In Another Life

*Outskirts of Corin's Crossing, Midday*

Things were going downhill fast, at least it seemed that way. The lead elements of the Argent Crusade force that had entered the outskirts of Corin's Crossing had met with heavy resistance. The fighting had spread between the ruined buildings there, and then ground to a halt. As the minutes wore on, more and more of the trainee soldiers and newly Knighted men-at-arms that Frederick had been commanding on the training exercise were wounded or tiring.

"Captain! Watch our flanks! Our flanks!" a voice cried out desperately from the swirling melee directly ahead of Frederick's position.

Scanning his surroundings quickly, Frederick Lightstone came to the realization that his entire command was in jeopardy. After having chased what appeared to be a ragtag group of cultists to the edge of the town, it now was apparent that his enemy's withdrawal had merely been a ruse designed to pull the green Crusaders towards the still scourge-held ruins of the town. While they were bogged down in the fighting, undead had begun to surround them, and now as Frederick looked on, a group of wraiths and banshees had appeared from the edge of one of the ruined buildings, passing through the solid structure and heading towards the flanks of one of the three squads he'd deployed.

The men there wavered; it was only natural when faced with supernatural enemies after all. Two of them perished instantly as banshees actually swept forward and passed into their bodies, tearing them apart from the inside out. Another was slashed with barely visible, ghostly claws and fell to the ground with blood covering his face and chest. The entire flank began to fold up as men back away from the threat, the entire task force endangered.

Frederick was about to shout an order when a spell blast struck right next to him, startling him and throwing up a plume of dirt. He blinked in shock, seeing several of the hooded cultists they'd been chasing running out behind the line of undead in front of his men, already preparing their next spells. In that moment, he felt his morale wavering and knew he had to order a full retreat to save as many of the Crusaders as possible. With a heavy heart he drew in a breath to shout the order, when he was interrupted yet again.

A sound permeated the battlefield that was loud enough to cut through the shrieks and cries of those fighting. A long, mournful blast of a horn, the sound echoed through the ruined buildings as if it were a dirge for those who'd died. The foul tone of the horn was enough to chill the blood of the Crusaders who heard it, but it also was a dire warning to the undead engaged in battle. All eyes, living and dead alike, turned towards the source of the sound, and Frederick found himself gasping in surprise.

He should have known she'd come. Corin's Crossing had been her home after all, and it was quite close to the Ebon Hold. Even so, as Frederick's eyes rose to look over the ten armored forms that sat upon deathchargers on a nearby rise, he found his heart skipping a beat as he saw her.

She was not like he'd seen her before. She was not throwing a temper tantrum, not acting like a childish brat. She sat firmly in her saddle, one hand holding the reins of a murderous beast of an undead horse, the other hand holding a runeblade upright. Her golden hair practically glowed in the sunlight, and the silver bone motif of her armor sparkled whenever she shifted. The breeze blew her hair and the black cape she wore, setting the black banner that one of the other Knights carried to flapping for a moment, the white skull icon on it almost mocking to the undead below.

For a moment, from the distance, Frederick recalled how beautiful Beckyann Eastberg once was. From there he could not see the decay that she tried to hide. He could not see the glow of her eyes or the marks of undeath upon her. He saw only a vision of the past; a woman that was firmly etched into his memory for the rest of his life, and he had to remind himself harshly that all was not as it appeared.

This became apparent a moment later when Beckyann raised her sword up, a warcry echoing from her as she ordered the squad of ten Knights to first advance, and then charge, their steeds plunging down the slight incline towards the battle and gaining momentum as they came. It was quite a sight to behold, the Knights moving in perfect formation as they rode and their weapons glowing with foul magic as they plunged into the wraiths and banshees that had been hitting Frederick's flanks.

The battle turned almost instantly, the dead reeling back from the attack of a full patrol of Knights of the Ebon Blade, their foul magic and diseases having little affect on armored knights who were trained to deal with such things and who were much, much better at inflicting their own ills on their foes. In less than a minute the pressure on the flank of the Argent Crusade force was relieved, and Frederick breathed a sigh of relief himself as he ordered his squads to support the Knights who were now pushing forward into the ranks of the undead ahead of them.

As the undead pulled back from the onslaught, several of the Knights fought their way towards Frederick's command group, and he noted with some irritation that Beckyann herself was amongst them, her banner-bearer beside her along with a third Knight to make up her own command group. As she drew near, he blinked in surprise, seeing a Captain's insignia above the silver armor of her breastplate.

She rode up beside him, looking down at him from her vicious mount, a bit of a smirk on her lips as she spoke, "Problems, Captain Lightstone?"

Her tone and the way she addressed him gave him pause. Although part of him hated her now for what she'd done to him recently, another part knew her better perhaps than she knew herself. He knew when she was confident in herself, when she felt that she could make a difference. Her tone matched what he'd have expected from her long ago, perhaps after one of the Woodbury nobles had praised her.

His response was hesitant when it finally came, "No, everything is fine...Captain Eastberg."

She smiled sweetly at him as a howl rose up from the fighting, the death cry not even drawing her attention, "Then why were you about to retreat, Captain? That would have been very unwise you know."

Anger swept through him, not at her words, but at the fact that she knew him so well. He had been about to order a general retreat, believing it the only course of action open to him. He also knew that her words held extra weight, as if she judged him for all the years between then and now. His response was angry, "I had little option, Captain. Despite what you may think, I do actually know what I'm doing. We would have withdrawn to the hills behind us and held the higher ground there. Do not think that you know me so well as to undermine my command decisions."

She looked at him, her glowing eyes boring into him as she replied in a sweet, almost smug tone, "And yet, there are several dozen ghouls waiting in those hills for you to do just that. You almost just retreated into an ambush and lost your entire command. Really, Fred, I'd expect better from you, and your men deserve better too. Without discussing this further or assigning more blame, let's be realistic here and get your men to safety."

He stared at her hard, not wanting to admit she was right, but knowing that she probably was. Something else tickled at his mind as he glared, a realization that dawned on him as he looked up at her; she had confidence now, she was sure of herself. Based on the way she was speaking, the way she had commanded her Knights and lead them into battle, and on the fact that she had that pin on her chest, it seemed that others supported her. Despite himself, he smiled, realizing that she was not alone, that someone or perhaps many someones were there for her in her unlife. For some reason he found that comforting, even as part of him raged inside with his anger at her.

She saw the smile of course; lovers did not miss such things. A mirror image of that smile curled up at the corner of her mouth, as if they'd just shared a moment together. The memory of the times when they had bubbled up so abruptly that he had to shake his head and look away before he actually grinned. He managed to retain control of the emotion for a moment, letting it fade as he focused on the task at hand, "Fine then. What do you propose we do, Captain Eastberg? As my men are endangered, I will heed your advice."

When he looked back at her, she was grinning at him just as he'd expected her to be. She nodded at him, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, "Why, we'll ambush the ambush of course! Come, let us put an end to this so that you can leave this place to we dead, hmmm?"

He nodded, turning and shouting to his men to form up. At the front of the formation, his Crusaders and Beckyann's Knights had put down the last of the cultists, allowing them to disengage from the edge of the town and the ravenous dead that still lurked there. As the group withdrew, Beckyann shouted in a firm voice, her Knights turning and trotting their deathchargers out in front of the formation, falling back into a perfect line. Frederick marveled at the change that had come over the woman he once knew as she issued more orders, the Knights moving ahead of the Crusaders on foot.

Each of them raised a runeblade, chanting as they began to work their dark magic. Tendrils of purple energy lashed the plagued ground, the soil beginning to stir as first three, then seven, then dozens of ghouls rose from the depths of the earth. As the Crusaders looked on in disgust, the dead under the command of the Knights of the Ebon Blade charged forward, rushing into the hills and colliding with a number of ghouls that had been waiting there to ambush the Crusaders just as Beckyann had predicted.

Howls rose up in the distance as Beckyann lead her Knights forward, supervising the destruction of the threat and letting the Crusaders win free of the town. As Frederick got his command in order and began preparations to move to the nearest guard tower, he paused, watching the Knights in the distance as they finished off the ghouls.

Across the barren ground he saw Beckyann turn, her blue eyes staring at him amongst his men. With another smile on her lips just like the one they'd shared earlier, she offered him an almost mocking salute with her runeblade, snapping the reins of her deathcharger and leading it away, her Knights following her and leaving a trail of dust behind them.

As they faded into the distance and became nothing more than a dispersing cloud of dust, Frederick watched, trying to decide if he hated Beckyann Eastberg or admired that she had started to rise above the dreadful creature he'd seen not a week past.

He shook his head, turning to lead his men away. It was impossible to say what would become of her in the future, but perhaps if she continued to have the support of others and the confidence she'd just displayed, then just maybe she could be redeemed one day.