BwA: Prologue - The Oasis

Gods and devils waged war and always Man was caught in the middle. It was always for his soul that they fought. It would be a woman that decided the battle. - From the journal of Severah ajal Binoch.

The oasis was not deep in the desert but it was hidden well by a rock face. The bandits had hidden there so often that a small settlement of women and children had sprung up. Tents had become huts and buildings of stone that were cut from the rock wall that protected them. A well had been dug and crops planted.

"This is your kingdom, sister. You are queen here," spoke the voice of a young woman. She gazed out the window of the largest building in the oasis. It wasn't quite a palace or even a manor, but it was obviously a building of leadership. In the large room, another woman, having the same facial features as the one who'd spoken but perhaps in her forties, lounged in a chair covered with a camel pelt. She held a jeweled goblet in her hand and gazed into the empty fireplace. It was too hot in the desert during the day for a fire, but the nights would bring a chill. Two girl children held fans of large feathers waving them over the seated woman, not so much to cool her, but to keep the flies away.

"Oh yes, Penelope, what I always wanted. To be queen of the goatherds," replied the older woman sarcastically. She wore a thin blouse of blue linen, leather breeches, and knee high boots that were scuffed and dirty. A mane of silvering black hair was worn loose and wavy about her shoulders. The woman toyed with the goblet in one hand while her other hand rested on the hilt of the sword on her hip. The handle was large and shaped like a six winged angel, two of the wings covered the angel's body, the other four were the hand guard of the sword. The younger woman, perhaps in her twenties, wore a gown of pink linen, her long brunette hair in a braid down her back roped in a pearled ribbon that matched the gown. The woman in the chair looked like a warrior, the woman by the window a princess.

"You could go out and take whatever kingdom you want by force then," Penelope stated.

"What about the Kingdom of Heaven?" Penelope turned from the window and looked at her sister, nearly sighing with annoyance. They had the same nose and lips, but the older woman's eyes were dark blue like sapphires while Penelope's were as brown as her hair.

"I think that one is beyond your reach," Penelope said quietly sitting in a chair near her sister's. She sighed and picked up a book from the table between them.

The door opened quickly and a rugged man dressed in a warrior's leathers entered. An eye patch over one eye and scars visible on what skin showed. He kneeled before the women.

"My apologies, Captain," he glanced up at the black haired woman. "My lady." He cast his eye over at Penelope who'd put her book down.

"What is it, Agnar?" The woman asked as the man rose to his feet.

"Something is terribly wrong, many of the peasants have taken ill at once, mostly the children and elderly," Agnar said quickly. The dark haired woman was quickly out of her chair with smooth cat-like grace.

"Show me," she said. Agnar nodded and they left the room. Penelope trailed behind them silently.

As they walked between the buildings, not all were complete and it was beginning to look like a desert town, the land was scarce to build on, so the hovels were being built upwards. Awnings of bright colors cast shade on the paths between the buildings. There was a bazaar built around the well that gave the oasis its water. Normally a few clumps of grass grew stubbornly around the well regardless of being repeatedly tramped down by feet of those drawing water. These clumps were brown and dead.

Agnar stopped at a hut larger than the average dwelling, he pulled aside the bright drape that served as a door. Inside on his knees next to a bed was an older man, not quite as elderly as the man in the bed. The elderly man was shivering and coughing uncontrollably. His white beard was matted with his own vomit where he missed the large bowl his wife was trying to hold under his chin.

"Captain Xandria!" The old man, not the elderly one, exclaimed from where he knelt next to the bed. Penelope had placed her head inside the door, but turned, the sounds of retching could be heard. The hovel stank of feces and death.

"Ronstan," the warrior woman greeted the healer in a firm voice. "Do you know what ails him?"

"I've never seen anything like it," Ronstan shook his head. The elderly man suddenly stopped coughing and stopped moving. Ronstan leaned in, listening for breath but his face showed his discomfort in being so close to such filth. The elderly man was dead and the wife tossed the bowl away and began to cry in shrieking wails. Xandria gently forced the woman away from the body of her husband.

"Burn him, I don't want this disease to spread anymore," Xandria said firmly and she attempted to comfort the mourning woman. "How many more are sick?"

"More than a dozen, Captain," Ronstan replied, packing small jars and vials back into a brown sack he carried from his shoulder.

"Do what you can for them, I will find the cure," Xandria said and handed the sobbing woman off to Ronstan. She left the hovel, glanced at Penelope, and walked back to her own large house.

In the corner of Xandria's overly large bedroom was a cabinet. It looked like a simple armor cabinet, except for the large lock on its front. She removed a key from around her neck and slid it into the lock. Xandria opened the doors and a light glowed from within. The light was given off from what looked like a set of massive bird wings. Only the feathers seemed to move on their own as if each one was smoke on a gentle breeze.

"I need your help, Ralael, my love," Xandria reached out and grabbed the wings at the stumps of whatever massive bird they'd been cut from. Only they hadn't been cut from a bird, but a man. Xandria dropped to the ground, the cabinet snapped shut on its own and the lock clicked into place.

Darkness surrounded her, but she was not afraid. Xandria had not felt fear in decades. In the darkness a light slowly blossomed, no more powerful than the moon glow. It radiated from a man in gold and silver armor who floated towards her. The massive wings on his back made no noise even though they flapped. He was held aloft, but appeared to be levitating rather than flying. A hood covered his head and a shadow covered his face, obscuring any features. A heavy sword hung on his hip, the hilt a six winged angel.

"Ralael," Xandria reached out for the angel. They embraced, kissing like lovers who'd been apart for far too long.

"It was not wise for you to come," the angel's voice was deep, and seemed to echo. "Your sanity will suffer more than it already has the longer you linger here."

"Don't send me away, I'd gladly be a raving lunatic for one more day with you," Xandria's hard face had softened and tears wet her eyes but none fell.

"I'm sorry, Xandria, please tell me why you're here." There was urgency to the angel's voice.

"My people, they are sick, what ails them?" She finally asked, her head upon the angel's chest and his arms curled protectively around her.

"They are being poisoned, you are about to be betrayed." The light the angel radiated flickered suddenly.

"Ralael, no! Don't leave me!"

"I love you, Xandria," the angel's voice sounded far away, even though his arms still held her. His light fluttered and he was gone, Xandria was alone in the darkness.

"Captain!" Shouted Agnar's voice as he shook the woman on the floor. She jumped up, sword pulled from her hip before she even opened her eyes. Xandria lowered it from Agnar's throat when she saw it was him.

"What is it, Agnar?" She sheathed the sword and realized he didn't look so well himself. He was trying not to shiver in his leathers and sweat beaded on his brow. His big hands were trembling. "Agnar, you're sick." He nodded.

"Almost everyone is," he said quietly.

"How much time has passed?"

"A day, the children and elderly have already passed on," Agnar suddenly coughed and vomited on the floor in front of her.

"It's not a disease, Agnar, it's a poison," she said and the sound of horns rolled through the oasis, signalling the arrival of strangers. Xandria ran from her bedroom to the entrance of her house. "Penelope?" She called her sister's name. A rider approached, both the horse and the young man upon its back collapsed before her. The horse squealed and seized and she caught the young man, barely twenty.

"Cap-tain," he coughed. His shirt was dirty with his own vomit.

"Yes, Etzak, what is it?" She asked as he shuddered in her arms.

"Riders under the banner... of the... Holy Order. Are. Coming." The young man wheezed, coughed, and died in her arms. She laid him gently to the ground.

"PENELOPE!" Xandria shouted, running back into her house and to her sister's rooms. They were empty. From the window, she could see the riders in their glinting armor and white tabards with the golden sun on them riding towards the manor. There were dozens of them. Her people tried to fight them, but they were weak with poison and easily slaughtered. She went to the entrance, sword in hand.

"XANDRIA THE MERCILESS," shouted the lead rider. He was the only one who was different from all the cookie cutter paladins who rode behind him. His armor was polished so brightly it seemed to give off a glow of its own. He did not wear a tabard, but a heavy cloak with a hood that hid his face. The horse he rode was black, unlike the other paladins who were mounted upon steeds of various shades of white. The horse's armor was as bright as the rider's. The sword carried by the lead rider was identical to the sword Xandria now held in her hand, but Xandria's sword was a dark bronze color and not the polished brilliance of the rider's gear.

"Coward," Xandria shouted in anger, "You poisoned these innocent people, then showed up with a battalion to kill one woman!" Spittle flew from her lips.

"Unlike your enemies, you will be shown mercy," spoke the lead rider. He waved his hand at the men behind him. "Take her alive." They dismounted and drew their swords.

"Your kind has taken everything from me!" Xandria shouted and launched herself at the leader rider. She knocked him from his horse, the horse reared and tried to place itself between her and the rider. She avoided the hooves as best she could. "Now you hide behind your horse. Face me like an angel!" She swiped the sword across the throat of the horse. A liquid looking like mercury gushed from the wound, drenching Xandria. The horse collapsed forward. Behind it stood the angel, his wings visible, and his armor radiating light. The paladins moved forward to attack Xandria but the angel waved them back.

They circled each other for a moment and then the angel rushed her. They fought, neither gaining the upper hand, until he struck at her with his wings. The long feathers wrapping around her wrist like tentacles, she screamed in agony as her blood appeared under the glowing feathers. Her hand dropped the bronze angel sword. She was forced down to her knees, but she grabbed the feathers, they seemed to be made of razors as more blood dripped from her fingers. With all her might, Xandria jerked and pulled on the wing. It tore from the angel's back with a popping noise and the silver blood spurt from the wound. He fell to his own knees in pain. Xandria's right hand was ruined, but she picked up her sword with her left.

"Your name, angel." Xandria demanded, holding her blade to the angel's chin.

"Calaren," said the angel with a heavy breath. "Ralael is my brother. He is imprisoned in Oblivion because of you."

"No Calaren, he is imprisoned because of you. All he ever wanted, all he ever asked for was to be allowed to love me and our daughter," Xandria nicked the angel's chin with her sword, a drop of silver blood fell onto the blade. "You killed him and our little Sherin." Xandria brought the sword up and then down. The other wing fell from the angel's back. A pulse shot out from him in a circle, knocking back the paladins, but only fluttering Xandria's loose black hair. The armor instantly tarnished and became old and worn, the darkness under the hood that hid the face faded. Using her sword she shoved the hood back from Calaren's face. It was the face of a man in his late thirties, dirty and lined. The head was bald, and the face clean shaven. He had no eye lashes, no eyebrows, but his eyes were as golden as his armor had once been.

"Suffer the fate of my husband!" She snarled and chopped. The angel's head dropped and rolled, the body collapsed to the ground, the blood that spurted from the neck stump was no longer silver but red as any human. The paladins attacked her, brought her to her knees, beat her, cursed her, knocked her unconscious and shackled her. Her sword and Calaren's sword were taken as prizes. The oasis was left a ghost town, none left alive, save Xandria who was imprisoned in the Holy Order's deepest, darkest dungeon.