"She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails." - Elizabeth Edwards

"I thought I was supposed to be watching after Daniel and Cieara." It was a flat statement that Sorcha made as she stared at Fiona.

"Lucius has sent Daniel home for a few days to rest. Apparently, he has not been sleeping much while overseeing this contingent of troops. As for Cieara, she will also be home. I have her doing something for me." Fiona replied as she laid down a sheaf of reports on the large command table.

"So, ye be wanting me to hand out duties? I am nae one of Lord DeAuster's army, Fiona." Stormy blue-green eyes narrowed a touch. Sorcha was not a very social creature and this assignment sounded like it may require such an individual.

"Ye will be fine Sorcha. Simply use ye common sense. If one seems less then battle hardened, send them off to lighter duties." A gloved hand moved to hand her a list of said tasks. "If there is any needing work and has a means of transportation, we could use a few scouts in the high ground near Borial's Pass."

"Aye." Sorcha's tone was a touch clipped but easily ignored which Fiona did with a faint smile.

"I do appreciate ye doing this. With the bitter season and so many coming down with the usual cold related illnesses, the administrative side has taken a bit of a hit. I promise ye it will nae be long ye aid will be required here. Just today. Come morrow another will arrive to take this position."

That seemed to mollify Sorcha. She could manage one day doing this. It may be boring but better than being out in that frigid cold. Her posture relaxed as she realized it was only a few hours of her time. Hardly a trial at all and her tone was less brittle in return. "If it be just for today, I am sure I can handle it."

"Indeed, I am sure ye can Sorcha." Another hint of amusement touched Fiona's frosty green gaze. "Send word if ye run into any trouble. I will do what I can to aid ye."

With those final words the dark-haired woman faded into the shade silently, leaving Sorcha to stare out the tent flap at the light falling of snow. Heaving a sigh, she watched as the flakes hit the ground and melted into muddy slush. Eventually she turned her attention to the various tasks needing attention.

"A warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm." - Yamamoto Tsunetomo

The cold was deepening but she didn't feel it. Inside the command tent was always kept warm. This sitting however was already making her feel lazy. Rocking back up Sorcha moved to the small stove in the corner and helped herself to some coffee. Seconds later just before she was about to resume her seat a frost-covered dwarf strode in.

Clad in heavily studded armor and a surprisingly large two-handed axe on his back, he paused there, giving a shake. For a moment Sorcha was reminded of her father's hunting dogs as droplets of water and small chips of ice flew from the creatures' form.

"Be ye the one I need to speak with about work or nae?" Sorcha found herself blinking at the booming voice that rose from the short form.

"Aye, for today that would be me and ye are?" Taking her seat, she placed the steaming mug down on the table but kept her eyes upon the dwarven figure. Sorcha was not yet sure what to make of him.

"Rohol Mightrock at ye service. I was told this here army is a good'un and I be needing something to do afore I be tearin' out me beard hair." He spoke again while pulling off a heavy helm and revealing a rather long, intricately braided black beard and equally black pair of sharp eyes.

Taking up her mug she took a sip as she continued to regard him steadily. A moment later, while cradling the hot brew her head tilted in the inspection. "From the look of ye Mightrock, ye have some skill with the axe he be carrying. What other talents do ye care to offer his Lordship?"

"I be best suited for closer combat, as me legs were made to brace the earth. However, I have a pair of sharp eyes and can shoot with me crossbow from a right fine distance as well Lass." There wasn't a boastful note in his statement. It was more as if he was stating a fact then a brag. Something Sorcha took into account as she made another decision.

"Lord Unther might benefit from ye wisdom. His current position is near the front line and tis' my understanding they can always use aid." Reaching for a quill she was quickly writing on another card and in moments another new recruit was on their way. He seemed happy with his post by the look of the bright smile she was given before Mightrock departed.

"There are as many pillows of illusion as flakes in a snow-storm. We wake from one dream into another dream." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

The following afternoon, Sorcha was finally free of that "favor" to Fiona. Thankful that one of Lord DeAuster's healthy aids had finally arrived from Cisroe, she headed off towards the camps. It was there she saw several of the officers conversing around the tactics table in the command tent. Normally she wouldn't have paid mind but she heard the word "Orc" and instantly drifted in that direction.

"The orc should have returned by now." Commander Ferris stated while regarding the terrain marked upon the map.

"Tha' could mean that Borial's Pass may nae be safe. He may have been captured. Nae any of Torvien's armies have that race in their ranks. They be knowin' he is one of ours." A man Sorcha was unfamiliar with replied.

"Artu has gone missing?" She asked, joining the small group with her query.

"Aye Milady." Ferris nodded a greeting to her. "We should send another scout in soon as possible. Alas, the weather be turning for the worse so we shall have to wait a day or so. I don't like the idea of risking any until the coming storm passes." A hand encased in a glove brushed at the grizzled scruff of a beard Ferris was presently sporting.

"I can go Commander." Sorcha stated already feeling that unwanted stirring of emotion deep within. She couldn't help but feel responsible. Maybe she should have asked more questions. While it may have seemed as if he knew what the hell he was doing, there was that slight chance Artu had exaggerated his skills.

Several pairs of eyes shifted to regard the assassin at her statement. "I am unsure I want to deal with ye cousin were something to happen to ye Milady." Lord Unther stated immediately.

"Fiona will understand Milord. Ye see I was the one that sent this Orc into danger and as such I feel some responsibility for his having gone missing. So, I shall go locate him, nae matter what any of ye might say." For a moment, her jaw tightened, as Sorcha was still mentally kicking herself. "I have some skills in this sort of mission. I am quite proficient at combat and stealth; thus, I might be able to locate our missing orc if nae anything else." That archetypal emotionless regard met the rest with a slight lifting of her chin. Sorcha's posture made it hard for anyone to dissuade her from her course.

Before any could say more, she spun about abruptly and stalked off into the drifting veil of icy snow. Visibility was falling with each passing minute and Sorcha, who was never patient to start with, simply stepped into the shadows and was gone. Her sentinels were dispatched towards Borial's Pass with the request to report any sign of activity.

"For, whom the Muses smile upon, And touch with soft persuasion, His words like a storm-wind can bring Terror and beauty on their wing; In his every syllable Lurketh nature veritable." - Ralph Waldo Emerson Moments later, she rolled over, shaking off the snow and sighed, as the unusual beastie had tossed her several yards away. Rising gingerly with a faint wince, Sorcha felt the impact of many uncomfortable rocks against one side of her body and slowly approached the creature again. "Hush now. I am going to rescue ye master, Keirnis." Both gloved hands held up, as she once more edged towards the large form. She spoke softly, having read somewhere that such a behavior worked best when dealing with wild animals. One could but hope it was true, or they would likely find her dead body after the spring thaw.

She noticed an arrow fletch protruding from one of the large black bird's leg. While Sorcha was not anyone's idea of a healer, she did have the rudiments of first aid. Not to mention, Myrialla was always pushing vials and potion bottles on her, Cieara and Daniel every chance she got. Usually the assassin dropped them into a small bag she carried with her and forgot them. Today she would actually get to use them.

Sorcha eventually got close enough to touch the creature, feeling it quivering under her hand. Thankfully, it was quiet for the most part. Still, she had to figure out how to get the point of the quiver out of the poor thing's body. After some thought, she peered at Keirnis, her gaze catching the dark eyes that somberly stared back at her. "I need to get that thing out of ye Lass. I nae can promise it will nae hurt, but ye will need to stand very still and stay quiet." She mumbled softly, while fingers gently stroked those silken feathers in what she hoped was a soothing manner. "Last thing we be needing is to alert those soldiers that we be here."

She didn't know if the beast understood, but she got a blink from the feathered creature. Leaning down she looked at the painful wound. Yanking a glove from her cold fingers with her teeth, she very carefully wrapped them around the haft. Taking a deep, calming breath, Sorcha forced the shadows into the wood and metal. Once her own hand shimmered with the threads of darkness she gave a quick pull. Using the shade to remove the projectile had been her only option, as she hadn't wanted to inflict more damage when yanking it out. She moved fast, pulling a healing vial from her bag and splashed it upon the wound which had started to bleed rather copiously.

Keirnis shuddered briefly before she butted her feathery head against Sorcha. The elf wasn't sure what to make of that, but uttered soft sounds to sooth the beast. She felt the gentle velvet sensation touch her chilled cheek in return. It would take several minutes for the magic to work, so she stood there quiet, gently petting the unusual bird until she saw the damage fade into a pale pink scar.

"You will need to stay back." Sorcha told the bird, talking to her as if she understood what she was saying. "I am going to get Artu and maybe we can fly him out of here. If you can fly?" Sorcha ran her fingers gently along one feathered wing, and then checked the other. Keirnis flapped, as if saying they were fine and Sorcha took that as a "yes".

"There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms." - George Eliot

Sorcha sharp ears heard the alarmed shouts behind them and she growled. They had the storm to hide in, but Torvien.s men had dogs. She was now thinking she should have taken the time and dispatched those but as always, hindsight was ever an annoyance to her.

She felt the Orc.s momentary panic, likely fearful he would be caught again and suffer more beatings at the hands of those animals. Using the same tactic, she had with Keirnis she made a few soothing sounds while helping him along.

Their pursuers were getting closer and just when Sorcha had deemed she would need to take a hard stand and fight, the large bird arrived. The creature was agitated, but with help, Artu could mount up. "Go. I will follow." She said, squinting into the thick veil of the storm towards the howling of dogs in chase.

Voice rough and raspy, Artu gave a shake of his large head. "They catch Artu cuz he sees "em meetin' bounty men. Dems got a list of killers hired to kill da Laird's kin. Artu gotta stop 'em Missy lady. Can no let 'em do dat." He shot a hand out and before she could protest or take a breath Sorcha was landing in a place behind him. All she could was grab a hold before Keirnis lifted off, struggling for a moment against the icy winds but then was aloft and gracefully flying off into the gloom and coming darkness.

It was in those moments Sorcha discovered she wasn't fond of flying. Especially, not in the middle of a powerful blizzard on the back of a large hollow boned creature and clinging to a smelly orc. She managed not to fall off, throw up or pass out, which was a credit to her determined nature. Fact was, she realized, belatedly, the pack of dogs would have been easier to deal with then the biting cold and her flip flopping stomach.

"Memory....is the diary that we all carry about with us." ― Oscar Wilde

Sorcha shifted, ever uncomfortable with such statements. Most would give a simple "You are welcome." but that wasn't her way. She relied upon truth in such moments and after taking time to think upon it, she gazed somberly at the Orc. "It was my fault ye got into such a situation. This, well I be responsible for what happened." One gloved hand rising with a sweeping action.

"Posh!" Artu instantly and indignantly replied. "You's give Artu a job an' I mess it up." Ending with a grunt of irritation at himself. "Artu got ta' close. But like me mammy use'ta says. Dar be good wit da bad. I hears em talking cuz I wuz sloppy."

Dragging damp hair from her brow she realized there wasn't more to be said at this point. Settling, with her back against the cavern wall she let out a quiet sigh.

It was rather like a sort of white noise that assailed her mind. She was still unsettled by the method of communication, but it was the only option she had for the current situation. Her cousin's voice filled her thoughts seconds later and she winced faintly.

"Does this Orc have any idea where those men were going to have such a meet?" Fiona's voice rang within her head.

Sorcha turned her attention once more towards Artu. "Did ye by chance hear where those men be headed?"

"Aye, aye. I told ya, some place dey call "The Battered Ram". Artu 'member cuz he like ta' eat ram soup." Was his instant response.

Sorcha was still clueless about such a location but she relayed it to her cousin. In a flash she was seeing the Inn through the link. The weathered wood exterior, with a faded sign swaying in the wind and followed with the flickering of a hasty map. It gave her a general direction to work with however she wouldn't be able to shadow jump with Artu as yet. His injuries were still healing. She relayed this to Fiona and waited for the incoming reply.

"Do ye think Keirnis is up for another trip?" Sorcha suspected that Artu's friend was as tired as they were but options were thin. "If nae, I can head off on my own and return for ye after confronting those men."

"Yer no leavin' wit out us!" The orc rolled clumsily to his feet, towering over with that bellow. His red eyes were blazing in sudden intensity. "Dem's gonna answer fer wat dey did! Ta Artu! Ta Kiernis! Dem's got thumps a comin'!"

"The Inn isn't close but we still have an advantage, if Kiernis can manage another trip." Sorcha's stormy gaze shifted towards the resting feathered creature. The avian's black eyes opening to peer at her in return.

Artu turned to his friend and spoke quietly to her. Sorcha was unfamiliar with the language he used, but the large bird stirred and rose up with a shaking of her form. The action sending fluff and dust into the air.

"Kiernis be wantin' ta go. Her's willin'." The orc grunted. "We's gots head's ta bounce."

"Meet us there" Her cousin's voice echoed in her thoughts with a feeling like thunder. She could read little emotion in the command, but that wasn't surprising. Rising up, she brushed away some of the dirt and debris of the cave from her leather-clad legs.

"Ye feeling up for this Artu?" Handing over more of those vials, Sorcha's blue-green eyes swept over him in a quick assessment.

"Aye! Artu is looking forward ta wat be comin'!" His boisterous voice made her wince again faintly.

"Then lets do this. We head east. Toward the border with Terimarik." Naming a nearby disputed region that was close to Torvien's province. "From what I was told, it be about an hour from here as the crow flies."

Artu offered a disturbing grin of a multitude of jagged teeth. "Aye, Artu knows dat place. Good birds an fish fer eatin'!"

Sorcha was starting to realize that the Orc's surprising memory was obviously tied into his favorite foods. Later she would likely find some humor in that. For now she was glad he knew where they were headed.

Before the Storm by Shelby Merry https://youtu.be/W9NMAXemKLA

I can feel the storm above The rain is coming now I can hear the train ahead

Tonight I'm leaving town And today is the day that I break free from these shades So won't you come and save me From this war that I've been living in

They waited in silence, while the tension built slowly. Sorcha could feel her muscles growing taut with every passing minute and while she knew her cousin was near, that knowledge only made the energy ever more evident. Tightening her jaw, her stormy gaze watched from their hidden location taking in the landscape and the shimmer of magical wards that surrounded the buildings. The snow laden bower making for an excellent position for her to make such an inspection without alerting anyone they were nearby. So, whilst anticipating their incoming backup, she took the time to listen to the sounds of muted shouting and the echo of horses whining and wagons jangling. Sorcha focused her attention, managing to pick up the snippets of conversations.

For all their protective magics, they seemed to believe their presence was unknown. The arrogance of that assumption amused Sorcha. Even with the unpredictable nature of some of the transport gates lately, short jumps had proven effective so far and this place wasn't all that far from one of Lucius's encampments. Through the tenuous mental link she currently shared with her cousin, she sensed that a war band was already amassing. This was quickly followed by the whisper of thought danced along her nerves. A sensation that still unsettled her, as Sorcha had yet to master such a mode of communication. "Our job will be to capture any tied to the current ward magics they be using and keeping the rest otherwise occupied until the Commander Farriss's company arrives."

Now, a totally different storm was building.

Fiona conveyed the message mere moments before emerging from the shadoweave behind her. With every arrival Sorcha winced, feeling the disruptions rippling along her already strained nerves due to her own innate affinity to the shade. Lord DeWil and his daughter, Fiona, were the first to arrive, followed by Lord Gilmere, the Duibh Order's Master Shadowmage, Lorcain and Lord d'Morgaulaine. Apparently in her time away from The Order, there had been a recruitment drive, as a half dozen or more Adepts, whose faced she didn't know, crowded into the small frosty circle of evergreens.

The darkness was falling upon the village nearby and shadows deepened within their cold hidden location while they discussed the best method of dealing with the enemy so close by. Lorcan and the Orc were both starting to become impatient, shifting with added aggression. "I 'ate wait'in." muttered Lor and his sentiment was followed by Artu who mumbled a short whispered "Aye."

Fiona just gave a brief nod of her head to her brother. "Ye take lead then."A sweep of her hand gestured towards the inn. "Just be careful of that ward they be having in place. I am nae sure what it be designed for." Her frosty green gaze shifted to regard the Shadowmage, already working his magics.

Niclas Gilmere was a Master Shadowmage with the Order for a reason. He was an Artium Magister in the unique class of magics he practiced. He was methodical, brilliant and, in some cases, vicious which were all behavioral traits often sought by an organization that dealt in the art of silent assassinations. At the moment he was carefully examining the wards that collectively concerned them. He refused to be rushed as he knew that would be reckless. Instead he inspected every nuance and thread. He took his time and was successful in determining who the caster was.

"Mage in yellow of all things. A bright mustard yellow robe at that. It is nae his spell, but was cast via scrolls and from what I can glean he is still carrying more." Niclas stated in quiet hushed tones. Sharp astute icy blue eyes then shifted, followed by his upper body, to regard Lorcain and the Orc. Both radiated bloodlust. "Try and take that one alive. He will be useless to me if you pop his head off like a daisy."

For the mage's effort two pair of baleful eyes glowered at him. Lor muttered something Sorcha thought was "Cieara be right about wizards. . ." before melting into the Shadows. There was more but she wasn't sure if it was a string of curse words or Lorcain's normal means of colloquial conversation. Nevertheless she was sure it wasn't in the least flattering. Fiona's brother wasn't well known for his soothing nature or social charm after all.

It only took the Shadowmage a few more minutes and that unsettling shimmer fell away silently from the array of buildings that comprised the township. "There be several of the villagers locked up under guard and key in a nearby Temple." Niclas added. "There is also a shadow affinity among them." Rhystil gave a cryptic short nod in return.

"Ye deal with them Father. Falcon, Sorcha and I shall take the Inn. "Only those within the circle could hear her clearly, for the wind beyond their bower would snatch any other sound away,. "Master Orc" Will ye be willing to create havoc in the courtyard, with the aid of some of our allies?" Fiona asked with a slow turn of her head to regard the battle scared warrior.

A grin that showed an array of impressively sharp, and intimidating teeth, was her reward. "Aye." and hefting his axes he started out towards that very open yard with his equally formidable looking Avian friend. "Oy! Be ye look'n fer me's?" Came the bellow as the rest of the unexpected party spread outward through the shadows into their respective areas.

This time, it was their turn to bring down the storm.