The Mul woman who spoke last had not introduced herself at all; Merilwyn wasn’t sure how to address her. So she made a mental note to ask her later. Though she suppressed a giggle at Rhain’s suggestion of ‘Blondie’. It was truly fitting, but Merilwyn had no intention of calling her as such. Perhaps she should create a nickname of her own? 

As she pondered this, many others turned their attention to the rude, ignorant Lavas guards with their insults. They certainly did not attempt to be discreet with their ‘opinions.’ Some glared, scoffed, and muttered curses to them as a response. The battle mage did not follow suit however, provoke as the did,their petty insults were not worth her time. It caught her attention, though, when the western man spoke to them in a foreign language. Although the words were different, rhythm of the language reminded her Elvish. It was obvious what he said was a threat, it was impossible to tell exactly what it was. Still, she was sure it wasn’t a threat she would want to be faced with. 

As the man continued to speak, Merilwyn joined the scouts formation. Though she had plenty of battle experience, she placed herself in the middle of the first row. It was the easiest place for her to cover the party with her arrows, and have a clear shot. Besides, she was no good with close combat. Then, they were on their way to the village.

The mage glared with eyes of hard jade as they began to approach. Before, the distance was a comfort. The closer they came the unsettled she felt. So, the barely audible song from her siren friend was a welcome distraction. ‘What an unusual song,’ she thought with light amusement, silently wondering what brought it on.  Her answer was found only a moment later; coming from the cries of not two men, but rather women. Merilwyn glanced over her shoulder in time to see young ladies running back to camp, like dog with their tails tucked. They had the same hair color as the male guards from earlier, however now it was much longer. It would appear Rhian got her bit of revenge. “Oh how lovely they look!” She commented quietly, giggling to the woman.

Her mirth was swept away as they entered the village, the precarious feeling returning. She could now see the details of the houses and soaking clothes on lines. She narrowed her eyes at each window, each door way, regarding everything with suspicion. Each shadow could hold a lurking enemy. At this thought she clenched and unclenched her free hand restlessly. A dark shadow caught her attention, tugging on the edge of her vision. She whipped her head quickly, trying to catch whatever she saw. It evaded her like smoke.

Merilwyn nearly jumped when the Lithleethian called her name, as it was barely recognizable. His unfamiliar accent was contrastingly thicker than before, she could only assume why. Joining his side promptly, bow in hand, and briefly met his eyes. She listened, (with much effort) and grasped what he said only a momently later. “You may not want anything exploding near by, but I’ll ready my arrows,” she assured him. She smoothly drew an arrow from the quiver on her back, and nocked it fluidly before returning to her place.  

The elf resumed glaring at buildings, and watched quietly as the trio of soldiers approached a building. It was then she heard the warning from Thuran, and her blood began to rush. [i]‘Wraith’s’[/i] she shivered. Out of all the mad king’s minions she disliked those the most. She hurried into formation, pulling some dumb-founded soldiers with her. She caught sight of the soldiers near the house in time to see the the poor soldier’s wound. [i]‘Blood,’ [/i]She grimaced, averting her eyes slightly. It would seem Thuran’s warning came to late. 

She loathed seeing a good soldier pass, and she detested his wound. Although the pain that it should be cause him was not present. He appeared peaceful, and she realized much later that the siren and her calming song was to thank. [i]‘So this is the power of the sirens, if you didn’t know what to look for you’d hardly notice it,’[/i] she thought with amazement. [i]'It is greatly different from my magic,’[/i] she frowned [i]‘Mine is a flashy magic, it has been trained to inflict pain; but Rhain’s does the opposite.’ [/i]Merilwyn looked at her friend with a new sense of respect. [i]‘She heals those who are hurting.’[/i]

Merilwyn ran to Thuran’s side as he called, her bow gripped tightly. Rýn sung in response. “I doubt they will come to our aid, we are ‘expendable’, remember?” The mage spat ‘expendable’ like a bitter taste in her mouth. No life should be considered as such, all was valuable. Nevertheless, she pulled her bow string taught and raised her aim to the sky. The fletching of her arrow brushed softly against her cheek, and she focused on where it would go. Quickly, she called upon the magic that lay dormant within her. It was always there, a piece of her as much as her eyes or arm. It surged through her veins as warm, mailable energy; ready to do her will. The runes of her bow, before barely visible, now glowing with the vibrancy of her magic.  Verdant in color. A deep breath in, release- and her arrow was launched into the sky. It cut through the howling wind, neither rain nor sleet could deter it as it flew to its mark. [i]‘One…two…’[/i] Merilwyn waited until it reached high enough in the sky, [i]‘…three.’ [/i]

The sky exploded into crimson red and sunburst orange, lighting the world around them ablaze. It was followed by a muffled roar, and the choking smell of thick black smoke. The arrow filled it’s purpose well, there was no way the camp would miss their signal. If the bright light hadn’t alerted them, certainly the sound would. It could be heard even through this pattering rain. 

The battlemage dropped the bow to her side, admiring her handy-work a little longer, before turning her mossy eyes wearily to Thuran. “That should work well enough, now let us hope Dorius has the courage to aid us.”