Although her chain shirt was the only reason that she was alive now it was difficult to say if that was better than the alternative. The two options became increasingly indistinct as she stumbled through thick snow deep in the woods of Albion. Pain exploded through her with every shaky step as she forced herself forward.
It was impossible to not think about her mortality at a time like this. There was, after all, a latticework of thin burns all across her chest. It had only been luck that had prevented her from dying, the unseen bolt of lightning diffusing itself across her hidden armour and searing her skin instead of her heart, she was sure of it; that and holding her breath long enough for him to leave had been pure agony.
She'd been sloppy. Careless. Parts of her were saying that she didn't
deserve to survive this. That she ought to just lay down and die. Well bugger all of those stupid insecurities. She had no time for them. By now they'd have absolutely realized she was still alive and her trail wouldn't be hard to follow. If there was an Air Mage amongst those sent to clean up the evidence… but no, they'd use
Fire for that.
A tree root beneath the snow caught her foot and she tumbled forward. That wasn't good. Deprived of the momentum that had kept her going her legs simply refused to move. She'd been going forward on sheer force of will alone; hoping against hope that she'd come across a cave or a fallen tree or some form of shelter, of any kind.
So cold.
There were horns in the distance, and the baying of hounds. They'd found her. That was it, then. She reached forward and pushed herself over on to her back. With trembling hands she began to reload her expended pistols; the bolt that had torn into her back had fused and ruined the firing mechanism of her musket.
Not much powder left, and precious few balls as well. Didn't matter. Two pistols… so she could kill one of them out of spite, at least. The dogs were louder, now. One sounded particularly close. If she squinted she could just about make out a black shape in the middle distance. Would they let the animals maul her, or call them off and try and take her prisoner?
Hoofbeats sounded as a rider cleared the horizon. So that's how they caught up to her so quickly. She had no idea how far she'd gone or how long it had been since her escape. As the rider approached she sighted along her arm and closed an eye. Exhale…
Her ears rang as the rider fell backwards. The horse bolted the wrong way for her to try and grasp the reins as it passed, or some such foolishness. It hadn't been much of a hope, really. Just a last ditch thought toward her survival. There was no great lamentation or heavy sigh. Even in this circumstance she wasn't a melodramatic person.
Instead she lifted the other pistol and pressed the barrel against the underside of her chin, cocking it with her thumb. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing and stilling the tremble of her hands.
"I'm sorry, Henrietta." Perhaps she should say something more. Like how she couldn't keep her promise, or was leaving the Princess' service. But no, there was no point. Nobody was around to hear her final words.
Agnès pulled the trigger, and was rewarded with nothing but a futile click.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ordinary people run away from gunfire. This is just a fact of the world. However, as her sister frequently said right before becoming teary-eyed and hugging her, she was anything but normal. Perhaps it was just a wandering hunter, in which case she could see if he had any game to buy… a hunter out in these woods in the middle of winter… who was wealthy enough to afford a gun for hunting.
No, even her seemingly boundless optimism had its limits. It was more likely to be soldiers again. The patrols in the area had finally died down recently, after weeks of dodging them in her efforts to pick herbs for medicine and trap what few woodland creatures were still awake for food to supplement their rather bland stockpile.
They were well set for the rest of Winter, and beyond, due to the money that still arrived via clandestine messengers. Every time she got a new purse of coins she tried not to think what her sister was doing to earn the money… what indignities she might have been willing to suffer for the sake of her family.
Even so, when one of the children grew ill she still had to go out in search of the right plants to brew up a basic remedy. Something to soothe sore throats and runny noses, at the very least. For whatever reason she'd never been particularly bothered by the cold and so it was no real trouble… up until she'd heard the gunfire.
When she arrived it was to a bizarre, horrific tableau of red on white. There was one figure lying against a tree and two bodies beside her. A third was in the middle distance, crumpled up on the ground amidst messy hoofprints, and then two more scattered to her left and right. Three men stood around the prone figure and were currently engaged in putting the boot in, as it were.
They weren't wearing a proper uniform but each of them had the red strip that marked them as soldiers under the crimson banner of Reconquista; the new de facto rulers of Albion. Whatever this matter was… her heart ached to see it but she didn't want to interfere. They hadn't noticed her yet and there was nothing she could do for the poor man down there; assuming he was even still alive.
Then one of the men stepped back and she caught a glimpse of their target. She had already moved out from behind the tree and was walking towards them before she could stop herself. One of them heard the crunch of feet on snow and turned to face her. He relaxed a bit on seeing her and opened his mouth, presumably to ward her off.
Whatever he might have been about to say died on his lips as Tiffania pushed back her hood and did her best to glare defiantly at the soldier. It wasn't a very good glare but she could have smiled sweetly at him and it would have had the same effect. The man screamed with abject terror and as his companions looked up they quickly joined him.
The trio practically fell over themselves as they fled. She stood there until they were out of sight and then moved as quickly as she could. First was stripping off as much weight as she could from the injured woman. The chain shirt went and, as it did, she discovered a latticework of bloody welts underneath.
With great distaste, Tiffania took the least bloody cloaks from the dead soldiers and bundled up the unconscious woman. She still had a heartbeat, and was breathing as well, so that was a small mercy. Although she wasn't strong enough to carry her any distance she could drag her relatively smoothly by making a makeshift litter out of the various cloaks… might as well use the bloody ones for that.
The snow made for an easy ride for her patient, at least, She trudged forward as fast as she could, dragging the litter along with her and painfully aware of the trail she was leaving. If this person was even remotely important to them then even the fear of elves wouldn't hold them back for long.
That had been stupid. So, so stupid. Years of careful hiding thrown away for a stranger. It was a truly foolish choice she'd made… but she wouldn't regret it. Maybe the woman was a bad person who deserved what she'd gotten, although knowing the Reconquista she doubted that, but leaving her there like that...
They'd almost reached the orphanage when she heard the dogs. Not that they'd need them to follow her; although, the scent of blood was likely thick along the trail she'd left. She tried to break into a run but it was difficult to build up any momentum while dragging an injured woman. Even then, the best she could do would be to barricade the door. Then, when they got inside, the children…
Not for the first time, Tiffania wished she could do magic. Proper magic, that is. There was her ring, but that was sitting in a small box under her bed safe and sound. Besides, even if she healed the woman there was no guarantee she'd wake up and be able to fight off the soldiers.
In desperation she welled up what energy she could muster and tried to force it out into the world. She focused on the idea of Fire and tried to say the incantations that her sister had taught her. Nothing happened. She tossed power into the yawning abyss and nothing returned to her. The only result was a slight tingling in her joints and a faint tremor of exhaustion across her body.
The pursuers sounded close enough for her to pick out the sounds of hoofbeats kicking up snow. She let the last vestiges of power gathered power trickle away and fell to her knees. Matilda would be so upset when she found out. That was the worst bit, in her mind. All the effort that she'd put forward to help and in the end Tiffania had tossed it all away for the sake of a woman she didn't even know.
She tried one last time, not even knowing what she expected at this point. Gathering strength and prayer as one to cast them forth in the hopes of something, anything, happening. If she could just figure out the trick… but, no. The power flowed out of her and didn't even disturb the snow.
Dogs barked and horses charged as the soldiers grew closer.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A single eyelid lifted to unleash a raging storm. It was contained, however, by the dimensions of the eye beneath; a blizzard contained in a gaze. The owner of the tempest slowly lifted itself from the ground and stared at the intrusion into its home.
There was a tear in the air, an impossible opening in this equally impossible realm. Green light shone around the edges of a colourless hole in space that shimmered and distorted. The beast could feel the call echoing from within in some inexplicable way. A desperate plea of a frightened child.
As it stepped forward a smaller figure all in red shifted with discomfort at the removal of its source of warmth. Shining eyes inched open and met with a pale stare. Something deep and incomprehensible passed between the two entities for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then the beast turned and moved into the portal.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The leader of the raiding party cursed his luck as the wind began to pick up. They had a strong trail from where the woman had killed the first group but even a light squall could bury it in a few inches of snow. Not for the last time he bemoaned the weather, the cold, the damn bitch they were chasing and his unsympathetic superior all in the same breath.
Then, quite suddenly, their horses skidded to a halt. The lead animal reared violently and threw its rider, turning moments later and nearly trampling the man as it ran away. He spat and crossed himself to ward off heresy. Elfin magic, no doubt. Assuming the babbling idiots who'd lost the girl had been telling the truth.
Until that moment he'd doubted they were. There had been no signs of magic where they'd found the five bodies and, by the mens' own accounts, those had been the work of the woman herself. Even half dead she'd killed five of his contingent. The so-called elf that had 'saved' her hadn't killed any. He'd thought they must have run away when she killed the others and made up a story.
Now, though? As he felt the terror in the tensed muscles of the animal underneath him the Captain was reconsidering. He'd rallied to the crimson banner due to the promise of 'redistributed' wealth and titles, not to fight elves. As he considered calling off the chase entirely he heard the sound.
It was a long, powerful howl that pierced the chill air and set every living creature in the group to trembling. The dogs strained at the end of their long tethers but were no longer trying to rush forward in search of prey. No, they were desperately trying to break their bonds and flee into the night. His horse was stamping in place, twitching under him; too well trained to bolt, but not nearly broken enough to go any closer to that sound.
Of greatest concern to the Captain himself, however, was the simple fact that he knew there were no wolves in Albion. Yet that was, unmistakably, the howl of a wolf. What else could it be? No dog could make a sound like that, especially not the local breeds; all lithe and bred for hunting, lacking the stoutness of chest that could cause such a deep sound.
He wanted to tell them to retreat. Surely such creatures would focus on the wounded woman? But no, there was no way this was a coincidence. Some heretical power was at work here. He dismounted and led his horse to a tree, tying it there. Ten men were selected to come with him. Stout soldiers, an extra Noble bastard amongst them, so that made two mages with him included. The rest stayed to guard the horses as they pressed on.
Without the dogs they were reliant on the rapidly disappearing trail and so they did their best to move fast. Neither of them were strong enough in Water to solidify the snow or somesuch, but the other mage was Air aligned with sufficient power to provide them some reprieve from the biting wind.
Something came charging between the trees and he almost flung a fireball at it before he realized it was one of the forward team's horses. Another followed it, and another. Not a single rider between them. The men muttered amongst themselves, tossing out words like 'witchcraft'. He didn't berate them for it; after all, he was feeling much the same.
In the middle distance something white moved. He tried to catch it in his field of vision but it was shifting around the edges constantly. Whatever it was moved fast. They told stories to children about elves taking animal form and stealing naughty kids away if they wandered off the paths, and such, but if you believed everything ascribed to the damn things by folk tales you'd think that a lone one could conquer all of Halkegenia if it wanted to.
He turned to address his men, about to order them to take a rough circle formation, and then froze. A quick bit of mental arithmetic turned up one short, yet he'd definitely selected ten men to come with him. Nine nervous sets of eyes were looking to him for guidance now, though. Who was missing? Well, even if he knew their names how would he tell with everyone bundled up like this.
Then he saw the drops of red hanging in the air. More materialized as a gash opened up in nothingness; white fangs shining against red maw. He was acutely aware of his sword slipping between his fingers as a pair of eyes opened up above the mouth and a warmth that ran down his leg as he realized the magnitude of what they were facing.
The wolf lunged.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When it came for the rest they didn't realize until it was far too late. Even though it towered above the trees each footstep made no more sound than a wisp of fog curling over ice. It stood four men tall and many more than that from nose to tail yet moved with impossible speed and supernatural agility. Crossbow bolts failed to find purchase through thick fur and blades were smacked aside as they tried to fight back.
Even when they turned and ran there was no reprieve. Each man died quickly, but alone. The only sign each of the hunting parties had before being wiped out by the behemoth was the wind it carried with it picking up in its wake and their dogs first trying to flee in terror and then laying down in submission as it arrived in their midst.
When it returned to Tiffania it was accompanied by a score of hounds that followed some distance behind. Each still trembled in the presence of a creature so far above them that it may as well be their god. There was blood on its fur and muzzle. She knew, without a doubt, that it was human. It had killed them. Every last one of them.
It lay down before her and gently pressed his nose against her face. A faint white light still shone beneath the fur of its right paw as it sniffed at her. Then a vast tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth in a silent, canine chuckle.
The dogs dispersed, glad to be free of the monster that had slaughtered their masters. Said beast nudged the young girl out of the way and gently took the edge of the cloth litter in its mouth, lifting the injured woman off the ground and looking expectantly at the girl. Unsure as she was Tiffania still realized it was waiting for her to lead the way. Still shaking but feeling stronger with each step, she pulled herself together and began the slow trudge the rest of the way home.
Feeling mighty pleased with himself, The First Wolf followed behind her.
