He slowly dropped his hands. Everything had changed. The snow had stopped its whirling. No — it continued to swirl about, but around him, as if some invisible barrier had materialized around the garden. All was eerily silent. And the disembodied voice…it sounded unlike any he'd heard before, yet seemed so familiar.
He turned and saw the black-robed figure. There was no flutter of the silken robes, no disturbance that betrayed the act of movement as it drew closer to him. Or was he drawn to it? The figure's approach was almost hypnotic. Marcellus fell back to his knees, shaking his head as a wave of dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. Still, he felt the figure's approach until it stood directly in front of him.
With the greatest reluctance, he raised his head and peered into the depths of the wide hood. Two crimson orbs glowed from the darkness, piercing through clothing, through flesh into the very core of his soul. Marcellus trembled anew, but no longer from the cold.
"Do you know who I am, Knight of Kaerleon?" The words were crystalline, spoken from an inhuman throat.
Slim white hands slid from the ends of the wide sleeves to slowly clutch the edge of the wide hood. With a deliberate motion, the cowl swept back. The cold and captivating face gazed upon Marcellus with a calm so intense it bordered on menace. Silence surrounded them, as though a mere whisper would shatter the stillness and bring the fury of the storm upon them in an instant.
He knew exactly who she was, though she had many names.
To the Elious she was Leilavin. In Jafeh they called her Hamaraj. To the Norlanders she was Heldra; in Runet they called her Giltra. Many names in many lands, but the common name was simply Death.
Her unblemished skin seemed cast from the purest porcelain, her ivory hair held in place by obsidian daggers. Ruby eyes glowed from soot lashes. Her blackened lips curved in an almost smile.
Her multi-layered robes were of black and gray silk tucked into an ebony corset embroidered with skulls. On one side of her wide sash, an hourglass hung, on the other was thrust a small sickle. A stole of raven feathers hung from her shoulders. If he stood, she would only be at his chest, but she towered over him like the Spire of Khelios. He was grateful to be already on his knees in the almost overwhelming power of her presence.
Leilavin was a legend, a story told to wide-eyed children by traveling meisters. But only weeks ago the akhkharu had been children's tales as well. She was as real as the snow around them, regal as the forest, older than the mountains.
"Yes, Mistress," Marcellus said. "I know who you are. You have come to take me at last, to join me with my family. I am ready."
The echoing sound of silver bells tinkled merrily. "You presume much, Marcellus of Kaerleon. Who are you to tell me when you are ready?"
"I do not understand, Mistress."
"Look at me."
He hesitantly raised his eyes. Once again he was paralyzed her deadly magnetism. She gazed at him as a tradesman does a tool to see if it is fit for the task.
"Why is that you seek to die when you still have much to do, Marcellus?"
Marcellus gazed at her in confusion. "There is nothing more. I have avenged my family. I have nothing to hold me here."
"Do you believe I am here to take you, Marcellus?" She smiled, white teeth glowing from ebony lips. "If I wished for your death, all I had to do was let you fall on your sword."
"If not…" He frowned in puzzlement. "If not, then why are you here? You have naught to do with the living, do you?"
Again the mysterious smile. "I am concerned with my affairs, little man. That is enough for you. You know something of the akhkharu, do you not? Will you let your family's killers run free to destroy more lives while you moan and wallow in your misery?"
Marcellus' head spun with uncertainty. "I have destroyed the akhkharu responsible for killing my family. What more have I to do with those monsters?"
"Such a typically human way of thinking." Leilavin shook her head. "You chop off a finger and think the body will fall; chop off a branch and think you have felled the oak. I am surprised that a famed soldier as yourself would make that mistake."
"I am a soldier no longer. I dedicated my life to protecting the glory of Leodia, yet could not protect my own family. What kind of a man am I, then?"
She drew closer, each tiny step majestic and terrible. "Such sorrowful words. Yet was it not you who sent so many fathers, husbands, and brothers to their deaths? What makes you believe I care any more for your plight than theirs?"
"If not, then take my life now, Mistress. I give it gladly." Marcellus extended his sword, his head bowed.
Again the silver bells tinkled. "If I granted every petition for death, this world of yours would be a lonely place. Mortals — always rushing where you do not belong. I will take you when it is time, Marcellus. For now, I have a task for you."
He frowned. "What task?"
Leilavin's mouth tightened. "The akhkharu are an abomination, a mockery of the balance of life and death. They are a desecration of the natural order, defaming the harmony that exists in nature. They have tipped the scales of equilibrium, an offense that cannot go unpunished. I need you to tip the scales back to balance, Marcellus. I need you to become my warrior, my sword to strike into the heart of the akhkharu. I need you to become my Reaver."
"Reaver?" The world spun around Marcellus. He gazed around at the silent snowstorm. The manor was not far. Would Nyori look out the window and see him speaking to the air? I've gone as mad as Lucretius. Could a man know such a thing? Did Lucretius realize it when he passed beyond the borders of sanity?
Leilavin did not appear to notice his discomfort. She circled him like a panther toying with its prey. "Once I sent out the Reavers to destroy the akhkharu, and nearly succeeded. But Alaric was able to secure a fusorb, a weapon that greatly amplified his power. He destroyed my Reavers and left me greatly weakened. His ilk has dwelled in the shadows, manipulating your world as they have seen fit. A push, and a kingdom topples. A whisper, and a mighty king succombs to madness."
Marcellus eyed her warily. "I am only a man. What can I do that you cannot?"
Her crimson eyes flashed. "Do not pretend that you are only a man, Marcellus Admorran. Not when you have been…altered."
The Glyphs blazed brightly…
Marcellus unconsciously touched his chest.
Leilavin smiled knowingly. "You are stronger than you have ever been. Faster. You do not tire as other men do, and you heal swifter as well. The Crafts of the akhkharu have little effect on you. You have been warded, Marcellus. The Shama did not tell you this?"
"Warded? What does that mean?"
She laughed. "Your ignorance is amusing. Your kind knew such things once. You know of the Elious, yes?"
Marcellus thought back to his childhood. The stories told before he grew old enough to dismiss them. "They were the offspring of Aelon and humans. They possessed some of the powers of the Aelon, yet were less powerful and mortal."
Leilavin continued to circle him. "There was another way to become an Elious. The Aelon would sometimes honor a human for their deeds of extraordinary valor. Such humans were warded. In your case, you are reborn of the storm. Lightning contains certain properties necessary for life. The Shama used them to bring you back from the brink of death. The ward was the only way to bind those properties so that you could survive."
Leilavin paused. Her eyes grew distant as if forgetting Marcellus. "She should not have been able to complete such a complicated bind. The child has received help, it seems."