had heard, had returned a week earlier and Grace was desperate to reunite with her old friend. She knew, of course, that Lorelei had not been on a holiday, but was none the less curious to find out what she had learned, and where she had been. But the guards and the royal household forbid them from seeing each other. The queen had sat Grace down to explain that they would be reacquainted at the celebration dinner, when she would receive her crown and Lorelei would officially be given to her as her personal guard.
"But why can't I just see her? I have missed her for so long!"
The queen had patted her daughter's golden head. "Things are different now my love. She is no longer your friend, no longer like a sister to you. She has become a warrior, like all of her people. She will belong to you, because her life now exists solely to protect yours."
Grace had shaken her head, "But why can't we still be friends? I don't understand why-"
"Hush." Her mother put a finger to her lips. "You are lucky to have her at all. Not all survive the initiation. Many do not return from their 3 years away. Lorelei is strong. She is unlike any of her kind I have ever seen before. That is why I chose her for you, so that I would always know you would be secure. There is not another person in this world capable of protecting you as well as she."
And they had met that evening. Grace sat beside her mother, her crown sparkling on her head, long golden locks draped across her shoulders and backs. She was beautiful, as all Loredive's are, their celestial appearance well suited for their place on a throne. Lorelei had entered in front of her men. She seemed taller to Grace, her shoulders held back and her head upright. The tip of a scar was just visible along the top of her shoulder, peeking out from beneath her armor. Her hair was as long as Grace's but pulled back, tied in a thick, black rope down her back. Her legs were strong, her hand on her sword as she approached the thrones. She knelt before the queen first, presenting her sword above her head to announce her return. The queen accepted it and smiled as she turned to hand it to Grace. Their tradition was to take the sword from the returning warrior as an offering of devotion, then to hand it to the ruler. As Grace would be Lorelei's mistress, she would take the sword from the queen, and offer it again to Lorelei once she bowed in front of her, signaling her acceptance of her allegiance.
