Kyra Blackrein's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Kyra returned to the fort as twilight settled over the valley. The black banner rippled above the gate, its skeletal horse catching the last rays of sunlight. She crossed the courtyard to where her three riders stood motionless near the stables. Their hollow eyes tracked her movement. She studied their posture, comparing it to the veterans she'd observed at the trading post. These soldiers remembered how to stand at attention, but they would need more than memory to form a true cavalry unit. Tomorrow she would ride to the battlefield valley and begin the ritual to raise their mounts. House Blackrein's power was growing, one careful step at a time. Dawn broke cold and gray. Kyra saddled one of the fort's remaining horses and rode east toward the battlefield valley. The road narrowed as it passed through the old town quarters, where cracked stone streets showed years of neglect. An ancient withered tree stood at the corner where two paths met. Its trunk twisted thick and gnarled, bark split in deep grooves. Sparse clusters of dull green leaves clung to the upper branches. Small weeds pushed up between the paving stones at its base, reclaiming ground people had abandoned long ago. Kyra guided her horse past the tree and continued toward the valley. The dead cavalry waited beneath that soil, and today she would begin bringing them back to serve House Blackrein once more. The road opened into a field of tall grass. A weathered stone statue stood at the edge, half-hidden by wild growth. Kyra dismounted and approached it. The carved figure showed a mounted cavalry rider, though time had worn the details smooth. The horse's head was chipped, one ear missing entirely. The rider's face had been eroded to a blank surface. Faded reliefs of a cloak and armor plates covered the body. She brushed dirt from the base and found markings. This was a grave marker. The old cemetery lay just beyond, where cavalry soldiers had been buried generations ago. House Blackrein had commanded riders like these once. She stood and looked across the field. Dozens more graves would be scattered through the grass, their markers fallen or buried. Her three undead soldiers needed mounts, and here the bones waited. Kyra tied her horse to the statue and walked into the field. She would mark the locations today and return with her ritual supplies. The first horses would rise before the week ended. She walked deeper into the burial ground and found a low stone building, its roof half-collapsed. Inside, a large tapestry hung on the back wall, protected from wind and rain. The fabric showed age in its faded threads, but the scene remained clear. Mounted riders charged across the weave beneath black and crimson banners. A skeletal horse crest marked each flag. House Blackrein's cavalry at the height of their power. Kyra stepped closer and traced the nearest rider's form. Her ancestors had won battles that shaped the entire region. They had commanded fear and respect. She let her hand drop. The tapestry showed what House Blackrein had been. The graves outside held what they could be again. She turned and walked back into the sunlight. Tomorrow she would return with candles and ritual components. The dead would ride once more.