She Who Waits

She Who Waits

She waited for the Dlavon to come.
Nasyle Erograin, the last of her people, had sat upon this very spot, for twenty years now, waiting for the monster that had ended her life. Still as a statue, as cold as ice, she had sat upon the hard, earthen ground, amongst the blackened and burned trees that remained of her homeland. In her hands, she grasped the sword of her husband, the only one who had summoned the courage to stand against the foul creature that, in the end, had destroyed him. Having lost everything, all Nasyle could do was take up her lover’s blade and wait for the Dlavon to return.
The years had been long, but time was meaningless to the stubborn woman. As the snow fell upon her, she felt her body cry out in pain, begging her to seek shelter, but she heeded it not. By the strength of her anger alone, she forced herself to sit and wait. Though rain and sleet battered and bruised her skin, she never once allowed herself to seek refuge from the cruel weather. The years slowly passed, and the forest gradually began to recover. The plants flourished, and the animals returned. Every day, Nasyle could hear the birdsong in the trees above her, and every night she could hear the sounds of animals scurrying across the ground. It mattered not to her. In time, it would all be gone again.
And as she waited, Nasyle felt her body continue to age, slowly transforming her from the lovely maid she had been that night into a haggard woman, her eyes fierce and haunted by shadows of her past. Never once did it cross her mind that her life was wasted. What life did she have to go to?
But tonight, the wait was finally over. Twenty nights ago, to this very day, the Dlavon had passed through her land, destroying as it went, just as it always had. Twenty years ago it came, and twenty years before that. And if Nasyle failed tonight, it would come again twenty years later.
The sun slowly set beyond the borders of the trees, as if reluctant to end the day, knowing what would come with the night. But as darkness took the land once again, Nasyle could sense its approach. Just as they had twenty years ago, the trees blackened and hissed as unseen flames began to eat away at their bark. The cries of animals rang out through the trees as they dropped dead, struck down by the accursed creature’s mere presence. A flock of birds rose from the trees, desperate to escape, but one by one they plummeted back to the earth as they, too, fell prey to the Dlavon’s curse.
The air filled with the scent of rot and death as the creature approached. Nasyle could feel it growing closer, its every step reverberating within her chest like a second heartbeat. Though she could not see, hear, or feel the creature, Nasyle knew that the moment she had waited for was near at hand.
And then she saw it. The Dlavon, exactly as she remembered it all those long years ago. Clad in the finest of black leather, its cape fluttered behind it like a flag, declaring its allegiance only to itself. Its face was ashen white, and its hair was a brilliant red, perfectly matching the hue of its eyes. At its side was sheathed a sword, as long as the creature was tall and sharp enough to cut the wind. As it came, Nasyle slowly stood up for the first time in twenty years. Her bones rejoiced and cried out in pain at once, but she ignored them. Hefting her husband’s sword, she leveled it at the approaching creature.
She knew that there would be no words here. The Dlavon did not care who she was, nor why she had sat in its path since the moment it had left this place twenty years ago. I was forced to walk its path, and the woman before it would merely need to be removed. Never breaking its stride, the creature drew its sword from its scabbard and held it aloft, the moonlight gleaming off of it almost blindingly. It brought it down with great force, but Nasyle swung her own sword upwards. Their blades collided with a loud CLANG, and the Dlavon’s blade was thrown off course, missing its target by a mere inch.
Nasyle drew her sword back behind her shoulder, and swung it at the monster with all her might. Again, their blades met, and the woman was stunned by the strength of the creature. Even with all her effort, she could not budge the Dlavon’s sword. Instead, Nasyle slid her blade along the Dlavon’s thrusting the tip towards the monster’s heart. The Dlavon gave its sword a light flick, which sent Nasyle’s blade flying out of her grip and into the forest.
Nasyle dropped to the ground as the creature swung its sword again, attempting to take her head off. She rolled on the forest floor, distancing herself from her opponent, and then leaped to her feet to retrieve her weapon. She found it some ten feet away, its point driven into the ground. Grasping the handle, she yanked it out and turned back to her foe. The Dlavon seemed to have forgotten about her, though, and had begun to walk its path, yet again.
No, she would not allow this monster to leave her here again! With a cry of rage, she charged at the Dlavon, swinging her sword at its neck. Steel met steel yet again, and her sword was halted. The Dlavon pulled its sword back, and swung it a second time. Nasyle jumped backwards, out of the sword’s range, and the Dlavon immediately turned back to its path, continuing its journey.
Again Nasyle threw herself at the creature, and again the Dlavon proved too much for her skills. It parried her attacks and countered with its own with inhuman speed and grace, its strength unmatchable by any mortal. For hours they fought, if one could call it fighting. Several times she was forced to fall back, and the creature would simply turn away and attempt to continue on its path until Nasyle attacked again. It defended itself with eternal patience, its face never once showing the slightest hint of annoyance. As the night wore on, it became painfully obvious to Nasyle that she was no match for this opponent.
Finally, with one mighty swing, the Dlavon sent Nasyle’s sword flying from her grip once again. Before she could react, the blade lashed out again, and she felt a fiery pain in her stomach. Reaching down, she felt warm blood coat her hand. Suddenly weak, she collapsed to the ground, her blood pooling around her, quickly drank up by the dead forest floor. The cut was light, not fatal, but Nasyle could already feel herself drifting into unconsciousness, though whether from the wound or from exhaustion she couldn’t tell. The last thing she saw was the Dlavon turn away and continue on its journey without giving a single glance backwards.
The sun shined down upon the ruined forest when Nasyle finally awoke. The sun seemed to be mocking it, reminding the forest that it did not care about the previous nights’ events. The world would go on, and this tragedy would soon be forgotten.
Not by all, though…
Tears of fury cascading down her face, Nasyle forced herself to get off of the ground and find her sword, which lay several feet away, buried in newly fallen leaves. Gritting her teeth in shame, she returned to the path the Dlavon had taken the previous night. The path it would return by in twenty years. With an anguished sob, Nasyle sat down and began to wait.